Chapter Text
🍯🐝
Seokjin thinks that if he jumps over this table and beat this man, he could probably kill him.
That's how delicate he looks, the softest target he's ever seen.
And, normally, Seokjin doesn’t beat these kinds of people, perfectly normal people in their normal clothes with their normal jobs in this normal restaurant, and their normal reading glasses sliding over their perfectly normal nose. Seokjin frowns. This target- Park Jimin -is a perfectly normal civilian with a regular life and a regular job. Granted, Seokjin has counted him pout over the menu more times than any other adult male would but still, it's not too bad, not abnormal, at least not on this man.
Park Jimin pouts, and Seokjin has never killed a target who pouts before.
It’s insulting.
The location they are in is lively and warm, swanky even. There are too many people puttering about, but the place was designed to be intimate, so there is nothing he can do about that.
It's not a place either he or the target would choose to spend their free time in, he notices, watching as the target shifts in his seat, drowning a little in his oversized clothes. Even the sweater he is wearing doesn't look like something the target would normally be in- his slacks, his sweater, the button-up under his sweater. Everything on him looked too big. Seokjin wonders if the target stole it from someone else’s closet, like a little boy playing grown-up. Like this, Seokjin can imagine how easy it would be.
It had been easy enough wrangling the target’s original date into a back alley. It had been easy enough to knock him out and erase all contact he had of Park Jimin.
Even sitting here, on this blind date, is easy.
Seokjin knows that in approximately five seconds, the target will look up at him over the menu like any other man scouting a date would. And, equally, like any other man being scouted on a date, Seokjin would shed himself off- moulting himself a new skin. He would lean back on his seat, pick up the menu, nonchalant and beautiful, while he lets another man ogle him.
It’s beneath his usual fare, but it’s definitely within his asking price.
Well, Mother’s asking price.
So Seokjin has to finish this job now whether he likes it or not.
And Seokjin rarely missed.
At the five-second mark, just as predicted, Seokjin feels the target’s eyes on him. Seokjin meets his gaze, and, in one deliberate swooping flutter of lashes, Seokjin sees the target's cheeks tint pink.
Peaches. Sweet, round peaches.
No target has ever done this before, Seokjin thinks. Politicians go hard, wives drip wet, Park Jimin blushes the sweetest peach pink, and Seokjin has never killed a civilian before. Seokjin wonders if all civilians do this. This target is soft- too soft, like a fluffy little cloud. Seokjin doesn’t almost realize he’s staring until the target makes a sound, nimble hands scrambling for refuge behind the large menu.
Seokjin just smiles, following suit and breaking eye contact, too- just to appear that he, too, is embarrassed by this.
Seokjin is anything but embarrassed by this.
He runs through all the information he has on the target again; Park Jimin, 25, male, a Busan native currently living above a friend’s arts and crafts shop in Insadong, height: 5 foot 8 inches, weight: 134 lbs. The eldest child, family- mother, father, brother - are alive and well, all residing in Busan. His parents own a small cafe, but that’s as far as their business venture goes. Nothing too worthy, nothing much on their records that would guarantee a 57 billion won hit on his back.
Seokjin knows almost everything there is to know but not the one thing that truly matters.
Why does he need to kill Park Jimin?
Seokjin doesn’t realize it, but he's staring again. Park Jimin calls him out on it.
‘Is there something wrong?’ he asks, wiping at an invisible stain on his cheeks. He pouts, ‘You could just tell me.’
That pout, again. It’s bewildering to Seokjin. He doesn’t understand why Park Jimin does it. He’s never seen a man pout as much as Park Jimin does. It almost infuriates him.
But there’s no time to ponder over that. Seokjin needs to act quickly. It takes him just half a second to come to a decision, and then, he smiles. He leans forward on the table, propping his chin on his hands, head quirked slightly to the side. He gives the target a meaningful look.
‘How could I not?’ he says, ‘ You are literally the prettiest person I have ever seen.’
The target- Park Jimin -blushes, as expected. His lips part in surprise. His mouth opens and closes, words caught trapped in the air. He looks down at the menu again, and Seokjin continues to smile.
He doesn’t usually mean it when he says it. He doesn’t usually say anything to his targets, at all, in fact. He’s usually the pretty one, the Honey, the trap. He's the ethereal god generous enough to grace the puny, little lives of all his boring, little targets. It’s unusual but it’s not a cause for panic, everything is still going according to plan. He could use this and turn it in his favor somehow. Park Jimin is not the first pretty person he has killed.
'A-Are you ready to order?'
'Yes,' Seokjin smiles, 'You?'
He can see the moment the target regrets asking, a glint of panic in his eyes. He quickly flips over the menu, trying to come up with something he would like. His pudgy, little fingers do nothing to help him at all.
'Are you okay?' Seokjin decides to tease, smiling amusedly over the target 'I can help you order if you want?'
