Jungkook takes a sip of his drink, cringes, and methodically exchanges his plastic cup of lurid green for Taehyung’s cup of equally lurid pink.

“I think I win that one,” Jungkook mutters, sipping on Taehyung’s drink and cringing marginally less.

Taehyung nods solemnly. It’s a rare occasion that they don’t argue for 1^st place, but today Jungkook has really taken the cake.

Jungkook can feel Taehyung staring at him expectantly as they walk, so Jungkook turns his body slightly away and pretends he doesn’t see it. There’s no way in hell he’s giving this drink back.

Taehyung huffs, Jungkook’s last warning before he receives the full-body tackle of Taehyung launching himself at Jungkook. “Give me that!”

“No,” Jungkook hisses, bending over to protect his new drink with his life. He’s not sure where his own terrible concoction has gone at this point, but there’s no good chance to ask.

“I bought it!” Taehyung argues, hugging Jungkook’s back with his feet nearly leaving the ground as Jungkook hunches over to protect the goods.

“I won,” Jungkook counters, shoving the straw in his mouth to frantically gulp down as much as possible like a dog that’s just been caught sneaking human food off the kitchen bench.

People are sidestepping around them as they fight to the death in the middle of the pathway, giving them all kinds of looks. Jungkook struggles not to gag – not because of his predicament, but because the drink is so terrifyingly sweet that it actually hurts Jungkook’s stomach before it even hits. Still – he’s not about to let Taehyung win.

At least it’s just after 9am, so the work traffic has died down considerably.

Taehyung isn’t backing down, pressing his chest hard against Jungkook’s back, chin hooked over Jungkook’s shoulder. “Give me that,” he grumbles, and Jungkook can actually feel Taehyung’s lips move against his ear.

He’s swallowed down half the cup before he realises how dangerous his position of defence is – and it’s that remaining half-cup of fairy-floss, double cream, extra sugar, shot of juice, syrup on the side that ends up squeezed all over Jungkook’s face when they push things just a little too far. He can take a little pleasure in the way Taehyung squawks to imagine that Jungkook’s not the only one caught in the crossfire.

Taehyung releases him to stumble back, and Jungkook really gets to feel vindication now. Jungkook had clearly taken the brunt of the explosion to his face, but the little that missed had hit Taehyung square in the chest. Jungkook stays bent over as he starts to laugh, more to avoid the drink dripping from his chin onto his own shirt, as Taehyung starts to rub at the pink stain.

“This is my only clean shirt!” Taehyung exclaims, mindlessly handing Jungkook half the wad of napkins from his pocket when Jungkook outstretches his hand.

Jungkook hums in appreciation, wiping the sticky pink liquid from his face (it’s definitely more sugar than liquid, judging by the way it won’t even soak into the napkins like some kind of alien gloop).

“Just leave early and go to the dry cleaner,” Jungkook says, straightening up now that the danger has passed. “It’s your own fault anyway.”

“Shut up,” Taehyung says, as Jungkook unloads his soiled napkins into the nearest bin. He gasps, slapping a hand to his chest.

“I’m offended you’d even say such a th-”

“No, seriously, shut up,” Taehyung says again, a hand in Jungkook’s shirt to yank him forward. “Look.”

Jungkook follows Taehyung’s gaze to find a single, undecorated piece of paper stuck in the window – the window of their office building, how did we even get here so quickly?

Taehyung shakes Jungkook gently, never letting go of his hold. Jungkook refocuses.

Hiring

B.C.A Inc. Office Management

Full-time, salary with benefits.

Enquire inside.

 

“Holy ,” Jungkook says, to the sound of Taehyung flinging the front door open hard enough that the glass rattles warningly. The hand disappears from Jungkook’s shirt, meaning only one thing.

“Hey, wait up!” Jungkook shouts, scrambling to catch the door and run inside after Taehyung, who is already smashing the elevator buttons. Jungkook veers to the side, opting for the stairs. It’s the right choice, Jungkook thinks to himself as he hears a second pair of feet hit the stairs behind him.

Taehyung is definitely not as fit as Jungkook, he’s certain of that. His thighs burn dangerously as he takes two, sometimes three steps at a time. Taehyung’s panting drops back a level, then two, and Jungkook’s hypothesis comes true.

Jungkook is the first to crash through the door to their office, although he’s faintly disappointed when no one even bothers to look up from their desk.

“They’re hiring a new manager for our floor,” Taehyung announces breathily, squeezing in behind Jungkook. “We saw – we saw it downstairs.”

Taehyung doubles over, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. Oh, sweet victory, Jungkook thinks.

Someone finally breaks the silence, although Yoongi doesn’t even bother to lift his head from where it rests face down on the desk. “We know.”

Jimin wanders in from the filing room, arms loaded with an enormous stack of papers. “We haven’t had a manager in like, two weeks, did you guys really not expect this?” He pauses, leaning in closer. “Jungkook, you’ve got a little something on your face.”

“Where’s Ji-young?” Jungkook asks, ignoring Jimin and staring across at the empty manager’s office – door shut, light off, and Jungkook’s struggling to recall the last time he even saw Ji-young.

“Dude, she quit ages ago,” Namjoon points out from the back of the office. “Remember when she walked out and just, never came back?”

“Which was totally your fault,” Hoseok adds helpfully, leaning on the back of Namjoon’s chair. “You wouldn’t shut up about ‘moral authority’ and ‘social privilege’” he adds, voice dropping to imitate Namjoon. To be fair, Hoseok has it pretty spot on.

“And whose fault is that, after you gave her that o magazine?” Namjoon retorts, pushing his chair back just hard enough that Hoseok falls on his .

“That was an accident,” Hoseok cries, seemingly unfazed by his topple. “You know I don’t speak English!”

“Why wouldn’t you just look inside and-”

“It wasn’t even that, though,” Jimin cuts in lightly, and all eyes turn to him. “She stormed out after she fell over Yoongi, remember?”

That at least wakes Yoongi up off the desk. “She wasn’t looking where she was going,” he huffs, eyes half-closed and face puffy.

“It’s not like she should’ve expected a human leg sticking out from under the shelf.” Jungkook turns to find Seokjin poking his head out of the storeroom.

“Just like she should’ve expected you’d add honey to japchae?” Yoongi bites back, spinning around to face Seokjin.

“Careful,” Seokjin warns, smiling coldly. “No one else here will feed you.” Yoongi shrinks into his chair, averting his gaze back to the work he’d previously been neglecting. “Besides, how was I meant to know she was allergic to honey? That job is Taeh-”

“Okay!” Taehyung claps his hands, cutting Seokjin off. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is, because this means something way more important.”

 

“I’m going to be the new manager!”

 

Jungkook’s voice echoes oddly as he says it, and it takes him a second to realise why. He spins on his heel to face Taehyung, just as Taehyung mirrors him.

“It’s me,” Jungkook states, in perfect synchronisation with Taehyung. “I’m getting the promotion.”

“No way,” Taehyung cuts in. “I’m the oldest.”

“I’ve got a degree,” Jungkook points out.

Taehyung flicks him on the forehead. “So do I, we went to school together you d-“

“Chill for a second,” Hoseok says, popping up next to them from seemingly nowhere. “Have you guys even applied?”

Jungkook ignores him. “I’d be a better manager,” he says meaningfully, staring straight at Taehyung.

Taehyung laughs. “That’s fine, but I’m going to be the manager.” He doesn’t break from Jungkook’s stare.

(“Taking bets,” Yoongi says somewhere in the background, waving his notepad in the air. “Two-to-one odds this ends in tears, name your champion.”

“Jungkook throws the first punch, but cries first anyway,” Jimin says immediately, dropping his stack of papers onto his desk next to Yoongi’s with a resounding thump.

Yoongi scratches something on the notepad. “Dumbest insult?”

“Taehyung,” Jimin says without hesitation, sliding up to sit on his desk and swinging his legs wide. “It’ll be the reason Jungkook cries.”)

“Prove it,” Jungkook hisses, jabbing his finger into Taehyung’s chest and choosing to remain entirely unaware of the illegal betting ring Yoongi is setting up right behind them. He narrowly misses sticking his finger into the stain on Taehyung’s shirt. “Prove you’re a better manager than me.”

“Deal,” Taehyung says, holding out his hand. Jungkook pulls his finger away from Taehyung’s chest to take it, shaking on it.

Jungkook should’ve known Taehyung would have something up his sleeve – because as soon as Jungkook tightens his grip, Taehyung’s smile changes into something a little darker. He pulls on Jungkook’s hand, releasing him at the last second so that Jungkook stumbles forward while Taehyung takes off in the direction of the manager’s office.

“Hey!” Jungkook yells, pushing himself off the wall he stumbled into and sprinting after Taehyung. It doesn’t take any time to catch him – Taehyung had foolishly chosen to navigate around the sea of desks. Jungkook cuts the distance in half by pushing himself up onto the first desk he reaches and leaping across them like steppingstones.

He launches himself off the final desk just as Taehyung reaches for the door handle of the office, ignoring Namjoon’s strangled cry at the papers Jungkook sends flying. He barely has time to realise what’s happened, as Taehyung’s hand twists the door handle to absolutely no luck – but the regret is strong when he collides with Taehyung into the locked door, narrowly avoiding smashing his head into Taehyung’s teeth. No, the only thing stopping him from barrelling further forward is Taehyung’s strong grip on his biceps, catching him before they do irreversible damage.

Jungkook doesn’t try to pull away, staring into Taehyung’s eyes just inches away from his own face – for a moment, neither of them says anything. The office falls silent, almost like everyone else were waiting with bated breath.

And they totally are, because who’s going to win the title of manager if we can’t even get inside the office? Jungkook thinks.

“It is so on,” Taehyung says lowly, not breaking their staring competition. Jungkook refuses to look away, refuses to lose.

“I’m going to crush you,” Jungkook responds, and the entire office sighs like they’ve just been spurned of a grand conclusion to months and months of idiocy between their two youngest workers – and they have.

(“Sorry Joon, that’s your time up,” Yoongi announces as he flips through his notepad just to scratch out a line from a different page. “Hand over your bet and I’ll let you buy back in.”

Namjoon just throws his head back and groans.)

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

Taehyung lounges lazily across Namjoon’s desk, inhibiting any kind of productive work and forcing Namjoon to actually give his attention away. Taehyung’s shirt lifts slightly to reveal a slither of skin across his stomach with the way his arms dangle above his head and off the edge of the desk.

“But you’re Team Tae, right?” Taehyung whines, pouting. He still hasn’t seen Jungkook approaching, eyes on Namjoon rather than the impending danger. “You promised.”

“I did no such thing,” Namjoon mutters, scooping papers into his arms to save them from Taehyung’s crushing weight. He’s already lost a few, but he can at least ensure there are no other casualties.

Jungkook slams his hands down hard on the desk, right next to Taehyung’s head. Taehyung jumps, slamming his hand into the corner of the desk and crying out. His head twists towards Jungkook, betrayed.

“You’re not spreading propaganda, are you?” Jungkook says, leaning over until he’s directly above Taehyung. To his credit, Taehyung doesn’t shrink away.

“Namjoon’s on my side,” Taehyung responds petulantly, holding his injured wrist to his chest. “He said so himself.”

“No, I didn’t,” Namjoon points out, to an audience of none. Jungkook pushes himself off the desk, just in time to catch Jimin as he’s passing by.

“Yeah, well, Jimin’s on Team JK,” he says smugly, throwing his arm across Jimin’s shoulders. Jimin and Namjoon share a look.

“Namjoon’s got more power,” Taehyung points out. Namjoon quietly pushes his chair away from the desk, wheeling himself away from the conversation. “Jimin’s just a pawn.”

“Hey!” Jimin snaps, but no one’s listening.

“That only leaves one...” Jungkook says, gaze drifting to the side. Taehyung’s head follows, both staring inquisitively.

