BTS Fic: Taste of Danger
Jul. 12th, 2022 08:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: Taste of Danger
Author:kat_lair / Mistress Kat & dreamersdare
Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Pairing: implied Jeon Jungkook/Kim Seokjin | Jin, implied Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga, implied Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, implied OT7 if you're that way inclined
Tags: Ambiguous Relationships, Food, Power Dynamics, Dom/sub Undertones, Humor
Rating: T
Word count: 2,775
Disclaimer: Very not true
Summary:
“Uh.” Taehyung looks over his shoulders furtively before clicking the door shut with considerably more care than he’d banged it open. “It’s Jin-hyung,” he says.
“No,” Hoseok says immediately, followed by Jimin’s half amused, half worried “Oh Tae.”
“But…” Taehyung’s eyes flit between the two of them slightly desperately.
Jimin is standing up by now, both hands on Taehyung’s shoulders as he peers at his face. “Tae-baby, what did you do?”
“Don’t engage him!” Hoseok snaps, tossing his phone to the mattress. “For god’s sake, don’t ask questions! I don’t want to know anything about anything because I don’t want to have to do anything about… Anything.” He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the door.
Both Jimin and Taehyung look at him with near identical anime eyes and Hoseok briefly contemplates suffocating himself with a pillow. Just enough to pass out.
Author notes: Written back-and-forth during our delightful kpop weekend fuelled by Tequila. An absolute pile of nonsense but it sure amused us. The prompt was: “Whatever you were going to ask, the answer is no.”
Taste of Danger on AO3
“Hyung!”
It’s the closest he gets to a warning, that muffled shout from the hallway, before the bedroom door slams open with a crack that he suspects he’ll be inspecting in the wall later on. It’s probably testament to how long Hoseok has shared a room with Jimin that he doesn’t even look up from his phone.
Having a Taehyung explode into his living space every now and again is an occupational hazard of living with Jimin. Hoseok thinks the trade-off is well worth it.
“Hyung,” Taehyung says again, quieter this time but breathless in a way that Hoseok hadn’t noticed in the earlier shout, and he flicks a look up from the screen to take in Taehyung’s bright eyes and red cheeks, the way his fingers are curled tight enough around the door frame to turn his knuckles white. “I need your help.”
Hoseok narrows his eyes in a way that makes him look cool only about half of the time. Right now, lying on his messy bed, still in his pyjamas, he suspects the effect is probably closer to squinting at a midday sun. Still, he suspects Taehyung’s motives even more.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Uh.” Taehyung looks over his shoulders furtively before clicking the door shut with considerably more care than he’d banged it open. “It’s Jin-hyung,” he says.
“No,” Hoseok says immediately, followed by Jimin’s half amused, half worried “Oh Tae.”
“But…” Taehyung’s eyes flit between the two of them slightly desperately.
Jimin is standing up by now, both hands on Taehyung’s shoulders as he peers at his face. “Tae-baby, what did you do?”
“Don’t engage him!” Hoseok snaps, tossing his phone to the mattress. “For god’s sake, don’t ask questions! I don’t want to know anything about anything because I don’t want to have to do anything about… Anything.” He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the door.
Both Jimin and Taehyung look at him with near identical anime eyes and Hoseok briefly contemplates suffocating himself with a pillow. Just enough to pass out.
“Jimin-ah,” he says, and it’s supposed to come out as a warning, but Hoseok can hear himself miss that mark by a clear margin, the syllables dropping far too close to beseeching for his liking.
Jimin’s smirk is infuriatingly knowing.
“If it helps, I didn’t actually do anything,” Taehyung offers into their staring match, visibly flinching as both of their gazes snap back to him. Hoseok can only assume his own disbelief is mirrored on Jimin’s face as Taehyung’s eyes impossibly widen. “I didn’t,” he protests.
“Somehow,” Hoseok says, “I find that difficult to believe.”
“Hyung,” Jimin’s admonishment is marred by the laugh Hoseok can hear curling around the edge of his words and it’s weirdly vindicating. “At least hear him out.”
Hoseok throws his hands up. “That’s what I’m trying to avoid, Jimin-ah. Once he tells us about whatever it is, it’ll be too late. We’ll be part of it. You know Jin-hyung.”