The target only blushes, huffing with a frown, 'It's okay. I'll figure it out.'
Their waiter comes back and the target looks even more panicked, stuttering out a random order in the end. Seokjin smiles, and this time it's genuine. He orders Katsudon for himself- well, it depends. Seokjin isn't picky with food, but he doubts this target- Park Jimin- will actually eat his Teriyaki Salmon. Seokjin thanks their waiter, leans back on his chair and smiles teasingly at Park Jimin.
'What's got you so nervous, pretty?'
'I'm not,' Park Jimin huffs, 'And don't call me that.'
'What? Nervous?'
'No, I-,' he huffs, 'Nevermind.'
'But you are.'
'I'm not nervous.'
'You are.' Seokjin smiles, 'Pretty.'
The target breathes a sigh, exasperated. He slumps in his seat, and doesn't pay Seokjin any more mind.
Instead, he arranges their little table, laying out the spices and condiments in a line. He takes his time trying to set everything up, even goes as far as pouring out each jar on a napkin, nearly emptying the ginger and cinnamon jars, so that everything matches up. He then grabs the utensil holder from the corner, puts it smacked dab in the middle, completing his little arrangement with a clang. But this only succeeded in the target startling himself, jumping a little in surprise. Seokjin has been watching in silence until then. He couldn’t help laughing softly down at him. The target glares up at him.
The target turns to the table centerpiece next- a trio of quirky, oversized paper clips standing on a wooden slab. It holds all of the laminated menu and some other paper decorations. It makes for a tall centerpiece, and Seokjin smiles, finally catching up with what exactly the target is doing. The target has arranged the menu so that when he puts the centerpiece in the middle of the table, it will completely block him from Seokjin's view.
Seokjin waits.
When the target starts to move, Seokjin shoots out a hand to hold the paper clips out of the way.
The target glares up at him but Seokjin just returns it with a smile.
They struggled for a while, trying to tug the centerpiece back to their sides. The target grits his teeth, trying with all his might, and Seokjin can appreciate that. He lets the centerpiece go, making the target almost stumble o on and his smile turns cheekier as he spots a picture stuck on one side. He grabs it and shows it to the target.
'Look’ he says, ‘ it's you.'
It takes the target a moment to react but when he does, it’s exactly what Seokjin wants to see.
'You,-' he starts, incensed, 'You're so, so-'
The target huffs in disbelief, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know where to start.
Seokijn just puts on a teasing smile as he watches the target dissolve into his furious little ramble, words barely being spoken and cheeks an angry red. Seokjin barely understands him but he tries hard, listening to the target while he returns the little spice jars and condiments to the side. He looks between the target and the picture of the fanfan duck plushie in his hand. It makes Seokjin smile even more. He admits that his smiles are turning too genuine for a mission but he lets it go. It's not the first time he had some fun at work.
'I don't get why you're so mad,' Seokjin says, clipping the picture back on the paper clips, 'It's cute, and it really does look like you. Most people are happy to be called cute, why aren't you?'
'Well, it's rude,' he huffs, blocking Seokjin's attempt at putting the last spice jar in its original place. The target puts the jar back in the middle and then, he starts doing the same to the other ones. Seokjin indulges him. ‘We just met. You can't just call me cute. You don't even know if I'm older than you.'
'You're right,' Seokjin smiles, 'We should get to know each other. What year were you born? I'm 1992.'
Seokjin smiles down at the target, amused. The target was born in 1995, and so late in the year, too. Undeniably, Seokjin is his senior. Seokjin watches as the target blush a furious red again. He wonders if he'll lie.
'W-Well, why would I tell you that,' he defends, 'We just met. You could be a killer, for all I know.'
Seokjin, tongues at his cheek, trying so hard to hold in his laugh. Oh, if he only knew.
'Oh, angel, I could never hurt someone as pretty as you,' he says, leaning forward on his intertwined hands, looking straight at the target with a coy smile. He looks the target up and down, trying to see if he will look away.
The target does as expected, pouting as he turns away from Seokjin.
Seokjin returns the paper clips to the side.
'Call me hyung.'
The target doesn't speak, wouldn't even spare Seokjin a glance. Park Jimin is a goody-two shoes. Class valedictorian. A gentleman. A sweetheart. A true boy scout, through and through.
It's probably breaking him to be this disrespectful to Seokijn, now that he knows that Seokjin is older than him.
Park Jimin is more willful than he thought, though.
'No,' he huffs, 'You don't even know how old I am.'
Park Jimin has his year of birth publicly displayed on his dating profile. If Seokjin didn't have the reliable source and intel that he has, Park Jimin's dating profile could have worked just fine, too. Park Jimin likes cats. He also likes dogs. He loves tonkatsu, has the taste palate of an eight year old, though, surprisingly he doesn't like sweets.
