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stonepicnicking_okapiTitle: Train [Chapter 3 of 5 of Lunar Blessing]
Fandom: BTS
Characters/Pairings: Jin, OCs, j-hope/SUGA; minor RM/Jimin, minor Taehyung/Junkook
Rating: Explicit for masturbation and a bit of dirty talk.
Length: 6284
For: GYWO 2022 Yatzhee Roll #5
Prompt:
Summary: With help from a priest, Yoongi learns where Jung Hoseok is, and the Alpha campaign acquires a new member on the train.
“Just open the vein and pour it in directly, Kooky.”
Smiling, Jungkook decanted the coffee into a mug with the phrase ‘Unless You’re the Lead Dog, the View Never Changes’ on the side. Then he carried the mug to a coffee table beside a sofa upon which Yoongi was moaning and regretting every choice he’d made in his miserable life, individually, starting with that morning and going backwards.
“You know, except for the sick on my boots,” said Jungkook, “I don’t mind it.”
“Don’t mind what?”
“You and your weird life. Showing up on my doorstep at six o’clock in the morning in your pajamas asking me to do sketch of your dream lover. Having someone call me at five o’clock the following morning to go down to the Temple District and haul your stinking, puking ass home. It’s never boring, hyung, and the rest of my life, well, is.”
“Oh, to be young and handsome and Alpha, pure like David, ripped like Goliath and good at practically everything.”
“I go to school. I go to the gym. Paint a little, sketch a little. Box. Get laid, get inked.” Jungkook shrugged. “I don’t know. What’s it all for?”
“You’re too young to be sighing like that.”
Yoongi drank his coffee and progressed from moaning to grunting.
Jungkook thoughtfully put a carafe of very cold water, a drinking glass, and a couple of painkillers on the coffee table.
“Can I come to work for you, hyung? The private investigator business sounds like fun.”
“Finish your education first.”
“That’s what Rap Mon says when I ask him about working at the bar.”
“He’s right, and speak of the devil, when I feel like joining the living again, I gotta go down to Bangtan’s and tell him that while I didn’t find Jung Hoseok, I did find his Omega crush.”
“Ooo! Hyung’s got a crush? Spill!”
Yoongi did while Jungkook made breakfast.
---
“You look like shit.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
Rap Monster looked at the clock on the wall.
“It’s not morning anymore, hyung.”
“Whatever. Kooky did his best to revive me after scraping me off the pavement this morning. An angry shopkeeper read the note sewn in my jacket and called him after the Oracle chewed me up and spit me out last night.”
“See? I told you that note was a smart idea.”
“You’re full of ‘em. Now pour me a double.”
“Of juice, water, or tea. I’m not wasting my precious inventory on something the cat threw up. And Kooky gave you plenty of coffee. I don’t need your geriatric ass shitting on my barstool.”
“Rude!” Yoongi snorted. “You’ve still got tangerine juice?”
“Hyung, I hate to break it to you, but you’re the only one in the world who drinks that stuff. Yeah, I’ll even make it a double. On the house.”
“My lucky day. Will you put a little umbrella in it?”
“Just for you, sunshine!”
“In that case, since you’re being so obliging, I’ll tell you about Mochi.”
“Whoa!”
Yoongi might have been three-quarters dead, but he was still alive enough to throw himself across the bar and catch the pitcher before it toppled to the ground. He’d read about mothers heaving cars off their children; he supposed it operated along the same lines.
“Sorry, hyung.”
“Yeah, yeah. Mochi remembers you. Fondly.”
“Whoa!”
“Okay, I’m pouring my own until you get a hold of yourself. Keep the umbrella. You might blind yourself or something.” Yoongi sat back, resting the pitcher safely on the bar and reaching for a glass. “Yeah, Mochi’s still at the Oracle, but he’s no longer at The Purring Kitten. Uh, he had some trouble there.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“The usual. But I am also having a lot of trouble, thanks for asking, because I am still no closer to finding out where Jung Hoseok is.”
Yoongi poured the juice.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
Yoongi turned toward the door and was immediately glad he was the one holding the pitcher. The scent of cinnamon bakery goods curled into the bar like temptation itself.
“Mochi!”
Without the priest garb, the Omega was even prettier. No, he was striking. Arresting. Short white suit jacket, crisp white dress shirt, black belt with shiny buckle, black jeans, and black boots. His hair was short and blonde with streaks of purple and pink. His earrings were long, dangly, gold and in the shape of a symbol Yoongi vaguely recognized from the previous night. He looked very expensive and very cool. Like the offspring of a rockstar and an overpriced box of chocolates.
“Come in, come in,” said Rap Monster excitedly, “please, have a seat, welcome to Bangtan’s, what’ll be, anything, on the house, it’s so great to see you again, you look great, Mochi.”
Yoongi gave a silent sigh. His best friend was goner. Going, going, gone!
“It’s not Mochi anymore, just Park Jimin.”
“Jimin,” repeated Rap Monster dreamily. “That’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“And you’re…?” prompted Jimin, holding Rap Monster’s gaze as he slid onto the barstool beside Yoongi.
Rap Monster looked surprised and confused and embarrassed. “Uh…you know…ordinary…just hanging out…pouring drinks…”
“He’s still Kim Namjoon,” supplied Yoongi. “And if you’re wondering, I’m still Min Yoongi—despite your Goddess putting me through the damned wringer last night!” Yoongi was becoming pleasantly angry. He actually shook his index finger at the Omega, which was both a surprise and a bit of a matronly thrill. “And just for the record, you’re not an Ent!”
WHIP!
A corner of a bar towel stung Yoongi’s cheek.
“Behave!” warned Rap Monster, then he turned his koala bear smile on the Omega asked sweetly, “What can I get you, Jimin?”
By way of reply, Jimin gifted Rap Mon with a platinum-inlaid, pure Purring Kitten expression and batted his dark eyelashes. “Can you do a kir royale, Mister Barman?”
Yoongi groaned and rolled his eyes.
Jimin shot him a hard look, but Rap Mon didn’t seem to notice.
“Of course,” said Rap Monster like it was perfectly normal and not pretentious at all to order a Mother’s Day brunch drink in the middle of a random Thursday at a hole-in-the-wall bar in the Music District. “Crème de cassis. Just let me get the good champagne.”
Yoongi sighed an audible sigh. If they were just going to flirt, he had more interesting things to do, like go home and resume vomiting.
As soon as Rap Mon’s back was turned, Jimin hissed quickly,
“I may not be an Ent, but you’re still a Hobbit, and since we’re stating things for the record, I didn’t enjoy sweeping up your sloppy entitled Alpha ass and putting you out with the trash any more than you enjoyed doing your best interpretation of rubbish!”
“Rude!” Yoongi cried because he couldn’t think of a witty retort. Damn, this guy was good. He almost found himself hoping things between these two kids would work out.
“Here,” said Jimin. He slapped a scrap of paper on the bar. “That’s where Jung Hoseok is.”
Yoongi read it.
The Village of Twelve Rivers, Gwacheon
“How do you know?” asked Yoongi
“The tea leaves told me. The Goddess isn’t the only one who can read them, and here is your drawing back. You must’ve lost it when you were coming like a schoolboy in your jockey shorts.”
“Hey! I’m a boxer-briefs, man, I’ll have you know.”
Jimin ignored him. “He looks nice.” He tapped the edge of the drawing. “He’s an Omega, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“Sometimes I can tell.”
“Forgive me but how do you know the tea leaves are right about this? I mean, it isn’t exactly a science, is it?”
“No, that’s why I checked the police system this morning. There was a Missing Person report filed a week ago by a landlady in the Port District of the capital about a young man matching,” he tapped the drawing again, “this description.”
“Wait a minute,” said Yoongi. “I searched missing persons and got nothing.”
“He was adopted as an infant by a diplomatic family and grew up in the UK, right?”
“Yeah. I got that.”
“He arrived in this country two months ago, and he calls himself Hope Jung, and the landlady assumed Hope was…”
“…his family name. Shit!” Yoongi smacked his own forehead. It hurt.
“The landlady said he was on a three-month hiking tour of the whole country, going back and forth from the capital to different spots in each province, renting a room in her boardinghouse as a kind of home base. She said he’d always told her when he’d return, and he’d always returned on time, but a week passed, and she’d got worried because he always hiked alone. She said the last time she saw him he said he was going to western Gwacheon.”
“That’s on the border,” said Yoongi.
“Yeah, the report was forwarded to the police in the provincial capital, but nothing happened. Here’s a printout.” Jimin produced a many-folded piece of paper from his back pocket and placed it on the bar. “See for yourself.”
“Here you go,” interrupted Rap Monster with a flute of bubbly liquid.
“Thank you. It looks fabulous,” said Jimin, taking it by the stem. “Cheers.”
“Rap Mon, Jimin says Jung Hoseok is in Gwacheon, a place called The Village of Twelve Rivers.”
“Gwacheon? Let me get my maps!”
