The Stowaway

by Arobeebee

Summary:

Jungkook, accused of crimes against the Thurazon government and on the run from bounty hunters, takes refuge in an empty cargo container at a remote trading port, and wakes up in deep-space surrounded by smugglers.

 

Alternatively, the crew of the starship Bangtan find an injured fugitive hidden inside a durasteel crate in their cargo bay, and decide to keep him.

Notes:

• For Rowennoir.

A gift for my beloved Rowen! Happy Birthday, bae!

 

((AN: This is actually a prequel fic to an OT7 space AU that has yet to be published, so that's why Vmin aren't going to be prominent characters - this is 'how the crew met Jungkook', and the next fic will be Vmin centric. But they'll feature briefly in the story towards the end. :) ))

Chapter 1: Finders Keepers

 

.

Well fuck. This is bad.

Jungkook presses himself back against the cold wall of the empty cargo crate, covering his mouth and nose with the sleeve of his shirt in an effort to muffle his ragged, panting breaths, every muscle in his body screaming from exertion. The white-hot agony of the plasma burn on his left bicep has dulled a little to a steady, pulsing throb, and he probably has adrenaline to thank for that, but it still hurts like hell. He’d been lucky, though - the shot had grazed him, it would scar horribly but at least he still had a functioning arm; another inch or so to the right and it would’ve been a very different story.

Clearly the bounty hunters aren’t too fussed about bringing him in alive and unscathed anymore. The price on his head must’ve doubled.

Three weeks spent hiding in the shadows and carefully shuttle-hopping in the dead of night to get as far away from Thurazon’s capital city as possible, and it had all been for naught. The hunters had caught up to him at the transport dock, less than a hundred paces from the offworld shuttle that would have ferried Jungkook to safety, far away from this backwater planet. 

He’d been tempted for a moment to just make a break for the transport and hope for the best...but there had been families at the dock, children, and from what he’s seen of Governor Chuuri’s pet bounty hunters over the past couple of weeks, he knows they aren’t particularly concerned about collateral damage. 

So Jungkook had fled in the opposite direction, away from the transport hub with its crowds of oblivious offworld tourists and innocent Thurazon civilians, away from the shuttle that had been his only feasible ticket to freedom.

And now he’s back to hiding again.

He tips his head back to rest against the wall of the durasteel cargo container, closing his eyes for a moment as he struggles to calm his racing heart. It feels like the world is spinning, and there’s a good chance he might throw up, or cry - possibly both. Exhaustion and frustration and fear aren’t a fun combination.

At least he seems to have shaken the bounty hunters off his tail for the time being. Thurazon’s trading port is always a hubbub of activity, and with so many offworld smugglers and merchants milling around, his own quartz-pink hair doesn’t stand out quite as starkly as it had done back in the capital where the majority of the citizens had been willowy, silver-haired Thurazon natives. 

Still, he’d better stay hidden for the time being, and pray to the goddess that the hunters don’t start cracking open random cargo crates.

Jungkook breathes a shaky sigh, trembling fingers moving to check that his stash of credit chips is still safely tucked away in the seam of his jacket. He’s almost exhausted his meagre savings these past few weeks, even with him eating precious little and only staying in cheap and rather disreputable lodgings to avoid facial scanners and ID checks while on the run. He has enough left for a one-way shuttle ride to the nearest space station, but not much more than that. 

When he makes it offplanet - if he makes it offplanet - he’ll need to find work, and fast. He hasn’t had the chance to see much of the universe in his potentially-about-to-be-cut-very-short lifespan, but he’s experienced enough hardships over the years to know that the wider galaxy isn’t a particularly charitable place. He can usually get by doing odd jobs here and there, taking work from whoever’s willing to hire - and if that fails, he still has his voice and his looks. Although his voice and his looks is what had gotten him into this mess to begin with. That, and his general lack of good sense. Lesson learned - if a cultural exchange programme sounds too good to be true, it probably is.

He’ll hide here a while longer - give the hunters another hour to search the port and move on to someplace else - and then he’ll need to run again, find a safer place to lie low until he can secure passage with another offworld shuttle at a different transport hub. He should rest while he can, conserve what little strength he has left for the next leg of his journey, whatever that might be.

It’s too risky to let his guard down enough to sleep, even hidden away from sight in this empty cargo container, but fatigue has crept over him now that the adrenaline rush has faded, and his head is starting to feel too heavy for his neck, the sound of his own breathing fading in and out as the pulsing of his still too-rapid heartbeat grows steadily louder in his ears.