Taehyung’s pout is practically mulish. “I didn’t do anything,” he says again, insistently, “And I can prove it.”
***
“Tell them,” Taehyung says some five minutes later.
The three of them have cornered Jungkook in the kitchen. Both Taehyung and Jimin have their arms crossed in a way that would be intimidating for anyone who didn’t have several years of exposure.
“Tell them what?” Jungkook lifts a challenging eyebrow and crosses his own arms in imitation. The effect is decidedly more impressive. Hoseok pokes at one bulging bicep in passing as he reaches behind Jungkook to grab an apple from the counter.
“That you ate Jin-hyung’s leftovers.” Taehyung accuses.
Jimin hisses in shock at actually hearing the details of the crime. Even Hoseok stops mid-bite, teeth lodged into the apple as he processes the severity of the situation.
Jungkook blinks. “They weren’t his leftovers,” he says. “They were just… leftovers. For… anyone. Right?” A hint of uncertainty starts creeping into his voice, his arms loosening their defensive posture. “Right? There was no name on the box!”
“Jin-hyung said he was going to use the rest of it today for an episode of Eat Jin.”
“He did,” Jimin confirms.
Hoseok nods, swallowing his apple with some difficulty. There’s an itch between his shoulder blades and surreptitiously he glances at the clock. What time is Jin coming back? Soon probably.
“What?! When?” Jungkook is looking increasingly frantic.
“Last night, at the dinner.” Taehyung frowns. “You were there. Didn’t you hear?”
“…no.” Jungkook’s eyes are the size of saucers by now and he’s chewing on his lip-ring nervously.
Hoseok drags his eyes away. The clock is ticking. They need a solution.
It’s Jimin who makes the first move, after a moment of indecisive staring that Hoseok knows has lasted much longer than they have to spare. He’s light on his feet as he crosses the kitchen to yank open a door that sends a flood of cool air into the room, peering into it with a squint. “There’s still beef,” he says, his voice muffled as he leans deep into the refrigerator. “We could make more?”
Hoseok eyes the refrigerator dubiously, pointedly not looking at the arch of Jimin’s spine as he leans a little further in. “Doesn’t it need to… sit, though? Jin always preps everything hours ahead of time and I don’t think we have that long until he gets back.” He eyes the clock again. Five minutes since he last checked. They are so screwed.
“If we stab it with a fork it should soak up the flavour faster.” Taehyung’s forehead scrunches in determined concentration, his eyes tracking across his phone display as fast as the restless twitch of his thumb. “Or put it in a bag and beat it, that should work.”
“Okay,” Jimin says, letting the refrigerator door swing closed as he turns away, plastic tray held carefully in one hand. “Okay. This might work. Who knows a bulgogi recipe?”
“The internet?” Jungkook offers. His eyes are still deer-in-headlights wide even as he dips his fingers into his back pocket to hook out his phone. “Um, yeah. There’s loads of recipes here. I don’t… which one do we need? I don’t know which one Jin uses.”
Hoseok hooks his chin over Jungkook’s shoulder to check the screen for a second before he reaches around to poke the display. “Jin keeps all of his recipes locked away in his brain, but that one says super easy. Let’s use that.”
Jungkook hums, muscles shifting under Hoseok’s weight as he brings up the indicated recipe. “Okay, we need… soy sauce, rice wine. We have those, right?”
“Top cupboard,” Jimin says distractedly, a look of fierce concentration on his face as he slices the beef into thin, careful strips.
“Wait,” Hoseok says suddenly, and he feels three sets of eyes flick to him as if on instinct. “I accept that we’re in this now, but there’s something I don’t understand.”
“Hyung,” There’s a strained edge to Jimin’s voice. “Can this wait?”
“If Jungkook ate the bulgogi,” Hoseok says slowly, ignoring Jimin as he turns to pin Taehyung with a pointed look, “why did you come bursting into our bedroom as if chased by the hounds of hell?”
Taehyung freezes, a fraction of a second that sets alarm bells ringing in Hoseok’s head, and then drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “I was worried for Kook,” he says.
It’s so unconvincing, it’s practically an insult.
“Kim Taehyung.” Hoseok narrows his eyes and advances on Taehyung, slowly but surely backing him toward the wall. “Don’t you dare lie to your hyung.”