When he’d hurried off, Yoongi whispered,
“You hacked into the police system?”
“It’s not hacking when you sit on an Alpha officer’s lap while he checks the system,” retorted Jimin mocking Yoongi’s whisper.
“Oh! I’ve never tried that.”
“You should. It would really work for you.” He snickered, then brought the flute to his lips, tipped, and drank it all in one go.
Well, that was something.
Yoongi lifted his hand without thinking. “Listen, Park Jimin, don’t hurt my friend, please. He’s a sensitive plant.”
“You don’t know me, Min Yoongi, so who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? And,” he glared at Yoongi’s hovering hand and then lower, in the direction of Yoongi’s crotch, “if you touch me, I’ll permanently separate your 9 iron from your Alpha golf bag!”
“It’s an 8 and a half iron, but okay.” Yoongi dropped his hand.
“Maps!” cried Rap Monster, his hands full. “I love maps!”
“Gwacheon. West. Looks like you can only get there by train,” Rap Monster said after the three of them had studied the most detailed map in silence for a few minutes. “Last station is called Gyeonggi. There.” He gave a magnifying glass to Yoongi, who looked, then tapped a dot.
“And there’s Twelve Rivers.”
“That part I got from the leaves,” said Jimin. “But a search showed there is an old trail in that area; missionaries used to travel it on foot to go from one outpost to another. It crosses all twelve rivers.”
“Maybe here,” suggested Rap Mon, drawing a line with his finger.
“And one of the rivers is stopped up,” said Yoongi. “That’s why they’re going to sacrifice Jung Hoseok on Monday night. They think it will get the water flowing again. He’s being held prisoner until then.”
“Shit,” said Jimin.
“Yup. My client, his mother, the one who gave him up for adoption as a baby, is dying. She wants to see him before she, you know.”
“Oh my god!” said Jimin. “It really is important.”
“Yeah. I have to go. I wonder when the next train is.”
Rap Monster dipped behind the bar and reappeared with a thick guide, which he flipped through, “If this is still accurate, there’s one leaving at five in the afternoon. It arrives at Gyeonggi at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“You are very, very prepared,” said Jimin with undisguised admiration.
Rap Mon might’ve said ‘Aw, shucks’ or he might’ve just turned pink. Yoongi didn’t know. He didn’t really have time for more than one drama. He was still studying the map.
“I have to go,” he repeated. “As soon as possible. Today.”
“Alone?” cried Jimin.
Rap Monster coughed. “Uh…”
“Yeah,” Yoongi said, looking at the dots and lines and whirls and wondering what they looked like in real life. “I’m going to do it alone, but I want to borrow this, Mon.”
“Sure, man, whatever.”
“But you said you were best friends!” cried Jimin.
“We are,” began Rap Mon feebly.
“Yup, since the schoolyard,” agreed Yoongi, trying to do the math with the scale. Would he be able to walk, or would he need some transport from the train station? And if so, what kind of transport? Would it be stealth enough? Would he need a cover story?
There was a weird silence.
Yoongi finally looked up from the map.
Jimin was looking from Rap Monster to Yoongi and back with his mouth open and a certain expression on his face. Rap Monster was looking from Jimin to Yoongi to the floor with another expression on his face and his lips tightly pinched.
Oh, fuck, Yoongi was making Mon look like a coward in front of his crush!
Way to go, wingman.
Yoongi coughed, “It’s okay…”
“No, it’s not,” said Rap Monster. “I can’t let you do this alone, Yoongi. It’s dangerous. You don’t know what will be waiting for you or how tough it’ll be. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
Let it never be said that Min Yoongi did not know how to read a cue. He took up his part as Second Male Lead in this drama and replied,
“Thanks, man. I knew I could count on you. I really didn’t want to face this on my own, without your enormous brains and your big, big muscles.”
“Oh, wow! You guys are going to have one amazing story to tell!” cried Jimin clapping. “And you’re going to do it, I just know you are, you’re going to reunite this guy with his mother!”
“Uh, do you want to come, too?” Yoongi asked apprehensively.
“Oh, no. I’m a city Omega. I wouldn’t know the first thing about surviving in the hinterlands. I’m all about, you know, museums, cafes, bookstores…”
Yoongi thought he could actually see Rap Monster fall a little bit deeper in love.
“...well, you guys are on a serious deadline, so I’d better let you get ready.”
“Thank you, Jimin,” said Yoongi, and he meant it.
“You’re welcome.” Jimin slid gracefully off the barstool and moved towards the door, with Rap Monster sort of following, hovering, probably trying to think of something appropriate to say as farewell, maybe a kiss, no, he wouldn’t be that bold, not even a peck, not Rap Mon. He’d probably break something.
Then something on the far wall caught Jimin’s eye, and he stopped. “Oh, that’s the famous missing 1938 map of Middle Earth, isn’t it?”
The koala’s eyes grew so large they threatened to envelope his whole head. “Yeah! I mean, it’s a print, of course.”
“Well, the original is in The Bodleian, isn’t it?”
“You like Tolkien?”
“Yeah, a lot.”
Holy plot twist, thought Yoongi, Mochi was as big a nerd as Rap Mon! Yoongi made a mental note to get his light grey suit cleaned because it would probably be an August wedding.
The two were staring at the map, then at each other, and Yoongi was staring at them, too, but to be fair, even the tangerine juice was probably staring at them.
“You’re going to have a great adventure,” said Jimin. “And I want to hear all about it when you return.”
“You’ll be the first, I promise,” said Rap Mon.
“Then you better come back. In one piece. Here. For luck.”
Then Jimin closed the distance and kissed him.
On the mouth! With tongue!
Rap Monster had been holding on to the back of a wooden chair. It collapsed. So did he.
“I’m okay! I’m okay!”
In the noise and confusion, Jimin turned like a raptor and swooped down on Yoongi and hissed quietly.
“For the record, people who live in glass houses drinking,” he cast a disparaging glance at the bar and wrinkled his cute nose, “tangerine juice really shouldn’t throw stones about what libations other people chose to imbibe, you drunk snob.”
Libations. Imbibe. Fuck August, they’d elope by June.
Jimin pivoted. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Good luck!”
“Thanks!”
Rap Monster and Yoongi watched, and when the door had closed, they exchanged a silent glance, the substance of which was:
Hate for you to leave, love to watch you go.
When the pheromonal fog had dissipated, Yoongi said,
“Listen, Mon, you don’t have to go. I was going to ask Kooky.”
“Like fuck I don’t have to go, Min Yoongi! Were you paying attention at all? I’VE GOT TO GO, YOU BASTARD!”
“Hey,” objected Yoongi. “My parents were married. To each other, in fact.”
“YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”
“That’s better.”
“I own a bar! I don’t know how to fight! Or, you know, do commando fuck-all!” He pulled at his hair with both hands. “You and your stupid shit, Min Yoongi!”
That hit a nerve. Yoongi jumped up and rushed him.
“MY STUPID SHIT?!” Yoongi pointed to the world outside Bangtan’s. “OUT THERE, IN THE WORLD BEYOND THIS BAR? THERE’S A GUY IN A CAGE ABOUT TO BE EXECUTED FOR THE CRIME OF BEING IN THE WRONG PLACE AT THE WRONG TIME WITH THE WRONG COLORED HAIR! AND THERE’S A DYING MOTHER, TOO! IF YOU REALLY THINK THAT’S STUPID, I HAVE TWO QUESTIONS FOR YOU: WHO ARE YOU AND WHERE IS MY BEST FRIEND KIM NAMJOON? AND HOW IN THE FUCK,” Yoongi was screaming now, pointing at the wide chest and then at the door and then back at the chest, “DO YOU THINK YOU DESERVE ANYTHING LIKE THAT ROCK ‘N’ ROLL BONBON WHO JUST WALTZED OUT OF HERE, YOU FUCKING LOSER?! MAN! THE FUCK! UP!”
The air was tense, and then it wasn’t.
“That’s three questions, not two, Suga.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m scared, man.”
“So am I, Joon, but we gotta try. We got to.”
And then they were, by some magic of memory, just a couple of kids who only had each other because the only boy who got teased more than the Alpha who presented at 11 years old smelling of coffee was the Alpha who presented at 13 years old smelling of whiskey.
They’d been boys who smelled like men, and now they were men who smelled like men but who, once in a while, still felt like boys.
But at least they had each other.
Yoongi’s face was in Rap Mon’s chest and those thigh-sized arms were round him and everything was going to be okay.
It was.
“I still want to ask Koo,” said Yoongi, his voice muffled by monstrous pectorals. “I think we need him.”
“He’s going to piss himself.”
---
“I’M GOING TO PISS MYSELF!” cried Jungkook. “An adventure with Rap Mon-hyung and Suga-hyung! And me! WHEEE!”
He threw his arms in the air and ran in circles around his own tiny living room, flailing, until he collapsed into a giggly pile on the rug.
“Koo, come on, we don’t have time for this,” said Rap Mon.
