Chapter Text
He felt like James was dead. He kept looking at the place he used to sit and expecting to have to remind the kid to pay attention, but he wasn’t a kid. Namjoon had tried to mentor someone who didn’t exist. What a joke. While he was attempting to encouraging “James” to think about college and potential careers, that person already had a job. That pissed him off the most out of any of this mess.
He wasn’t supposed to know anything about the case—Sgt. Min had confirmed Vince’s, no, Officer Kim’s story—and asked Namjoon to stay silent until the case was resolved. Which was fine, of course. He was glad they thought they had solved the case and his school could start going back to normal.
But no one from the department had even asked him to come in for an interview. Not that he actually knew anything, but it seemed like shoddy police work to him. Shouldn’t they be trying to talk to all potential witnesses? What could you expect from the same people who sent undercover cops to pretend to make friends… with potential suspects. Lying, tricking people into trusting them. It was a shitty thing to do to… the students. To the whole school in fact.
But maybe the worst part was that he couldn’t even rant about it to Seokjin.
—
“Namjoon Kim?” The voice on the phone was deep and slightly familiar, but Namjoon wasn’t awake enough to place it.
Rote politeness was about all he could manage this early. Namjoon said, “Yes, this is he. Who may I ask is calling?”
“This is Sgt. Yoongi Min from the Port Willamette Police Department. We spoke last week in regards to the investigation conducted by Officers Park and Kim at Evergreen Academy. I apologize for calling so early, but I was hoping to catch you outside of work.”
Namjoon was definitely awake now. “Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?”
“We’d appreciate it if you could come in and give a statement.”
In the days following Calla Night’s arrest, Namjoon had calmed down and tried to look back at the whole situation more rationally and admit he shouldn’t be taking this personally, but that didn’t stop him from feeling vindicated for finally being asked for his input.
“OK. Yeah, I can do that. When do you need me to come in? And where?” Namjoon asked, realizing he wasn’t sure where the nearest police station was. He’d never needed to know. He’d had to file a report when his bike had been stolen (on the Fourth of July, no less!), but that was just a phone call. They’d never found his bike, but thankfully his home insurance had covered a new one.
—
4PM the next day found Namjoon walking up to an imposing concrete building with “Central Precinct Police Bureau” carved in two-foot high letters over the door. He’d walked over from Evergreen after the final bell, enjoying the random sunny fall day, but now he was feeling slightly sweating and unkempt. He quickly checked his reflection in the glass door and tried to fix his hair. Why hadn’t he put any stuff in it this morning?
He entered and was led to an interview room to wait, but Sgt. Min came in almost immediately, followed by the other undercover officer.
Sgt. Min spoke first, “Mr. Kim, thank you for coming. I don’t know if you’ve been officially met Officer Taehyung Kim, but he’ll be sitting in today.” Office Kim nodded, but Namjoon was glad he didn’t try to chat.
During the interview, he looked over several times to find Officer Kim regarding him curiously. The questions Sgt. Min was asking weren’t hard to answer, and he didn’t think his answers were confusing, so what was his problem? After it happened a third time, he almost said something, but Officer Kim flicked his eyes dramatically to the mirror on the side wall of the room. Perplexed, Namjoon waited for the next time Sgt. Min referred to his notes and then looked over at the mirror. This was a police station, so it was presumably one-way glass, but why was the officer trying to get him to look at it? He decided to ignore him and finish up the interview.
Leaving the room, he saw James (Officer Park, he corrected himself) talking with some other cops in front of the one-way window. He paused, trying to reconcile the student he remembered with this man. Officer Park hadn't seen him yet, so Namjoon took a few moments to study his face in profile. He looked young, probably got teased for having a baby face, but no one would mistake him for 17. Was it the uniform? Yes, that was part of it, but Namjoon could see he was at home with himself in a way “James” had never been.
Namjoon realized he’d been trying to imagine his undercover identity, the funny/awkward/sincere/nervous James, and just aging that character up in his mind. Like it was a true crime show and the very serious voice-over would say, “She went missing when she was 16, but this composite photo is our best guess of what this young lady would look like today.” He thought he’d known James pretty well. He had no idea what Officer Park was really like.
Emerging from the interview room, Office Kim called out, “Hey, Jimin, did you say hi to your teacher yet?”