Taehyung flails, crossing and uncrossing his arms, trying and failing to appear unaffected. “I didn’t lie,” he whines. “Not really.”
Hoseok quirks an eyebrow. “Let’s hear the whole thing.”
Taehyung huffs but a glance at Jimin’s openly disappointed face makes his shoulders slump. “I forgot to put the label on,” he mutters.
“Hah, I knew it!” Jungkook crows. “There was no label!”
“Well no,” Taehyung says. “But Jin-hyung did say he wanted to save the leftovers and you were there for that. It’s just that when we were cleaning up he asked me to write his name on the lid and I… Didn’t.”
“In conclusion,” Hoseok summarises, “You are both idiots who need to pay more attention to their elders.”
“I don’t disagree with that statement on principle,” Yoongi’s voice drawls from the kitchen doorway. “But I’d like to know the context for this particular instance.” He pauses to survey the scene; Jimin shoving beef strips and soy sauce into a plastic bag, Taehyung hunching defensively while Jungkook shakes a bulb of garlic at everyone like a victory banner. “Actually, on second thought…”
Hoseok eases his looming just a bit and turns to flash a sunny smile at Yoongi. “Everything is under control,” he says.
Yoongi barks a laugh. “Well, that’s a blatant lie. And yet, I don’t care enough to dig for details. Joon-ah!” he calls over his shoulder, receiving a faint ‘what?’ from somewhere in the apartment. “Get your coat, we’re going out!”
Yoongi turns back to the kitchen and points a finger at each of its occupants in turn. “Only call us if someone is dying. Literally.”
“What’s going on?” Namjoon’s head pops up behind Yoongi. He’s already wearing his jacket though, Hoseok can’t help but notice.
“No,” Yoongi says, pushing Namjoon away and toward the front door. “Ask no questions. It’s better if we don’t know.”
Namjoon’s face creases in vague worry but he let’s himself be hustled out anyway.
Hoseok hears the front door open, low murmur of conversation and then the click of the latch. He experiences glorious five seconds of relief, which is shattered when Jin enters the kitchen, clearly having walked in as Yoongi and Namjoon were leaving. He doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary at first, muttering a distracted hello as he drops his bag onto one of the kitchen chairs, and himself onto another, eyes on his phone screen as he types a message.
No one moves. Hoseok doesn’t quite dare to draw a breath despite the burn in his chest and a rapid glance around the room shows everyone else in a similar state; Taehyung frozen with his lip trapped between his teeth, Jimin holding a strip of beef suspended in mid-air and Jungkook clearly doing his utmost to meld into the kitchen cabinets.
Jin’s oblivious, immersed in whatever conversation he’s holding, and for one giddy, unrealistic second, Hoseok wonders if they might actually get away from this injury-free.
Then Jin lifts his head and inhales.
Jungkook curls in on himself with an audible whimper.
Jin turns in his seat, slow as an executioner’s march, his head tilting to the side as he takes in the room, his gaze raking over Jimin’s guilty expression, Jungkook’s stricken face, Hoseok’s loom and Taehyung’s wide eyes, his eyebrows creeping a little higher with every second that passes. The silence hangs tremulously for a second before Jin leans back, bracing himself against his elbows on the tabletop.
“Oh, please,” he says, with a glint in his eye that Hoseok knows well enough for it to send a chill slithering down his spine, “Explain what’s happening here to me.”
“It’s not my fault.” Twin sentiments echo immediately across the room, indignant from Taehyung in a way that makes Hoseok’s fingers itch, and despairing from Jungkook.
“Ah!” Jin holds one finger up. He considers them both for a moment, before flicking a look at Jimin. “Jimin-ah?”
Jimin hesitates long enough to send an apologetic look in Jungkook’s direction. “Kook-ah ate your bulgogi,” he admits.
Jin hums thoughtfully. “Hob-ah.”
Taehyung stiffens, and Hoseok delays just long enough to shoot him a vindicated smile, before he adds, “Taehyungie didn’t label it like you asked him to.”
“Hyung,” Taehyung breathes, his eyes wide and betrayed in an oddly satisfying way that Hoseok is never prepared to question too closely.
