Chapter Text
“With all due respect, sir. What. The. Fuck.”
Namjoon sighed. It was too early in the morning for this. As he closed his copy of Crime and Punishment , he cocked an eyebrow. “Is there an issue, Yoongi?”
This was a rhetorical question. There was always an issue.
But Yoongi paused. Considered his next course of action. “Sir. I know it's way too early in the morning for The Kinkshaming but you just handed me a schoolgirl uniform—did Hoseok put you up to this?” Yoongi swiveled around in his chair, sloshing his black coffee all over Namjoon’s book. Namjoon sighed, rethinking his life decisions. Why did he listen to his father? He should have been a poet. “Where’s that fucker—”
Namjoon considered placating Yoongi. He was always cranky in the morning. He sighed again, this time more like a weary father. “No Yoongi, we had a mixup in our new filing system…..this is your new undercover uniform.”
“WHAT.” Yoongi finally woke up from his half-awake stupor. “WELL FOR FUCKS SAKE I––”
Now it was Namjoon’s turn to start yelling, “OKAY YOONGI? CALM THE FUCK DOWN. OBEY YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER AND JUST WEAR THE SCHOOLGIRL’S UNIFORM FOR ME.”
Hoseok walked in (late as usual) with a coffee and doughnut, “Jesus, it’s only 7:17, did The Kinkshaming start already?”
Yoongi hissed, “This is all your fault.”
Hoseok stopped. Took a sip of his Starbucks caramel macchiato, with double the caramel and double the coffee (God knows he needed it). Sighed. Nonchalantly tilted his fuckboy sunglasses down to inspect the uniform on Yoongi’s desk. “The schoolgirl getup? No, unfortunately, that wasn't my doing, as much as it pains me that I didn’t think of it sooner.”
“Hellspawn .”
“But what can I say? You’ve got the legs.” Hoseok gave a shit-eating grin in response.
Yoongi flung Namjoon’s Crime and Punishment , narrowly missing Hoseok’s face. He cursed under his breath.
“Anyways, good morning to you too.”
“Hey, look on the bright side,” Namjoon tried, “at least no one will suspect you as a girl.”
“There is no bright side .” Yoongi spat, “This is a uniform for a girl. A high school girl. Female. Which I am not , in case you haven’t fuckin’ noticed. Who the fuck is gonna fall for this shitty ass disguise?”
Hoseok muttered under his breath, masking it poorly with a cough, “Oh, you’d be surprised”.
Yoongi whipped his head towards him, practically shooting laser beams out of his eyes. “ What the fuck is that supposed to mean ?”
Hoseok’s smile was one of pure innocence. “Oh, nothing.”
“You fucking dipshit, don’t fuck with me.” He lunged forward at Hoseok, only to have Namjoon grip his arms and hold him back before he could do any real damage. Hoseok just stood there smiling that same innocent smile.
“The fuck, let go.” Yoongi kicked and punched at the air, but Namjoon’s much taller frame easily held him back. He looked like an exasperated parent trying to hold back a whining toddler.
Yoongi, however, was not a whining toddler. He was a very manly man, thank you very much. Came straight from D-town, swag set in his huge ass chains (those had been a mistake), taking no one’s shit.
“Yoongi,” Namjoon started wearily, feeling his stress level rising to a dangerous level. Looks like he’ll have to take another trip to the psychologist again. Thank god it was part of their job-benefits. Frankly, the only reason he had this job was for the tax deductions and government-provided health benefits. Otherwise, he’d have left this hellhole before anyone could say “Dostoyevsky sucks ass”.
(There also was Jin. Jin was a very good incentive to stay. Not that anyone needed to know.)
“Tell that little shit to say it to my face.” Yoongi barreled on, ignoring everything and everyone. “Say it to my face, Hofuck.” He repeated, glaring at Hoseok.
“Oh, I couldn’t.” Hoseok simpered, “For you are the manliest of men, toughest of the tough. How could I ever say anything against your delicate, small, feminine frame?”
Yoongi wrenched free of Namjoon’s hold and tackled Hoseok, pulling him into a headlock.
Namjoon stood there and watched. Tried to remember why he had this job. Questioned his life decisions. When the fuck is Jin getting here?
Hoseok’s face was turning purple. Yoongi was still screaming. Namjoon couldn’t find it in himself to stop the homicide.
But then.
The door suddenly slammed open with a loud bang. It was a sound they had all learned to fear. It was a terror ingrained into their souls, primitive and wild; honed from years of working with Kim “I’ll Eat Your Fingers” Seokjin.
“Alright, you fuckers,” Jin swept into the room, “Aw, did I miss The Kinkshaming? How unfortunate.” He fluttered his eyelashes. Namjoon turned red. Yoongi and Hoseok swore the room got colder. “But what’s this? Yoongi? Hoseok? Fighting? Wouldn’t it be a shame if I had the both of you go on parking duty? For the whole weekend?”
Yoongi––God bless his soul––tried to explain himself, but Jin cut in, “Now, since I’m blessing you all with my handsome, glorious presence, you peons better stop whatever the fuck you’re doing and listen to me.” Jin smiled and cocked his head to the side like a happy housewife. “Except you Namjoonie~”
Clutching his chest, Namjoon collapsed into his swivel chair, feeling his knees grow weak at the rushing sensation of relief. (Or maybe it was because of the way Jin sounded and looked when he was using uniform. Authority can be a very, very attractive thing. Both were valid reasons.)
The Jin Gaze™ sharpened on Yoongi. Yoongi reluctantly stopped choking Hoseok and stepped away. He cast a side glance at Namjoon and then shared a knowing, mischievous look with Hoseok––who was rubbing his neck and coughing.
Jin rolled his eyes. The two of them could be fighting one minute and be the best of friends in the next. They were an HR nightmare.
“The Kinkshaming?” Hoseok whispered, leaning in conspiratorially towards Yoongi.
“Naturally.” He smirked, “Look at his face. Definitely falling for that power kink.”
“Hoo, boy.” Hoseok whistled, speaking loudly, “Jin, lookin’ good as usual. Can I just say, your shoulders fill out the new uniform very well.” He winked exaggeratedly, smoothing out the wrinkles on Jin’s uniform.
Jin looked unimpressed and Namjoon shifted uncomfortably. “As I was saying,” Jin continued, ignoring Hoseok, “our division has been assigned to a case at Bighit High. They’ve apparently got drug dealing, which has expanded so much that it’s become a sort of an empire in the area and a mafia gang. We’re all going undercover. Hoseok and Yoongi will work from the inside and Namjoon and I will work from the outside. We’ve got three suspects: Jeon Jungkook, most likely the leader, and Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. They’ll be our main targets. Any questions?” He threw the files onto the table in front of him. “Take your file, read it over, and get ready. We start in an hour. Chop chop, high school doesn’t wait for anyone.”
“I’m older than Hoseok, the fuck? Why am I going undercover as a student?”
“I’m going undercover in this shitstorm too? Wait, an hour? That isn’t nearly enough time, what the fuck Jin!”
“Wait what?” Namjoon stared blankly, still trying to process the onslaught of information.
Jin just gave them a pleasant smile and walked right out of the room like the badass mofo he was.
“We’re going to fail.” Yoongi stated bluntly, in the horrified silence that had befallen the briefing room. He gingerly picked up his file and scanned the first few lines. “Wait, fake boobs?! What the fuck!” He dropped the file like a hot potato and followed Jin, running out the door. He ran for his life. His dignity.
Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged a heavy glance and shuddered.