“No,” Yoongi says, slamming his laptop shut. “Absolutely not.”

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

(“Team Tae, Team JK,” Namjoon laments, throwing himself hard enough back in his chair that he actually spins out across the conference room. “Where’s team shut the up?”

Hoseok doesn’t say anything, peering out between the gaps in the drawn blinds. The door is shut and the lights are off, the occasional scream still bleeding in from outside.

Seokjin points to the ground, sinking deeper into his chair. “Here.”)

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

“I can get that for you,” Taehyung croons, leaning over to swipe the warm stack of paper from the printer.

Jimin smiles at him, eyes crinkling. “Thanks, Tae!”

Jungkook just rolls his eyes, pushing himself off the door frame and following the pair out of the room. “You’re not going to win like that,” he huffs, pausing as Taehyung sets the stack down on Jimin’s desk.

“Being nice gets you anywhere,” Taehyung responds, cheekily framing his eye with a V.

“The saying is ‘kindness gets you nowhere,” Jungkook corrects, continuing to follow Taehyung like a lost puppy as he sets off on his next task.

Taehyung just shrugs. He picks up a mug from underneath the instant coffee machine as they pass, and hands it off to Yoongi when they’re close enough. Yoongi gives them both wary eyes, but takes a sip of the coffee nonetheless.

“A good manager knows his staff,” Taehyung says, stopping at Seokjin’s desk. He bends over and rests his elbows on the edge of the surface, cupping his chin in his hands. Seokjin at least has the decency to grace Taehyung with his attention, leaning on a closed fist to stare right at them with a closed smile.

“Namjoon wants you to stop being a lazy and get the timesheets in today,” Taehyung says sweetly, cocking his head just slightly.

Jungkook can see the cogs turning in Seokjin’s head as he slowly registers the words that had come out of Taehyung’s mouth. It’s fascinating to watch, and then...

“What the hell, Namjoon!” Seokjin screeches, almost cancelling out the sound of Namjoon yelling across the room – “I didn’t say it like that, Taehyung!”

Seokjin pushes out from his desk and storms towards Namjoon, who backs away with his hands in the air. Taehyung straightens up to meet Jungkook’s stare.

“I’m a good manager,” Taehyung says, crossing his arms against his chest and leaning back.

“Do you know who keeps this office afloat?” Seokjin lectures in the background.

“Kim Seokjin,” Namjoon responds, blank with fear.

“Who does your paperwork when tax comes in?”

“Kim Seokjin.”

“Who is the best worker this office has ever seen?”

“Kim Seokjin.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re a good assistant. The assistant gets coffee and printing and delivers messages, not the manager.”

Taehyung’s smile falls, a small crease appearing on his forehead.

“In fact,” Jungkook continues, thumbing his chin thoughtfully, “you’re more like an intern than anything.”

The crease deepens, but Taehyung doesn't say anything. An idea hits Jungkook like a train.

“Everyone!” he calls, turning to face the office with arms stretched wide. Seokjin pauses in his tirade, Namjoon breathes for the first time. “As a good manager, I’m going to treat you all to lunch today.”

The energy in the office lifts tenfold – even Yoongi is crawling out from underneath his desk, hair wild and eyes bleary. Jimin claps his hands in excitement. “Barbecue?”

Jungkook grins. “Barbecue!”

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

“I’m the one treating everyone!” Jungkook complains, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I should lead.”

Taehyung laughs, skipping a step. He seems to be actively avoiding walking on any of the lines across the footpath; Jungkook lifts his head and stops watching. “But you’re not actually the manager, so it’s not disrespectful yet.”

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Jungkook points out, pouting.

Taehyung shrugs. “You said barbecue, it’s not like there’s many places around here open at this time of day.”

“So?”

“So, we’re going to Hwaro, right?”

Jungkook freezes; a body crashes into his back, accompanied by a soft ‘oh’ of surprise from Jimin. “No?”

Taehyung laughs again, leading the group ahead. “I know you, Jungkookie,” he calls over his shoulder in a singsong voice. Namjoon gives Jungkook an empathetic pat on the back as he passes, the group splitting around Jungkook like a rock in the stream.

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

Taehyung slams a hand down on the table, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “You’re too pretty, they’d take advantage of you!” he says loudly, waving his chopsticks enough that Hoseok backs away from the splash zone.

Jungkook snorts. “And you’re too nice, at least I could handle the investors!” He stabs his chopsticks into another piece of meat, shoving it ungracefully into his mouth. “You just want to help everyone like some kind of pushover,” he mumbles around the mouthful.

“That’s what you’re supposed to do!” Taehyung counters, gesturing wildly and nearly taking out Yoongi in the process. “You’re supposed to be nice and impress them.”

“Do you think,” Jimin says quietly as he leans into Seokjin, “do you think they realise those aren’t actually insults?”

Seokjin carefully fills Jimin’s plate with a variety of dishes, sampling nearly everything they had to offer on the table (he carefully avoids the seafood platter). “I don’t know what to think,” he says finally, handing Jimin the plate.

“You’d both be terrible managers!” Yoongi says callously, elbowing Taehyung out of the way as he reaches across the table. “You don’t even know how to manage something.”

Jungkook shrugs, lifting a particularly large strip of beef to set on Taehyung’s plate. “I graduated top of my class, don’t confuse me with that .”

(Seokjin and Jimin surreptitiously watch Jungkook as he gives Taehyung the best portion, because surely they must be at least a little aware of how that looks?

Seemingly not, as Taehyung eats the offering without question, not even glancing at Jungkook. That’s not normal, right?

In their small office, however, they’ve quickly learnt that nothing about Jungkook and Taehyung is normal.)

“Let’s say, hypothetically,” Yoongi starts, getting swept up in the chaos, “you’re assigned to manage a project. Would you even know what to do?”

“Easy,” Jungkook says, dropping his chopsticks next to his plate. “You have to start with a briefing of some kind. Who am I managing the project for?”

“You need to budget for your resources, too,” Taehyung interjects. “Like, manpower and finances and stuff.”

Jungkook nods, deep in thought. “I guess the first step would be a board meeting. We’d present and collaborate on ideas to achieve a greater understanding of the project goal and bottom line. Develop a project scope.”

“You also need to start allocating roles as soon as possible, to avoid confusion amongst your employees. With direct instruction and clear tasks, the work would begin much quicker.”

“Which is, ultimately, the aim for the organisation behind the project. Quick work is cheap work, in terms of the relationship between time and budget.”

“But it’s important to not overstep either, which would lead-”

“-to a decrease in profits, even though that seems counterintuitive,” Jungkook finishes.

“What the was that,” Namjoon mutters, voicing the collective thoughts of the group. Seokjin and Jimin exchange glances.

“The manager would also need to spend a lot of time in the office,” Taehyung adds on, tapping his chopsticks as if deep in thought.

Jungkook stiffens. “Yes, they would.”

At least Seokjin has the foresight to pull the hot bowl of stew out of the way as Jungkook and Taehyung forcefully launch themselves away from the table in tandem.

“It was my idea!” Taehyung screeches, forcing Jungkook out of the way as they squeeze through the front door together – and like that, they’re gone, sprinting the three blocks back to work.

(Namjoon sighs, reaching into his pocket. “That should cover it,” he says, adding his money to the growing pile as the office members dig in their wallets to cover the meal. It’s not like they ever really believed Jungkook would actually shout their meal, but they can dream.)

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

Interlude

“Shut up,” Jimin says, clamping a hand over Hoseok’s mouth and shooting him a death glare. A shadow passes by, hesitating at the door before moving on. Jimin doesn’t breathe until he’s certain they’re safe – by the way Hoseok gasps loudly when Jimin removes his hand, you’d think he hadn’t taken a single breath all day (overdramatic piece of-)

“That was too close,” Jimin mutters, settling back against the wall and ignoring the way Hoseok squats next to him, huffing and puffing. “Seriously, do you want to die?”

Jimin had managed to slip unnoticed into the copy room, towing Hoseok along at the last minute. There hadn’t been any time to grab his laptop or phone, so there really wasn’t anything to do – but at least he has Hoseok to keep him sane.

“Stay low,” Jimin mutters, catching Hoseok by the sleeve and dragging him against the wall underneath the window overlooking the main room of the office. “How long have we got?”

Hoseok holds his wrist at eye level, digital watch lighting up. “Ten more minutes.”

Jimin’s head thumps lightly against the wall, and he closes his eyes. He likes Taehyung and Jungkook, he might even go as far as to consider them actual friends – but there’s no reward big enough to get Jimin back out there facing the pair, no way.

“What do you think the others are up to?” Hoseok asks, slapping a sympathetic hand on Jimin’s knee. “Reckon they got away?”

--

“I cannot believe he’d betray us like that. After all I’ve done for him.”

Seokjin shrugs. “Yoongi would sell you out for a single skewer.” He trails his hands across the shelves of folders and records, fingers creating little tracks in the dust. “Do you think anyone even looks at these?”

Namjoon slumps against the door, defeated. “But we’re friends, we shared our old SoundCloud accounts,” he whines.

Seokjin inspects the dust on his fingertips before rubbing it off on a corner of his jacket. He outright ignores Namjoon, but it’s not like that’s ever stopped him before.

“It was embarrassing,” Namjoon continues, giving Seokjin that look. Seokjin checks his phone instead – five minutes.

“We can nearly go home,” Seokjin relays, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “You’ve got your pass?”

Namjoon nods meekly, clutching at the card on the lanyard around his neck. “I didn’t grab my coat or my bag or anything.”

Seokjin waves mildly, as if clearing thoughts. “No time, you can get it tomorrow.” Namjoon doesn’t argue back.

Four minutes.

--

Some people might call Yoongi cruel, a heart of steel, stone cold. Yoongi likes to think of himself as practical. He’d seen the look in Namjoon’s eye – he was considering going back for his stuff, and that was a hazard for Yoongi’s wellbeing. So he’d locked him out, shut the door of the small office while staring Namjoon dead in the eye with no remorse.

Besides, he doesn’t really want to spend his time in hiding trying to explain to Seokjin – just how exactly do you know how to pick locks?

Yoongi had been using the empty manager’s office as a nap location ever since she’d walked out. She’d had that look in her eye that Yoongi had seen only countless times before, that one that said you guys I’m out. The opportunity was there for the taking, no one had to be any the wiser. Yoongi had moved the blanket-and-pillow nest from under his desk into the dark little office and has been content ever since.

Turns out, it makes a great hiding spot too. There is no way Yoongi would survive out there, with those two prowling like some kind of barracuda or something.

So far, so good. Yoongi’s phone chimes to let him know that it’s 5 o’clock on the dot (an alarm Yoongi absolutely needs, lest he accidentally spend the night again). It’s a straight shot to the door from here, he’s already got his keycard and phone in hand to streamline the process – no one needs to be hurt.

The bright light nearly blinds him as he opens the door, but it doesn’t stall his progress as he lunges out and snaps the door behind him, locked once more to protect his little sanctuary. He barely avoids crashing into Jimin as he slams his pass against the scanner, clocking out for the evening before pushing through the main door – home free. He can hear Seokjin rustling through his bag behind him, Hoseok’s already hitting the button to call for the elevator.

Namjoon is the last to make it through the door and into the hallway of their floor, running his hands through his hair in stress. “They’re going to stay late,” he announces, more to himself than anyone else. “Something about how a good manager puts in overtime without being asked?”

The elevator arrives. They file in without another word.

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

Jungkook drums his fingertips against the cheap wood, staring at Taehyung from his vantage point perched on the desk. Taehyung doesn’t look away, seated on the floor across from Jungkook with his legs drawn to his chest.

“You don’t have any work to do, you should go home,” Taehyung says, voice muffled into his arms laid across his knees. He reminds Jungkook a little of an owl, wide eyes analysing Jungkook with no hint of emotion. It doesn’t feel as creepy as it should.