“Yeah,” agreed Yoongi. “The train leaves in less than two hours.”
“Yeah, yeah. Gotta pack. Hmm. Rescue mission. All right. Come.”
Jungkook led them into the only bedroom.
“Wow. This is small,” observed Yoongi.
“’Cause I added a second closet myself,” said Jungkook.
“For what?”
“Weapons, of course.”
“Holy shit!” Rap Mon and Yoongi peered inside.
“Pistols, knives, sword, I got some brass knuckles if we’re doing hand-to-hand…”
“What no crossbow?” teased Yoongi.
“I want one, hyung, but they’re expensive. So’s tuition.”
“Where did you get the pistols?” asked Rap Mon.
“Grandpa. My, you know, not-Suga-hyung grandpa. The one who’s fully dead, not just mostly dead. Inside. You know, liver."
“Okay, that’s enough! I’ll take the sword and the knives,” said Yoongi.
“What do you want, Rap Mon?”
“I’m taking a butterfly net and some specimen jars and pretending this is all for science. What? I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
“Okay,” said Jungkook. “I’ll take the guns. I’m a good shot. And this small ax. Just in case.”
“Great,” said Yoongi. “We’re a five-weapon army, counting the butterfly net.”
---
Rap Monster flexed his library card, Jungkook sharpened his blades, and soon the three Alphas were on a west-bound train. City turned to outskirts which turned to smaller and smaller towns farther and farther apart. In their compartment, the three poured over maps while Rap Monster read aloud from some of the sources he’d gathered. They discussed plans and exchanged perspectives in between thoughtful periods of staring out the large window at the changing landscape.
The evening meal found them still in deep discussion in the dining car.
“Hyung,” said Rap Monster under his breath.
“Mm?” responded Yoongi
“Don’t look, but that train attendant seems a little bit too interested in us. You don’t suppose the villagers, I don’t know, have spies or something.”
“Seems unlikely. Which one?”
“Tall. Dark fluffy hair. Foxy eyes. Omega, I think.”
“Oh, yeah, I noticed him, too. I thought he was just checking Kooky out.”
“What?” At the sound of his name, Jungkook was shaken out of a fog. He looked about, keenly. “Which one?”
“Over there,” said Rap Monster, giving a tiny nod.
“Oh! Hi!” Jungkook waved and smiled.
“Jesus, Koo,” breathed Rap Monster.
“Well, since we’re being so inconspicuous. I suppose I can look.” Yoongi turned his head in time to see the train attendant’s hand go up and a pink blush spread across his cheeks. He looked away and pretended to be very interested in folding cloth napkins. “He’s cute,” Yoongi turned back, “but we’ve got a campaign, soldier.”
“Of course, hyung.”
The three settled on a course of action and agreed they all needed to rest as much as they could get.
It had been a very long time since Yoongi had shared sleeping quarters with his best friend, and now he remembered why.
“BRRROOOOWR!”
The rumbling of the locomotive, even with its periodic wailing whistle, could not drown out the snoring of the freight train known as the slumbering Rap Monster. Yoongi also began to wonder what had happened to Jungkook. He hadn’t returned from a trip to the bathroom.
Yoongi slung a light satchel on his back and left the compartment, moving slowly down the corridor until he reached the end of the car.
He heard familiar giggles. He yanked a curtain back.
Two bodies, thankfully, still fully clothed bodies, sprang apart clumsily.
“Hyung!”
“I’m on a break!”
“Hyung, he was just curious about my tattoos!”
Is that what the children were calling it?
“You,” said Yoongi, pointing to the train attendant, “are going to find me the quietest sleeping berth in this place, and I am going to forget about whatever’s going on here until the morning.”
“Yes, sir, there’s a compartment held vacant for the company president.”
“Sounds perfect. Lead on.”
It was a nice compartment.
“What’s your name?” asked Yoongi.
“V.”
That seemed unlikely, but Yoongi didn’t feel like arguing. “V, do you know the song ‘Hold Me Tight’?”
“No, sir, I am not familiar with that one.”
“It goes—"
Yoongi grabbed him by the throat. The attendant squeaked and turned purple but didn’t not put up a struggle.
“—Listen, that young man you are canoodling with is like a son, grandson, favourite nephew, first puppy, last cigarette, all rolled into one. Hurt him, and I’ll hurt you. Plus, I need him fresh and ready to fight in the morning. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!” V wheezed.
Yoongi released him, ashamed he’d used the word ‘canoodle.’ He really was a grandpa.
“Thank you very much, V. Good night.”
V coughed. “Good night, sir.”
Yoongi locked the door after V left. Then he sat on the made-up berth and drew the balloon-pattered baby blanket from his satchel.
---
The opening gambit with the balloons was the same. After a bit of trekking through the green, Yoongi found Jung Hoseok at the stone ruins, sitting on the ground, slumped between the roots of a giant Ent-like tree.
He turned to look as Yoongi approached.
“Hey.”
The voice was alarmingly weak.
Yoongi immediately fell to his knees.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I go in and out,” said Hoseok. He blinked very slowly, and his tight smile was something like a grimace.
“We’re on our way,” said Yoongi. “Two friends and I.”
Dark eyes suddenly widened, and his whole expression became more alert, then a kind of weary resignation eclipsed the surprise.
“I hope I get to meet you in person, Min Yoongi. I would really like that.” The tone was anything but confident.
“You’re not doing so good. Are they hurting you?” The idea made Yoongi’s blood boil and his guts twist in a painful knot.
Hoseok shook his head. “No, I think it’s mostly dehydration, but I am afraid there might not be much to sacrifice by Monday.”
“Hey, hey.” Yoongi brushed soft white hair from Hoseok’s forehead. “Don’t talk like that. My two friends and I are on a train right now. We’ve got enough weapons and almost enough sense to launch a successful rescue. We’ll be in Gyeonggi by morning and then we’re headed directly for Twelve Rivers.”
“Oh my god! You really are on your way!” The exclamation was strained and whispered, but full of emotion.
“Yeah, so just hang on.”
“I need to get word to Seokjin.”
“He’s the guy helping you?”
“Yeah, he’s from here, and he thinks he knows why the river is blocked. He’s been following it to the source. There is the maze of caves in the mountains. They go on for miles and miles. All kinds of stories about them. Monsters, buried treasure, ghosts. He thinks if he can get the water running again, they’ll let me go. I don’t know. He’s got…”
“What?”
“A kind of homemade dynamite.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Hidden somewhere. He plans to bust the clog when he finds it. I don’t know if it’s going to work. And even if it does, will they let me go?”
“Huh.”
There was a chirruping noise.
“What’s that? asked Yoongi.
Two small, furry, big-eared, black-and-white striped miniature squirrels were staring at them.
“That’s Fish Cake and Soup. Seokjin’s sugar gliders. He leaves them to keep me company when he can’t visit.”
“Cute.”
“Yeah. He’s a nice guy. Not to be uncharitable to my captors,” Hoseok gave mirthless chuckle, “I don’t think Seokjin belongs here. Maybe he can get out, too, if...if...if....”
Yoongi watched the two creatures scurry up the tree.
Hoseok’s eyes were closed. His face was a mask of pain, and it made Yoongi feel impotent with rage.
Yoongi tentatively took Hoseok’s hand in both of his and began to massage it, kneading with thumbs up the palm to the wrist and then the forearms.
“Does this help at all?”
Hoseok smiled a flicker of a genuine smile without opening his eyes. “It’s a very nice distraction. My quarters are a bit cramped and so am I.” He sighed. “Yeah, it’s good.”
“Here.” Yoongi gently inserted himself sitting behind Hoseok with his own back against the tree and Hoseok’s back to his chest. He put his hands to Hoseok’s shoulders and began to rub.
Hoseok hummed. Yoongi’s hands moved to Hoseok’s neck.
“Yes, yes, right there.”
Yoongi didn’t often feel his inner Alpha, but he did now. It was very proud of itself.
Yoongi also made a conscious effort to look around them, at the vines, the trees, the crumbling ruin, noticing things that might be useful.
“It used to be a temple,” said Hoseok, reading Yoongi mind. “Abandoned. It’s not far from the river, the bed of the river that dried up. This is where they found me. I had wandered off the trail without realizing it. The dialect here is strong. I didn’t understand what they were saying at first. I just knew I was in big trouble.”
Yoongi’s massaging hands moved down Hoseok’s back. Hoseok leaned forward to allow him more access.
“Shitty way to spend a gap year,” said Yoongi, with dark amusement. “Being sacrificed.”
“I’m a little too old for a gap year, Min Yoongi, and it wasn’t just a holiday, a vacation.”
“No?”
“I’m looking for my mother. Calling myself 'Hope' was aspirational. I was hoping to find her.”
“She’s looking for you!”
“What?!” Hoseok turned around and stared, alert and clearly shocked.
Yoongi felt like an idiot. “I told you, right? In the last dream?”