“We were trying to fix it, hyung,” Jungkook offers miserably, and Hoseok’s heart clenches in his chest. Jungkook loves a prank as much as the rest of them, but he hates to disappoint, still, and no amount of reassurance ever convinces him that not one of them expects him to hit the levels of perfection that he clearly expects of himself. Hoseok meets Jin’s eyes across the room, and Jin’s expression softens.
“You’re too sweet, Kook-ah,” he croons, and Jungkook glances up from under his eyelashes. “Maybe I should eat you for today’s episode?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Jimin snorts like he can’t stop himself, before he instantly claps one hand over his mouth.
Jungkook turns an immediate, bright beet red.
Hoseok blinks, ears buzzing as his higher brain function fails to register what his eyes have just seen. Taehyung and Jimin are quicker off the mark, their exclamations of surprise drowned out beneath Jin’s delighted, “Kookie!” and Hoseok gets the briefest glimpse of Jungkook’s horrified expression before he buries his face in his hands with a groan.
“Jungkook,” Jimin says, his voice balanced on a laugh, and Jungkook groans louder. “Kookie, it’s okay.”
“We all feel that way about Jin-hyung,” Taehyung offers, mischief colouring every syllable, and this time it’s Hoseok who snorts.
“Hush, all of you,” Jin says, getting off his seat, crossing the room in three quick steps and reaching up to tug Jungkook’s hands insistently away from his face. “Ignore them, Kook-ah. I understand. I can barely resist myself most days.”
Jungkook drops his head back against the kitchen cabinets. “I hate you all,” he says to the ceiling, his head tipped far enough that Hoseok knows he doesn’t see the calculating look Jin levels at him before he throws his own head back with a laugh.
“Alright, out of my kitchen,” he says, imperiously. Premature relief flashes over Jungkook’s face and he shifts on his feet, clearly ready to flee, before Jin’s hand crashes down on the countertop next to him and he pins Jungkook in place with a heated look. “Not you.”
Hoseok can feel his whole face slacken in surprise and he can see similar expressions of delighted shock steal over Jimin and Taehyung too. Jungkook’s mouth is hanging open in a way that should be unattractive and yet somehow isn’t.
“Oh my—” Hoseok slaps a hand over Taehyung’s mouth, stopping whatever gleeful comment he’s about to make before it gets any further. It’s part protective instincts because Taehyung is about to get himself killed, and part self-preservation because the glare Jin sends in their direction suggests, however amused he might seem, he’s not feeling particularly discriminatory about who to maul.
“That one,” Jin says, pointing at Taehyung, “is your responsibility.” He raises one all-too-knowing eyebrow at Hoseok. “Isn’t that right?”
Hoseok nods mutely, ignoring the way Taehyung’s mouth keeps trying to open, lips dragging wetly against his hand.
“Leave that,” Jin tells Jimin, who obediently deposits the bag of beef on the countertop next to a collection of bottles and jars. “It’s high time Jungkookie here had a hands-on lesson in the culinary arts.” The inflection in his voice is as subtle as a meat cleaver.
Jungkook makes the kind of high-pitched whine that’s going to haunt Hoseok for a long time. He takes it out on a target that is both convenient and deserving.
“I’m going to take my hand off now,” he growls at Taehyung, “and you’re going to say absolutely nothing. Do you understand?”
Taehyung’s eyes are slightly glazed. His mouth moves again, and Hoseok’s grip tightens on instinct.
“He understands,” Jimin says softly from behind Hoseok’s elbow. “Don’t you, Tae-yah?” He reaches out and tucks a lock of Taehyung’s hair behind his ear, fingers dancing over the back of Hoseok’s hand in the process.
Taehyung nods, slow enough that Hoseok believes him. “Alright then.” He clears his throat, casting a one last glance in the direction of Jin who seems to be in the process of instructing Jungkook in the fine art of knife handling in a way that does not appear family-friendly in the least. “Let’s go.”
Unceremoniously he removes his hand from Taehyung’s mouth and places it on the scruff of his neck instead, propelling him toward the door and catching Jimin by the hem of his shirt on the way. “Time for us to take this discussion elsewhere.”
***
The next evening, Namjoon is effusive in his praise of the beef bulgogi they all share for dinner. Yoongi very pointedly does not ask any questions about its origin while Jin smiles smugly, and the rest avoid each other’s eyes to the best of their ability.
Namjoon’s right though; the food is delicious.
