For the earl grey tea - hot - to my Picard.

Yoongi sighed. Why did things always have to go wrong while he was napping? It was like the universe had it out for him or something. Here he was, just trying to snooze for the thirtieth hour in a row, and some moron had to come aboard his ship and steal his super rare alien. The nerve of some people. And that Namjoon – ugh – so blastedly busy reading ancient books in languages no one else could read that he forgot to notify Yoongi of this ever-so-important development. Honestly, what was he supposed to do with his crew? If Namjoon wasn’t breaking the ship, he was misplacing things. If he wasn’t misplacing things, he was putting together strange outfits. If he wasn’t putting together strange outfits, he still found ways to disappoint his extremely surly captain. Why had he brought a minor deity - a god of destruction of all things – on board? Such a bad plan.

Stalking onto the bridge of the ship, Yoongi looked around at the crew – piercing them with the intense gold of his gaze. “Does anyone care to explain to me,” he growled, his low voice carrying easily through the silence, “how you managed to lose our newest acquisition?” If he had a tail, as some Felis did, it would have been snapping around him in agitation. As it was, his sharp fingernails (or kitty-claws as Taehyung called them) were digging sharply into the thick leather of his pants.

“Captain Suga, lose is such a strong word,” Hoseok began, halting at the look of pure murder gracing the captain’s face.

“Do you know how expensive members of a dying species are? They’re not just something you pick up on sale at the local market, Hoseok!” Yoongi forcibly removed his claws from his pants and uncurled his fingers, muscles aching with the tension stored in them. “There are only six – six! – D’relin known to exist in the vast reaches of space, and you lost ours.”

“It was a surprise attack,” Taehyung said in a poor, misguided attempt to placate Yoongi.

The captain rolled his head towards the pilot and arched a fine eyebrow. “A surprise attack?” He hummed and began to stalk towards the younger man. “It would have been a surprise attack if I hadn’t warned you it would happen, now would it?”

Taehyung curled away from his captain, shrinking into the depths of his chair. “Um… We did get a trace on the warp signature?” he offered, his usually deep voice a rather pitiful squeak.

“And?”

The Tira-Mal curled his fingers tightly around the strange pendant he always wore: a small galaxy seemingly caught in a glass orb. Once Namjoon had tried to touch the pendant; his hand had nearly been bitten off. Clearing his throat, Taehyung tried to sound far more confident than he was as he said, “We’ve tailed them and should be coming up on them shortly.” Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Five minutes, give or take a few seconds.”

“When we come to them, knock out their shields and get me aboard.” The captain whirled around and started for his quarters. “I’m going to get my alien back.”

---

Yoongi coming aboard the enemy vessel was a bit like him cutting into a dance: The assembled parties paused before resuming their actions. Unlike a dance, though, the actions were not the graceful steps of a gwaldrith or the bouncing jaunt of a ztittiael. No, the actions they resumed were small things like firing weapons and cursing the infamous captain under their breaths. The “dreaded Captain Suga” one even called him. Cute. It warmed the Felis to the very core of his three hearts to be so recognized.

With something of a happy smile curling his lips, the man reached down and flicked the holster strap up on his favorite phaser. Life was such a gift. Lifting his weapon, the captain began to pick off enemy crewmen with ruthless precision. Once the room contained him – humming under his breath – and six dead bodies, the man stalked over to a console and punched at the screen with a clawed fingertip. He glanced over the map before tucking his phaser back into its holster. For the fun of it, he began to hack into their system and turn off the oxygen in insignificant places like the bridge and the medical ward. That would keep them busy. He then locked those systems, encrypting it in his native language. And just to make it a little bit more exciting, he locked the doors to those locations too.

And now to get his alien back.

Clapping his hands together, Yoongi started for the door at what could only be described as a swagger. The chance to go out for a nice little walk was good for the starship captain: It meant he was unlikely to be upset by the time he got home. His crew would appreciate that – Namjoon in particular. His first office did say he needed to get out more, though this probably was not what he meant. Ah well, it would have to do. By the time Yoongi made it to the deck where Jimin’s life signs had been, the halls were perhaps a bit too rife with dead bodies. Clearly, though, it was self-defense. Yoongi was simply trying to get his alien back, and for some reason these misguided people kept shooting at him. Honestly, was he supposed to just let them? Obviously not. It was their own fault for picking a fight with him.

He came to a sharp stop, though, in the wide hallway leading to the enemy captain’s quarters. It was a pretty enough set-up with floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides of the corridor. The lights were dim – mood lighting, hah – and the floor glittered with crushed haelite, which meant the captain had way too much money to waste on his ship. But, eh, some people really had to have a certain aesthetic to feel legitimate. Yoongi wasn’t much better, really, with his fancy rugs and penchant for velvet; his crew would never point that out, though. The ridiculousness of the corridor was not what stopped the man, though. No, it was the lean figure of another man standing at the opposite end of the hallway that had made him halt. At first, he appeared to be nothing more than a shadow, black against the dull grey darkness. But then, in a languid motion, he pushed away from the door to the captain’s quarters and prowled forward. Yoongi’s fingernails dug into the palm of one hand. 