Goddess, he’s exhausted. 

He can’t sleep, not yet, but perhaps he can close his eyes for a couple of minutes, just until the world stops spinning…

…

“Hunters,” Hoseok murmurs under his breath as he moves past Namjoon, pushing a hovercart full of food supplies up the ramp and into the ship. “At least twelve of ‘em. Heavily armed. Rooftop scouts on the central trading hub, they’re monitoring the outgoing transports. Heard talk in the market about someone threatening to go ship-to-ship.”

Namjoon stiffens at the news but otherwise shows no outward reaction, maintaining the facade of casually perusing the port’s holonet shopping site, stealing quick glances over the top of his datapad to confirm Hoseok’s report. 

It’s not like bounty hunters are a rare thing at trading outposts, but Thurazon hunters are a different story - they operate directly under the authority of Governor Lek Chuuri, and they definitely don’t adhere to the same code of conduct as the rest of the galactic Hunting Guild. Their loyalty can’t be bought, and they’re renowned for being brutally efficient in the extermination of their targets, regardless of the cost to the general civilian populace. 

More worryingly, they’ve been known to hold grudges against certain clans and bloodlines for a very long time.

“Yoongi needs to stay onboard,” Namjoon says grimly, tapping away at the screen of the datapad as Hoseok slows down at the top of the ramp. “With his family history, we can’t risk the hunters figuring out who he is, it’ll end in a shoot-out. Tell him to prep the Bangtan for takeoff, I’m gonna need him on standby in case things go south. Maintain open comms, channel two.”

Hoseok hums in acknowledgement, lingering at the top of the ramp and pretending to sort through his supplies. “Seokjinnie’s still trying to haggle a fairer price for the cargo containers, he’s drawing quite a crowd. You might wanna cut the performance short, you know how he gets.” 

Namjoon’s lips twitch in an almost-smile, even as he winces a little.

His bondmate has always been a gifted negotiator. Armed with a handsome smile and pure silver-tongued charm, Jin is capable of haggling even the greediest of merchants down to less than half their original asking price. When it comes to dealing with run-of-the-mill cargo traders, however, his negotiation tactics tend to be louder and less formal, all sharp wit and thinly veiled threats, backed up with so much sass that it tends to attract a lot of attention. It’s earned him quite the reputation among the outer rim planets and along the Orion trading belt, and he’s even gained something of a fanbase on the holonet. The ‘galactic-wide handsome haggler’ hashtag tends to trend at least once a month, whenever a member of the public manages to snag a holo-recording of one of Jin’s more impassioned monologues.

And all that online attention tends to piss off Seokjin’s parents, which only serves to further encourage the man.

Jin certainly has a flair for dramatics, and Namjoon loves him for it, but with Thurazon hunters swarming the place they need to leave as quickly and unobtrusively as possible.

“I’ll reel him in,” he reassures, and finally lowers the datapad to turn towards Hoseok, stepping closer to abruptly drop the pad into one one of the crates of food on the engineer’s hovercart. “We’re taking those cargo containers, no matter what overinflated price they come at - this is gonna be our last stop before Androvar, we don’t have a choice.” He gives Hoseok’s waist a brief squeeze. “Start loading up the containers, I’ll handle payment.”

Hoseok arches a pierced eyebrow, clearly fighting a grin. “Jin’s not gonna like that,” he sing-songs, then dodges Namjoon’s retaliatory poke with a laugh. “Better you than me, Cap.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and checks the holstered blaster at his hip before heading off down the ramp in search of his wayward wannabe-thespian. 

…

“Nine hundred credits!” Seokjin fumes, stomping after him as they enter Bangtan’s bridge. “For a bunch of empty durasteel containers! You should’ve left me to it - ten more minutes and I could’ve sweet-talked him down to four-fifty, tops. You don’t just waltz up and agree to the flat rate - what the fuck, Joon?”

“The port was swarming with Thurazon hunters,” Namjoon answers succinctly, crossing over to his captain’s chair with a nod to Yoongi, who immediately begins firing up the primary flight systems. “We didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention, and we needed those containers. Besides, it’s not like we can’t afford to lose a few hundred credits.”

Between Namjoon’s profitable pseudo-smuggling business, Seokjin’s wealthy contacts, Hoseok’s tinkering trade and Yoongi’s substantial inheritance, Namjoon and his motley crew are very comfortable indeed. They could quite easily go without work for a full year and still have more than enough for fuel, supplies and a few luxuries.