“You don’t have any work either,” Jungkook points out, settling back on the desk with his heels pressed into the floor to counterbalance. His fingers continue to tap out a rhythm, in time with the clock ticking away on the wall. The room is dark – the janitor isn’t coming tonight, never on Thursdays, and the room is only lit up by the dimmed ceiling lights placed sparsely around the room to hold off against absolute darkness. Jungkook’s phone is still safely tucked away in his jacket thrown over the back of his office chair; if it were closer, he could check the time, but getting up now would mean breaking away from Taehyung and that means losing.

 “I’m not leaving until you do.” Jungkook can’t even see Taehyung’s mouth moving, nothing on his face betrays his voice at all as he sits eerily still against the wall of the office. “You won’t win.”

Jungkook shrugs, and they fall into silence. It’s bound to be an uncomfortable night, his falling asleep against the hard desk already, but he knows it’s worth it in the long run. Besides, he also knows where Yoongi hides his secondary stash of blankets, so it’s not like Jungkook will be going cold.

“This is like that moment in a drama where the main ship gets locked in together and shares all their deepest, darkest secrets or some ,” Jungkook says mildly, more for the sake of saying anything at all.

Taehyung sniffles, and the mood is broken almost immediately. “Can’t believe you hated me in university.”

Jungkook is the first to forget their staring competition, looking away to his hands clutching the desk. “You hated me.”

Taehyung shuffles on the ground, but Jungkook doesn’t look up to find out how he’s moved. “No, I didn’t!”

Taehyung sounds offended, and Jungkook focuses on anything else – the ceiling is a good substitute, and it helps Jungkook pretend his eyes aren’t prickling just a little. “You wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“You never tried talking to me,” Taehyung scoffs, his voice weak. It’s almost comical how quickly they’ve been reduced to tears, and Jungkook is (mostly) sure he’ll laugh at it later.

“I did!” he counters, maintaining steady eye contact with the ceiling tiles. There’s a gross stain he hadn’t noticed before; he’s pretty sure that one wasn’t even his fault. “Remember that one time?”

Taehyung sniffles pitifully. “No.”

Jungkook raises one hand to rub at his eyes – because they are itchy, not because of any other reason. “Business law, second year. I asked if you’d done the homework and you ran off.” Jungkook’s not sure why he remembers it in such detail – he’s pretty sure he could recall the exact date if needed, but he’s not so sure what to make of that knowledge.

“,” Taehyung mutters, and that has Jungkook looking down. Taehyung’s eyes are wet. “You were wearing that dumb fur jacket.”

This is ridiculous, Jungkook thinks – but refrains from repeating it out loud. He also considers asking why Taehyung can remember Jungkook’s exact outfits just from a year and a class. Instead, he narrows his eyes and pouts. “I like that jacket.”

“It’s ugly as hell,” Taehyung deadpans, looking away. “I would literally rather die than be caught wearing that filth.”

“You’re just jealous,” Jungkook huffs, crossing his arms.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Whatever, wear your junkyard trash, I don’t care,” Taehyung says, unfolding an arm to push his hair back.

“So, what, my impeccable taste in fashion caused you to hate me? Because I think that’s-”

“It reminded me of my dog and she was really sick,” Taehyung cuts in. Jungkook shuts his mouth with an audible click, mind whirling at a million miles a second.

“You hate my jacket but it reminds you of your dog?”

“Is that really what’s important here?” Taehyung questions, folding his arms over his head instead. “Just because she was the cutest thing on Earth, doesn’t mean I want to wear her.”

That’s fair.

Jungkook stays silent for a moment, and the first tear falls. “My parents never let me have a dog.”

Taehyung drops his arms and pats the floor next to him like it’s a comfy pillow, expression inscrutable. Jungkook takes the offer – somehow, the carpet is actually more uncomfortable than the edge of Seokjin’s desk. “I wasn’t really good in school, you know? They didn’t want me to get distracted.”

“That ,” Taehyung says, both staring ahead across the office space. The room seems bigger without anyone else in it. Definitely enough room to hold the Office Olympics, Jungkook thinks bitterly. Namjoon had vetoed that one almost immediately, claiming a lack of space.

“It’s like they only cared about my grades. I didn’t even want to study business!” Jungkook says exasperatedly, throwing his arms in the air dramatically.

“Nice, me neither,” Taehyung says, holding up a hand. Jungkook high fives it. “What did you want to do?”

“Film. You?”

“Arts.”

Jungkook smiles a little. “You any good?”

That gets a laugh. “Nah, absolute . You know anything about film?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t even really watch movies anymore.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jungkook sees Taehyung raise a hand in a mock toast. “Here’s to business, the safe choice.”

“To business,” Jungkook copies, holding his hand up and clinking his imaginary glass against Taehyung’s.

“Why don’t you get a dog now?” Taehyung asks, taking a sip from his imaginary glass - Jungkook is imagining a champagne flute, but has to turn his face away when he becomes too flustered to cope...but why would imagining Taehyung dressed to the nines and drinking expensive champagne even get Jungkook flustered to begin with? Jungkook adds it to the list of mysteries in his head that he expects to never solve.

“I live in an apartment, don’t really have the space,” Jungkook explains, scrubbing at his cheeks with the back of his hand. He’s just tired, he’s not even that upset about the whole dog thing anymore...not really. “You never thought about getting another one?”

Taehyung makes a noise of confusion. “Another what?”

“Another dog, after your old one- after she passed?”

Taehyung pauses, and the silence speaks volumes in a language Jungkook can’t understand. “She’s still alive,” he says slowly, like he’s explaining something simple to a child.

“You said she was sick!” Jungkook says, turning to face Taehyung incredulously. “You literally couldn’t speak to me because you were that upset!”

“It was a cold, Jungkook, she got better in like, three days.”

“What the .” Jungkook folds his arms, frowning. “You used past tense – she was the cutest thing on Earth,” he repeats, mimicking Taehyung’s deep voice (well – it’s closer to mocking than mimicking, but Jungkook doesn’t really see a problem with that right now).

“She got a haircut the other day with a new groomer and they totally screwed it up,” Taehyung says matter-of-factly, like this is something Jungkook should’ve just known. The statement is at odds with Taehyung’s tear-stained face, although it’s not like Jungkook’s doing any better right now. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how to react, so he settles on the easiest thing he can. “What the , Taehyung.”

(When Namjoon stumbles through the front door the next morning, the first thing he lays eyes on are the two bodies huddled up to each other against the wall and wrapped in a baby blue blanket. Jungkook’s head is supported on Taehyung’s shoulder, and Taehyung’s head leans on the top of Jungkook’s. They’re fast asleep, not even woken by someone turning on the building lights behind Namjoon.

“Those ers, that’s my blanket,” Yoongi hisses from somewhere outside Namjoon’s field of view – and so, the day begins again.

Namjoon’s way too tired for this.)

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

Jungkook doesn’t wake until Seokjin forces him up. “You’re not getting paid to sleep on the job,” he says warmly, helping Jungkook to his feet.

“Yoongi does,” Jungkook mutters, pouting. It’s too bright and his neck is sore - did he really sleep like that all night?

“Don’t you and Taehyung have some place to be?” Yoongi says, and apparently Jungkook hadn’t been as quiet as he thought. Jungkook shrugs.

“I’m not leaving the office, Taehyung can go without me.”

Taehyung appears from the break room with a loud scoff. His hair is a mess and his clothes are rumpled - there’s still a bright pink stain in the middle of his shirt. “I’m not letting you stay here by yourself, no way.”

Jungkook frowns. “That’s a forfeit then, you lose.”

“You decided not to go first!”

Jimin’s head pops out from behind Taehyung. “Can’t you just put it on hold?” He says it like he’s talking about the manager position, but Jungkook refuses to believe Jimin would be so callous.

“Fine,” Jungkook says, crossing his arms. “We’ll start from where we left off after I become manager.”

Taehyung laughs. “Then we’ll never get to play again!”

Jungkook ignores him, straightening out his shirt and running his fingers through his hair - he feels disgusting. This is the first time Jungkook can remember not competing with Taehyung first thing in the morning, not for a long time. He’s not sure how it had started, but it’s certainly become a routine for them. Every morning, just after 9, they’d pick out a new cafe to terrorise - specifically, their goal is to order the most disgustingly sweet drink possible. Jungkook’s definitely winning so far, and he hopes the hiatus won’t break his momentum.

He frowns. Maybe Taehyung had been conspiring with Jimin to do just this, effectively killing Jungkook’s streak. He’s definitely going to investigate this further - Taehyung will not win.

 

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

“No,” Yoongi replies easily, tapping away at his laptop keyboard.

“It’s mandatory,” Taehyung responds, massaging his thumbs between Hoseok’s shoulder blades. “Hoseok’s already said yes.”

To his credit, Hoseok’s only response is a muffled moan, head lolling back in his chair. Yoongi’s fingers slow.

“I’m not going,” he says carefully, turning his chair slowly to stare at Jungkook - who is offended because he has absolutely nothing to do with this. “Whatever you two are doing, leave me out.”

Taehyung’s only doing this because Jungkook got the one up on him with lunch yesterday - he tries to voice his argument, but Taehyung cuts him off. “I’ll buy you lunch every day for the next week.”

That gets Yoongi’s attention, Jungkook swears he can feel the change in the air. “Every day?” Yoongi asks, and Jungkook frowns.

He’d witnessed Taehyung move through every single member of this office like a bloodhound, fishing out their needs and desires to warp to his own success. It’s almost magical, the way Taehyung can sense the weak spots in a person and carefully weasel himself in to fit the criteria - it’s a good quality, Jungkook supposes, but it doesn’t make him like Taehyung any more.

“It’ll be fun!” Jimin chimes in, gently closing Yoongi’s laptop as he floats past. “Namjoon is going.”

It hadn’t taken much to get Namjoon on board - he was a er for team-bonding exercises, even Jungkook could see that. Seokjin had been a little more difficult - and Jungkook will be forever left wondering what the answer was in that particular case, because Taehyung had only needed to whisper something in Seokjin’s ear before his tune had changed.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine, but you better know I’ll be eating damn fine next week.” He pushes his chair out from the desk and sling his jacket over his shoulders. Jimin does a little victory dance.

Taehyung just smiles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, voice dropping an octave (and taking Jungkook’s stomach with it for seemingly no reason).

They have at least agreed to meet at the venue a few hours after work, giving Jungkook plenty of time to take a shower and get dressed in something a little less second-day business-casual.

Jimin laughs at him when he arrives. “Oh, look, Jungkook’s wearing a white shirt!” he teases, shoving Jungkook’s shoulder gently.

Jungkook kicks him, taking pleasure in the small yelp. “Is anyone else here?”

“Everyone, they’re already inside,” Jimin answers, sticking his tongue out at Jungkook. “You could at least try a different colour.”

Jungkook shrugs, pinching Jimin’s jumper and pulling on it. “You’re wearing white.”

Jimin’s hand pushes against the small of his back, guiding Jungkook into the building. “It’s striped, that makes it different,” he says, as if that changes anything. “At least let me send you a link to some online stores or something.”

Jungkook laughs, ignoring the look he gets from the attendant at the front desk. He starts climbing the stairs, following Jimin’s silent directions until they arrive at their room - although, Jungkook’s pretty sure he could’ve found it even without Jimin waiting out front for him. Karaoke rooms are supposed to be sound-proofed, but nothing can truly block out the sound of Hoseok’s screams.

Seokjin takes over when they enter, Jimin closing the door behind them. “Beer or vodka?” Seokjin asks from behind, hands on Jungkook’s shoulders as he navigates to the other side of the room.

“Vodka?” Jungkook responds, because surely they don’t actually just have a jug of straight liquor sitting on the table there…do they?

“Great,” Seokjin laughs, giving Jungkook a little shove until he falls into the couch seat. “We don’t have beer anyway.”