Felis were a funny species: Cat People, the Earthlings had liked to call them. (Talk about offensive.) They looked like most other humanoids, but they tended to be on the shorter side of the spectrum – “mini” Namjoon called it. Lean, powerful, and extremely agile; just like “cats” on Earth, one merc had told him once. Some had tails, some didn’t, but they all had the signature claws. But never, under any circumstances, was a Felis born with a second set of ears on the top of their heads. That particular disfigurement was left to the Panthys. Yoongi shuddered at even the thought of mangy Panthys with their swiveling ears and slit pupils. Sure they were taller and supposedly stronger, but they were also the most vile creatures to have ever traversed the depths of space. Felis and Panthys hated each other, hated being mistaken for each other, and hated letting each other live. It was a thing. And who should be blocking the way to getting his alien back than a dirty, filthy Panthys. What were the odds?

Narrowing his eyes, Yoongi took in the taller man. He was broader shouldered and more muscular, sure, but his hair was a boring shade of black, just like his disgusting ears. (Way lamer than Yoongi’s dusky pink locks, thank you for asking.) But Yoongi knew better than to think this man would be easy to kill just because he came from an inferior species. No, one look in those sharp, slanted eyes, and the starship captain knew how his alien went missing. This man, from the stillness of his body to the fire in his eyes, was a born killer, and it was likely that he had orchestrated the theft on behalf of whatever captain had Jimin in his clutches. And if this Panthys were able to outwit Namjoon, stealing the D’relin from beneath Yoongi’s nose, then he was even more dangerous than others of his kind. Which meant there was only man he could be facing: Jung Taekwoon, the infamous Shadow Lion. Goodie.

“You do realize I’m going to kill you, right?” Yoongi taunted. He put his weapon in its holster and clicked the strap back into place. Reaching into his pocket, he then pulled out a pair of worn black leather gloves and slipped them on.

Across the hallway, Taekwoon was removing the plasma rifle off his back and leaning it up against the door. He then shrugged out of his jacket, folding it up neatly and setting on the floor beside his weapon. Yoongi scowled at the sight of the man’s powerfully muscled arms, which had been bared by the removal of his jacket; some aliens were so tacky. The old duster and tank top combination was so overdone. Still silent, the Panthys turned to face Yoongi, tail batting the air behind him. Witty banter was apparently off the menu. Yoongi sighed. Panthys truly were no fun.

And that was where the dance began.

Dim light glittered in the reflective surfaces of their eyes as the pair swept into motion. Feather-light almost touches ruffled the edges of their clothing as the two men moved around each other – avoiding contact as easily as breathing. Taekwoon would sweep out a long leg, causing Yoongi to spin out of the way; Yoongi would move to drive a fist into the other man’s side only to disturb the air. Excitement flooded the Felis’ veins like a hit of Kyrillian starmint: His skin prickled with awareness of the other, of his breathing, his movements, the flicker of his eyes. This was what the captain lived for: a worthy opponent. Were the circumstances different, the Felis might even go so far as to say Taekwoon was his equal in a fight and offer him a place on his ship, but the other man was a Panthys. Some rules couldn’t change, no matter how good you were in a fight. So, Yoongi simply resolved to make it a good death. The first draw of blood came when Taekwoon’s long arms managed to span a distance greater than Yoongi had anticipated, and the captain felt the burn of claws down his cheek. His eyes narrowed. That began something of a bloodbath as the two men fully engaged in combat – fists, feet, claws, knees, elbows, and even a shoulder coming into the fight. At one point, Yoongi found himself on the ground with Taekwoon’s arm locked tightly in his grip. The other man was struggling between Yoongi’s thighs, his vision beginning to turn black around the edges as he was unable to breathe. The pink-haired alien was certain he was going to be triumphant in that moment; nobody escaped his grasp once he got ahold of them. But then, in a display of brute strength, Taekwoon lifted Yoongi off the ground using the arm trapped in the smaller man’s grip; Yoongi nearly let go in shock. Then, throwing his entire body into the motion, the Panthys smashed the captain into the unrelenting surface of the window. Yoongi released his grip and slid down into a heap on the floor. The sharp sting of Taekwoon’s claws digging into Yoongi’s shoulder startled a yelp out of the smaller man as the brunet hauled him to his feet. Drawing in a shuddering breath, Yoongi scowled up at Taekwoon. “You were the one that took Jimin, weren’t you?” he growled. Taekwoon nodded. “They pay you good?”

At this distance, Yoongi was close enough to see the mirth that lit Taekwoon’s jetty eyes from within. “Not well enough for what he is,” the man murmured. Yoongi was surprised: He had expected the voice of a lion, not a tiny kitten. Taekwoon’s voice was breathless and high, soft like a fuzzy blanket right of out a sanitation cycle. It had a certain musicality to it that almost (but only almost) made Yoongi wonder how the other man sounded when he sang, because it was probably divine. (Felis cared about the arts. Don’t judge.) “I did it for the challenge.”

