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Namjoon had him at last. He had Min Yoongi exactly where he wanted him, backed into the corner of an empty warehouse with his two most trusted men, Kim Seokjin and Park Jimin. Not only that, but Jungkook had grabbed the only thing that Min Yoongi allegedly loved more than drug smuggling, guns and money: an Omega named Hoseok. The Omega was spitting fire at Jungkook and struggling to get away, but the young Alpha with his almost superhuman strength was more than a match for the slender dancer, even if the fawnlike Omega had a repertoire of swear words that could make a sailor blush, and a kick like a bad-tempered donkey.
“It’s over,” Namjoon stated, “hand over the guns and let’s talk.”
“Give me my Omega first,” Min Yoongi growled, and then I’ll hand over the guns and talk.”
“Sure you will,” Namjoon said patronisingly, “the Omega stays here to make sure that you don’t start anything silly. First, you hand over the guns, and then we talk. Then we’ll see about the Omega. I assure you he is quite safe with us. Isn’t he, Jungkook?”
The young Alpha grinned toothily and pinched the Omega’s round cheeks affectionately.
“You pipsqueak,” the Omega protested, trying to kick Jungkook’s shins, “you should show more respect towards your elders and betters!”
But Jungkook had the Omega enveloped in a bear-like hug, with no chance of escape, however hard he kicked his long, slender legs at the younger Alpha.
“You smell like strawberries and vanilla pudding,” Jungkook answered lovingly, ignoring the insult and sniffing the Omega’s shoulder length, wavy hair.
“The fuck I do, kid,” the Omega spat, trying and failing to bite Jungkook, “get me away from this child!”
Namjoon thrust the weapons they had taken off Yoongi and his men into Taehyung’s capable hands. When Namjoon had made it absolutely clear that the wellbeing of the Omega depended on Yoongi’s cooperation, he handed his weapons over immediately. His handsome second-in command, Seokjin, did likewise, his trademark sardonic grin fading as he handed over his favourite handgun. Only Park Jimin, deviousness personified, still had a long-bladed jack knife hidden in his fashionable boot that Namjoon extracted with a sigh. Good-looking, flirtatious and one of the cruellest gang members in the business, Jimin delighted in unsettling his adversaries and toying with them. He made a big thing of letting his eyes travel down Taehyung’s body – Alpha Jimin didn’t care which gender he bedded, - but Namjoon noticed that he also shared a split-second look with the Omega. As sadistic and untrustworthy as he might be, Jimin was unfailingly loyal to his gang.
They sat around the table in the musty office of the abandoned warehouse in which they had cornered Min Yoongi. Namjoon took a deep breath. This was a moment he had dreamed of, putting his arch rival and nemesis Min Yoongi firmly in his place.
“I’ll let you go back to your territory unharmed, Min Yoongi,” Namjoon began, “you can’t say fairer than that. But there are some conditions.”
Min Yoongi had the beginnings of a snarl on his surprisingly youthful and attractive face.
“What the fuck do you want, lamp post?” he growled at Namjoon who had stood up to his full height, which was impressive even for an Alpha. Yoongi on the other hand was fairly short for an Alpha, and very touchy about it.
“I want the drugs back that you stole from us when you crashed our little operation last week.” Namjoon put his hands on his hips.
“What?” Yoongi bluffed, “what drugs? I have no idea what you are talking about.” In the background, there was a slap and a squeal from the Omega. Yoongi’s eyes immediately swung towards the noise.
“What did he do, Sweetheart?” He asked the Omega, “I swear I’ll kill that kid,” Yoongi snarled.
“He kissed me so I slapped him,” the Omega replied sullenly, squirming in Jungkook’s arms. Jungkook had a bright red cheek. “It was worth it,” the youngest member interrupted cheerily.
“Listen Namjoon,” Yoongi turned on the bigger Alpha, “if you or that runt hurt a hair of my Omega’s head, I’ll have Jimin perform open heart surgery on the both of you without an anaesthetic.” Jimin grinned nastily and waggled his eyebrows.
“Realistically,” Namjoon answered, “he’s not your Omega. “There’s no mating mark on his neck. Maybe he can learn to love Jungkook.” Yoongi lunged forward at Namjoon, obviously aiming for his face with his balled fist. Namjoon side-stepped.
“Listen, we’re not going to hurt your Omega, but we need you to cooperate. Will you return the drugs your gang stole from us?”
We didn’t steal them,” Yoongi complained, “seriously, if your men let us take the stuff off them that easily, they don’t deserve… oh all right. We’ll return the drugs. Jimin only had a little sniff. It’s hot as hell anyway, no way you can sell it right now.”