***
Title: Taste of Danger
Author:
kat_lair / Mistress Kat & dreamersdare Fandom: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Pairing: implied Jeon Jungkook/Kim Seokjin | Jin, implied Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga, implied Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Kim Taehyung | V/Park Jimin, implied OT7 if you're that way inclined
Tags: Ambiguous Relationships, Food, Power Dynamics, Dom/sub Undertones, Humor
Rating: T
Word count: 2,775
Disclaimer: Very not true
Summary:
“Uh.” Taehyung looks over his shoulders furtively before clicking the door shut with considerably more care than he’d banged it open. “It’s Jin-hyung,” he says.
“No,” Hoseok says immediately, followed by Jimin’s half amused, half worried “Oh Tae.”
“But…” Taehyung’s eyes flit between the two of them slightly desperately.
Jimin is standing up by now, both hands on Taehyung’s shoulders as he peers at his face. “Tae-baby, what did you do?”
“Don’t engage him!” Hoseok snaps, tossing his phone to the mattress. “For god’s sake, don’t ask questions! I don’t want to know anything about anything because I don’t want to have to do anything about… Anything.” He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the door.
Both Jimin and Taehyung look at him with near identical anime eyes and Hoseok briefly contemplates suffocating himself with a pillow. Just enough to pass out.
Author notes: Written back-and-forth during our delightful kpop weekend fuelled by Tequila. An absolute pile of nonsense but it sure amused us. The prompt was: “Whatever you were going to ask, the answer is no.”
Taste of Danger on AO3
“Hyung!”
It’s the closest he gets to a warning, that muffled shout from the hallway, before the bedroom door slams open with a crack that he suspects he’ll be inspecting in the wall later on. It’s probably testament to how long Hoseok has shared a room with Jimin that he doesn’t even look up from his phone.
Having a Taehyung explode into his living space every now and again is an occupational hazard of living with Jimin. Hoseok thinks the trade-off is well worth it.
“Hyung,” Taehyung says again, quieter this time but breathless in a way that Hoseok hadn’t noticed in the earlier shout, and he flicks a look up from the screen to take in Taehyung’s bright eyes and red cheeks, the way his fingers are curled tight enough around the door frame to turn his knuckles white. “I need your help.”
Hoseok narrows his eyes in a way that makes him look cool only about half of the time. Right now, lying on his messy bed, still in his pyjamas, he suspects the effect is probably closer to squinting at a midday sun. Still, he suspects Taehyung’s motives even more.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Uh.” Taehyung looks over his shoulders furtively before clicking the door shut with considerably more care than he’d banged it open. “It’s Jin-hyung,” he says.
“No,” Hoseok says immediately, followed by Jimin’s half amused, half worried “Oh Tae.”
“But…” Taehyung’s eyes flit between the two of them slightly desperately.
Jimin is standing up by now, both hands on Taehyung’s shoulders as he peers at his face. “Tae-baby, what did you do?”
“Don’t engage him!” Hoseok snaps, tossing his phone to the mattress. “For god’s sake, don’t ask questions! I don’t want to know anything about anything because I don’t want to have to do anything about… Anything.” He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the door.
Both Jimin and Taehyung look at him with near identical anime eyes and Hoseok briefly contemplates suffocating himself with a pillow. Just enough to pass out.
“Jimin-ah,” he says, and it’s supposed to come out as a warning, but Hoseok can hear himself miss that mark by a clear margin, the syllables dropping far too close to beseeching for his liking.
Jimin’s smirk is infuriatingly knowing.
“If it helps, I didn’t actually do anything,” Taehyung offers into their staring match, visibly flinching as both of their gazes snap back to him. Hoseok can only assume his own disbelief is mirrored on Jimin’s face as Taehyung’s eyes impossibly widen. “I didn’t,” he protests.
“Somehow,” Hoseok says, “I find that difficult to believe.”
“Hyung,” Jimin’s admonishment is marred by the laugh Hoseok can hear curling around the edge of his words and it’s weirdly vindicating. “At least hear him out.”
Hoseok throws his hands up. “That’s what I’m trying to avoid, Jimin-ah. Once he tells us about whatever it is, it’ll be too late. We’ll be part of it. You know Jin-hyung.”