Now that he’s in the room, he can somewhat understand the sounds as Hoseok belts out the chorus for Eyes, Nose, Lips. Taehyung’s doing some kind of interpretative dance to match, but Jungkook drags his eyes away to instead watch Yoongi pour him a glass - Yoongi, who is very much watching Jungkook decidedly not look at Taehyung.

Jungkook downs half the glass in a single gulp (thankfully strawberry flavoured and not just pure vodka), now set on avoiding Yoongi’s eyes too. It’s not like it was his decision to come to the karaoke bar, Jungkook does not deserve not be under this much scrutiny. If Yoongi hates it that much, he’s welcome to leave.

Hoseok’s voice pitches unsteadily on his second loop into the chorus, and it’s nearly unbearable without Taehyung’s soft back-up vocals reaching through. They score in the low 40s as Hoseok literally drops the mic like he’s aced it, and Jungkook finishes off his first glass.

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

Jungkook doesn’t realise his mistake immediately - in fact, it takes three or four glasses to really hit him, and it hits him hard. He’s exhausted, running on very little sleep from the night before that he spent awkwardly balanced upright in against the office wall, and that takes an uncomfortable effect on his body with the alcohol rushing through his veins.

To be fair, Taehyung’s doing no better, crouched in the corner with his head in his hands. Jungkook would think he’s dead or depressed or something, if it weren’t for the occasional wriggles Taehyung makes in time with the music.

“Gee gee gee gee baby, baby,” Jimin sings, holding the microphone with one hand and gesturing towards Jungkook in his best girl group impersonation. Jungkook’s inhibitions are dead, murdered in cold blood, as he sings back and lets Jimin haul him up to the stage. He’s a little unsteady on his feet, but nothing he can’t handle. Jungkook’s nowhere near drunk enough to make a fool of himself, and he decides that this is a good place to be - no more drinks, once he finishes his current glass.

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

So that was a ing lie, Jungkook thinks cheerily, swaying his hips in what his mind assures him is a perfect rendition of PSY’s Gentleman.

At least I don’t look that bad. Namjoon has never been a particularly coordinated individual, so Jungkook has no idea why he’s up here singing and dancing duets with Jungkook. They’re a perfect duo, though - they could totally become idols and be famous across the world, what with Jungkook’s body and Namjoon’s brains.

Definitely, he thinks, as he catches Taehyung staring. Absolutely.

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

“I thought you guys knew how to rap,” Yoongi slurs, slamming his hands on the table and rattling everyone’s glasses. Jimin laughs, egging him on as Yoongi climbs unstably across the couch to snatch the microphone from Namjoon’s hands.

What follows is definitely not something Jungkook would ever like to hear again, but at least Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi seem to be enjoying themselves. Jimin’s clapping wildly on his right, a full round of applause, so Jungkook sinks into the body on his left. No more drinks had been a whole four drinks ago, switching from strawberry to lemon to straight up shots of tequila.

“Thank god it’s the weekend tomorrow,” Jungkook groans, throwing his full weight into the warmth when his own body fails to hold him upright anymore. Taehyung hums in response, and Jungkook can feel the vibrations through Taehyung’s chest, but honestly? It’s no big deal, not a problem at all because Jungkook is a well-adjusted human-being.

The song stops abruptly, Jimin fiddling with the controls to pick out a new song. Hoseok cries out in indignation, but Namjoon’s unresponsive on the ground so he’s outnumbered 2-to-1 when Jimin pulls Yoongi on his side with a smirk, fingers curling around Yoongi’s wrist. BIGBANG’s Fxxk It blares over the speakers, beginning a new era of performance for the group.

Jungkook forgets his (not-)predicament with Taehyung when Jimin starts singing, because he’s forgotten that Jimin can sing. He cups his hands to his mouth to shout a well-meaning booooo just to make sure Jimin’s ego doesn’t fly too high, because he’s a good friend.

The next surprise comes when Yoongi doesn’t leave - Jimin’s got a hard grip on Yoongi’s wrist pinning him in place, but Jungkook doesn’t even see Yoongi try to escape. Jimin’s singing directly to Yoongi, and Yoongi just looks flustered enough to be the first person to die from going red in the face (although, Jungkook reasons, that could be the neon lights. Or the alcohol).

The final surprise breaks Jungkook’s little brain entirely as he locks the visual away to hold over Yoongi for the rest of time. Jimin’s verse trails off and Yoongi starts rapping back. “What the hell,” Jungkook mutters, disguised under Namjoon’s loud whoop of encouragement.

Yoongi and Jimin are dancing (or as close to dancing as two drunk, uncoordinated men can get) together, and Jungkook can’t remember when he’s ever seen Yoongi move at all, barring entering and leaving their little office. Jimin’s drawn something out of him, the alcohol freeing their reservations, and Jungkook’s just a little bit jealous.

The lyrics are too earnest, too loving, too passionate, and Jungkook feels gross just being in the proximity. Namjoon, having finally dragged himself (and his microphone) onto the couch, doesn’t stop yelling from somewhere to Jungkook’s left - so the feeling is probably not mutual with the others. Jimin laughs loud, doing a little twirl.

Jungkook jumps a mile when a new voice comes from behind, startling him and sending his heart racing. Where the did he get a microphone from, Jungkook screams internally, struggling to push himself up as Taehyung starts singing the pre-chorus. It’s too much, Jungkook’s not sure why, but it’s definitely too much and definitely time to go.

A firm hand pushes Jungkook back down, his inebriated struggling rendered futile against Taehyung’s fingers curled over his shoulder. Taehyung laughs carelessly between lines and Jungkook gives up, although not without elbowing Taehyung in the stomach.

(Jungkook feels slightly better when he hears Taehyung screw up because of it.)

Still - Jungkook’s having a crisis. Am I the only one here who doesn’t have some secret voice of an angel or something? he thinks, panicked. Taehyung’s not bad when he tries, when he’s not shouting into the microphone or using his voice to annoy Jungkook to no end with catchy songs and way-out-of-tune melodies screamed halfway across the office.

Jungkook has officially been thrown in the deep end, and he can’t ing swim. The little movements Taehyung makes as he sings, Jungkook feels them tenfold.

He’s not even sure why this is so upsetting. He blames it on the alcohol, blames on that last shot that Jimin had taken with him, blames it on Namjoon for giving Taehyung a microphone at all.

“Before tonight is over,” Taehyung sings, but Jungkook’s not paying attention. Yoongi’s staring straight at him again as if he’s taking pleasure in Jungkook’s suffering - scratch that, he’s definitely getting a kick out of this, Jungkook thinks bitterly when Yoongi starts laughing.

“I want you in my arms,” Taehyung continues. His hand slides down from Jungkook’s shoulder to curl protectively across his chest, clutching at Jungkook’s opposite arm. Yoongi devolves into body-shaking cackles, doubling over when he can’t seem to hold himself upright anymore. Jungkook sinks down into Taehyung’s hold and pouts, throwing Yoongi a middle finger - he’s not about to let Yoongi think this upsets him, not about to give Yoongi that kind of power.

It’s not like he’s dying on the inside, right? He’s thankful when Jimin grabs Yoongi to whirl him around for the chorus. He’s particularly grateful when Taehyung removes his arm, forcing Jungkook to sit upright as he joins the pair at the front of the room, even if the sudden chill makes him shiver.

“Real love?” they scream together, voices clashing through several microphones and causing a high-pitched ringing sound from the feedback. “I think I wanna just-”

The room collapses into cacophony, and even Jungkook gets carried away in the excitement. It’s not his favourite song, but damn if he won’t get up and dance to it anyway. He ignores the way Yoongi knocks into his side knowingly, choosing instead to stare at the ceiling rather than having to make eye contact with any single person. That’s definitely the smartest choice he’s made tonight.

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

Hoseok crouches in front of Yoongi, waving a hand in front of his eyes. “Dude, do you have a ride home or not?”

Yoongi slaps Hoseok’s hand away, groaning. “You can’t offer one anyway, you don’t have a car.”

Hoseok grins, standing upright. “Yeah, but Seokjin does,” he says, throwing himself sideways to hang off Seokjin’s shoulder. Jungkook’s a little jealous at how sober Seokjin seems to be - Jungkook can’t even count how many fingers he has, what if he’s lost one and doesn’t know it yet?

“Fine, be like that,” Hoseok slurs, kicking good-naturedly at Yoongi, on the floor slumped against the couch. Jungkook collapses back, soaking in the soft comfort of the sofa. He can’t even smell it that much anymore, now it’s just mostly warm and comfortable and he’s so tired.

“Do you have space, Joon?” Seokjin asks, slinging his jacket on and slipping an arm around Hoseok to stop him from falling as he leans dangerously.

Namjoon shakes his head, lifting a cushion off the couch. “Not if I’m taking dumb and dumber.” He gets on his hands and knees, digging his hands under the furniture. “Have you seen my phone? I can’t find it.”

“Dumb and dumber?” Jungkook asks, pointing to himself. He doesn’t get an answer, which is probably for the best.

“It’s in your pocket,” Jimin pipes up. “I saw you put it there earlier.” His voice is bright and clear and cheerful, and Jungkook has never resented Jimin more. “Yoongi, do you want to share my taxi? You live on the way.”

Namjoon digs into the pocket of his jeans, whipping out his phone. Seokjin smiles that thinly-veiled smile Jungkook has learned to avoid at all costs. “In that case,” Seokjin says, wheeling Hoseok around to face the door before any more trouble starts, “we’ll head off.”

Hoseok’s farewell screams echo through the hallway, fading into the distance. Namjoon holds a hand out to Jungkook, helping him off the couch and steadying him when Jungkook overbalances too hard.

Jungkook has to take the stairs one at a time, praying that he doesn’t fall down and crush someone in the process. Yoongi’s clearly struggling ahead of him, and Jungkook wonders why anyone would put a karaoke bar on the second floor of a building without an operating elevator.

“Steady,” Namjoon says behind him, one hand cautiously gripping Jungkook’s arm. “We can’t have another work-related injury this year or corporate will investigate.” He pauses, and Jungkook takes the last step with relief. “Please don’t report me for letting you guys drink at a team-building event,” Namjoon says finally.

They part ways with Jimin and Yoongi at the door, Namjoon directing Taehyung and Jungkook in the opposite direction towards the nearest parking garage. Taehyung snickers, hopping from step to step as they follow Namjoon.

“Should we really be leaving them alone?” Taehyung jokes, voice rough from their night of karaoke. “I don’t want our little Yoongi taken advantage of,” he continues in a singsong tone, narrowly avoiding Namjoon’s swipe to the head.

“Don’t make me write you up again,” Namjoon warns, stopping at a ticket machine and rummaging in his pockets for the little slip of paper that would let them out. Jungkook’s tired enough that he could pass out standing up, but the conversation piques his interest.

“But Yoongi’s not into guys?” he points out, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Why would he do anything with Jimin?”

The group falls into silence.

“What?” Jungkook asks, head swivelling back and forth between Namjoon and Taehyung as they both turn to give him incredulous looks.

“Jungkook, Yoongi’s gay,” Namjoon says carefully, parking ticket forgotten.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, he’s not. That’s impossible.”

Taehyung frowns, uncharacteristically serious. “He came out to us at that seminar like, a year ago. The one about inclusive workplaces.” He stares into Jungkook’s eyes like he’s searching his soul, and Jungkook’s honestly not feeling it right now. “Jungkook, have you forgotten?”

“He didn’t say he was - it wasn’t like that,” Jungkook stammers, shoulders folding in defensively.

“Jungkook, his words were literally, “I’m gay,” Namjoon explains, placing a caring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “There are lots of people in this world, and we don’t get to decide who we are - we can only make sure that we provide a safe-”

Jungkook backs up, cutting Namjoon off. “No, it’s not that!” he says hurriedly, waving his hands in front of his face. Somewhere, a tiny little part of his brain tells him to shut up - but he doesn’t hear it over the resounding noise of the liquor encouraging him. “It’s just statistically impossible!”