“And, generally speaking,” Namjoon continued, “I want you to stay out of our territory. No more encroaching on our turf. You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine. No more interfering in our operations, no more trouble making by your members. Stay out of our clubs, and we’ll stay out of yours.”
Yoongi sniffed. “As if you even have anything that we want,” he complained. “All right, we’ll stay off your turf. Now hand over the Omega and leave.”
“You forget,” Namjoon grinned, “this is our side of town. You’re the one who will be doing the leaving.”
“Semantics,” Yoongi snapped. “Now give me back my Omega.”
“Nope,” Namjoon answered, feeling very satisfied, “I don’t think I will. First, I want to see those drugs back at our headquarters tomorrow evening at the latest. Then we’ll see how you and your men behave and whether you stick to our little agreement. If I see that you have been a good boy, then I will consider returning the Omega, that is, if he wants to go back to you. I think he might grow fond of Jungkook yet.”
“You fucking bastard,” Yoongi raged, “I want him back now. Don’t let that little shit mess with him or I swear I will not rest until I have ruined you all of you. And the same goes for that grinning idiot in the back there, too.”
“Grinning idiot?” Taehyung suddenly pulled out a shuriken that glinted in the light as he twirled it around his finger, “I will end you!”
“Taehyung,” Namjoon warned, “put it away for the time being: perhaps later.” Taehyung’s shoulders slumped as he slipped the deadly weapon back into his sleeve sulkily.
Namjoon held out his hand. “I swear no one will hurt your Omega,” he said to Yoongi. “Jungkook is just messing with you. He would never take advantage of a helpless Omega.”
“I’m not helpless,” the Omega snapped.
“Although he’s really pretty,” Jungkook interrupted, “like Bambi.” The Omega rolled his eyes.
Yoongi’s second in command stepped forward. Seokjin was soft-spoken, diplomatic and Namjoon had privately always thought that he was far too good for that little firebrand Yoongi. Tall and handsome, everything about him was pleasant apart from his sense of humour, which was jarring, and his laugh, which sounded like a faulty windscreen wiper, and on second thoughts, perhaps Seokjin was exactly what Yoongi deserved.
“Shake his hand, Yoongi,” Seokjin advised, “Namjoon won’t hurt Hoseok. He knows that Jimin will disembowel him if he does. Namjoon is a blight on humanity and a sheep tick of the highest order, but he’s not a dishonourable man. Shake his hand and get it over with. Then we’ll send those drugs back so that he sees that we will cooperate. Hoseok will be back in no time.”
“But Jinnie,” the Omega whined.
“I promise you’ll be back soon, Hoba,” Seokjin said firmly. “Listen, here’s something to cheer you up: Where do French gangsters come from?” The Omega looked confused.
“I don’t know,” he answered.
“From the baghetto! Hahaha!” Seokjin squeaked with laughter. “Get it? Baguette and ghetto: Baghetto!” The Omega rolled his eyes unamusedly.
Yoongi grumpily reached out, took Namjoon’s outstretched hand, squeezed it painfully and shook it with unnecessary force. The Omega slumped his shoulders dejectedly.
“But I want to speak to him on the phone daily,” Yoongi demanded, “at 7 in the evening punctually. And if you forget, we will torch your headquarters and burn it to the ground.”
“You have a nice line in complete and utter exaggeration,” Namjoon sighed, “I’ll make sure he phones you.”
Namjoon should have known that Hoseok would not be a sweet and docile Omega, despite the fact that his big eyes, innocent face and delicate long limbs made him look like a shy deer caught in the headlights. The amount of filth that came out of that sweet rosebud mouth was breath taking. The more insults that slipped out from between those perfectly formed little lips, the more Jungkook’s eyes lit up with complete adoration.
“It stinks here,” the Omega complained as soon as they had reached their headquarters.
“What do you mean?” Jungkook asked.
“It stinks of Alpha.” The Omega wrinkled his sharp little upward-tilted nose in disgust.
“Come off it,” Namjoon snapped, “you’ve been living with Alphas.” The Omega pouted. “Yes but Yoongi smells of chocolate, Jimin of roses and Seokjin smells of sandalwood and the sea. You don’t smell nice, any of you.”