“No. You said you were looking for me. I assumed my landlady had hired you. She’s that sort. Worries. Fussy. Too much time on her hands.”
“No, your biological mother’s looking for you. She’s ill, and she wants to see you. She hired me.”
“Oh.”
Hoseok slumped back against Yoongi’s chest, collapsing like a deflated balloon, and it was the easiest thing in the world for Yoongi to wrap his arms around the Omega and nuzzle against his neck.
“I don’t know why but I always assumed she’d be in a village. God, I’ve got to hang on,” whispered Hoseok as if to himself.
“Please do.” Yoongi began to caress Hoseok’s scalp with the pads of his fingers.
Hoseok twisted in Yoongi’s arms. “I know we don’t really know each other…”
“Yes, you can.”
“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“Doesn’t matter, you still can.”
“You’re awful obliging.”
“Most people say I’m just awful. What is it?”
“Can I scent you? You smell…”
A cold, hard bitterness seized Yoongi, and he braced himself for what was to come. Since puberty, he’d been ridiculed, insulted, dismissed, and pitied because of his pheromonal profile.
“…healing.”
Okay, that was new.
Yoongi was speechless for a moment, then he said, much too loud,
“Really?!”
“Yeah. You know, in old movies, cowboys are always pouring it on wounds and they’re always giving it to people who faint. You smell soothing, almost medicinal, but in a good way, a really good way. But it’s okay, I don’t have to scent you, I can smell you well enough right here, and I don’t want you to do anything—”
“Do it. By the way, you smell like a winter tea party.”
Hoseok laughed softly. “That’s a nice way to put it. My birthday's in February."
Yoongi pulled at the neck of his shirt, and Hoseok curled towards him more, sliding his arm round Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Oh!” exclaimed Yoongi.
Hoseok’s mouth on his scent gland was all he ever needed. Every nerve was sparking from the swipe of that tongue, from the wet suction, from the undisguised, unabashed need.
“Take it,” babbled Yoongi, drunk on what he was feeling. “Take it all, take what you need.” He was rubbing his cheek against Hoseok’s head, breathing in Hoseok’s cold, sweet scent while burying his face in the soft white hair. He held the other’s body to him, almost cradling him, gently but firmly.
The gentle sucking at Yoongi’s gland turned to nice, big fat licks, like a dog or a kid with an ice cream cone.
Yoongi’s body was reacting.
“Hoseok, if you want anything, just tell me. I owe you from last time.”
“I hope you’re not the kind that keeps score, Yoongi.”
“No, but I don’t want to be a selfish, asshole Alpha, either.”
“Are you an asshole Alpha, Min Yoongi?”
“No. Yes. Sometimes. I don’t know. Next question.”
Hoseok laughed.
The expel of air brushed on the wet spot on Yoongi’s neck, and Yoongi shivered. “Asshole or not, I’ll take care of you. I’ll do everything I can to make you feel good, I promise.”
“I’m not doubting that. You just gave me a little preview of what those hands can do, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to sport an erection right now.”
The reality of Hoseok’s situation was brought home to Yoongi. It sobered him.
“Yeah, I get that, and I don’t like the idea of you spending any of your precious energy on anything but staying alive.”
Hoseok hummed. “What if I watch you take care of yourself?”
“Ugh!” Yoongi’s hips bucked involuntarily. His mouth opened, and he licked at Hoseok’s scent gland through his sweaty, soiled shirt. “Sorry, sorry.”
“I’m not. I’m guessing that means you like that idea. Get yourself off, Min Yoongi. I want to see it.”
“Shit.”
Hoseok giggled, then shifted to Yoongi’s right side. “Can I?” He nuzzled at Yoongi’s neck. “It helps.”
“You can do whatever you want with me,” said Yoongi truthfully. He clumsily yanked the other side of his shirt to give Hoseok better access.
Hoseok latched onto Yoongi’s scent gland, and the sudden sensation went straight to Yoongi’s cock.
Yoongi’s trousers were uncomfortably tight.
“Let me…”
“Yeah, I want to see…”
The dream world made quick work of Yoongi’s trousers.
Hoseok tugged Yoongi’s shirttail up, revealing his half-hard cock in all its glory.
“Ooo! Wide as I remembered. I’m sorely tempted to taste you despite all our concerns and misgivings. I’ll feast on this instead.”
The mouth returned to Yoongi’s gland, hard and sudden, wet and wonderful.
Yoongi spat on his left palm and gave his cock a preliminary stroke. “I’ve got to work on my staying power with you,” he said gruffly. “Try not to embarrass myself by going off at once like a schoolboy. Oh, god.” Yoongi’s hips were moving again, in time with Hoseok’s tongue on his neck. He began to stroke his cock in earnest. His head fell back against the tree, and his eyes closed involuntarily.
“Mm. And outside of heat, I’m going to have do some stretching exercises in order to take that big,” he kissed the point of Yoongi’s jaw, “fat,” kiss, “cock of yours.”
Yoongi groaned. “I’ll prep you.”
“Or watch me prep myself?”
“Either way, but I like doing it.”
“You like to get me all wet and panting for you?”
“I like to make sure everything feels good.”
“Three fingers?”
“Yeah,” panted Yoongi. “Eventually.”
“Four?”
“If you want.”
“Put your whole hand inside me?”
“Fuck! I don’t know. My hands are big. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh, I was really hoping you’d split me wide open.”
“Shit!”
“I think I’d like just a tiny bit of burn,” whispered Hoseok, “if I knew it was yours.”
“Shit, shit, shit!”
Yoongi came.
“I want to ride you, Min Yoongi.”
“That’d be lovely,” said Yoongi as he wiped his messy hand on the grass.
“Be ridden, too?”
“Sure.”
“I’m not usually keen on the old-fashioned presenting—except during heat.”
“But if I bend you over something,” slurred Yoongi, “eat you out real well first…”
There were teeth scraping Yoongi’s earlobe. “In that case, you can do whatever you want with me…”
The licking and sucking stopped.
“…but you have to get me out of here first. My mother is really looking for me?”
“Yes. My friends and I are going to bring you to her in the capital. I’m warning you though, she’s sick.”
“Yoongi, if something goes wrong…”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“…I’m still glad I met you. Thank you for trying.”
Lips press to Yoongi’s cheek. It might've been a suddenly damp cheek.
“Don’t, don’t, Hoseok.”
---
Day was breaking when Yoongi stumbled back up the corridor.
“How’d you sleep?”
Yoongi gave a wave, and Rap Monster, bless him, didn’t ask for clarification or explanation. He just put a bookmark in the book on his lap and tucked it on the far side of him.
Yoongi crumpled in a heap on the seat beside his friend and pillowed his head on Rap Monster’s enormous thigh. He felt hands in his hair.
“This has got to work, Rap Mon.”
“It will.”
“Are you sure?”
“Nope.”
Just then the door opened.
“Dad? Grandpa?”
Yoongi sat up.
“What is it, Jungkook?” asked Rap Monster testily.
“This is Taehyung.” He stepped inside the compartment, and the train attendant followed him. Jungkook closed the door behind them. “He wants to join our campaign.”
“No,” said Yoongi.
“No,” said Rap Monster.
“Wait! Before you say no—” protested Jungkook.
“We just did,” said Yoongi.
“He can help! He can really help!”
“How?” asked Rap Monster.
“I’m from Twelve Rivers,” said Taehyung in dulcet tones that were solemn and, somehowe, respectful. “I grew up there. I ran away when I was sixteen."
Fuck, thought Yoongi, an inside man! It was exactly what they needed.
“Why?” asked Rap Monster pointedly. “Why do you want to help us?”
“I think it’s a good cause.” Taehyung smiled tentatively but sweetly at Jungkook. “JK was telling me about it. I think you’re doing a good thing.”
JK?!
“And?” pressed Rap Monster.
“And I want to know if my cousin Seokjin is still alive.”
Seokjin!
“Does he happen to keep little skunky-looking squirrels?” asked Yoongi.
“Yes! Sugar gliders!” replied Taehyung excitedly. “How did you know?”
“What do you say?” asked Jungkook. “Can he come with us?”
Yoongi and Rap exchanged a glance.
Rap Monster scratched his head. “I don’t know…”
“Tell them,” urged Jungkook. “Tell them the last part.”
Taehyung looked even more nervous. “Twelve Rivers is so isolated, growing up we had only things that had been passed down from generation to generation. No toys, you understand. Just farming tools. And, well, these heirlooms which were unique to each family, things other people might find strange, things from a long, long time ago.”
Yoongi frowned in confusion. “So?”
“Well, the thing is…”
Taehyung looked at Jungkook then took a deep breath and then looked back at Rap Monster and Yoongi and blurted out,
“I have a disassembled crossbow hidden in the luggage car. And I know how to use it.”
“Isn’t he awesome?!” cried Jungkook, jumping up and down. “Oh, please, please, please! RapMon-hyung, Suga-hyung!”
Yoongi and Rap Monster exchanged another quick glance, then Yoongi said,
“Have a seat, Taehyung.”