Seemingly relieved that it’s not some kind of workplace harassment lawsuit in the making, Namjoon finally digs out the ticket and shoves it into the machine. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook holds up a hand, stretching out five fingers. “One in five people are like, LGBT or whatever,” he starts. “So Yoongi can’t be gay!”

Having paid, Namjoon starts herding them into the elevator. Taehyung gives Jungkook an odd look as they cram themselves into the small box. “What are you on?”

“One in five,” Jungkook repeats, and that rational part of his brain starts screaming. “So, if I’m the not-straight one, then Yoongi has to be one of the straight ones.”

Taehyung freezes as the doors to the elevator creak open again. “Can you repeat that?”

Jungkook shrugs, letting Namjoon walk him with hands on his shoulders to the car. “It’s just statistics,” he says, like he has any clue how mathematics work right now in his drunken state.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon says worriedly, “I think this might have to be a conversation we’ll back come to. I really don’t want you to regret this in the morning.”

Jungkook huffs. “I’m just saying that Yoongi isn’t allowed to be gay, that’s all. Maths doesn’t lie.” Taehyung laughs.

Namjoon shoves his keys into the front door of his car - a two-door hatchback. Jungkook tries and fails to link the two ideas in his head, because surely there’s no way Namjoon - boss-man Namjoon, weirdly-intelligent Namjoon, tall-and-handsome Namjoon - drives a tiny car from the early 2000s.

“Just let me move my stuff to the front seat, I don’t want you being sick or crushing it or something,” Namjoon says, tilting the front seat forward and leaning into the car. His voice is muffled as he continues, shoving papers and bags into the front. “Besides, statistics do lie, that’s the whole point.”

When Namjoon’s satisfied, he steps back and gestures freely. Taehyung takes the opportunity to throw himself in the car, the vehicle shaking under the impact of his body crumpling into the back seat. Jungkook follows suit - he flops more than anything, diagonal until he’s able to pull his legs inside and fold up tight enough for Namjoon to tilt the seat back to its original position. The next step - the seatbelt - confuses Jungkook for longer than he’d like to admit. At the very least, Taehyung seems to be having a similar issue. There’s not a whole lot of room back here.

“Are you sober enough to drive, Namjoon?” Jungkook asks, finally clicking the belt into place. He ignores Taehyung’s struggles, content to let him fight the car instead.

Namjoon smiles at Jungkook through the rear-view mirror. “I actually only had two drinks tonight.”

Jungkook frowns. “But you were on the floor.”

“That’s what society does to you,” Namjoon explains. “We’re all a part of the giant wheel, needing to keep running or fall down and be crushed by everyone else turning the cogs.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook says, resting his head back. The car is tiny and his knees keep knocking against Taehyung’s. His chest feels heavy and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t lift an arm even if he had to.

“That’s why statistics are so dangerous,” Namjoon continues, pulling out of the parking space. “They can use them to manipulate how others think and feel, it’s an integral part of the human machine designed to control and subjugate.”

Jungkook’s not sure he understands. “So it’s not one in five?” he ventures, staring at the ceiling. Namjoon’s car must be old, with a roof like this, he thinks, as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to assume. He can’t seem to focus his eyes, vision blurring in out and out.

Namjoon laughs. “Jungkook, even if it was - there’s seven of us at the moment, eight if you include the future boss. With your statistics, it’s still possible there’s two ‘not-straight’ people in our office,” he explains, quoting Jungkook. “But even so, the sample size is too small, we could all be gay and still fit the statistic just because it was designed to measure a large population…”

Jungkook has officially tuned out of Namjoon, and officially tuned in to the way Taehyung’s fingers are dancing on his thigh. He’s not even sure when they got there, but he’s not going to deny that it feels good. He is going to deny how it makes his head feel funny, though, and his stomach do flips.

Jungkook lets his head roll across the top of the seat until he’s looking at Taehyung, who similarly has his head tilted towards Jungkook with his eyes closed. He’s definitely as drunk, if not drunker than Jungkook - what a ing lightweight, Jungkook thinks cheerfully.

Jungkook is aware that he’s staring, and he’s also aware that he’s way too close given that he can’t even see all of Taehyung’s face without having to move his eyes.

He’s not sure what he thinks of Taehyung. Jimin’s tried fishing it out of him before, but Jungkook genuinely has no clue. He doesn’t hate Taehyung necessarily, they’re just mortal enemies. They’re competitive, that much is easy for Jungkook to understand, but does that mean he likes Taehyung?

That’s not such a bad thing, Jungkook supposes. Taehyung stares back at him, face unreadable. His eyes are very pretty, Jungkook decides.

They were always competitive, even back in university. Jungkook was the best, top of his class, couldn’t be beat. A true legend. He’d known of Taehyung in his classes, although he’s still not entirely sure how Taehyung came to the conclusion that Jungkook hated him.

Do I give off that vibe? Jungkook worries. Does everyone think I hate them?

Jungkook pauses, watching the way Taehyung’s eyes trail over his face. Jungkook could’ve sworn Taehyung’s eyes were closed, but they’re not anymore and Jungkook just accepts that.

Is ‘like’ the absence of hate? Jungkook considers, but even that feels wrong. It’s not that he doesn’t feel anything towards Taehyung at all. No, he decides finally, I don’t hate him. A logical conclusion.

“What are you thinking about?” Taehyung murmurs, nearly unintelligible between his drunken slurring and Namjoon’s ongoing, one-sided discussion in the front. His free hand comes up to trail gentle fingers against Jungkook’s jaw. Jungkook hasn’t been listening, didn’t even know Namjoon was still talking at all. Taehyung’s voice is deep and rough and Jungkook can’t help himself.

“You,” he says - because what, is he going to lie?

Taehyung’s fingers stop, Jungkook’s skin tingling where they touch. A 1 in 100 chance increased by 80% is still only 1.8, Namjoon explains matter-of-factly, but Jungkook’s still not listening. His breath hitches slightly when Taehyung leans in - and when Taehyung kisses him, Jungkook decides that he definitely doesn’t hate Taehyung.

He tastes like alcohol, like strawberries and lemons and shots of tequila, soft against his lips as Taehyung’s hand stretches out to lay flat against Jungkook’s cheek. The other hand tightens on his thigh, and Jungkook would be more embarrassed about the noise he makes if it weren’t for the liquid confidence he’d been drinking all night.

“Guys, no,” Namjoon says, but Jungkook isn’t listening - Jungkook doesn’t care. He tips his head to the side, pushing a little harder as his own hand finds its way to Taehyung’s hip for bearing. Jungkook’s fingers slip under Taehyung’s shirt and if anyone asks, it’s an accident. A really good accident, one that Jungkook doesn’t regret at all by the sound Taehyung makes when Jungkook digs his fingers in just a little.

“,” Taehyung moans softly, and the noise goes straight to Jungkook’s head. He uses the momentary pause to deepen the kiss, nipping at Taehyung’s bottom lip and slipping his tongue in when Taehyung gasps.

Somewhere, in the far reaches of Jungkook’s mind, there’s a little voice telling him to stop. It sounds almost like Namjoon, although that could just be because Namjoon is panicking in the front (“please, no, stop, we’re almost home, can we please just be sober”), but it’s drowned out by the overwhelming feeling of having Taehyung pressed against him, Taehyung making little noises, the smell of Taehyung’s cologne so dirty against Jungkook’s skin in all the best kind of ways.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung gasps, and if the noise earlier had gone to Jungkook’s head, this one travels south. It makes Jungkook feel unbearably hot, skin on fire everywhere Taehyung is touching him. He moves his hand up Taehyung’s side, presses his palm flat against Taehyung’s back, wants to cry at how smooth and soft the skin there is.

He wants to touch every inch of Taehyung, figure out all the different noises Taehyung can make and savour them for himself. The alcohol spurs him on, desperately feeding off the little breaths Taehyung takes in Jungkook’s mouth.

“, stop, we’re here,” Namjoon’s voice comes from the side, feeling a hand grip at his arm. “I don’t want you guys regretting this, HR would have a field day.”

Taehyung pulls away first, and Jungkook can’t help but chase. It’s ultimately Namjoon who stops him, tugging harder on his arm until Jungkook has no option but to let himself be hauled out of the car. Taehyung comes next, and Jungkook’s so incredibly by how wrecked Taehyung already looks - they hadn’t even done anything.

“I’m right here,” Namjoon pleads, shoving Taehyung in the direction of the apartment block, effectively ruining Jungkook’s great view.

Jungkook follows because he’s not sure what else to do. Taehyung laughs for no apparent reason when he buzzes them into the building using his keycard, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to find it funny while Taehyung leads them to his apartment.

Jungkook’s never been here before, and he’s not sure entirely what he expected - not this. Taehyung’s apartment is impeccably styled, like something out of an interior design magazine. A bright yellow sofa coordinates colourfully with the array of green succulents hanging over shelves across the room, tied together with a patterned rug that Jungkook is certain would be the ugliest thing he’s ever seen if it were anywhere else.

At least Namjoon’s shocked too. “You live like this?” he asks, momentarily pausing in his fretting.

Taehyung gives him a scathing look, shrugging his coat off to lay over the back of an armchair. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

Namjoon backtracks, eyes breaking away from the art hanging on the wall - a cat, floating in space. “No, I mean, it’s actually nice,” Namjoon explains, before turning on Jungkook. “You. Where do you live?”

Jungkook’s not sure what comes over him in that moment, some kind of drunken stupor that forces him to be difficult. He crosses his arms childishly. “Not saying.”

Taehyung laughs, somewhere out of view. It only encourages Jungkook. Namjoon just stares at him blankly.

“Fine,” he says finally, throwing his arms in the air. “Whatever, just, no more violations please.”

Taehyung reappears, waving them further into the apartment. Jungkook kicks off his shoes and follows curiously, Namjoon trailing behind on his phone.

Of course, Taehyung’s bedroom is just as trendy. Taehyung’s already flopped onto the bed and is crawling underneath the covers, clothes and all. “Jungkookie, you can stay with me.”

“Yoongi, I don’t think you understand,” Namjoon’s voice comes from the hallway. Jungkook doesn’t even have to think to make a decision - he’s so tired and the bed looks so comfy, a knitted throw that looks so thick and warm and welcoming. Jungkook clambers over Taehyung’s legs and sinks into the empty spot, letting Taehyung readjust the duvet over them both.

“I can’t leave them, what if they…” Namjoon trails off, entering the room to see Taehyung and Jungkook both tucked under the covers with only their heads peeking out. His phone is jammed between his shoulder and ear, and Jungkook can hear Yoongi saying something on the other end.

“They’re in bed together,” Namjoon deadpans, and Jungkook smiles. He’s not even that close to Taehyung right now, can barely feel his warmth, but he’s really enjoying how frazzled it seems to be making Namjoon. “Yoongi, they’re in bed together.”

“Namjooooon,” Taehyung whines, cutting off anything Yoongi has to say. “Namjoon, you have to tuck us in.”

“I- okay, hold on,” Namjoon says, putting the phone down on the dresser and approaching the bed. One side at a time, he pulls the duvet up underneath their chins and gently pushes until it’s tucked tight around their shoulders. He’s about to back away, but Taehyung pouts.

“And a goodnight kiss,” he complains - and for whatever reason, Namjoon complies. Jungkook really needs to learn this power, how Taehyung can get anyone to do anything for him even as they mutter about how I’m your boss and this is total infringement on workplace harassment. Jungkook feels a little warm when Namjoon kisses his forehead too, but it’s too comforting and gentle to make him think anything of it - his boss has just kissed his forehead and tucked him into his co-worker’s bed, but it’s not that weird…right?