Park Jimin likes water. Park Jimin likes snow. He absolutely hates mangoes, despises seafood, but he loves Summers, too.
Park Jimin is an open book and Seokjin tells him just as much.
'W-Well, I didn't make that account,' he defends. He grabs his phone from his pocket and types angrily, probably scolding his friend, the shop owner, who Seokjin knows made the account. Seokjin only hums.
'So?,' Seokjin raises an eyebrow, 'Call me hyung.'
'Fine!'
Their waiter comes back to bring them a pitcher of water, and Park Jimin is quick to use this opportunity to cover himself up again. Seokjin doesn't even blink, automatically slides the pitcher out of the way, just to fuck shit up. He almost anticipates the way Park Jimin blows up at him.
'Can you not?' he says, putting the pitcher in front of him again.
'Oh, grumpy,' Seokjin rags on, pulling the pitcher to his side, out of the target's reach, 'Tell me, Angel, why is it so bad if I look at you?'
'Because I don't want you to.'
'Then why come here on a date with me?'
'I didn't want to!' he hisses, 'My friends took me here, tricked me, and left me alone.'
Park Jimin pouts again, and Seokjin doesn't want to, he swears he's a professional but fuck it does he feel bad. He already knows Park Jimin's friends brought him here, under the guise of a night out.
He saw first-hand, from his hideout, how Park Jimin and his best friend, the shop owner, went inside the bistro hand in hand. Two other friends had trailed behind them but Park Jimin didn't even notice them stay behind. Seokjin waited five minutes until the target's best friend ran out of the restaurant, rushing his two other friends out of the street.
Park Jimin came with three people-his friends. There's four of them yet the table his friend dumped him in is for two. Park Jimin sat inside the restaurant, in his small table for two, waiting for his friends to come back and still, it took him another eight minutes to catch on and rush out of the restaurant, too.
It reminded Seokjin about how humiliating this assignment is. Park Jimin is too soft, too vulnerable, too pretty. At 17 Seokjin, is already killing politicians and tycoons. Does Mother truly not trust him?
Seokjin had stepped in right there, calling out to Park Jimin before he even thinks to leave. He had introduced himself as his date, and it's the first time someone had looked devastated to hear him say that.
The rest is history.
Right now, Seokjin has to focus on making Park Jimin stay. The target doesn't look like the type so Seokjin is not hoping to fuck that information out of him soon.
Seokjin looks at the target, considers him carefully, and he wonders if he's even been with someone like that.
He's definitely got the lips for it, as attractive in real life as he is in the pictures. Pretty, Seokjin admits.
'Look,' the target starts, 'I'm sorry about this. I didn't want to be here. My friends are stupid. I understand if you're mad, but I can't be here. I'm leaving.'
Alright, nothing has worked so far. Appeal to pity it is. Seokjin grabs onto the target's hands, squeezing at him desperately.
'Please don't run out on me,' he pleads, 'I've been an ass this whole evening but I swear I really want to get to know you. I'm so sorry, I swear I'll behave from now on.'
The target sighs, his fisted hand relaxing in Seokjin's hold.
'Look, this isn't just you, so please don't feel bad.' The target looked like he's actually guilty. So he's easy to trip, Seokjin takes note of that.
'I just really didn't come here for a date. You've been tricked, and so have I,' he pouts, 'whoever you've been talking to on that dating app, that wasn't me. So, I'm sorry.'
Seokjin thinks back to Park Jimin’s original date. That makes the two of us, the thinks.
The target pulls back from Seokjin's hold but Seokjin is also quick to latch on. He squeezes the target's hand.
‘At, least eat?’ he smiles, ‘My treat, order anything you want. I’m sorry your friends tricked you but at least you get free dinner out of it, right?’
Jimin huffs, pulling his hand away and Seokjin has to remind himself to let go. Despite what he sees, Park Jimin’s hands are strong.
‘Are you trying to bribe me?’ Jimin accuses, but he sits back on his chair. Seokjin smiles, amused.
‘Well, it worked on you, didn’t it?’
Park Jimin rolls his eyes. He pours himself water from the jug.
‘You better order me dessert, too,’ he says, and then as if realizing something, he leans forward on the table and points a finger at Seokjin.
‘I’m not having sex with you, just because you bought me dinner, okay?’
Seokjin rolls his eyes, playing along.
‘Of course not,’ he says, ‘I’m even more offended that you don’t think I can make you have sex with me without food bribes.’
The target blushes, and maybe Seokjin should, too. Now, he's thinking about it. He’s so incredibly shy and grumpy, too, that Seokjin wonders how it would be like fucking information out of thim. It should be embarrassing and unprofessional but Seokjin is almost excited for that part of the job. Park Jimin doesn’t look the type, though, so he would have to wait until the very end of the mission to hope to do any of that.
Right now, all he has to focus on is getting to that part.