“That’s not the point, nevarri ,” Seokjin sighs, the term of endearment slipping through in his native tongue as it so often does. 

Beloved. The gentle lilt of his highborn Ereshii accent sinks deep into Namjoon’s bones, warmth fluttering in his chest as he reaches for Seokjin’s hand, drawing the man down into the seat beside his own as Bangtan’s engines rumble to life, the ship juddering ever so slightly beneath them. 

“You can haggle all you want once we get to Androvar,” he soothes, waiting until Jin has buckled himself in before taking the elder’s hand again, lifting it to his lips to brush a kiss against his knuckles. “I won’t interrupt unless it’s life-or-death, I promise.”

Seokjin seems appeased by that, adjusting his grip to interlock their fingers together, a smile curling at his pretty mouth even as his gaze strays towards the viewscreen, watching as they slowly drift away from the trading port and begin their ascent. 

“Do we know who the hunters were after?” Jin asks curiously once they’ve breached the upper atmosphere and the gentle juddering comes to a stop. He shoots Namjoon a wry, amused little grin. “Don’t tell me Mother put another rescue-bounty on my head?”

Thank the goddess, no. Although it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve had to beat a hasty retreat from a Core planet because of Lady Kim’s interference. 

Despite Seokjin’s repeated insistence that he has absolutely no interest in pursuing the political career that his family had been grooming him to take throughout his youth, his mother continues to be unwavering in her determination to drag him back to their home planet of Eresh and have him elected as an official. Bangtan’s crew have fended off dozens of bounty hunters over the years, both solo-trackers and large rescue parties who had been commissioned by Jin’s mother to locate her missing son and his ‘kidnappers’ in order to bring him safely home. Sometimes those unwanted meetings had ended in bloodshed, but most of the time the hunters backed down willingly enough, especially once it became apparent that Seokjin was both a fully-grown adult capable of making his own life choices and legally married to his supposed ‘kidnapper’.

Not that Lady Kim would ever dream of acknowledging the authenticity of their marriage. That had been Seokjin’s final parting blow to his overbearing, overly controlling parents - having shunned their suggestion of a politically advantageous match with one of the high governor’s daughters, Jin had packed a bag, transferred his life’s savings to an offworld banking chain, and turned up on Namjoon’s doorstep with a pair of matching bonding-coils in a glass box and a tentative offer of marriage.

Naturally, Namjoon had accepted. 

Seokjin’s mother had been horrified.

A ‘corrupting influence’, that’s what he’d effectively been branded by the Kim clan. A lowborn pilot with delusions of grandeur who’d filled Seokjin’s head with rebellious ideas and fanciful tales of the wider galaxy. Namjoon can’t deny the latter allegation - he and Jin had spent hundreds of hours stargazing together on the rooftop of the Imperial Academy, sharing their fears and hopes and dreams for a future that seemed so very far away, Namjoon retelling the truly outrageous stories he’d overheard as a child from the galley of his father’s ship whenever he’d hidden in the air vents to eavesdrop when he ought to have been in bed. Space traders always told the best stories. His father had tried to distance Namjoon from that way of life even from a young age, insisting that his son deserved better, eventually sending him back home to attend a fancy boarding school on Eresh despite Namjoon’s many protests that he wanted to be a captain like his father. Finding himself tethered to a single planet after spending most of his youth in deep space had been stifling, but the strict academic regimen hadn't seemed quite so bad once he'd befriended Seokjin. The two of them had been each other's confidants for those long, arduous years of study, both determined to see the other succeed in defiance of their parents' wishes. 

The first act of rebellion Namjoon had made, after graduating valedictorian at twenty-one with several distinctions in deep-space piloting and interstellar navigation, was to use his late grandfather’s inheritance to buy himself a ship. Then he’d promptly eloped with Seokjin and fled to the stars, leaving their disgruntled family members behind.

At least his father doesn’t seem to hold a grudge against him anymore. They’ve even begun talking again over the past couple of years - cordial communications that read more like status reports than a letter to one’s kin, but still, Namjoon had been glad to receive them. He truly does miss his father and the slightly chaotic crew that had raised him from infancy to adolescence, even if the memory of his sudden abandonment still stings after more than a decade. He and his family might not have parted on the best of terms, but he knows his father still cares for him, and respects his decision to maintain something of a distance...instead of stubbornly trying to track him down against his will like Seokjin’s parents.