Yoongi scoffed. “So you knew he was mine, and you still took the job?” His face pinched in disbelief – eyes narrowed and nose crinkled. “Do you hate yourself that much?”

Taekwoon shrugged an annoyingly broad shoulder. “No. But I do hate you.” That declared, he punched Yoongi in the face. 

Yoongi was a little upset.

He came up with all of the force of a typhoon. Where before he had simply been fighting to fight, he was now intent on the kill. Every movement had a deadly precision, and every hit laced with the full power of his strength. Taekwoon was not foolish nor less capable than Yoongi, but he lacked the burning passion the captain had in that moment. Yoongi was not just fighting for himself; in the corner of his mind he knew he was wasting time. The fight ended quickly thereafter, though not in the way Yoongi would have expected. With a swift kick, he knocked Taekwoon into the window and was on him in a moment. A rapid flurry of punches and a sharp bite to the man’s shoulder later, and Taekwoon was out cold on the ground. Yoongi reached towards his holster to shoot the man, but he hesitated. Captain Suga, the Min Yoongi, hesitated. It was an out of body experience, to say the least. But, it was also a sensible reaction. Never before had Yoongi met his equal in a fight, and killing the Panthys would be rather like destroying a work of art. And so, against all of his better judgement, he left Taekwoon where he lay…alive. Yoongi would just conveniently forget to mention that decision to his crew and pray it never came back to bite him in the rear.

When he walked into the captain’s quarters, Yoongi felt his breath stutter in his lung. Jimin, his precious D’relin, looked utterly distraught as the priggish enemy captain – a Casheen, by the mucus-covered spikes coming from his back – pressed him against the wall. The pretty silk robes Yoongi had traveled half the quadrant to buy Jimin were torn at the shoulder, and the Casheen was pawing at the D’relin’s pretty tan skin through the wounded fabric. Tears poured down the curve of Jimin’s full cheeks, solidifying into gemstones of varying brilliance as they dripped off his chin. A breath rattled between Yoongi’s teeth as he darted across the space, grabbing the Casheen by the head and delivering a swift twist that shattered the tentative connection between skull and spine. Dropping the head to the floor, Yoongi spat on the body as it turned into a rattling heap on the glittering floor. He did not even want to think about the fact there were countless gemstones littering ground; Jimin must have been weeping the entire time.

“S-suga?” Jimin trembled, eyes tightly shut. His usual veil was missing; the Casheen captain had likely torn it off in order to get a better look at Jimin.

“Yeah, it’s me. I can’t even take a nap without you getting into trouble, can I?” Yoongi tried to steady his voice, and it mostly worked. Mostly. Nevermind the slight tremor of tension that still shuddered through his words, echoing the tightness of his muscles, which were still coiled with rage. Stepping over to the nearby bed, Yoongi ripped off a strip of cloth from the satin bedding before going back to Jimin. “I’m going to tie something over your eyes, alright? Then we’re going home.”

Slowly, Jimin pushed himself off the wall and allowed Yoongi to tie the strip over his eyes. “You…came for me?”

Yoongi scoffed. “What did you think I’d do, leave you?” He might have tied the blindfold a little tighter than was necessary, but Jimin didn’t have it in him to complain. “You’re mine, Jimin. You’re as much a part of Bangtan as the rest of my crew, but you’re mine.” Taking in the sight of Jimin’s ripped robes, he sighed. Sliding off his jacket, he wrapped it around Jimin. “From now on, when I nap you go with me, alright? I ain’t letting you get stolen again. I bought you fair and square.”

The Felis’ eyes went wide when the D’relin wrapped his arms tightly around his waist. Worse yet was the blush that totally didn’t color the back of his neck as Jimin pressed his face into the space between Yoongi’s neck and shoulder. “Thank you,” the young D’relin murmured, his high voice thick with tears. Awkwardly, Yoongi brushed his hand over the back of Jimin’s head, the dark brown strands impossibly soft against his palm.

“Yeah, yeah. You can thank me later. Let’s go before Taehyung loses any more of his mind.” Keeping his arm curled around Jimin’s shoulders, Yoongi began to guide him towards the door. When they reached the hall, he couldn’t help but smirk: Taekwoon was nowhere to be seen. Twisting a little, Yoongi pressed a light kiss to Jimin’s temple. Everything was going to be alright, now that his most precious little alien was back where he belonged. 

---

Because when I got space au, I thought, "Y'know, Jimin and Daesung are often related in my fic... What if Jimin were a D'relin?" And since D'relin are so rare, it seemed only fitting that Yoongi be someone who collects rare aliens for his crew. Or in the case of Namjoon, minor gods of destruction. If I ever pick back up with this storyline, you can bet Taekwoon will pop up again too. You don't even know how bad-a Taekwoon is. You don't even know.

I like this piece a lot more than last week's...but that's mainly because salty Yoongi is life. Let me know what you thought in the comments below; your feedback gives me the strength to carry on.