Jungkook can’t keep his eyes open, doesn’t even bother trying when Namjoon turns the bedroom light off and murmurs a farewell. It certainly doesn’t take him long to go to sleep - in fact, he’s not entirely sure he even hears Namjoon leave the apartment before he crashes.

(“Yoongi, you there?”

“Yeah,” comes the response, bleary and unimpressed.

“Dude, they were all over each other, what the ,” Namjoon says, finding his way to Taehyung’s kitchen to grab a drink before he heads out again. “Does that count?”

There’s silence for a moment, but eventually Yoongi assuages his fears. “Nah, it’s gotta be like- it has to be properly together, you know? It doesn’t count until one of them like, admits love or some .”

Namjoon breathes a sigh of relief, pulling a carton of juice out of Taehyung’s refrigerator - Taehyung owes him big time right now, so he has no qualms about stealing from Taehyung’s kitchen. He grabs one of the empty glasses drying at end of Taehyung’s sink and starts pouring.  Yoongi laughs on the other end of the phone line, reading his mind.

“Your bet is safe for now, Joon,” he says. “Careful though, if they walk into work on Monday with everything sorted out, Seokjin will win.”

Namjoon takes a big gulp from his glass. “So, what do I do now? I can’t just leave them alone, what if they-” he starts to repeat, but Yoongi cuts him off.

“Seriously, Joon? ‘em,” he says bluntly, before the phone line goes dead. Namjoon takes the phone away from his ear to look at it in apathy. Sometimes, he wishes he could just learn to not give a as well as Yoongi seems to.

At least they seem to be asleep now, so the chances of any kind of work misbehaviours are slim. Namjoon sighs again, leaning against the countertop.

No more alcohol at team-building events, he vows. Never again.)

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

Yoongi’s staring at Jungkook hard, and it’s making Jungkook see red. He’s not even sure why it upsets him, but everything seems to be getting on his nerves today and he’s really just not in the mood for whatever bull Yoongi is about to launch on him.

Jungkook’s not going to pick a fight, choosing instead to stare only at the spreadsheet on his computer. Data entry is his least favourite job and he’s cursing every past iteration of himself for leaving this task to the very end of his to-do list.

The office is weirdly subdued, letting Jungkook get his work done in record time. He’d only started on this spreadsheet that morning, and now he’s over halfway through - normally, something like this would take him at least three days (much to Seokjin’s chagrin).

It seems to be rubbing off on his co-workers - everyone keeps their head down and works silently, barring the loaded stares Yoongi keeps giving Jungkook that communicate something that Jungkook’s just not ready to confront yet. He hasn’t seen Taehyung all morning, and that’s probably (definitely) contributing to his bad mood.

He’d walked in five minutes before work started, grabbing Jimin’s sleeve as he walked past. “Where’s Taehyung?” Jungkook had asked plainly, but Jimin had only given him a sad shrug.

“Maybe not today, Jungkookie,” he’d gotten in response, before Jimin disappeared into the break room. He hadn’t been seen since, and Jungkook just knows they’re talking about him in there - he could hear Taehyung’s voice when he walks past the break room, door closed and blinds drawn.

Which is totally fine, Jungkook decides bitterly. If that’s how Taehyung wants to play things, Jungkook’s not going to be the one to ruin his fun. He slouches in his seat, fingers hitting his keyboard a little harder than necessary as he copies and pastes information from one document to the next.

Everything had seemed fine, a-okay, absolutely dandy when Jungkook had woken up at Taehyung’s on Saturday morning. He’d gotten dressed quickly, apologised for crashing in Taehyung’s bed, and walked to the bus stop to start his journey home. Taehyung hadn’t been weird about it either - he was chipper as ever, had even offered a granola bar (seriously, who keeps granola bars stocked in their pantry?) that Jungkook had politely declined. They had both avoided discussing the night before, but Jungkook had been okay with that decision.

He was drunk. Maybe there were some things Jungkook needed to work through, and maybe there were some uncomfortable realisations on the horizon that Jungkook is overtly backing away from, but in the end? He was drunk and had made a drunken decision in his grossly drunk, state.

“God, will you stop?” Jungkook snaps suddenly, surprising even himself, just as he faintly recognises (and ignores) the click of a door opening behind him. “Just lay off me for once!”

Yoongi doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest at Jungkook’s outburst, although the way his expression changes from unreadable to outright pity makes Jungkook’s head thump. He pushes up from his desk and turns away from Yoongi, but his plans to cool off by the water fountain in the corner of the room are shattered when he comes face-to-face with a concerned Taehyung.

Jungkook reels back around, slamming his laptop lid closed and scooping it into his arms. “ this, I’m working in the conference room,” he announces, stalking away into the empty room and kicking the door closed behind him.

(Normally, Seokjin would be all over Yoongi right now - “what did you do?” - but today feels different. No one moves a muscle, wary of upsetting the office dynamic further as it teeters on the edge of a dark pit.

Things are changing, possibly for the worse. Seokjin’s not entirely sure they’ll ever come back from it.)

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

Jungkook felt guilty immediately, but doesn’t think he has it in him to return to the main office area like nothing had happened. It’s been two hours now, and Jungkook has gotten absolutely nothing done since his tantrum.

A soft knock on the door breaks him from his dazed state, staring at his empty laptop screen in his lap as he sits cross-legged on the floor. Yoongi lets himself in without waiting.

He doesn’t say anything as he settles on the floor across from Jungkook, and Jungkook’s eternally grateful for it. Yoongi’s good like that - doesn’t get involved where he’s not needed, doesn’t force his opinion where it’s not wanted...usually.

The silence grows between them, and Jungkook shifts awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” he begins softly, refusing to raise his eyes from his laptop screen.

Yoongi pushes his foot out to gently knock against Jungkook’s knee. “It’s okay,” he says, which at least gets Jungkook to look up because it sounds like he’s smiling - and he is, clearly unoffended. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Jungkook shrinks into himself. “I don’t know what came over me, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that,” he responds, eyes darting back down to his screen.

Yoongi shuffles. “I think that first part is a lie, but whatever,” he says, calling Jungkook out and it’s true. “Look, we’re cool, right? I shouldn’t have pushed you like that, I’m sorry too.”

Jungkook smiles weakly, because Yoongi is letting him off way too easy. “Yeah, we’re cool.” He’ll find a way to make it up to Yoongi another day, maybe buy him a big lunch from the new skewer place Jungkook had discovered last Tuesday and write a nice, sappy apology card to go with it.

Yoongi moves again, and Jungkook looks up to stare inquisitively because Yoongi obviously wants to ask something - and please let it be anything else, don’t ask about-

“Do you mind if I just chill here for a bit?” Yoongi says finally, subconsciously twisting one hand over his other wrist. “Seokjin’s going to chew me out if I leave thirty seconds after I arrived and Hoseok has way too many ing questions.”

Jungkook laughs, partly in surprise and partly in relief, and it’s the first time he’s felt minutely ‘okay’ the entire day. Maybe not good, not yet, but it’s closer to normal than he could hope for. “Sure.”

They spend the early afternoon like that, sitting opposite one another on their phones - Jungkook’s given up on work in favour of playing games, and Yoongi has his headphones in tapping his foot along to some unknown beat. Jungkook’s comfortable and more than happy to just forget about the outside world, even for a moment longer.

[ ] [ ] [ ]

The call comes just after 3, signalling what only seems to be the end of the fragile balance they’d all worked so hard to keep over the course of the day. Of course, Yoongi doesn’t know this at first, but it quickly becomes pretty obvious.

Jungkook’s phone had buzzed in his pocket, and he’d given Yoongi an apologetic look. “I have to take this,” he’d said when he’d seen the caller ID, and Yoongi had shrugged because that wasn’t a weird thing.

His first mistake had been leaving the conference room door ajar when he’d left to give Jungkook privacy to accept the call. It seemed natural, the room could do with some fresh air after Jungkook’s little angst-fest and it’s not like Yoongi would’ve expected the call to be anything other than business related.

Or, more succinctly, for a business-related call to be so jeopardising to their office environment.

Yoongi doesn’t want to get involved, really just wants to work and get paid and go home without trouble. He’d already screwed that up once today, and he’d carefully positioned himself at Namjoon’s desk just to avoid Taehyung and Jimin’s huddle next to his own. That was his second mistake - not being close enough to the conference room to slam the door shut once he’d realised what was going on.

Yoongi clutches Namjoon’s arm desperately, silently communicating him to shut up - which he does, rather impressively cutting himself off mid-syllable in whatever he’d been talking about.

“Thank-you!” Jungkook’s voice rings out, in that weirdly friendly tone he’d only seen Jungkook use over the phone with strangers - his customer service voice, as it were. Yoongi has never bothered with trying to impress clients, which is probably why he’d been relegated to a back-end position in the company to begin with. “Is there a good time to come in for the interview? I’m free any time this week.”

Yoongi’s stomach sinks and Namjoon breathes in sharply. “Oh ,” Seokjin says somewhere behind them - Yoongi’s not even sure when he arrived, silently making his way into their group, but, more importantly, this is bad because Seokjin never swears.

“Thursday is fine!” Jungkook says, and the tone turns into something more genuine. “Thank-you so much!”

They have exactly 47 seconds to prepare for the incoming destruction, which none of them use effectively at all. From across the room, Yoongi watches Jimin slide away from Taehyung ever so slightly - after a second, he meets Jimin’s eyes reflecting the exact same panic.

Taehyung breaks the silence first when Jungkook emerges from the conference room, because of course he does. “What the , Jungkook,” he spits out, rising to full height. “You’re leaving?”

--

Jungkook frowns. “Yes?”

It’s the first time Taehyung has spoken to him all day, first time he’s even bothered to make contact, and Jungkook’s not entirely sure why he’s the one under attack.

Taehyung doesn’t seem in any rush to explain, staring daggers into Jungkook with this funny look that he can’t quite decipher.

Jungkook’s mouth twists. “You should be happy, you get the manager job by default if I leave,” he points out. “This is good for you.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, and Jungkook refuses to explain any further when Taehyung won’t even give him as much.

“You could’ve at least told me,” Taehyung says bluntly, yet something about his tone makes Jungkook want to cry and he’s not entirely sure why.

Instead, Jungkook chuckles, although it comes out more sour than intended. “Why would I tell you that I’m applying for jobs?” He turns around to retreat back into the conference room, because this is way more hostile than he can handle right now. “We’re just co-workers, right?”

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

Seokjin’s the one to cut through the thick silence over the office, standing up when Taehyung finally disappears in the direction of the bathroom shortly before 5pm. “Break room, now.”

They gather quickly, sans Taehyung and Jungkook, and Seokjin’s thankful when Namjoon at least has the insight to close the door behind them.

They’d all promised to stay out of it a long time ago, but Seokjin thinks this meeting is a necessary evil to making sure the entire building doesn’t collapse under the weight of this disaster. They hadn’t seen Jungkook leave the conference room again - Yoongi had given Seokjin a shrug when he’d tried to signal for Yoongi to go back in there and do something, and that had been the extent of their attempt to solve Jungkook - and Taehyung had spent the remainder of the afternoon at his desk looking like someone had just murdered a puppy. No, this meeting is definitely a necessary evil, because Seokjin’s not going to have put up with years of barely disguised pining and other torturous events just to see Jungkook quit his job and leave without resolution.

“What are we going to do about this?” Seokjin asks, planting his hands on the small table in the middle of the break room that they’d all gathered around.

“They’re being dumb,” Jimin observes, receiving several dull stares from the group.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Yoongi says, picking at his nails. “Have they ever been smart?”

“I’m just saying!” Jimin retorts huffily. “This has been going on for ages and no one’s done anything.”

“No one’s done anything because it’s not our place to interfere,” Namjoon points out, trying to head off the incoming argument between Jimin and Yoongi. “Besides, they were all over each other just the other night! What changed?”

Hoseok, at least, looks confused. “Who were?”