“I checked in with Wonho before we landed,” Yoongi pipes up, drawing Namjoon from his thoughts. “He said your name hasn’t come up since the last hunting party reported your mother to the Guild. Hopefully that means they’ve finally blacklisted her.”

Seokjin sighs, disappointed. “Pity. It’s been a while since we had someone new to play with.”

Namjoon snorts a quiet laugh, squeezing his bondmate’s hand again. Admittedly, the solo-hunters who’d tracked them down had often been more than amenable to joining them for dinner, especially after a moderate transfer of credit chips to compensate for the loss of their bounty. Many had fallen for Jin’s effortless charm, joining them in bed that evening (and sometimes the next day, too, if neither party had pressing business to attend to). Wonho had been a favourite of theirs - and oh, the goddess had truly sculpted him with care, Namjoon still thinks wistfully of the hours spent worshipping every inch of his muscled physique. Wonho had stayed a full three weeks, before the lure of the hunt eventually drew him out into space again, but they still keep in touch. And the hunter obliges them with the occasional holo-recording of his personal time, much to the entire crew’s enthusiastic appreciation. 

Hoseok had been another solo hunter that had immediately caught their eye. He’d agreed to stay only one night, insisting that he had another hunt already lined up for him in the neighbouring system. Naturally, Namjoon and Seokjin had ensured he was entirely unable get out of bed the next morning, or indeed the day after that. By the third night, sweat glistening off his shimmering gold skin and half-delirious with pleasure, Hoseok had declared himself no longer interested in bounty hunting and eagerly offered them his services as an engineer.

As it turned out, Jin's whole 'woo him with your dick' strategy had been unnecessary, because the moment Hoseok had laid eyes on the Bangtan's somewhat retro hyperdrive, he'd declared it "the sexiest thing I've ever seen" and apparently fallen in love with the ship and her circuitry.

Still, that had been years ago, and it has been a while since he and Seokjin last lured a hunter into their bed.

“We’ll go clubbing on Androvar,” Namjoon promises, his smile indulgent. “You could that Bothian silk shirt I bought you for your birthday last year, that always draws a crowd. And if all else fails, I’ll put a bounty on your head myself.”

Jin’s smile is a soft, sappy thing. “Oh, you say the sweetest things-”

“Cap?” Hoseok’s voice buzzes from the speakers of the bridge’s comm-system. “We, uh...we may have a problem.”

The warmth in his chest immediately vanishes, replaced by a cold sort of sinking feeling as Namjoon releases his grip on Seokjin’s hand.

“What kind of a problem?” he asks grimly, already unbuckling his harness and rolling to his feet. As both Bangtan’s chief engineer and their resident medic, that particular phrase isn’t one Namjoon likes to hear from Hoseok, ever.

There’s a brief pause. Then, with a note of nervous humour;

“The cargo containers were supposed to be empty, right?”

Oh kriff.

Yoongi’s hands are moving over his control console immediately, bringing up data feeds and internal schematics so fast that Namjoon’s eyes can barely keep track.

“Fuck,” the human grunts, and swivels in his own seat, flinging the harness free and immediately pulling the blaster from its holster on his thigh. “Two lifesigns in the cargo bay. Humanoid. We need to-”

“Oh, my bad,” Hoseok interrupts. “One of those is me.”

Namjoon’s heart shoots up into his throat.

“Dammit, Hobi, get the hell out of there,” he orders, already striding quickly for the door. “We're on our way. Jin, take the helm - we might need to make the jump to lightspeed if it’s one of the Thurazon hunters, they always carry trackers.”

Seokjin gives a single, grim nod and moves from his own seat to take over at Yoongi’s console. He might sass back at Namjoon on all other occasions, but when it comes to genuine emergencies, he’ll always comply with the captain’s orders without question. Although Namjoon’s bound to get an earful later about ‘being bossy’, and he’ll probably spend most of tonight using his mouth to make up for it. Still, no real hardship there.

They find Hoseok fidgeting in place outside the sealed doors to the cargo bay, blaster in hand, the Zurellian’s skin shimmering a faint blushing-gold beneath the bulkhead lighting. He sends Namjoon a wincing, slightly apologetic smile and lets himself be pulled into a rough hug by Yoongi.