Fandom: BTS
Characters/Pairings: Jin, OCs, j-hope/SUGA; minor RM/Jimin, minor Taehyung/Junkook
Rating: Explicit for masturbation and a bit of dirty talk.
Length: 6284
For: GYWO 2022 Yatzhee Roll #5
Prompt:
Summary: With help from a priest, Yoongi learns where Jung Hoseok is, and the Alpha campaign acquires a new member on the train.
“Just open the vein and pour it in directly, Kooky.”
Smiling, Jungkook decanted the coffee into a mug with the phrase ‘Unless You’re the Lead Dog, the View Never Changes’ on the side. Then he carried the mug to a coffee table beside a sofa upon which Yoongi was moaning and regretting every choice he’d made in his miserable life, individually, starting with that morning and going backwards.
“You know, except for the sick on my boots,” said Jungkook, “I don’t mind it.”
“Don’t mind what?”
“You and your weird life. Showing up on my doorstep at six o’clock in the morning in your pajamas asking me to do sketch of your dream lover. Having someone call me at five o’clock the following morning to go down to the Temple District and haul your stinking, puking ass home. It’s never boring, hyung, and the rest of my life, well, is.”
“Oh, to be young and handsome and Alpha, pure like David, ripped like Goliath and good at practically everything.”
“I go to school. I go to the gym. Paint a little, sketch a little. Box. Get laid, get inked.” Jungkook shrugged. “I don’t know. What’s it all for?”
“You’re too young to be sighing like that.”
Yoongi drank his coffee and progressed from moaning to grunting.
Jungkook thoughtfully put a carafe of very cold water, a drinking glass, and a couple of painkillers on the coffee table.
“Can I come to work for you, hyung? The private investigator business sounds like fun.”
“Finish your education first.”
“That’s what Rap Mon says when I ask him about working at the bar.”
“He’s right, and speak of the devil, when I feel like joining the living again, I gotta go down to Bangtan’s and tell him that while I didn’t find Jung Hoseok, I did find his Omega crush.”
“Ooo! Hyung’s got a crush? Spill!”
Yoongi did while Jungkook made breakfast.
---
“You look like shit.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
Rap Monster looked at the clock on the wall.
“It’s not morning anymore, hyung.”
“Whatever. Kooky did his best to revive me after scraping me off the pavement this morning. An angry shopkeeper read the note sewn in my jacket and called him after the Oracle chewed me up and spit me out last night.”
“See? I told you that note was a smart idea.”
“You’re full of ‘em. Now pour me a double.”
“Of juice, water, or tea. I’m not wasting my precious inventory on something the cat threw up. And Kooky gave you plenty of coffee. I don’t need your geriatric ass shitting on my barstool.”
“Rude!” Yoongi snorted. “You’ve still got tangerine juice?”
“Hyung, I hate to break it to you, but you’re the only one in the world who drinks that stuff. Yeah, I’ll even make it a double. On the house.”
“My lucky day. Will you put a little umbrella in it?”
“Just for you, sunshine!”
“In that case, since you’re being so obliging, I’ll tell you about Mochi.”
“Whoa!”
Yoongi might have been three-quarters dead, but he was still alive enough to throw himself across the bar and catch the pitcher before it toppled to the ground. He’d read about mothers heaving cars off their children; he supposed it operated along the same lines.
“Sorry, hyung.”
“Yeah, yeah. Mochi remembers you. Fondly.”
“Whoa!”
“Okay, I’m pouring my own until you get a hold of yourself. Keep the umbrella. You might blind yourself or something.” Yoongi sat back, resting the pitcher safely on the bar and reaching for a glass. “Yeah, Mochi’s still at the Oracle, but he’s no longer at The Purring Kitten. Uh, he had some trouble there.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“The usual. But I am also having a lot of trouble, thanks for asking, because I am still no closer to finding out where Jung Hoseok is.”
Yoongi poured the juice.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
Yoongi turned toward the door and was immediately glad he was the one holding the pitcher. The scent of cinnamon bakery goods curled into the bar like temptation itself.
“Mochi!”
Without the priest garb, the Omega was even prettier. No, he was striking. Arresting. Short white suit jacket, crisp white dress shirt, black belt with shiny buckle, black jeans, and black boots. His hair was short and blonde with streaks of purple and pink. His earrings were long, dangly, gold and in the shape of a symbol Yoongi vaguely recognized from the previous night. He looked very expensive and very cool. Like the offspring of a rockstar and an overpriced box of chocolates.
“Come in, come in,” said Rap Monster excitedly, “please, have a seat, welcome to Bangtan’s, what’ll be, anything, on the house, it’s so great to see you again, you look great, Mochi.”
Yoongi gave a silent sigh. His best friend was goner. Going, going, gone!
“It’s not Mochi anymore, just Park Jimin.”
“Jimin,” repeated Rap Monster dreamily. “That’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“And you’re…?” prompted Jimin, holding Rap Monster’s gaze as he slid onto the barstool beside Yoongi.
Rap Monster looked surprised and confused and embarrassed. “Uh…you know…ordinary…just hanging out…pouring drinks…”
“He’s still Kim Namjoon,” supplied Yoongi. “And if you’re wondering, I’m still Min Yoongi—despite your Goddess putting me through the damned wringer last night!” Yoongi was becoming pleasantly angry. He actually shook his index finger at the Omega, which was both a surprise and a bit of a matronly thrill. “And just for the record, you’re not an Ent!”
WHIP!
A corner of a bar towel stung Yoongi’s cheek.
“Behave!” warned Rap Monster, then he turned his koala bear smile on the Omega asked sweetly, “What can I get you, Jimin?”
By way of reply, Jimin gifted Rap Mon with a platinum-inlaid, pure Purring Kitten expression and batted his dark eyelashes. “Can you do a kir royale, Mister Barman?”
Yoongi groaned and rolled his eyes.
Jimin shot him a hard look, but Rap Mon didn’t seem to notice.
“Of course,” said Rap Monster like it was perfectly normal and not pretentious at all to order a Mother’s Day brunch drink in the middle of a random Thursday at a hole-in-the-wall bar in the Music District. “Crème de cassis. Just let me get the good champagne.”
Yoongi sighed an audible sigh. If they were just going to flirt, he had more interesting things to do, like go home and resume vomiting.
As soon as Rap Mon’s back was turned, Jimin hissed quickly,
“I may not be an Ent, but you’re still a Hobbit, and since we’re stating things for the record, I didn’t enjoy sweeping up your sloppy entitled Alpha ass and putting you out with the trash any more than you enjoyed doing your best interpretation of rubbish!”
“Rude!” Yoongi cried because he couldn’t think of a witty retort. Damn, this guy was good. He almost found himself hoping things between these two kids would work out.
“Here,” said Jimin. He slapped a scrap of paper on the bar. “That’s where Jung Hoseok is.”
Yoongi read it.
The Village of Twelve Rivers, Gwacheon
“How do you know?” asked Yoongi
“The tea leaves told me. The Goddess isn’t the only one who can read them, and here is your drawing back. You must’ve lost it when you were coming like a schoolboy in your jockey shorts.”
“Hey! I’m a boxer-briefs, man, I’ll have you know.”
Jimin ignored him. “He looks nice.” He tapped the edge of the drawing. “He’s an Omega, isn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“Sometimes I can tell.”
“Forgive me but how do you know the tea leaves are right about this? I mean, it isn’t exactly a science, is it?”
“No, that’s why I checked the police system this morning. There was a Missing Person report filed a week ago by a landlady in the Port District of the capital about a young man matching,” he tapped the drawing again, “this description.”
“Wait a minute,” said Yoongi. “I searched missing persons and got nothing.”
“He was adopted as an infant by a diplomatic family and grew up in the UK, right?”
“Yeah. I got that.”
“He arrived in this country two months ago, and he calls himself Hope Jung, and the landlady assumed Hope was…”
“…his family name. Shit!” Yoongi smacked his own forehead. It hurt.
“The landlady said he was on a three-month hiking tour of the whole country, going back and forth from the capital to different spots in each province, renting a room in her boardinghouse as a kind of home base. She said he’d always told her when he’d return, and he’d always returned on time, but a week passed, and she’d got worried because he always hiked alone. She said the last time she saw him he said he was going to western Gwacheon.”
“That’s on the border,” said Yoongi.
“Yeah, the report was forwarded to the police in the provincial capital, but nothing happened. Here’s a printout.” Jimin produced a many-folded piece of paper from his back pocket and placed it on the bar. “See for yourself.”
“Here you go,” interrupted Rap Monster with a flute of bubbly liquid.
“Thank you. It looks fabulous,” said Jimin, taking it by the stem. “Cheers.”
“Rap Mon, Jimin says Jung Hoseok is in Gwacheon, a place called The Village of Twelve Rivers.”
“Gwacheon? Let me get my maps!”
When he’d hurried off, Yoongi whispered,
“You hacked into the police system?”