Namjoon clenched his teeth. He knew for a fact that he smelled of crushed pine needles, a fragrance that drove most Omegas crazy. As far as he could pick up their scents, Taehyung seemed to smell attractively of freshly brewed coffee with a side of lemons and Jungkook had a powdery, floral fragrance that surely no one could ever object to. In fact, the Omega’s scent of vanilla and strawberries soon seemed to obliterate any other smell in the house completely. It was attractive, and it affected Namjoon in no small measure. Luckily, as soon as the doe-eyed Omega opened his mouth, the attraction died and a slight feeling of panic took over. What would the Omega do next? Whom would he choose to insult and what ridiculous thing would he demand?
“Stwawbewwies,” the Omega insisted, mispronouncing the “R” adorably, “and grapes. Seokjin always gets me fruit. His uncle is a fruit farmer. And I want some now.”
“What?” Namjoon exclaimed, “Where the hell am I supposed to get fruit at this time of night?” It was 10 o’clock in the evening by the time they had returned to headquarters.
“Not my problem is it?” the Omega retorted, “you promised to look after me.”
“I’ll get some,” Taehyung offered eagerly. He had been sitting next to the Omega and staring at him with hearts in his eyes, much like Jungkook, who was seated on the Omega’s other side.
“No, I will!” Jungkook argued, jumping up.
While the two were shouting at one another, Namjoon’s phone rang. Min Yoongi. He took the call.
“I want to know how Hoseok has settled in,” Yoongi began without preamble.
“Oh, he’s just great,” Namjoon gritted, “he’s already causing mayhem. He wants fruit. At this time of night.” Namjoon tried to shush the arguing Alphas in the background.
“My poor baby,” Yoongi commiserated, “I hope you get him some. What’s that shouting?”
“Yes, we’ll get him some, ignore the shouting, it’s nothing. Poor baby indeed.” Namjoon huffed. With that, he cut off the call to shout at the rowing Alphas.
“Shut up! Shut up! Why don’t you both go out and get out from under my feet?” Namjoon rolled his eyes.
“Yes but,” Jungkook interrupted.
“Push off,” Namjoon shouted, “I can entertain Hoseok while you’re away. There are enough men around here to keep us safe, just go, leave and shut up.”
Namjoon could hear them bickering all the way down the corridor before they slammed the door shut and there was peace at last.
“Your team discipline is really bad,” the Omega stated, inspecting his nails idly, “I’ll be sure to tell Yoongi. He’ll be very interested.”
“It’s all your fault,” Namjoon grumbled.
“Alpha,” the Omega leaned forward, his smell tantalising, “you need an Omega. You have far too much pent up energy inside and so do those pups of yours. I know some very nice Omegas. I’d be pleased to hitch you up to one.”
“I can find my own Omegas, thank you,” Namjoon retorted, feeling insulted.
“All right,” the Omega returned, leaning back and causing another waft of ripe fruit and vanilla to assault Namjoon’s nose, “suit yourself. I bet you can’t though.”
“I’ll have you know,” Namjoon began pompously, “that I can have any Omega I want.”
“Sure you can,” the Omega grinned, showing the sweetest heart-shaped smile that Namjoon had ever seen, “in your head.”
When Taehyung and Jungkook turned up an hour later with grapes and strawberries, Hoseok demanded Sprite to drink with the fruit. By the time the Omega’s needs had been catered to, Namjoon was completely exhausted and craving sleep. Taehyung and Jungkook had made up a bed for the Omega in the guest room, jostling for praise and staring at him with sickening adoration. Namjoon wished he had taken one of the others hostage, Jimin perhaps although he would probably have skinned them all alive by now, or Seokjin, who would probably have driven him mad with his horrible jokes. Maybe it was not so bad with the Omega, Namjoon told himself. It was only a few days after all. What could possibly go wrong? With that thought, he fell asleep.
Namjoon awoke to the sound of screams. His senses immediately alert, he propelled himself out of bed and down the corridor. The noise was coming from the guest room where the Omega had been sleeping. He flung the door open to the sight of the Omega rolling around on the floor with Namjoon’s fearsome and intrepid right-hand men, Taehyung and Jungkook. All of them were shrieking with laughter.
“Tae Tae,” the Omega screamed, “you are so ticklish, there is no denying it! Does my little baby Kookie want some tickles too? Tickle tickle!”
Two of the most feared gang members in town, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook, scourge of the city streets, were rolling around on the floor, being tickled by an Omega and shrieking in pleasure and excitement. Namjoon sighed.
“Tae Tae,” he shouted bitterly, “and – what was it? – Kookie. What the fuck do you think you are doing?”
The laughter died down and Taehyung turned an interesting shade of dark red.