Jimin turned and met his eyes, looking a little less confident but not surprised to see Namjoon. He said, “Um, hi?”
Namjoon said, “Hi. Jimin? Your name is Jimin?”
“Yeah.” Jimin looked down at his coffee mug, which Namjoon could see proclaimed “self-rescuing princess”. He was 99% sure it was the same mug he’d gotten Seokjin for his birthday last year.
Officer Kim took pity and broke the silence that was stretching on. “Namjoon, can I call you that? Most people at Evergreen did and Mr. Kim is my father. And me, I guess. And probably a quarter of the guys at my parents’ church if—.”
Namjoon interrupted gently, “Sure. Namjoon is fine.”
“So, Namjoon, have you met my friend Jimin Park? He’s not 17, he doesn’t need help getting into college, and he’s not a great actor.”
“Hey!” Jimin said, coming over and lowering his voice. “I thought you said I was a natural.”
“You were.” Putting a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, Taehyung turned to Namjoon, “Jimin did well undercover, because his cover story was basically his own life. Except for being bad at math, but that’s due to extenuating circumstances.”
Jimin elbowed his friend and muttered something Namjoon couldn’t hear.
Taehyung said, “Yeah, I’ve gotta go. Hope to see you again soon, Namjoon. But not like arresting you or anything. Like friends.” He gave Namjoon a cheerful wave and walked away.
Jimin said, “So, I—” at the same time Namjoon said, “I actually gotta—.”
Namjoon waved his hand toward Jimin.
Jimin said, “No, nothing. I know you’re probably busy. Is Ms. Galindo covering the makerspace, wait no it’s Wednesday, you don’t have that today…?”
It was just too weird, hearing Jimin sounding just like James. Namjoon said, “I’m sorry, I gotta go. Please take care of yourself.”
—
“Namjoon, I’m worried about you,” Seokjin announced after ordering their second round. “Having a student arrested has been weird for me too, for all of the teachers, but you keep acting like its a personal affront. What's up?”
“I just want the school to go back to normal. I'm glad they caught the girl, but it's been weeks and I want my students to be able to focus on studying for exams.” Namjoon didn't bother trying to make eye contact with Seokjin.
The story had been all over the news (which Namjoon didn't watch) and the local papers (which Namjoon didn't read) and people kept sending him links to articles on Facebook. He should probably just deactivate his account, who even still used Facebook?
Seokjin made a noncommittal “hm”, but didn't say anything more until their drinks came. The waiter set a Manhattan in front of him and a margarita on the rocks in front of Seokjin. Seokjin smoothly switched the glasses. They came to The Victory most Fridays because the drinks were cheap and decent, but someone apparently was on a quest to make Seokjin drink tequila.
Namjoon had been there the last time Seokjin had drunk tequila and they agreed it shouldn't happen again.
When Seokjin spoke again, it was in a very casual tone. He asked, “On a completely different topic, whatever happened with that student you kept telling me about? You were so excited about being a mentor to him.”
There was no way Seokjin didn't know. They hadn't released names or photos of the undercover officers, but Seokjin had to have noticed that two transfer students disappeared the day after Calla Night was arrested. Vince had even been in Seokjin’s class, and Namjoon might have told Seokjin all about James. Repeatedly. And then never brought him up after that day.
“It turned out he didn't need my help getting into college,” Namjoon said carefully.
Seokjin prodded. “Do you think he will grow up to do anything interesting with his life? Like, I don’t know, become a cop? I have this gut feeling he’d be good at that.”
“Ok, fine. I know what you're trying to say, but I’m not supposed to talk about it. Not here.” Namjoon looked down at his mostly-full glass. “My place after this drink?”
Seokjin looked speculative. “Sure. We can grab some food on the way.”
—
Namjoon grabbed all the crap off his coffee table, shoved it into a box and hid that where Seokjin could pretend not to see the mess. He called over to Seokjin, “I had a good reason for not telling you. They asked me not to say anything until goes to trial, or she takes a plea or whatever. The police, I mean. But I’m really tired of that, and you’re my best friend…”
“Jesus, you’re getting maudlin!” said Seokjin, easily balancing about six plates on his arms and bringing everything to the coffee table. Namjoon didn’t mind eating out of takeout boxes, but Seokjin insisted on plating things and using real utensils.