“It’s not hacking when you sit on an Alpha officer’s lap while he checks the system,” retorted Jimin mocking Yoongi’s whisper.
“Oh! I’ve never tried that.”
“You should. It would really work for you.” He snickered, then brought the flute to his lips, tipped, and drank it all in one go.
Well, that was something.
Yoongi lifted his hand without thinking. “Listen, Park Jimin, don’t hurt my friend, please. He’s a sensitive plant.”
“You don’t know me, Min Yoongi, so who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? And,” he glared at Yoongi’s hovering hand and then lower, in the direction of Yoongi’s crotch, “if you touch me, I’ll permanently separate your 9 iron from your Alpha golf bag!”
“It’s an 8 and a half iron, but okay.” Yoongi dropped his hand.
“Maps!” cried Rap Monster, his hands full. “I love maps!”
“Gwacheon. West. Looks like you can only get there by train,” Rap Monster said after the three of them had studied the most detailed map in silence for a few minutes. “Last station is called Gyeonggi. There.” He gave a magnifying glass to Yoongi, who looked, then tapped a dot.
“And there’s Twelve Rivers.”
“That part I got from the leaves,” said Jimin. “But a search showed there is an old trail in that area; missionaries used to travel it on foot to go from one outpost to another. It crosses all twelve rivers.”
“Maybe here,” suggested Rap Mon, drawing a line with his finger.
“And one of the rivers is stopped up,” said Yoongi. “That’s why they’re going to sacrifice Jung Hoseok on Monday night. They think it will get the water flowing again. He’s being held prisoner until then.”
“Shit,” said Jimin.
“Yup. My client, his mother, the one who gave him up for adoption as a baby, is dying. She wants to see him before she, you know.”
“Oh my god!” said Jimin. “It really is important.”
“Yeah. I have to go. I wonder when the next train is.”
Rap Monster dipped behind the bar and reappeared with a thick guide, which he flipped through, “If this is still accurate, there’s one leaving at five in the afternoon. It arrives at Gyeonggi at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“You are very, very prepared,” said Jimin with undisguised admiration.
Rap Mon might’ve said ‘Aw, shucks’ or he might’ve just turned pink. Yoongi didn’t know. He didn’t really have time for more than one drama. He was still studying the map.
“I have to go,” he repeated. “As soon as possible. Today.”
“Alone?” cried Jimin.
Rap Monster coughed. “Uh…”
“Yeah,” Yoongi said, looking at the dots and lines and whirls and wondering what they looked like in real life. “I’m going to do it alone, but I want to borrow this, Mon.”
“Sure, man, whatever.”
“But you said you were best friends!” cried Jimin.
“We are,” began Rap Mon feebly.
“Yup, since the schoolyard,” agreed Yoongi, trying to do the math with the scale. Would he be able to walk, or would he need some transport from the train station? And if so, what kind of transport? Would it be stealth enough? Would he need a cover story?
There was a weird silence.
Yoongi finally looked up from the map.
Jimin was looking from Rap Monster to Yoongi and back with his mouth open and a certain expression on his face. Rap Monster was looking from Jimin to Yoongi to the floor with another expression on his face and his lips tightly pinched.
Oh, fuck, Yoongi was making Mon look like a coward in front of his crush!
Way to go, wingman.
Yoongi coughed, “It’s okay…”
“No, it’s not,” said Rap Monster. “I can’t let you do this alone, Yoongi. It’s dangerous. You don’t know what will be waiting for you or how tough it’ll be. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
Let it never be said that Min Yoongi did not know how to read a cue. He took up his part as Second Male Lead in this drama and replied,
“Thanks, man. I knew I could count on you. I really didn’t want to face this on my own, without your enormous brains and your big, big muscles.”
“Oh, wow! You guys are going to have one amazing story to tell!” cried Jimin clapping. “And you’re going to do it, I just know you are, you’re going to reunite this guy with his mother!”
“Uh, do you want to come, too?” Yoongi asked apprehensively.
“Oh, no. I’m a city Omega. I wouldn’t know the first thing about surviving in the hinterlands. I’m all about, you know, museums, cafes, bookstores…”
Yoongi thought he could actually see Rap Monster fall a little bit deeper in love.
“...well, you guys are on a serious deadline, so I’d better let you get ready.”
“Thank you, Jimin,” said Yoongi, and he meant it.
“You’re welcome.” Jimin slid gracefully off the barstool and moved towards the door, with Rap Monster sort of following, hovering, probably trying to think of something appropriate to say as farewell, maybe a kiss, no, he wouldn’t be that bold, not even a peck, not Rap Mon. He’d probably break something.
Then something on the far wall caught Jimin’s eye, and he stopped. “Oh, that’s the famous missing 1938 map of Middle Earth, isn’t it?”
The koala’s eyes grew so large they threatened to envelope his whole head. “Yeah! I mean, it’s a print, of course.”
“Well, the original is in The Bodleian, isn’t it?”
“You like Tolkien?”
“Yeah, a lot.”
Holy plot twist, thought Yoongi, Mochi was as big a nerd as Rap Mon! Yoongi made a mental note to get his light grey suit cleaned because it would probably be an August wedding.
The two were staring at the map, then at each other, and Yoongi was staring at them, too, but to be fair, even the tangerine juice was probably staring at them.
“You’re going to have a great adventure,” said Jimin. “And I want to hear all about it when you return.”
“You’ll be the first, I promise,” said Rap Mon.
“Then you better come back. In one piece. Here. For luck.”
Then Jimin closed the distance and kissed him.
On the mouth! With tongue!
Rap Monster had been holding on to the back of a wooden chair. It collapsed. So did he.
“I’m okay! I’m okay!”
In the noise and confusion, Jimin turned like a raptor and swooped down on Yoongi and hissed quietly.
“For the record, people who live in glass houses drinking,” he cast a disparaging glance at the bar and wrinkled his cute nose, “tangerine juice really shouldn’t throw stones about what libations other people chose to imbibe, you drunk snob.”
Libations. Imbibe. Fuck August, they’d elope by June.
Jimin pivoted. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Good luck!”
“Thanks!”
Rap Monster and Yoongi watched, and when the door had closed, they exchanged a silent glance, the substance of which was:
Hate for you to leave, love to watch you go.
When the pheromonal fog had dissipated, Yoongi said,
“Listen, Mon, you don’t have to go. I was going to ask Kooky.”
“Like fuck I don’t have to go, Min Yoongi! Were you paying attention at all? I’VE GOT TO GO, YOU BASTARD!”
“Hey,” objected Yoongi. “My parents were married. To each other, in fact.”
“YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”
“That’s better.”
“I own a bar! I don’t know how to fight! Or, you know, do commando fuck-all!” He pulled at his hair with both hands. “You and your stupid shit, Min Yoongi!”
That hit a nerve. Yoongi jumped up and rushed him.
“MY STUPID SHIT?!” Yoongi pointed to the world outside Bangtan’s. “OUT THERE, IN THE WORLD BEYOND THIS BAR? THERE’S A GUY IN A CAGE ABOUT TO BE EXECUTED FOR THE CRIME OF BEING IN THE WRONG PLACE AT THE WRONG TIME WITH THE WRONG COLORED HAIR! AND THERE’S A DYING MOTHER, TOO! IF YOU REALLY THINK THAT’S STUPID, I HAVE TWO QUESTIONS FOR YOU: WHO ARE YOU AND WHERE IS MY BEST FRIEND KIM NAMJOON? AND HOW IN THE FUCK,” Yoongi was screaming now, pointing at the wide chest and then at the door and then back at the chest, “DO YOU THINK YOU DESERVE ANYTHING LIKE THAT ROCK ‘N’ ROLL BONBON WHO JUST WALTZED OUT OF HERE, YOU FUCKING LOSER?! MAN! THE FUCK! UP!”
The air was tense, and then it wasn’t.
“That’s three questions, not two, Suga.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m scared, man.”
“So am I, Joon, but we gotta try. We got to.”
And then they were, by some magic of memory, just a couple of kids who only had each other because the only boy who got teased more than the Alpha who presented at 11 years old smelling of coffee was the Alpha who presented at 13 years old smelling of whiskey.
They’d been boys who smelled like men, and now they were men who smelled like men but who, once in a while, still felt like boys.
But at least they had each other.
Yoongi’s face was in Rap Mon’s chest and those thigh-sized arms were round him and everything was going to be okay.
It was.
“I still want to ask Koo,” said Yoongi, his voice muffled by monstrous pectorals. “I think we need him.”
“He’s going to piss himself.”
---
“I’M GOING TO PISS MYSELF!” cried Jungkook. “An adventure with Rap Mon-hyung and Suga-hyung! And me! WHEEE!”
He threw his arms in the air and ran in circles around his own tiny living room, flailing, until he collapsed into a giggly pile on the rug.
“Koo, come on, we don’t have time for this,” said Rap Mon.
“Yeah,” agreed Yoongi. “The train leaves in less than two hours.”