Jimin ignores him. “I heard what happened,” he says, voice lifting with the beginning of laughter. “Can’t believe you had to go through that.”

Namjoon drops his head into his hands with a groan. Jimin looks like he’s about to pursue it further, but Seokjin cuts him off with a well-timed cough.

All eyes turn to Seokjin. “Something has to be done, or they’re never going to get over it.”

“Get over what?” Hoseok says, head turning between Seokjin and Yoongi, at separate ends of the table. “What’s going on?”

 “Can’t we just sit them down and force them to talk?” Namjoon asks, voice muffled into the table. “Have an adult conversation?”

Yoongi laughs. “You need two adults for an adult conversation, Joon.”

“Guys, why is no one telling me anything,” Hoseok whines, sliding his hands across the table towards Jimin until he’s almost laying against the wood. It’s Seokjin who takes pity on Hoseok - mostly because he thought everyone knew, and surely not even Hoseok is that oblivious.

“Taehyung and Jungkook,” he starts, levelling Hoseok with a stare. Hoseok clearly is that oblivious, because he just blinks with wide eyes. “Taehyung and Jungkook,” he tries again.

That seems to click in place for Hoseok. “Oh , really?” Yoongi gives him a well-meaning pat on the back.

“How are we gonna make them talk though?” Jimin asks, shifting the conversation away from Hoseok, who’s looking like he’s just been shown proof that they all live in a computer simulation.

“Alcohol,” Yoongi pipes up, almost immediately crushed by Namjoon’s resounding no.

“No more alcohol,” Namjoon rules.

“Wait, did they…?” Hoseok asks. Jimin gives him a meaningful look, to be interpreted however Hoseok wants - the outcome of which is made apparent as Hoseok falls back into another chorus of oh .

“No more alcohol,” Seokjin agrees, face set in a stern expression.

“Guys,” Hoseok cuts in - and he’s vibrating, as if he’s just consumed ten cans of energy drink in a single second. “Guys, I have an idea.”

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

“Jimin, do you copy?

“This is Jimin,” he says, shifting his phone from ear to the other. He’s crouched down behind a desk, heart racing as he peeks out slowly. “I have eyes on TH.”

“Great,” Yoongi says on the other end. “Hoseok?”

“JK hasn’t moved,” Hoseok confirms, and Jimin can just see his hair sticking out from behind the water cooler. “Door still secure.”

“We’re going to need to do this fast,” Namjoon rings in, voice hushed. “Once Seokjin’s in position, it’s all or nothing.”

Jimin nods. Boring, normal people might’ve just staged an intervention, forced everyone to sit down together and be civil. Slightly-less-boring, normal people might have even hosted a get-together party for the sole reason of having two friends reconcile. Jimin is proud to be neither boring nor normal.

“There is a wrapper on the floor here,” Yoongi comments, loud enough that Jimin’s pretty sure he can hear it even without the phone call pressed to his ear – so much for stealth mission. “No one step on it.”

Silence falls over the call, and Jimin’s legs start to shake under the exertion of the position he’s been crouched in for the last five minutes. He can see the back of Taehyung’s head, downcast as he scribbles something on a notepad. Something in Jimin feels a little guilty, but this is also something that just has to be done.

Jimin’s not entirely sure why Taehyung won’t just talk to Jungkook. He’d come in early this morning, hoping to get a bit of work done before the day really started, only to find Taehyung throwing himself head first into his own work - and Jimin has never, ever seen Taehyung actually work even during the real work day, so he knew immediately that something was wrong.

Jimin never actually got the stuff that he came in for done, opting instead to spend the time with Taehyung who clearly needed it. Jimin’s a good friend, and someone should definitely be giving him an award for it.

He’d also never gotten it out of Taehyung, whatever it was making him look so depressed, but Jimin can take a good guess. Yoongi had told Jimin what Namjoon had told Yoongi - Jimin had found it a lot funnier than Yoongi had.

(He’d called Seokjin straight after and gossiped for nearly an hour straight - he could at least always trust Seokjin to be there for his needs to dish the details on the latest office dramas.)

Mostly, Jimin feels sorry for Jungkook. Taehyung is sad, yes, but Jimin wholeheartedly believes he’s bringing all that misery on himself by being a total idiot. Jungkook, however, probably knows nothing about the whole ordeal and is just sitting in the dark (literally - he hadn’t even turned the light back on when he’d closed himself in the conference room for a second time, the emo ) and is just along for the ride because Taehyung’s too chicken to do anything about it.

“This is Seokjin, in position.”

ing Kim Taehyung, Jimin thinks, defeated, as Namjoon starts a countdown.

“Five, four, three, two, one…go, go, go!”

A loud bang! spooks Jimin into action, the front door to their office slamming open hard enough for the interior door handle to leave a mark on the wall. Seokjin’s going to kill whoever did that, Jimin thinks, before remembering that Seokjin was the one tasked with getting the door open.

Taehyung, to his credit, turns around at the noise too - but it’s too late. Jimin takes off at a sprint…and makes it all of two steps before he’s tripping over Hoseok, who’s intelligently chosen to somersault out from behind the water cooler.

Jimin’s face meets the floor, Hoseok receives a hard knee in the side for his troubles, and water jug on top of the cooler unbalances slightly before emptying its contents over the top of them.

“Man down!” Hoseok screeches, wriggling to get out from underneath Jimin.

Jimin groans, rolling onto his back just in time to witness Namjoon thundering his way across the room. It seems like everything happens in slow motion - Namjoon’s foot stepping directly on the chocolate wrapper, sliding out from underneath him before he ungracefully flops forward. One arm catches him against a desk, but it’s too late.

Hoseok succeeds in freeing himself from Jimin’s body, the water soaking his clothes making him slippery as he scrambles away and towards the door. He nearly crashes into Yoongi on the way out - saved only by Yoongi’s innate ability to avoid undesired contact with water.

Jimin finally pushes himself to his feet, feeling gross as his clothes stick to his body in all the wrong places. The floor squelches beneath his feet, and he kicks the mostly empty water jug out of the way.

Namjoon ambles past, seemingly unaffected by his fall earlier. Jimin’s the last to leave.

He accidentally makes eye contact with Taehyung as he reaches the door, grabbing the handle to shut it behind him. A million different sentiments are shared between, most of them synonymous with what the Jimin.

Jimin shrugs and gives Taehyung an apologetic smile. It’s for your own good, he thinks, willing Taehyung to understand as he slams the front door shut.

“Lock it, lock it,” Yoongi urges, staying well away from Hoseok as he writhes to get out of his wet jumper. Seokjin knocks Jimin aside to shove the key in the door, twisting it to effectively lock Taehyung and Jungkook in the building together.

“Doesn’t the door still unlock from the inside, though?” Jimin asks, shaking his hands through his hair to try and dislodge some of the water. Yoongi curses, so Jimin continues to avoid eye contact.

“Use a chair,” Namjoon suggests helpfully, dragging one of the seats from nearby to wedge firmly under the door hand. They would normally be for clients to wait outside, but Jimin can’t remember the last time an outsider even visited their office, let alone had to wait in a ‘designated area’.

Namjoon’s jiggling the door handle to ensure total lockdown when their possible doom comes trundling down the hallway with a cart and mop.

Seokjin’s the first to react, the rest of them just standing idly around what is very obviously a suspicious scene. “Hi, there!”

The janitor doesn’t respond. Jimin doesn’t know if he’s ever heard the janitor speak - to be fair, he’s usually out the door at 5pm on the dot, so he rarely even sees the janitor at all.

“We’ve got a big meeting tomorrow,” Yoongi starts awkwardly, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“A big meeting,” Hoseok agrees.

“Big,” Namjoon nods sagely.

“It’s all set up, so…” Seokjin adds, turning to Namjoon with wild eyes.

“So we don’t really want anyone messing it up!” Jimin finishes instead, flashing a big smile in the janitor’s direction. The janitor sniffs loudly, looking half asleep with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You can just skip this room,” Yoongi adds, leaning over to ruffle Hoseok’s hair. He’s a good actor - Jimin almost misses the way his mouth twists slightly in disgust at Hoseok’s wet hair. Almost.

The janitor’s eyes flick down to the chair jammed underneath the door handle. Jimin gives a fake laugh, drawing the janitor’s attention back to him. “Extra precaution?”

“Extra precaution,” Hoseok agrees, pulling away from Yoongi like he’s in danger. Fair call, he probably will be once the janitor is out of sight.

“Precautions,” Namjoon adds on, clasping his hands together in front of his body. “Extra precautions.”

“We’re going to go now,” Seokjin says slowly, moving towards the elevator.

“Just so we’re clear,” Yoongi starts, grabbing Namjoon and Jimin by the wrists, “you’re not going to open this room.”

“We’re not hiding anything illegal,” Namjoon says, like someone hiding something illegal. “Just normal office things.”

The elevator arrives. “Normal office things,” Hoseok agrees, shoved inside. Everyone else piles on top of him, eager to be out of the way.

Jimin waves to the janitor, looking very uninterested, as the elevator doors start to close. “Bye, mister janitor!”

He gets a sharp whack over the back of the head for that one, Yoongi’s hand seemingly no longer afraid of damp hair. Jimin chooses not to retaliate, sticking his tongue out at Yoongi and screwing his nose up.

“They’re not going to starve, right? What if there’s a fire?” Seokjin asks, the situation seeming to finally catch up with him. Namjoon gives him a gentle pat on the back as the elevator continues down.

“They’ve still got the emergency exit on the outside,” Namjoon reminds Seokjin.

“And Yoongi’s stash!” Jimin blurts out, staring Yoongi directly in the eye, because he’s totally retaliating.

“My what?” Yoongi stammers, and Namjoon switches to patting Yoongi comfortingly on the back instead like a good mediating boss should.

“We all know where you keep your snacks,” Hoseok says, shrugging, but betrays his careless nature as he sidles a little closer to Jimin and a little further away from Yoongi. “I haven’t gone hungry in months.”

“You know what? you guys,” Yoongi grumbles, crossing his arms. Jimin just smiles sweetly.

ing Kim Taehyung, you better fix this.

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

“They ditched,” is the first proper words Jungkook hears from Taehyung since their argument, and it still takes Jungkook cautiously prodding the growing wet patch on the floor with the toe of his shoe to even get that much information out of him.

“Why?” Jungkook asks tentatively, because he really does not want to be yelled at again, thank-you. “Was that what the noise was?”

Taehyung doesn’t look up, mumbles something in the shape of a yeah. Jungkook shoots a glare at the back of Taehyung’s head, which surprisingly seems to make him talk, like Taehyung’s got psychic powers or something. “They probably just want to make sure you get one last good time to soak in the office before you abandon us.”

Jungkook twists at the handle on the front door, but predictably it doesn’t budge. He gives up quickly, apathetically wandering halfway back towards the conference room and mentally preparing for another long, uncomfortable night, before his irritation catches up.

“No,” he says suddenly, coming to a stop. “You know what? You don’t get to say that.”

That at least gets Taehyung to look up, staring at Jungkook with a frown. Jungkook feels like he at least deserves more emotion from Taehyung than a look you might give a mysterious stain on the kitchen floor.

“ you, man,” Jungkook continues, throwing his hands in the air in desperation. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong, but you can’t just ignore me like that! How am I meant to fix it if you won’t even talk to me.”

Taehyung blinks once, twice. His expression doesn’t change.

“And I’m not abandoning you guys, what the hell?” He sinks back against the wall, pushing his hands into his hair. “Did you think we were all going to stay at the same company forever?”

Taehyung shrugs softly, averting his eyes. Jungkook huffs.

“So tell me what to do, Tae,” he says, wincing at the way his voice shakes a little. He tangles his fingers into his hair and tugs on it, turning his head towards the ceiling. He’s not even angry anymore, but maybe he never was. His voice turns soft. “Tell me what I should do.”