“Fucking idiot,” the human seethes, but the way he holds Hoseok by the shoulders and runs worried eyes over him negates the bite in his voice. “How many times do I have to tell you? Bioscan first, visual inspection after. ”

The younger alien pulls a face. “I was doing a bioscan,” he gripes, allowing himself to be nudged towards Namjoon, who squeezes the Zurellian’s shoulder comfortingly even as he pushes Hoseok behind him, shielding the younger man with his own body. “That’s how I picked up the heat signature. I didn’t just open the crate and stick my head inside.”

It’s a relief to know that Hoseok seems to have learned from previous mistakes - he’d almost been gutted by a feral lyra-beast the last time they’d had a ‘problem’ with the cargo.

Their beloved engineer had been very green when he’d first joined their crew - an absolute genius with a hyperspanner and handy with a medkit, but very new to deep space and solo work in general, lacking all the basic self-preservation instincts that Yoongi and Namjoon had learned as kids growing up aboard starships. Hoseok had been lucky that Seokjin’s bounty was his first solo hunt, or goddess only knows what might have happened to him. 

Jin had taken one look at the cheerful, mild-mannered engineer and immediately sent Namjoon a look that said “we’re keeping him”. The decision was an easy one after seeing how utterly enamoured Yoongi had been with their new guest, the usually-sombre weapons specialist cracking more smiles in a single afternoon than Namjoon and Seokjin had seen in the entire two-month period since the ex-pirate’s arrival. Yoongi has fairly blossomed since then under Hoseok’s sunshine-bright influence, and years together as a crew has strengthened those bonds of friendship and mutual trust into something far deeper. 

Doesn’t mean that Yoongi won’t shake Hoseok by the shoulders and curse up a blue storm whenever he does something dangerous, though. That's just how he shows he cares.

“Which container?” Namjoon asks, as Yoongi presses the release on the doors and presses himself back against the bulkhead, blaster poised and ready.

Hoseok leans around the captain to point with his own gun. “Blue one in the middle.” 

Namjoon nods at Yoongi, who returns the gesture tightly. The human abruptly marches into the cargo bay and up to the container, kicking it twice at the base of the door with the steel-capped toe of his boot. The loud clanging sound echoes around the spacious cargo bay and out into the corridor.

“We know you’re in there,” Namjoon calls, his tone firm and commanding. “Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up. You’re outnumbered and outgunned - but this doesn’t have to end in a bloodbath. Cooperate fully and no harm will come to you.”

Truly, the last thing Namjoon wants to do is get on the wrong side of Governor Chuuri’s hunters by killing one of their own. This entire sector is policed by Thurazon military, and it’s a trading route frequented by a lot of Namjoon’s close contacts. He doesn’t want to have to find another short-cut through the system unless he has to. 

There’s a long beat of silence. 

Namjoon begins shifting his weight uneasily, the tension in the bay rising, and sees Yoongi doing the same from his crouched position behind another of the containers. 

Just as he’s getting ready to signal Yoongi to kick the crate again, one side of the cargo container’s door cracks open just an inch, the screech of metal-on-metal overly loud in the heavy silence.

“You mean it?” a timid, faintly tremulous voice calls through the opening, and Namjoon’s heart does something funny. Goddess, they sound so young. “If I come out, you won’t just shoot me?”

Namjoon feels the arm holding his blaster beginning to lower, and has to make a concerted effort to raise it again. Just because they’re young doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous. The Thurazon military train their hunters from infancy, it’s why they’re so fucking ruthless.

“You have my word as Captain,” Namjoon promises.

“Captain?” the far-too-young voice echoes in surprise, and the durasteel door swings open a few more inches to reveal a pale, smudged face, wide eyes, and a shock of pink hair. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s blaster wavers again, his arm lowering a little as he tilts his head to one side, studying the youthful features curiously. Definitely not a Thurazon hunter. It’s hard to tell what species he is just now, beneath the smudges of dirt, half-hidden as he is behind the door of the crate. Those wide, bright eyes stare back at him, the stowaway opening and closing his mouth for a few moments before finally sagging in apparent relief.

“I...I thought you were hunters,” the youth admits. 

“Likewise,” Namjoon answers with a huff, finally dropping the blaster to his side. It doesn’t feel right, pointing a gun at a kid who looks so damn terrified. And if it’s a trick, he knows Yoongi still has a clear shot. “I’m assuming you’re the one they were looking for back at the dock?”

The youth gives a jerky nod, then his gaze flickers away from him briefly, eyes widening further as he apparently takes in his surroundings. 