Taehyung’s pout is practically mulish. “I didn’t do anything,” he says again, insistently, “And I can prove it.”
***
“Tell them,” Taehyung says some five minutes later.
The three of them have cornered Jungkook in the kitchen. Both Taehyung and Jimin have their arms crossed in a way that would be intimidating for anyone who didn’t have several years of exposure.
“Tell them what?” Jungkook lifts a challenging eyebrow and crosses his own arms in imitation. The effect is decidedly more impressive. Hoseok pokes at one bulging bicep in passing as he reaches behind Jungkook to grab an apple from the counter.
“That you ate Jin-hyung’s leftovers.” Taehyung accuses.
Jimin hisses in shock at actually hearing the details of the crime. Even Hoseok stops mid-bite, teeth lodged into the apple as he processes the severity of the situation.
Jungkook blinks. “They weren’t his leftovers,” he says. “They were just… leftovers. For… anyone. Right?” A hint of uncertainty starts creeping into his voice, his arms loosening their defensive posture. “Right? There was no name on the box!”
“Jin-hyung said he was going to use the rest of it today for an episode of Eat Jin.”
“He did,” Jimin confirms.
Hoseok nods, swallowing his apple with some difficulty. There’s an itch between his shoulder blades and surreptitiously he glances at the clock. What time is Jin coming back? Soon probably.
“What?! When?” Jungkook is looking increasingly frantic.
“Last night, at the dinner.” Taehyung frowns. “You were there. Didn’t you hear?”
“…no.” Jungkook’s eyes are the size of saucers by now and he’s chewing on his lip-ring nervously.
Hoseok drags his eyes away. The clock is ticking. They need a solution.
It’s Jimin who makes the first move, after a moment of indecisive staring that Hoseok knows has lasted much longer than they have to spare. He’s light on his feet as he crosses the kitchen to yank open a door that sends a flood of cool air into the room, peering into it with a squint. “There’s still beef,” he says, his voice muffled as he leans deep into the refrigerator. “We could make more?”
Hoseok eyes the refrigerator dubiously, pointedly not looking at the arch of Jimin’s spine as he leans a little further in. “Doesn’t it need to… sit, though? Jin always preps everything hours ahead of time and I don’t think we have that long until he gets back.” He eyes the clock again. Five minutes since he last checked. They are so screwed.
“If we stab it with a fork it should soak up the flavour faster.” Taehyung’s forehead scrunches in determined concentration, his eyes tracking across his phone display as fast as the restless twitch of his thumb. “Or put it in a bag and beat it, that should work.”
“Okay,” Jimin says, letting the refrigerator door swing closed as he turns away, plastic tray held carefully in one hand. “Okay. This might work. Who knows a bulgogi recipe?”
“The internet?” Jungkook offers. His eyes are still deer-in-headlights wide even as he dips his fingers into his back pocket to hook out his phone. “Um, yeah. There’s loads of recipes here. I don’t… which one do we need? I don’t know which one Jin uses.”
Hoseok hooks his chin over Jungkook’s shoulder to check the screen for a second before he reaches around to poke the display. “Jin keeps all of his recipes locked away in his brain, but that one says super easy. Let’s use that.”
Jungkook hums, muscles shifting under Hoseok’s weight as he brings up the indicated recipe. “Okay, we need… soy sauce, rice wine. We have those, right?”
“Top cupboard,” Jimin says distractedly, a look of fierce concentration on his face as he slices the beef into thin, careful strips.
“Wait,” Hoseok says suddenly, and he feels three sets of eyes flick to him as if on instinct. “I accept that we’re in this now, but there’s something I don’t understand.”
“Hyung,” There’s a strained edge to Jimin’s voice. “Can this wait?”
“If Jungkook ate the bulgogi,” Hoseok says slowly, ignoring Jimin as he turns to pin Taehyung with a pointed look, “why did you come bursting into our bedroom as if chased by the hounds of hell?”
Taehyung freezes, a fraction of a second that sets alarm bells ringing in Hoseok’s head, and then drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “I was worried for Kook,” he says.
It’s so unconvincing, it’s practically an insult.
“Kim Taehyung.” Hoseok narrows his eyes and advances on Taehyung, slowly but surely backing him toward the wall. “Don’t you dare lie to your hyung.”