“Ah, Great Leader Namjoon,” Taehyung smiled ingratiatingly, “Boss. Just a little fun.”
“So it’s Tae Tae now, is it?” Namjoon inquired with an ice-cold voice. “I wonder how that nickname will go down with your clients. You know, when you’re extorting money and threatening to break people’s fingers or shoot them and the like.”
Taehyung cleared his throat. “Well we don’t need to tell them about that,” he looked imploringly at Namjoon, “do we?”
“Well I certainly won’t,” Namjoon snarled, “but Min Yoongi is bound to.” Namjoon’s eyes travelled to the Omega who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with an air of absolute innocence.
“What me?” he said, “my lips are sealed, absolutely.” Namjoon snorted.
“And now to you, ‘baby’ Kookie,” Namjoon addressed Jungkook, “are you out of your tiny mind? You’re a grown man, why are you behaving like a child?”
“He’s a cuddly bunny,” the Omega responded.
“I’m not asking you, Hoseok!” Namjoon roared, “Jungkook! What has happened to you?”
“Sorry Sir,” Jungkook apologised, looking for all the world like a muscular rabbit with a secret sorrow, “it was just a bit of fun.”
“Fun?” Namjoon shouted, “fun? We’re a gang of criminals, not a bunch of kids on a school trip. Who said this was supposed to be fun? Lord, I hope none of the other men witnessed this. It will be bad enough with Min Yoongi gossiping to all and sundry that my best men are a couple of kids who like to be tickled! I’ll never live it down.”
“I’m hungry,” the Omega said suddenly.
“What can I get you?” Taehyung and Jungkook said with one voice. Namjoon buried his head in his hands.
“How’s my Omega?” Min Yoongi snarled down the telephone.
“It’s 10 o’clock in the morning,” Namjoon complained, “we said 7 p.m.”
“No,” Yoongi sneered, “I said I want to talk to him at 7 p.m. Now I’m asking you how he is.”
“He’s fine,” Namjoon snapped, “being waited on hand and foot and complaining all the time.”
“That’s my baby,” Min Yoongi said proudly, “and make sure you have enough Sprite. He only drinks Sprite.”
“We’ve found that out already,” Namjoon gritted, “he is very vocal on the matter.”
“Well you treat him gently,” Min Yoongi cautioned. Namjoon wanted to scream.
“Boss,” Taehyung looked carefully around the door of Namjoon’s office, “the stuff is here.” Namjoon sighed and got to his feet. Standing in the hall, idly cleaning his nails with his flick knife, was Jimin, who smiled sweetly when he saw Taehyung.
“Namjoon,” he acknowledged, “I’ve got your shipment in the back of my car. Where do you want it?” He looked Namjoon up and down. “If you’ve got time, we could have a little get-together, in your office.” Jimin winked.
“Park Jimin, just…no!” Namjoon shouted, “Men, clear the boot of the car outside. Bring it all in here.”
“Oh well,” Jimin shrugged, “so how is Hoseok? I hope you got him Sprite.”
“Darling Hoseok is up to his eyeballs in Sprite,” Namjoon ranted, “everyone is at his beck and call all day.”
“Great,” Jimin responded, practising his knife-throwing on one of Namjoon’s most prized possessions, an artefact he had stolen from a museum, one of his favourite heists.
“Stop it, just stop it,” Namjoon screamed, “it’s fucking priceless; it’s a Rodin, an original.” Jimin sniffed and pulled his knife out of the statue.
“It’s a fake,” Jimin stated casually, “well made, but a fake.”
“It’s not,” Namjoon insisted, “I am something of an art expert, and this is an original.”
“Naah,” Jimin drawled, scrunching up his little button nose, “I know the forger. Intimately, if you know what I mean. Look at the bottom, near the edge on the left. That’s his sign. A tiny bird. I don’t even have to bend down to see it’s there.”
“You’re pranking me,” Namjoon growled, but he did bend down. Sure enough, there was the tiny silhouette of a bird imprinted onto the statue. Namjoon felt like crying. It had been a horrible day so far.
“Sorry,” Jimin shrugged, “but he was a good fuck. What about I cheer you up? I don’t mind giving you a blow job if you are too upset for anything else. I’ll even promise to put away my knife.”
“Get out!” Namjoon shouted, “everyone get out of my sight, and you especially, Park Jimin!”
7 o’clock in the evening punctually, the phone rang.
“Get me Hoseok,” Yoongi growled.