“We’re not on Thurazon anymore?”

The wealth of painful, tentative hope in those words makes something in Namjoon’s chest physically ache.

“You’re on my ship,” Namjoon answers, his tone softening to something kinder. “The Bangtan. We’re headed for Androvar for a pick-up, but there’s still time to turn around and drop you off-”

“No!” the frightened stowaway blurts, immediately desperate, eyes staring back at Namjoon beseechingly. “No, please, don’t take me back. Please, I’ve got credits, I...I can pay for the journey, I can work for free as long as you like, you can just dump me on the nearest space station wherever’s convenient-”

“Hey,” Hoseok interrupts softly, stepping out from behind Namjoon and ignoring the soft, alarmed noise that Yoongi makes in response. “It's alright. We’re not just gonna hand you over to the hunters, the captain wouldn’t do that.” He moves closer, and Namjoon doesn’t pull him back, but he does follow slowly a pace or two behind, blaster still gripped tight. “What’s your name? I’m Hoseok.”

The stowaway stares at the Zurellian’s friendly smile for a long moment before allowing the door to open a further inch.

“Jungkook,” comes the tentative murmur.

“Can you step out here for us, Jungkook?” Hoseok asks, his tone gentle. “I think my companions might feel a little more at ease if we can see you aren’t holding any weapons.”

The youth’s eyes flicker from the engineer’s smiling face to Yoongi’s blank one, then up towards Namjoon again. Jungkook swallows visibly, gives a tiny nod, and pushes the door open just enough to step out into the light. 

Even that small amount of physical exertion seems to exhaust him, and Jungkook braces a hand against the closed side of the door as soon as his feet touch the ground, swaying a little, his face now shockingly pale under the harsh lights of the cargo bay.

“Are you alright?” Namjoon asks, faintly alarmed, moving forward.

Jungkook is already listing sideways, and it’s only Namjoon’s Ereshii-born speed and reflexes that allow him to dart past Hoseok in time to catch the unconscious youth before his head can hit the duracrete.

The scent of singed fabric and burnt flesh is immediately apparent, and Namjoon grimaces. He knows that smell.

“He’s been shot,” he grits out, adjusting his hold carefully, conscious of accidentally inflicting further damage. “Hobi-”

“Kriff,” Hoseok breathes, immediately on his knees beside them, fingers at Jungkook’s throat to check his pulse as his gaze rakes over the too-pale youth. He bites out another curse, hands stilling where they cradle a limp arm, staring through the sizable rip in the material for his jacket. “Long-distance plasma rifle. It self-cauterised, but it’s pretty bad, Joon.”

“Medbay,” Namjoon decides, and abruptly sweeps the youth up into his arms, almost stumbling when he overcompensates, expecting the youth to be far more of a burden. 

Goddess, Jungkook hardly weighs a thing. 

Most standard humanoid species are smaller than Ereshii, but Hoseok is tall for a Zurellian and Yoongi is a whole damn army of brute strength and laser-fire stuffed inside a petite package of solid muscle, so the human doesn’t seem as short as he actually is. Jungkook, on the other hand, feels tiny. Too thin, too fragile, too young - vulnerable in a way that neither Hoseok in his initial naivety or Yoongi with his emotionally withdrawn behaviour had ever been.

He doesn’t know why that makes his chest ache the way it does. 

One thing’s for sure - they definitely aren’t taking him back to Thurazon. 

…

“So we kidnapped a child, is what you’re saying.”

“Nevarri,” Namjoon sighs, pained. “We did not kidnap a child.”

Seokjin shoots him a withering look over his shoulder as he breezes on ahead of the captain along the corridor of the ship. He is, understandably, still very pissed about being left alone on the bridge and kept out of the loop for the fifteen minutes it had taken them to find Jungkook, realise he needed medical attention, and ferry their unexpected guest to the medbay.

“Don’t you nevarri me, Kim Namjoon,” the elder Ereshii seethes, a definite stomp to his stride. “You told me he was sleeping inside one of the cargo containers, and we essentially did a scoop-and-run because someone was so pressed about a few Thurazon hunters that we didn't bother to check the crates were empty beforehand. Kid never agreed to come aboard, and we haven’t altered our course to take him back. If it isn’t kidnapping, it’s sentient trafficking, and that’s worse.”

Namjoon has to jog to catch up - goddess, his husband has long legs. 