“Sorry. Does stuff like this actually happen in real life? Not on TV with a case-a-week and a moral at the end of each episode.”
Seokjin had just taken bitten off half a salad roll and quickly covered his mouth to hide a laugh. “I guess so. You know, I remember thinking that Vince was the one student who didn’t worry enough about what everyone thought about him. When I was in high school—“
“You had to walk to class uphill both ways in the snow.”
“Joonie, please. It rarely snows here. In my day we had seven-foot-floods and vicious, um, banana slugs?” Seokjin almost managed to keep a straight face, before flopping back on the couch and laughing.
Namjoon couldn’t resist. “Oh, I’ve seen them grow as large as 10 inches! And they can absolutely destroy shoes, if you stand still long enough.”
“Stop!”
“But what about the poor victims that try to lick them to get high, because they think it’s like that frog? Honestly, think of the children!”
Namjoon did stop then, mostly because Seokjin had burrowed so deeply into the couch that he was just some heaving pillows and one shoulder. Namjoon found his arm and dragged him back to the surface, with Seokjin trying to shoot him death glares while still smiling.
“I don’t know you. Why are we even friends?” said Seokjin.
“I bought you Thai food? From the place you like, too, even though they make everything a too spicy for my delicate constitution.”
Finally having regained his composure, Seokjin told Namjoon earnestly, “You a tru bro.”
Namjoon let out a long sigh. “If you keep saying that, some time it’s going to slip out in public and people will think you actually talk like that.”
“Only you. And Hobi, he was there that night. I almost feel bad, I snuck up behind him last week while he was working on a piece and whispered ‘you a tru bro’ in his ear and he knocked his clay completely off the wheel.” Seokjin didn’t look particularly contrite, and Namjoon told him so. “I made it up to him. He should never have told me Ghost made him want to become a potter, it’s way too easy to distract him.”
Seokjin moved a couple empty plates to the side, then turned back to Namjoon. “You know, I had a point I was working up to. Something about Vince and high school. Oh! Right, I love my students, but they are teenagers and they spend so much time caught up in their own dreams and dramas. Vince seemed like he already knew who he was going to grow up to be. But that could just me trying to find clues in hindsight, so I don’t feel like I got duped.”
“Same,” said Namjoon. “And Vince is really Taehyung, or Officer Kim.”
“And your James?” asked Seokjin.
Namjoon gave Seokjin a sour look. “Jimin, but he’s not my anything.”
—
“So, Taehyung told me some interesting things about Jimin the other day,” said Seokjin.
They were sitting on Seokjin’s covered porch, watching the rain fall and drinking coffee. Namjoon had been trying to get Seokjin to come on a Sunday morning run with him for ages. This morning they’d done about half his normal mileage before veering off toward Seokjin’s apartment to dry off and drink coffee.
Namjoon jerked, nearly spilling his coffee. “What?”
Seokjin sighed, “Ah, Namjoon. Please don’t get coffee on my sweats. You’re already wearing my spare set, and if you get them wet all I’ve got clean are jeans, and you always complain that mine look weird on you.”
Namjoon started to say he wouldn’t, but Seokjin cut him off. “No, you know better than to borrow anything from Hoseok and even pregnant, nothing Ana owns would fit you.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Not to her face. How’s she feeling anyway?”
Seokjin smiled. “She’s doing so well, and not that there was any question about it, but I think she looks lovely. Sometimes she wakes up sweaty, but she makes us call it ‘glowing’. She and Hobi are doing brunch with her parents this morning.”
Namjoon grinned. “I like them. They are a terrible influence and your daughter’s gonna be such a hippie when she grows up.”
Seokjin sighed, “I know, right? And Hobi’s going to spoil her rotten. It’s up to me and Ana to keep some sort of balance.” Seokjin paused to take a sip of coffee but stopped and looked slightly miffed at his cup. He turned and studied Namjoon.
“You're distracting me on purpose!” He tilted his head, and said, “You don’t want to hear about Jimin? I thought you were just annoyed about the undercover stuff, but you’re all...” Seokjin waved his hand vaguely over Namjoon’s general vicinity, “tense. Why?”