“Good evening to you too, Min Yoongi,” Namjoon answered sarcastically, “And how are you on this fine evening? You wish to speak to Hoseok? But of course, anything for such a polite, accommodating gentleman such as yourself. Please hold the line, sir.”
“Hurry the fuck up, lamp post,” Yoongi retorted unimpressed, “get me my Omega tout suite.”
Namjoon knocked on the guest room door. And knocked. There was not a sound to be heard. He could hear Min Yoongi complaining on the telephone and telling him to hurry up. Namjoon tried the door handle. It was locked from the inside. Namjoon knocked again.
“Hoseok!” he shouted, “open up. I’ve got your sugar daddy on the phone! You know very well that he wants to speak to you at 7 on the dot.”
Namjoon could hear Yoongi’s voice, shrill and annoyed on the telephone in his hand. Namjoon tried kicking the door down, but only succeeded in hurting his knee. He put the phone back against his ear.
“Listen Min Yoongi,” he gulped, “Hoseok won’t open the door. I’ll ring you back as soon as I get to him.”
“The fuck you will,” Yoongi screamed, “what the fuck have you done with my Omega? I’ll have Jimin cut you into little pieces and feed you to the dogs, I’ll raze your shitty headquarters to the ground, I’ll kill you and when you’re dead I’ll kill you all over again! Jimin! Seokjin! Get the men ready. Namjoon, we´re coming over to get you. I swear, I’ll burn everything to the ground, I’ll…”
The sound of a key twisting in the lock of the door had Namjoon almost fainting with relief. The door opened, and Hoseok, wrapped in a skimpy pink dressing gown, opened the door with an innocent expression.
“What was all that knocking?” he asked wide-eyed, “I was just having a bath.”
“It’s seven in the evening,” Namjoon spat, “as I suspect you very well know, and your boyfriend was just having an apoplectic fit and threatening me with multiple murder. Here.” He shoved the phone into the Omega’s hand and tottered down the corridor to his office, clutching his head.
Ten minutes later Jungkook looked carefully around the office door at Namjoon.
“Boss,” he said carefully, “we’ve run out of Sprite.”
Namjoon had tried to sleep, but his dreams were invaded by images of Jimin’s knife in his prized statue, Yoongi shrieking down the phone like a banshee, Jungkook and Taehyung morphing into babies and Hoseok throning above everything, clad in a pink bathrobe and laughing hysterically.
He sat in his chair in his office. It was early in the morning, not yet six o’clock. He had decided to send the Omega back to Min Yoongi and damn the consequences. Namjoon had reached his limits; he had had enough.
“Rough night?” A gentle voice asked. The Omega was standing in the doorway, wearing one of Namjoon’s best and most expensive shirts as a nightdress, dark hair artfully mussed.
“You are driving me mad,” Namjoon confessed darkly, “you, Yoongi, Jimin, Kim Seokjin, Taehyung, Jungkook… all of you. I’m sending you back today,” Namjoon added. “You win.”
“But it doesn’t have to be this way, Joonie,” the Omega answered almost affectionately, “just let me guide you.”
Namjoon looked up at the Omega, who was smiling at him and flicking his eyelashes.
“He did it on purpose, didn’t he?” Namjoon hissed in a low voice. “Yoongi. He sent you to plunge this place into complete chaos. He engineered it from the start.”
“Well, sort of,” the Omega smiled lazily, “but it was my idea, actually.”
“What?” Namjoon shrilled.
“Joonie, darling,” the Omega raised a finger, “you are one of those Alphas who consistently underestimate Omegas. Shame on you. Perhaps you have learnt your lesson now.”
“I don’t understand,” Namjoon faltered.
“You will, Namjoon, when we unite our gangs. We’ll be unbeatable if we pool our resources. Of course, Yoongi is far too stubborn to suggest such a thing, and you… well. You’ve been too immature – so far. So obviously I have to be the grown-up in the room, as usual, and tell you, as your friend,” here Namjoon grunted, “that we’d make a great team together. You rule the West Side as you have done, and Yoongi the East Side. With one difference: Cooperation instead of competition.”
Hoseok came forward and placed a kiss on Namjoon’s forehead. “You know it makes sense. And quite frankly, you and Yoongi bickering non-stop has been getting on my nerves for quite some time now.”
Namjoon groaned. It did make sense. In fact, it annoyed him greatly that he hadn’t thought of it himself.
“Oh what the hell,” Namjoon looked at Hoseok, “get your stupid boyfriend on the phone and tell him we need to talk.”
“Oh Joonie,” Hoseok grinned, “you’re such a decisive, manly Alpha. What a good idea!”