Taehyung flails, crossing and uncrossing his arms, trying and failing to appear unaffected. “I didn’t lie,” he whines. “Not really.”
Hoseok quirks an eyebrow. “Let’s hear the whole thing.”
Taehyung huffs but a glance at Jimin’s openly disappointed face makes his shoulders slump. “I forgot to put the label on,” he mutters.
“Hah, I knew it!” Jungkook crows. “There was no label!”
“Well no,” Taehyung says. “But Jin-hyung did say he wanted to save the leftovers and you were there for that. It’s just that when we were cleaning up he asked me to write his name on the lid and I… Didn’t.”
“In conclusion,” Hoseok summarises, “You are both idiots who need to pay more attention to their elders.”
“I don’t disagree with that statement on principle,” Yoongi’s voice drawls from the kitchen doorway. “But I’d like to know the context for this particular instance.” He pauses to survey the scene; Jimin shoving beef strips and soy sauce into a plastic bag, Taehyung hunching defensively while Jungkook shakes a bulb of garlic at everyone like a victory banner. “Actually, on second thought…”
Hoseok eases his looming just a bit and turns to flash a sunny smile at Yoongi. “Everything is under control,” he says.
Yoongi barks a laugh. “Well, that’s a blatant lie. And yet, I don’t care enough to dig for details. Joon-ah!” he calls over his shoulder, receiving a faint ‘what?’ from somewhere in the apartment. “Get your coat, we’re going out!”
Yoongi turns back to the kitchen and points a finger at each of its occupants in turn. “Only call us if someone is dying. Literally.”
“What’s going on?” Namjoon’s head pops up behind Yoongi. He’s already wearing his jacket though, Hoseok can’t help but notice.
“No,” Yoongi says, pushing Namjoon away and toward the front door. “Ask no questions. It’s better if we don’t know.”
Namjoon’s face creases in vague worry but he let’s himself be hustled out anyway.
Hoseok hears the front door open, low murmur of conversation and then the click of the latch. He experiences glorious five seconds of relief, which is shattered when Jin enters the kitchen, clearly having walked in as Yoongi and Namjoon were leaving. He doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary at first, muttering a distracted hello as he drops his bag onto one of the kitchen chairs, and himself onto another, eyes on his phone screen as he types a message.
No one moves. Hoseok doesn’t quite dare to draw a breath despite the burn in his chest and a rapid glance around the room shows everyone else in a similar state; Taehyung frozen with his lip trapped between his teeth, Jimin holding a strip of beef suspended in mid-air and Jungkook clearly doing his utmost to meld into the kitchen cabinets.
Jin’s oblivious, immersed in whatever conversation he’s holding, and for one giddy, unrealistic second, Hoseok wonders if they might actually get away from this injury-free.
Then Jin lifts his head and inhales.
Jungkook curls in on himself with an audible whimper.
Jin turns in his seat, slow as an executioner’s march, his head tilting to the side as he takes in the room, his gaze raking over Jimin’s guilty expression, Jungkook’s stricken face, Hoseok’s loom and Taehyung’s wide eyes, his eyebrows creeping a little higher with every second that passes. The silence hangs tremulously for a second before Jin leans back, bracing himself against his elbows on the tabletop.
“Oh, please,” he says, with a glint in his eye that Hoseok knows well enough for it to send a chill slithering down his spine, “Explain what’s happening here to me.”
“It’s not my fault.” Twin sentiments echo immediately across the room, indignant from Taehyung in a way that makes Hoseok’s fingers itch, and despairing from Jungkook.
“Ah!” Jin holds one finger up. He considers them both for a moment, before flicking a look at Jimin. “Jimin-ah?”
Jimin hesitates long enough to send an apologetic look in Jungkook’s direction. “Kook-ah ate your bulgogi,” he admits.
Jin hums thoughtfully. “Hob-ah.”
Taehyung stiffens, and Hoseok delays just long enough to shoot him a vindicated smile, before he adds, “Taehyungie didn’t label it like you asked him to.”
“Hyung,” Taehyung breathes, his eyes wide and betrayed in an oddly satisfying way that Hoseok is never prepared to question too closely.