Namjoon looked away. He actually did want to get Seokjin’s opinion, but it was easier not to look at him. He said, “Yeah. I’m annoyed. And confused. And curious about what Taehyung told you.”
Seokjin gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Let me get some more coffee, and I’ll tell you.”
Namjoon hadn’t noticed Seokjin grabbing his mug too, but he came back with fresh coffee for them both.
“Thanks.” Namjoon tasted it and nodded. “So, how did you happen to talk to Taehyung anyway?”
“He called me, out of the blue. I left my number when I spoke to the cops and I don’t think they are supposed to call people on non-police business, but whatever. It was my landline so he could have gotten my number some other way.”
“Yes, and…” said Namjoon.
“He told me Jimin misses you. He’s been a bit mopey and refuses to let Taehyung set him up on a blind date.”
Namjoon let out a breath and said, “Why would he, blind dates are terrible. And we were… friends, we talked a lot. I don’t see why that’s such a big deal.”
Seokjin asked, “Did you know he had a crush on you?”
Namjoon took off his ball cap and brushed his hair back before popping it back on his head. He looked out at the rain again. “Sometimes I thought he might. I know a few students have before, probably more often than I notice, but I always ignore it or discourage them if it comes to that. I would never—”
Seokjin was quick to jump in, “No you wouldn't, I know. That’s not what I was implying.”
Namjoon smiled. “Thanks. With Jimin, it never became obvious enough for me to have to do anything about it.” He looked down at his cup, swirling the dregs. “I’ve been going over it in my mind. I’m sure my investment in trying to help him succeed was completely professional. I hadn't thought about him—about dating him.”
Seokjin said, “Again, not a thing I've ever worried about with you. But, you said you hadn't thought about dating him, but you have now, right? You like him.”
Namjoon buried his face in his hands.
It just got worse. Seokjin went full-on ‘90 movie. “Ooh! You like-like him, doncha?”
“Yeah, ok. Please don't do that.”
—
It was like his subconscious was waiting on Seokjin's approval. No, that would be weird and creepy. Or maybe just for Namjoon to admit it out loud. Less creepy, at least. Regardless, day after day found him waking up to half-remembered dreams about Jimin's smile or hearing his voice. Namjoon couldn’t believe how annoying and puritanical his REM was.
He should have been grateful for that. It slowly got worse. His brain would flip through every time Jimin showed a little bit more skin than usual. At the beginning of the school year, he’d shove his sleeves up when the AC wasn’t working well enough. In the fall, when he’d pull his cuffs down over his hands and his shirt would gap at the neck, showing a hint of collar bone. The time Jimin wore shorts and hopped up to sit on the bar stool by his desk, exposing two scandalous inches of strong thigh above the knee. The time Jimin grabbed his backpack by the wrong part and bent over to pick up all his stuff, showing, well… Namjoon felt deeply uncomfortable thinking about Jimin’s ass in his classroom.
But he didn’t have much control over his dreams. One Saturday he awoke, hard and practically panting. He’d been in his classroom, after school working on lesson plans or grading or something. Jimin had walked in wearing his uniform and kissed him.
He just leaned into my personal space and kissed me. I didn’t ask him why he was there, or even say “how’s it going?” Jimin started stripping to music from his phone, something by Justin Bieber (one of the unavoidable parts of teaching high school). Then Jimin’s uniform wasn’t real anymore and had no weapons and way more velcro. Dream Logic. He came around my desk and pushed me and my chair back so he could straddle my lap. My hands were on his thighs, his ass, his waist.
He flung his shirt away, somewhere. No undershirt, just his smooth skin over defined muscles. I tried to see the tattoo on his side but he cupped my face and kissed me again. His lips brushed over my ear, almost tickling, and his teeth nipped at my neck. He laughed and sat back, saying, “I always wanted to bite that freckle there, just under your jaw. And this one,” he turned my head, “on your neck.”
Namjoon resisted jerking off, for a few seconds. He reached blindly into his bedside table, finding the small pump bottle of lube, and got roughly the right amount on his palm. He was depressingly good at doing that one-handed. Flipping the covers off with his other hand to keep them clean-ish, he smoothed the lube over his dick. He usually liked to start off slow, but he was too hard already to hold back. He wanted it to be Jimin’s hand on him, but a tight grip and the wet slid of lube would always get him off fast. He imagined Jimin saying, “come for me” and came.