Taehyung’s chair creaks a little as he rises up and takes a step towards Jungkook, but Jungkook’s quicker, taking a swift step to the side and away from Taehyung. He lets his head drop back down with a bitter laugh. “Don’t do that,” Jungkook warns, gritting his teeth. “Don’t start, I’m not doing that again.”

Jungkook feels a little vindication when Taehyung finally looks angry, looks hurt. It , but at least Jungkook’s not the only one feeling about all this.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says finally, arms dangling at his sides. His fingers twitch like he wants to do something, but he doesn’t move. Jungkook’s not sure whether that’s a blessing or a curse.

“So, what is it?” Jungkook asks, wrapping an arm over his chest to grab at his opposite shoulder. He digs his finger in until it hurts, letting the mild pain keep him focused. “Are you talking to me or not?”

“I was never not talking to you,” Taehyung says sharply. Jungkook laughs again and Taehyung recoils slightly.

“Right, you just happened to accidentally miss me all day, yeah?”

“You’re blowing this so out of proportion,” Taehyung retorts, although his tone doesn’t match the way his face falls. He takes a step forward, voice rising. “You’re the one leaving!”

Jungkook drops his arm and matches Taehyung’s step inwards, unwilling to back down. “You’re the one getting so upset over it!”

“Maybe if you’d just talked to me about it,” Taehyung snaps, getting closer again. If it were anyone else, Jungkook would be worried he’s about to get hit. He’s only been in one fight before and that hurt - but even in his frustration, he knows Taehyung would never bring it to physical blows.

Jungkook takes another small step and narrows his eyes. “Because you were so totally ready to talk me today. Why do you even care?”

They’re not yelling anymore - it’s so close that Jungkook can hear Taehyung’s rough breathing, including when it catches before he speaks. “Because I’ll miss you, Jungkook,” he says angrily.

Something inside Jungkook shatters. “What?”

Taehyung doesn’t step away, but his voice remains stony. “You’re leaving and I don’t know what to do about that, alright?”

Jungkook stays silent. That horizon of realisations he’d found earlier? It’s at his doorstep and it won’t stop knocking.

“You’re like, all of this-” Taehyung gestures broadly at Jungkook in what little space they have between them - “and, I don’t know, whatever, I don’t want you to leave.”

Jungkook’s not sure whether he’s supposed to be insulted - he takes a wild guess, chooses the least offensive option. “You were avoiding me before you knew about the job, though,” he points out instead, confused.

Taehyung shrugs. “It’s not about that. You were always going to leave me anyway.”

Jungkook has 101 questions - mostly variations of confused equations and half-assed swears. His thoughts are colourful but his mind is blank, so he settles on the easiest question there is. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asks, and surprises himself at how aggressive the words come out despite the total lack of feeling Jungkook has in his body right now.

Jungkook feels guilty when Taehyung flinches. “What’s the point? You’re you, it’s not like it was going to ever happen anyway.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Do you mean it?”

The sudden change in pace seems to confuse Taehyung. “What?”

“Do you mean it?” Jungkook presses, resolute.

“I mean, I-” Taehyung stutters, and the endless eye contact traps Jungkook. He only breaks it to watch Taehyung’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Jungkook’s body finally catches up with his mind. “Yes?”

Jungkook fists a hand just below the collar of Taehyung’s shirt, tugging hard and forcing Taehyung to close the gap between them as he stumbles forward. Jungkook briefly registers the look of surprise on Taehyung, mouth gaping slightly and eyes wide, and Jungkook only hesitates long enough to find Taehyung’s lips.

For a split second, Jungkook’s head implodes. Taehyung is still, and what if I read the situation wrong oh god oh . It’s only a second, though, and even if it feels like a millennium - it passes. It always passes.

Taehyung’s hands land on Jungkook’s hips to steady himself, breath stuttering into Jungkook’s mouth as he parts his lips. Jungkook’s head rebuilds itself, if only to shatter into tiny pieces again when Taehyung’s fingers dig in harder and push their hips together.

It’s different to that…other night. If Taehyung had tasted like strawberries and lemons and way too much tequila then, now Taehyung tastes like…Taehyung. Jungkook is drunk on Taehyung, and he just wants and wants and wants.

Without thinking, his free hand trails up Taehyung’s side. Deft fingers pull Taehyung’s shirt from under his belt, slip underneath the cotton to run against soft skin - Jungkook’s hooked on the feeling of Taehyung, doesn’t know if he could ever get used to the warmth.

Taehyung bites lightly at Jungkook’s lip, and Jungkook’s more than a little embarrassed by how ruined he sounds with the little sound of approval that originates somewhere in his throat. A small part of Jungkook incoherently wonders when Taehyung got so good at this, an irrational jealousy that sits somewhere deep in his chest that Taehyung might’ve done this with someone else.

The thoughts are extinguished in the face of larger problems - namely, Taehyung’s weight heavy against Jungkook as he forces Jungkook to retreat, one step at a time, until his back collides with the wall. Taehyung growls lowly into Jungkook’s mouth, the noise hitting all the right places until Jungkook’s weak at the knees. When Taehyung presses his hips in, Jungkook sees stars.

Taehyung’s always been a little crazy - in all his years of knowing Taehyung, Jungkook can at least recognise that much. He’s not going to pretend he understands the inner machinations of Taehyung’s mind, but he’s at least grown used to the way Taehyung thinks, speaks, moves.

Jungkook’s never seen Taehyung like this - desperate, insatiable, downright ravenous. It spurs Jungkook on, lifts him to new heights knowing he’s the one to make Taehyung like this.

“You’re so competitive,” Taehyung mumbles, forehead knocking against Jungkook’s when Jungkook pushes back against Taehyung with equal force, aching for closeness more than anything else.

“I wasn’t going to let you win,” Jungkook teases back, pulling away to watch Taehyung. The sour mood from earlier has lifted, vanished entirely, leaving nothing but warmth in its wake. Taehyung’s eyes sparkle, a knowing grin stretching across his face, and it takes everything Jungkook has to resist.

“I couldn’t let you win,” Taehyung points out as if it’s obvious.

That gives Jungkook reason to pause. “What?”

Taehyung tries to back away but Jungkook tightens his grip on Taehyung’s shirt like a schoolyard bully, preventing any escape. Taehyung’s expression turns slightly guilty. “Don’t get me wrong, you’d be a good manager…” he starts. Jungkook frowns, sensing more.

“But?”

“The office dynamic would be ruined,” Taehyung says finally, staring unfocused at Jungkook’s chest.

Taehyung’s always been a little bit crazy, Jungkook knows that much. He also knows that he’ll probably never actually understand anything Taehyung says. He pinches Taehyung’s side good-naturedly, grinning when Taehyung yelps.

“The does that mean?” he asks, doing his best to keep his voice light and trying to give Taehyung the benefit of the doubt here.

It pays off. “It would upset the dynamic,” Taehyung whines. “I’d have like, zero chance of getting with you because of power shifts and stuff like that.”

Jungkook laughs, even as Taehyung gives him a faux-hurt look. He can’t help it - it’s such a dumb idea, and Jungkook really can’t believe he’d never seen it before. He can’t help himself, picking on Taehyung.

“Tae, if you’re manager, it’s still the same problem,” he points out, raising both hands to Taehyung’s face and forcing him to look at Jungkook. He drops his voice to mimic Namjoon, gets a faraway look in his eyes. “Corporate’s Code of Conduct dictates non-platonic office relationships with a power imbalance to be harmful to the workspace and non-compliant with policies determining professional workplace ethic.”

“Why do you have that memorised,” Taehyung deadpans, although he doesn’t look in the slightest disappointed.

Jungkook grins. “I may have heard it once or twice.”

Taehyung’s face falls and Jungkook panics. Did I say the wrong thing? He squeezes Taehyung ’s cheeks between his palms, eyes darting between Taehyung’s. “I didn’t mean-”

“You’re still leaving,” Taehyung cuts him off, and the relief is instantaneous. If that’s what is bugging Taehyung, Jungkook has an easy fix.

“Here, look,” Jungkook says, dropping his hands to slide his phone out of his pocket. Taehyung’s eyes follow his fingers as he quickly taps out a message - it’s probably not his most professional email, but it doesn’t really matter anyway.

“You’re not going to the interview?” Taehyung asks carefully, as Jungkook’s phone makes a whoosh sound to signify the email being sent on its way. Jungkook shrugs, an easy smile finding its way onto his lips. He shoves his phone back into his pocket.

“I’m pretty satisfied at my current job.”

It’s Taehyung who kisses him this time, fast and needy and constantly interrupted by the laughter bubbling over. Jungkook’s fingers weave their way into Taehyung’s hair, tugging until Taehyung whines and deepens the kiss. Their breathing becomes more ragged, shared in quick gasps as Jungkook rolls his hips forward again.

Jungkook feels like he jumps a mile high when a loud ringtone cuts through the silence, drawing him back to the present with eyes wide open. Unlike earlier, he finds it increasingly difficult to dig into his pocket as Taehyung kisses him, moving from mouth to neck when Jungkook finally manages to push him off.

“What,” Jungkook snaps into the phone finally, head knocking back against the wall as Taehyung’s fingers make quick work of his shirt. He’s kind of relieved that it’s not the ex-potential employer, at least, but he’s still not happy at being interrupted again.

The other end of the line is a garbled mess, five voices speaking all at once to create an unintelligible cacophony of noise. Jungkook’s breathing hard, but Taehyung’s panting harder, and he’d really just like to get this done.

“Shut the up!” Yoongi’s voice comes through, coarse and frustrated. The noise dies almost immediately. Jungkook might ordinarily be embarrassed that he’s gasping down the phone line for all his co-workers to hear, but Taehyung’s running fingernails down his chest and on his neck and he really just does not give a anymore.

“So, how are you guys doing?” Hoseok asks innocently to break the silence, as if he has absolutely no idea why Taehyung and Jungkook might be so breathless right now. A chorus of whispers rise up from the background (“you’re crushing me!”, “I can’t hear anything”, “ask if they’re going to f-”).

“Fine,” Jungkook says roughly, pulling the phone away from his ear to slam his thumb down on the hang up button just as Taehyung’s knees hit the floor.

[ ]  [ ]  [ ]

“This is Seohyun,” Namjoon introduces, shooting a very pointed stare at Jungkook and Taehyung. Jungkook scrunches his nose up but doesn’t say anything. “She’s going to be the new manager here.”

Jungkook supposes he may have gotten a bit caught up in the moment, letting the excitement wash over him. Maybe, perhaps, just possibly their company wasn’t planning on hiring for the position internally - given that the advertisement for the job was pasted on the inside of a window for all the public to see. There’s a chance, a slight chance, that Jungkook may have misinterpreted the situation - but surprisingly, he’s quite okay with that.

While everyone around them applauds Seohyun in welcome, Taehyung snuggles closer to Jungkook. They’d drawn their office chairs as close as possible, Taehyung draping his ridiculously oversized coat across them like some kind of blanket. (They’d had an actual blanket earlier, but Yoongi had stolen it back when he’d arrived in the morning because he’s a cruel man with clearly no love for Jungkook).

Taehyung leans his head against Jungkook’s, his unkempt hair tickling Jungkook’s forehead. Taehyung hadn’t bothered to fix himself up, still looking thoroughly debauched when the office had opened for the day. Jungkook has decided he likes it, wants to ruin Taehyung every day for as long Taehyung will have him.

Yoongi makes an obvious gag face in Jungkook’s direction, the noise interrupting Namjoon’s speech and earning him his very own pointed glare. Jungkook hums happily, tracing his fingers over Taehyung’s knee under the coat. If he thinks about it hard enough, it doesn’t really feel like anything’s changed - maybe except that now, Jungkook isn’t unsure of his feelings towards Taehyung anymore.

Mostly nothing has changed, but some things have changed, and Jungkook’s happy - this is his idea of perfection.