“Yeah, yeah. Gotta pack. Hmm. Rescue mission. All right. Come.”
Jungkook led them into the only bedroom.
“Wow. This is small,” observed Yoongi.
“’Cause I added a second closet myself,” said Jungkook.
“For what?”
“Weapons, of course.”
“Holy shit!” Rap Mon and Yoongi peered inside.
“Pistols, knives, sword, I got some brass knuckles if we’re doing hand-to-hand…”
“What no crossbow?” teased Yoongi.
“I want one, hyung, but they’re expensive. So’s tuition.”
“Where did you get the pistols?” asked Rap Mon.
“Grandpa. My, you know, not-Suga-hyung grandpa. The one who’s fully dead, not just mostly dead. Inside. You know, liver."
“Okay, that’s enough! I’ll take the sword and the knives,” said Yoongi.
“What do you want, Rap Mon?”
“I’m taking a butterfly net and some specimen jars and pretending this is all for science. What? I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
“Okay,” said Jungkook. “I’ll take the guns. I’m a good shot. And this small ax. Just in case.”
“Great,” said Yoongi. “We’re a five-weapon army, counting the butterfly net.”
---
Rap Monster flexed his library card, Jungkook sharpened his blades, and soon the three Alphas were on a west-bound train. City turned to outskirts which turned to smaller and smaller towns farther and farther apart. In their compartment, the three poured over maps while Rap Monster read aloud from some of the sources he’d gathered. They discussed plans and exchanged perspectives in between thoughtful periods of staring out the large window at the changing landscape.
The evening meal found them still in deep discussion in the dining car.
“Hyung,” said Rap Monster under his breath.
“Mm?” responded Yoongi
“Don’t look, but that train attendant seems a little bit too interested in us. You don’t suppose the villagers, I don’t know, have spies or something.”
“Seems unlikely. Which one?”
“Tall. Dark fluffy hair. Foxy eyes. Omega, I think.”
“Oh, yeah, I noticed him, too. I thought he was just checking Kooky out.”
“What?” At the sound of his name, Jungkook was shaken out of a fog. He looked about, keenly. “Which one?”
“Over there,” said Rap Monster, giving a tiny nod.
“Oh! Hi!” Jungkook waved and smiled.
“Jesus, Koo,” breathed Rap Monster.
“Well, since we’re being so inconspicuous. I suppose I can look.” Yoongi turned his head in time to see the train attendant’s hand go up and a pink blush spread across his cheeks. He looked away and pretended to be very interested in folding cloth napkins. “He’s cute,” Yoongi turned back, “but we’ve got a campaign, soldier.”
“Of course, hyung.”
The three settled on a course of action and agreed they all needed to rest as much as they could get.
It had been a very long time since Yoongi had shared sleeping quarters with his best friend, and now he remembered why.
“BRRROOOOWR!”
The rumbling of the locomotive, even with its periodic wailing whistle, could not drown out the snoring of the freight train known as the slumbering Rap Monster. Yoongi also began to wonder what had happened to Jungkook. He hadn’t returned from a trip to the bathroom.
Yoongi slung a light satchel on his back and left the compartment, moving slowly down the corridor until he reached the end of the car.
He heard familiar giggles. He yanked a curtain back.
Two bodies, thankfully, still fully clothed bodies, sprang apart clumsily.
“Hyung!”
“I’m on a break!”
“Hyung, he was just curious about my tattoos!”
Is that what the children were calling it?
“You,” said Yoongi, pointing to the train attendant, “are going to find me the quietest sleeping berth in this place, and I am going to forget about whatever’s going on here until the morning.”
“Yes, sir, there’s a compartment held vacant for the company president.”
“Sounds perfect. Lead on.”
It was a nice compartment.
“What’s your name?” asked Yoongi.
“V.”
That seemed unlikely, but Yoongi didn’t feel like arguing. “V, do you know the song ‘Hold Me Tight’?”
“No, sir, I am not familiar with that one.”
“It goes—"
Yoongi grabbed him by the throat. The attendant squeaked and turned purple but didn’t not put up a struggle.
“—Listen, that young man you are canoodling with is like a son, grandson, favourite nephew, first puppy, last cigarette, all rolled into one. Hurt him, and I’ll hurt you. Plus, I need him fresh and ready to fight in the morning. Understand?”
“Yes, sir!” V wheezed.
Yoongi released him, ashamed he’d used the word ‘canoodle.’ He really was a grandpa.
“Thank you very much, V. Good night.”
V coughed. “Good night, sir.”
Yoongi locked the door after V left. Then he sat on the made-up berth and drew the balloon-pattered baby blanket from his satchel.
---
The opening gambit with the balloons was the same. After a bit of trekking through the green, Yoongi found Jung Hoseok at the stone ruins, sitting on the ground, slumped between the roots of a giant Ent-like tree.
He turned to look as Yoongi approached.
“Hey.”
The voice was alarmingly weak.
Yoongi immediately fell to his knees.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I go in and out,” said Hoseok. He blinked very slowly, and his tight smile was something like a grimace.
“We’re on our way,” said Yoongi. “Two friends and I.”
Dark eyes suddenly widened, and his whole expression became more alert, then a kind of weary resignation eclipsed the surprise.
“I hope I get to meet you in person, Min Yoongi. I would really like that.” The tone was anything but confident.
“You’re not doing so good. Are they hurting you?” The idea made Yoongi’s blood boil and his guts twist in a painful knot.
Hoseok shook his head. “No, I think it’s mostly dehydration, but I am afraid there might not be much to sacrifice by Monday.”
“Hey, hey.” Yoongi brushed soft white hair from Hoseok’s forehead. “Don’t talk like that. My two friends and I are on a train right now. We’ve got enough weapons and almost enough sense to launch a successful rescue. We’ll be in Gyeonggi by morning and then we’re headed directly for Twelve Rivers.”
“Oh my god! You really are on your way!” The exclamation was strained and whispered, but full of emotion.
“Yeah, so just hang on.”
“I need to get word to Seokjin.”
“He’s the guy helping you?”
“Yeah, he’s from here, and he thinks he knows why the river is blocked. He’s been following it to the source. There is the maze of caves in the mountains. They go on for miles and miles. All kinds of stories about them. Monsters, buried treasure, ghosts. He thinks if he can get the water running again, they’ll let me go. I don’t know. He’s got…”
“What?”
“A kind of homemade dynamite.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Hidden somewhere. He plans to bust the clog when he finds it. I don’t know if it’s going to work. And even if it does, will they let me go?”
“Huh.”
There was a chirruping noise.
“What’s that? asked Yoongi.
Two small, furry, big-eared, black-and-white striped miniature squirrels were staring at them.
“That’s Fish Cake and Soup. Seokjin’s sugar gliders. He leaves them to keep me company when he can’t visit.”
“Cute.”
“Yeah. He’s a nice guy. Not to be uncharitable to my captors,” Hoseok gave mirthless chuckle, “I don’t think Seokjin belongs here. Maybe he can get out, too, if...if...if....”
Yoongi watched the two creatures scurry up the tree.
Hoseok’s eyes were closed. His face was a mask of pain, and it made Yoongi feel impotent with rage.
Yoongi tentatively took Hoseok’s hand in both of his and began to massage it, kneading with thumbs up the palm to the wrist and then the forearms.
“Does this help at all?”
Hoseok smiled a flicker of a genuine smile without opening his eyes. “It’s a very nice distraction. My quarters are a bit cramped and so am I.” He sighed. “Yeah, it’s good.”
“Here.” Yoongi gently inserted himself sitting behind Hoseok with his own back against the tree and Hoseok’s back to his chest. He put his hands to Hoseok’s shoulders and began to rub.
Hoseok hummed. Yoongi’s hands moved to Hoseok’s neck.
“Yes, yes, right there.”
Yoongi didn’t often feel his inner Alpha, but he did now. It was very proud of itself.
Yoongi also made a conscious effort to look around them, at the vines, the trees, the crumbling ruin, noticing things that might be useful.
“It used to be a temple,” said Hoseok, reading Yoongi mind. “Abandoned. It’s not far from the river, the bed of the river that dried up. This is where they found me. I had wandered off the trail without realizing it. The dialect here is strong. I didn’t understand what they were saying at first. I just knew I was in big trouble.”
Yoongi’s massaging hands moved down Hoseok’s back. Hoseok leaned forward to allow him more access.
“Shitty way to spend a gap year,” said Yoongi, with dark amusement. “Being sacrificed.”
“I’m a little too old for a gap year, Min Yoongi, and it wasn’t just a holiday, a vacation.”
“No?”
“I’m looking for my mother. Calling myself 'Hope' was aspirational. I was hoping to find her.”
“She’s looking for you!”
“What?!” Hoseok turned around and stared, alert and clearly shocked.
Yoongi felt like an idiot. “I told you, right? In the last dream?”
“No. You said you were looking for me. I assumed my landlady had hired you. She’s that sort. Worries. Fussy. Too much time on her hands.”