He lay there, not even reaching for a tissue, for several minutes, trying to slow his breathing. What kind of porno-cliche was his brain stuck in? Stripper cop seduces teacher? He actually chuckled out loud at that. It was so far from his memories of Jimin in class that it somehow made him feel less weird about everything.
What if they had met anywhere else, just as two guys? He definitely would have noticed Jimin’s smile and fantastic body. If they’d started talking, Namjoon knew he would have been drawn in by Jimin’s enthusiasm and way of telling a story. Jimin made him feel comfortable, probably why they’d slid into a friendship, as much of a friendship as a teacher and student could have, with ease. Seokjin and Jimin would get along famously. He could picture them on Seokjin's porch, Jimin looking out at the rain. Namjoon would come up and slip his arm around Jimin’s waist and drop his head onto Jimin’s shoulder.
Ha! No wonder Seokjin said he was being maudlin with sappy thoughts like that. He cleaned himself up and went back to sleep for another hour.
—
He met Seokjin at The Victory the next Friday. Seokjin was already sitting at the table with a Ms. Pacman arcade game under the glass top; he must have gotten here early since he was in the middle of a game.
“Sorry I’m late,” Namjoon said as he dropped his coat and bag on the chair. “Did you already order?”
Seokjin glanced up and smiled in greeting, but kept his hand on the stick. He looked back down at the game and told Namjoon, “Hey. No, I was afraid if I ordered for myself they would still bring out a margarita.”
Namjoon laughed. “Fair enough. Usual?” he asked, but he was already walking over to the bar, sure that Seokjin would agree.
Seokjin called out, “Rosemary fries too!”
When he got up to bar, the bartender said, “Manhattan and margarita? And fries this time?”
“Yup.” Namjoon mentally fist-pumped. He’d always wanted to be a regular somewhere like in a dumb sitcom.
When he got back to the table he was going to tell Seokjin, but Seokjin was now craning his neck to see something on the far side of the bar. He asked, “What’s up?”
Seokjin turned back, and looked amused. He said, “Have you ever wondered about what it would have been like if you and Jimin had met under different circumstances?”
“What are you, the thought police?” Namjoon said, a little suspicious at him bringing Jimin up out of the blue. “Yeah, I’ve thought about that. Quite a lot recently. Why?”
“Because he and Taehyung are over there.” Seokjin focused back on him, suddenly serious, “I think you should go talk to him. I won’t make you, but I think you should.”
Namjoon let out a long breath. He looked over where Seokjin had indicated, scanning for Jimin’s face or Taehyung’s bright hair. He spotted Taehyung a moment before Taehyung saw him. Well, here goes nothing.
Namjoon walked over and said, “Hi.”
Jimin looked surprised for a moment before smiling and sticking out his hand. “Jimin Kim. It’s nice to meet you.”
Namjoon hesitated a second before giving him a firm handshake. Jimin’s hand was smaller than his, and soft with a few calluses. He let go, pointedly not thinking about Jimin’s hand touching his dick.
“How have you been, especially with all the news media stuff?” Jimin asked.
“Good. I was ticked because it took the school a long time to stop talking about it all the time, but it’s better now. But, personally, it’s been a little weird. I was so invested in helping you succeed, that it was hard to start thinking about you as an adult, someone who probably doesn’t need help getting into college. Or passing trig, for that matter.”
“I want you to know I lied about as little as possible, as long as it wouldn’t endanger my cover.” Jimin gave him a tight smile. “I actually graduated from U of O last spring in biochem—.” Namjoon groaned. “—But it’s been like six years since I took trig.”
Jimin looked down at his now-empty glass, before looking back up at him under lowered lids. Jimin’s expression turned a bit more devious, and he said, “The thing is, I wasn’t pretending to get bad grades. Did you know, or guess, why I only had trouble paying attention in class, but never at home?”
Was Jimin implying something… ? Namjoon often had trouble reading people, and maybe this was just wishful thinking because of how much he’d been dreaming about Jimin, but he wondered if Jimin was saying he, Namjoon, was a distraction.