“We were trying to fix it, hyung,” Jungkook offers miserably, and Hoseok’s heart clenches in his chest. Jungkook loves a prank as much as the rest of them, but he hates to disappoint, still, and no amount of reassurance ever convinces him that not one of them expects him to hit the levels of perfection that he clearly expects of himself. Hoseok meets Jin’s eyes across the room, and Jin’s expression softens.
“You’re too sweet, Kook-ah,” he croons, and Jungkook glances up from under his eyelashes. “Maybe I should eat you for today’s episode?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Jimin snorts like he can’t stop himself, before he instantly claps one hand over his mouth.
Jungkook turns an immediate, bright beet red.
Hoseok blinks, ears buzzing as his higher brain function fails to register what his eyes have just seen. Taehyung and Jimin are quicker off the mark, their exclamations of surprise drowned out beneath Jin’s delighted, “Kookie!” and Hoseok gets the briefest glimpse of Jungkook’s horrified expression before he buries his face in his hands with a groan.
“Jungkook,” Jimin says, his voice balanced on a laugh, and Jungkook groans louder. “Kookie, it’s okay.”
“We all feel that way about Jin-hyung,” Taehyung offers, mischief colouring every syllable, and this time it’s Hoseok who snorts.
“Hush, all of you,” Jin says, getting off his seat, crossing the room in three quick steps and reaching up to tug Jungkook’s hands insistently away from his face. “Ignore them, Kook-ah. I understand. I can barely resist myself most days.”
Jungkook drops his head back against the kitchen cabinets. “I hate you all,” he says to the ceiling, his head tipped far enough that Hoseok knows he doesn’t see the calculating look Jin levels at him before he throws his own head back with a laugh.
“Alright, out of my kitchen,” he says, imperiously. Premature relief flashes over Jungkook’s face and he shifts on his feet, clearly ready to flee, before Jin’s hand crashes down on the countertop next to him and he pins Jungkook in place with a heated look. “Not you.”
Hoseok can feel his whole face slacken in surprise and he can see similar expressions of delighted shock steal over Jimin and Taehyung too. Jungkook’s mouth is hanging open in a way that should be unattractive and yet somehow isn’t.
“Oh my—” Hoseok slaps a hand over Taehyung’s mouth, stopping whatever gleeful comment he’s about to make before it gets any further. It’s part protective instincts because Taehyung is about to get himself killed, and part self-preservation because the glare Jin sends in their direction suggests, however amused he might seem, he’s not feeling particularly discriminatory about who to maul.
“That one,” Jin says, pointing at Taehyung, “is your responsibility.” He raises one all-too-knowing eyebrow at Hoseok. “Isn’t that right?”
Hoseok nods mutely, ignoring the way Taehyung’s mouth keeps trying to open, lips dragging wetly against his hand.
“Leave that,” Jin tells Jimin, who obediently deposits the bag of beef on the countertop next to a collection of bottles and jars. “It’s high time Jungkookie here had a hands-on lesson in the culinary arts.” The inflection in his voice is as subtle as a meat cleaver.
Jungkook makes the kind of high-pitched whine that’s going to haunt Hoseok for a long time. He takes it out on a target that is both convenient and deserving.
“I’m going to take my hand off now,” he growls at Taehyung, “and you’re going to say absolutely nothing. Do you understand?”
Taehyung’s eyes are slightly glazed. His mouth moves again, and Hoseok’s grip tightens on instinct.
“He understands,” Jimin says softly from behind Hoseok’s elbow. “Don’t you, Tae-yah?” He reaches out and tucks a lock of Taehyung’s hair behind his ear, fingers dancing over the back of Hoseok’s hand in the process.
Taehyung nods, slow enough that Hoseok believes him. “Alright then.” He clears his throat, casting a one last glance in the direction of Jin who seems to be in the process of instructing Jungkook in the fine art of knife handling in a way that does not appear family-friendly in the least. “Let’s go.”
Unceremoniously he removes his hand from Taehyung’s mouth and places it on the scruff of his neck instead, propelling him toward the door and catching Jimin by the hem of his shirt on the way. “Time for us to take this discussion elsewhere.”
***
The next evening, Namjoon is effusive in his praise of the beef bulgogi they all share for dinner. Yoongi very pointedly does not ask any questions about its origin while Jin smiles smugly, and the rest avoid each other’s eyes to the best of their ability.
Namjoon’s right though; the food is delicious.
***