“No, your biological mother’s looking for you. She’s ill, and she wants to see you. She hired me.”
“Oh.”
Hoseok slumped back against Yoongi’s chest, collapsing like a deflated balloon, and it was the easiest thing in the world for Yoongi to wrap his arms around the Omega and nuzzle against his neck.
“I don’t know why but I always assumed she’d be in a village. God, I’ve got to hang on,” whispered Hoseok as if to himself.
“Please do.” Yoongi began to caress Hoseok’s scalp with the pads of his fingers.
Hoseok twisted in Yoongi’s arms. “I know we don’t really know each other…”
“Yes, you can.”
“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“Doesn’t matter, you still can.”
“You’re awful obliging.”
“Most people say I’m just awful. What is it?”
“Can I scent you? You smell…”
A cold, hard bitterness seized Yoongi, and he braced himself for what was to come. Since puberty, he’d been ridiculed, insulted, dismissed, and pitied because of his pheromonal profile.
“…healing.”
Okay, that was new.
Yoongi was speechless for a moment, then he said, much too loud,
“Really?!”
“Yeah. You know, in old movies, cowboys are always pouring it on wounds and they’re always giving it to people who faint. You smell soothing, almost medicinal, but in a good way, a really good way. But it’s okay, I don’t have to scent you, I can smell you well enough right here, and I don’t want you to do anything—”
“Do it. By the way, you smell like a winter tea party.”
Hoseok laughed softly. “That’s a nice way to put it. My birthday's in February."
Yoongi pulled at the neck of his shirt, and Hoseok curled towards him more, sliding his arm round Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Oh!” exclaimed Yoongi.
Hoseok’s mouth on his scent gland was all he ever needed. Every nerve was sparking from the swipe of that tongue, from the wet suction, from the undisguised, unabashed need.
“Take it,” babbled Yoongi, drunk on what he was feeling. “Take it all, take what you need.” He was rubbing his cheek against Hoseok’s head, breathing in Hoseok’s cold, sweet scent while burying his face in the soft white hair. He held the other’s body to him, almost cradling him, gently but firmly.
The gentle sucking at Yoongi’s gland turned to nice, big fat licks, like a dog or a kid with an ice cream cone.
Yoongi’s body was reacting.
“Hoseok, if you want anything, just tell me. I owe you from last time.”
“I hope you’re not the kind that keeps score, Yoongi.”
“No, but I don’t want to be a selfish, asshole Alpha, either.”
“Are you an asshole Alpha, Min Yoongi?”
“No. Yes. Sometimes. I don’t know. Next question.”
Hoseok laughed.
The expel of air brushed on the wet spot on Yoongi’s neck, and Yoongi shivered. “Asshole or not, I’ll take care of you. I’ll do everything I can to make you feel good, I promise.”
“I’m not doubting that. You just gave me a little preview of what those hands can do, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to sport an erection right now.”
The reality of Hoseok’s situation was brought home to Yoongi. It sobered him.
“Yeah, I get that, and I don’t like the idea of you spending any of your precious energy on anything but staying alive.”
Hoseok hummed. “What if I watch you take care of yourself?”
“Ugh!” Yoongi’s hips bucked involuntarily. His mouth opened, and he licked at Hoseok’s scent gland through his sweaty, soiled shirt. “Sorry, sorry.”
“I’m not. I’m guessing that means you like that idea. Get yourself off, Min Yoongi. I want to see it.”
“Shit.”
Hoseok giggled, then shifted to Yoongi’s right side. “Can I?” He nuzzled at Yoongi’s neck. “It helps.”
“You can do whatever you want with me,” said Yoongi truthfully. He clumsily yanked the other side of his shirt to give Hoseok better access.
Hoseok latched onto Yoongi’s scent gland, and the sudden sensation went straight to Yoongi’s cock.
Yoongi’s trousers were uncomfortably tight.
“Let me…”
“Yeah, I want to see…”
The dream world made quick work of Yoongi’s trousers.
Hoseok tugged Yoongi’s shirttail up, revealing his half-hard cock in all its glory.
“Ooo! Wide as I remembered. I’m sorely tempted to taste you despite all our concerns and misgivings. I’ll feast on this instead.”
The mouth returned to Yoongi’s gland, hard and sudden, wet and wonderful.
Yoongi spat on his left palm and gave his cock a preliminary stroke. “I’ve got to work on my staying power with you,” he said gruffly. “Try not to embarrass myself by going off at once like a schoolboy. Oh, god.” Yoongi’s hips were moving again, in time with Hoseok’s tongue on his neck. He began to stroke his cock in earnest. His head fell back against the tree, and his eyes closed involuntarily.
“Mm. And outside of heat, I’m going to have do some stretching exercises in order to take that big,” he kissed the point of Yoongi’s jaw, “fat,” kiss, “cock of yours.”
Yoongi groaned. “I’ll prep you.”
“Or watch me prep myself?”
“Either way, but I like doing it.”
“You like to get me all wet and panting for you?”
“I like to make sure everything feels good.”
“Three fingers?”
“Yeah,” panted Yoongi. “Eventually.”
“Four?”
“If you want.”
“Put your whole hand inside me?”
“Fuck! I don’t know. My hands are big. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh, I was really hoping you’d split me wide open.”
“Shit!”
“I think I’d like just a tiny bit of burn,” whispered Hoseok, “if I knew it was yours.”
“Shit, shit, shit!”
Yoongi came.
“I want to ride you, Min Yoongi.”
“That’d be lovely,” said Yoongi as he wiped his messy hand on the grass.
“Be ridden, too?”
“Sure.”
“I’m not usually keen on the old-fashioned presenting—except during heat.”
“But if I bend you over something,” slurred Yoongi, “eat you out real well first…”
There were teeth scraping Yoongi’s earlobe. “In that case, you can do whatever you want with me…”
The licking and sucking stopped.
“…but you have to get me out of here first. My mother is really looking for me?”
“Yes. My friends and I are going to bring you to her in the capital. I’m warning you though, she’s sick.”
“Yoongi, if something goes wrong…”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“…I’m still glad I met you. Thank you for trying.”
Lips press to Yoongi’s cheek. It might've been a suddenly damp cheek.
“Don’t, don’t, Hoseok.”
---
Day was breaking when Yoongi stumbled back up the corridor.
“How’d you sleep?”
Yoongi gave a wave, and Rap Monster, bless him, didn’t ask for clarification or explanation. He just put a bookmark in the book on his lap and tucked it on the far side of him.
Yoongi crumpled in a heap on the seat beside his friend and pillowed his head on Rap Monster’s enormous thigh. He felt hands in his hair.
“This has got to work, Rap Mon.”
“It will.”
“Are you sure?”
“Nope.”
Just then the door opened.
“Dad? Grandpa?”
Yoongi sat up.
“What is it, Jungkook?” asked Rap Monster testily.
“This is Taehyung.” He stepped inside the compartment, and the train attendant followed him. Jungkook closed the door behind them. “He wants to join our campaign.”
“No,” said Yoongi.
“No,” said Rap Monster.
“Wait! Before you say no—” protested Jungkook.
“We just did,” said Yoongi.
“He can help! He can really help!”
“How?” asked Rap Monster.
“I’m from Twelve Rivers,” said Taehyung in dulcet tones that were solemn and, somehowe, respectful. “I grew up there. I ran away when I was sixteen."
Fuck, thought Yoongi, an inside man! It was exactly what they needed.
“Why?” asked Rap Monster pointedly. “Why do you want to help us?”
“I think it’s a good cause.” Taehyung smiled tentatively but sweetly at Jungkook. “JK was telling me about it. I think you’re doing a good thing.”
JK?!
“And?” pressed Rap Monster.
“And I want to know if my cousin Seokjin is still alive.”
Seokjin!
“Does he happen to keep little skunky-looking squirrels?” asked Yoongi.
“Yes! Sugar gliders!” replied Taehyung excitedly. “How did you know?”
“What do you say?” asked Jungkook. “Can he come with us?”
Yoongi and Rap exchanged a glance.
Rap Monster scratched his head. “I don’t know…”
“Tell them,” urged Jungkook. “Tell them the last part.”
Taehyung looked even more nervous. “Twelve Rivers is so isolated, growing up we had only things that had been passed down from generation to generation. No toys, you understand. Just farming tools. And, well, these heirlooms which were unique to each family, things other people might find strange, things from a long, long time ago.”
Yoongi frowned in confusion. “So?”
“Well, the thing is…”
Taehyung looked at Jungkook then took a deep breath and then looked back at Rap Monster and Yoongi and blurted out,
“I have a disassembled crossbow hidden in the luggage car. And I know how to use it.”
“Isn’t he awesome?!” cried Jungkook, jumping up and down. “Oh, please, please, please! RapMon-hyung, Suga-hyung!”
Yoongi and Rap Monster exchanged another quick glance, then Yoongi said,
“Have a seat, Taehyung.”