Not wanting to risk jumping to conclusions, Namjoon said, “Well, a lot of kids struggle with distractions. Not that you’re a kid—”
“No. I’m not a kid.” Jimin cocked his head at Namjoon. “I bet you can figure it out. I’ll even give you one more clue: when the class had a sub I didn’t have any problems.”
Oh. Oh! “You’re blaming me?”
“Yes I am! You’re just so…” Jimin stopped, shaking his head.
Namjoon said, “What?”
“Really, really distracting. God, I spent every class period trying not to think about you.”
Namjoon groaned. “Thank god I didn’t have any idea you weren’t a student then. I’ve had a ridiculous number of fantasies since I found out.”
Jimin was looking pretty damn smug.
“After I stopped feeling angry and betrayed, that is.”
Jimin’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t like lying to you--.”
“No, I know. I was just pissed off for a week or two. But you can kiss it better if you want.”
Jimin lushed and seemed to notice that they had to raise their voices to be heard over the now-crowded bar. “Hey, do you want to go find a coffeeshop? Somewhere quiet to... talk?” Jimin looked back across the bar. “I think Seokjin has abandoned you to the wolves.”
Jimin wanted to talk. Had he gone too far? Jimin had been flirting with him—even he couldn’t fail to notice something that obvious—but suddenly was backing off?
“I don’t see Taehyung either.” Namjoon rubbed at the back of his neck, dipping his head a little. Be bold. It’s ok to ask him back to my place. He can always say no or pick somewhere else. “I don’t know anything that would be open and not loud around here. But I live a couple blocks away, we could go talk there. Seokjin even got me this indestructible coffee machine. And good beans from Water Ave. Can you believe that he threw my old coffee out the window?” Shit, he was babbling.
With a straight face, Jimin said, “That’s littering. Can you tell me the address where the alleged offense occurred?” Jimin broke into a sly smile then and Namjoon relaxed.
“34th and Market. Yellow duplex, the upper floor. I should probably show you so you can visualize the crime.”
—
OMG! Namjoon liked him! Or thought he was hot at least, they could sort out the details later. He had invited Jimin back “for coffee.” Which could be just coffee, knowing Namjoon, but Jimin was hopeful it was “coffee, wink-wink.” He’d mentioned kissing, that was good. Talking about kissing was a pretty good indicator that actual kissing might happen soon, although apparently not without walking several blocks it seemed.
Namjoon lead the way, and it really was just a few blocks. He and Namjoon were practically neighbors, although he’d never come all the way down to that bar until Taehyung insisted on it tonight. Jimin had a fleeting suspicion that it wasn’t an accident seeing Namjoon and Seokjin, but dismissed it. How would Taehyung have known where they would be?
Namjoon walked up to a house, but then went around the back. Jimin followed and saw there was a set of stairs behind a curtain of bamboo.
He told Namjoon, “A little privacy. I like it.”
“Thanks.” Namjoon unlocked the door and went in first to turn on the lights, kicking off his shoes by the door.
Jimin took his time, looking at the living room (every flat surface with papers or books, just like Namjoon’s desk at work) and office/nook (which looked like half a music studio), before Namjoon stuck his head out of what was presumably the kitchen.
“I was snooping.” Jimin explained.
“Feel free. It’s not always this cluttered. I mean, if Seokjin gives me enough notice that he’s coming over I clear some stuff away. So, can I get you something? Decaf?”
Jimin said, “What are you having?”
“Full strength, but I’ve killed my tolerance and it won’t keep me from going to bed.”
Jimin had a sudden vision of Namjoon, naked in bed, and flushed awkwardly.
Namjoon noticed and said, “I didn’t mean that I would be going to bed. I mean, I will go to bed, eventually. I sleep. Please stop me talking.”
Jimin took a chance, then, and kissed Namjoon lightly on his lips. He was planning to pull away, and see how Namjoon was taking it (shut up porn brain) but he felt Namjoon’s hands gripping his hips, pulling him closer.
When they broke apart, each breathing a little fast, Namjoon said, “Ok, that works.”
“What?” Jimin had thoroughly lost the train of conversation.
“I did ask you to make me shut up—”
Jimin reached up and laid a loud kiss on his cheek. He said, “Nerrrrd.”
“So are you!” Namjoon retorted.
Jimin smiled so wide he could feel eyes squint. “I know. It’s one of your favorite things about me.”