“Jungkook’s the one the hunters were after,” he tries to explain, catching Seokjin’s wrist gently to get him to slow down a little. “And he isn’t a child. Hoseok’s bioscan suggests he’s at least twenty standard years.”

Jin seems calm a little at that, albeit with an air of great reluctance. 

“And I offered to take him back to Thurazon,” Namjoon adds, softer still. “Poor kid was terrified even at the suggestion. Judging by how badly he’s scraped up, I’d estimate he’s been on the run from the hunters for at least a couple of weeks. And that blaster wound on his bicep wasn’t a warning shot - they used a plasma rifle, kid’s lucky to still have an arm.”

They’ve arrived at the doors to the medbay, which glide open as soon as the sensor detects them. The lights inside have been dimmed significantly from their usual sterile-white brightness, and on the biobed directly opposite the door, Jungkook’s now sitting propped up against Yoongi’s chest; he's conscious, but his eyelids are drooping lower with every slow, sluggish blink. The weapons specialist has set his beloved blasters aside on a nearby equipment trolley, which is a bold statement in and of itself that he’s decided Jungkook doesn’t pose a threat to the crew in any capacity. When he’d first joined the crew, Yoongi hadn’t even taken his guns off to go shower.

Namjoon hears Seokjin’s sharp indrawn breath beside him, and knows that his description of the youth probably hadn’t adequately prepared his lover for just how small and fragile Jungkook really seems in person.

“I’ll synthesise a skin graft to help with the regeneration process,” Hoseok is murmuring, the red glow of his medical tool overbright in the comparative dimness of the medbay as he waves it back and forth over the nasty-looking blaster injury on Jungkook’s bicep. “The plasma bolt took a sizable chunk out of your arm, but thankfully it didn’t cut deep enough to do any extensive damage to the muscle or bone. How’s that nerve-block holding up?”

Jungkook gives the medic a tired, wobbly-looking smile.

“S’good,” he slurs, and tilts his head back against Yoongi’s shoulder sleepily, unaware of the way it makes the ex-pirate’s expression soften even further. “Thank you. It...it hurt a lot, before.”

“I bet it did,” Yoongi sympathises, his deeper voice a low murmur, visibly giving the youth a squeeze where his arm is looped around Jungkook’s waist.

“M’sorry for trying to hit you,” the pink-haired stowaway adds, eyelids drooping almost fully closed before snapping back open again with clear effort. “Thought you were someone else.”

Now that’s news to Namjoon. Clearly a lot has happened since he left the medbay to brief Seokjin on the events of the afternoon. Between summarising their discovery of Jungkook and making the jump to lightspeed so that he could leave the bridge unmanned and let the autopilot handle things in slipstream-drive, he couldn't have been gone longer than ten minutes.

“It’s alright, kid,” Yoongi soothes without pause, eyes flickering up briefly to meet Namjoon’s questioning gaze, and he gives a tiny shake of his head to indicate they’ll talk about it later. “You didn’t hurt anyone.”

“You woke up in a strange place with a line in your arm,” Hoseok adds kindly, setting his tool aside and reaching for another. “I probably would’ve flipped out, too. Ai! Sorry, did that hurt?”

Jungkook had flinched, the lights on the overhead monitor flashing briefly to signal a sudden spike in his vitals, but Namjoon doubts it’s related to physical discomfort. Rather than looking pained, the youth is staring wide-eyed at the two figures in the doorway, unknowingly shrinking back a little against Yoongi. 

Namjoon is aware that he and Jin make rather an intimidating pair. Ereshii are tall, broad-shouldered and physically a lot more muscular than your average humanoid species - compared to Yoongi’s lithe physique and Hoseok’s compact musculature, they probably look kriffing huge.

“Hello, Jungkookie,” Seokjin greets, and damn, Namjoon knows that tone. That’s his ‘you are precious and I intend to keep you’ tone. “You needn’t be afraid, nobody here is going to hurt you. I’m Kim Seokjin, welcome aboard the Bangtan. I hear you’ve already met Namjoon, our faithful captain?”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers between the two of them for a moment before he nods tentatively, appearing to relax a little.

“Excellent.” Seokjin claps his hands together, clearly mindful not to do so too loudly in the hush of the medbay. He strides closer to the biobed, pulling up a stool to perch on the opposite side to Hoseok. “Namjoonie told me you weren’t too keen about heading back to Thurazon-”

The youth shakes his head quickly, pink bangs falling into his eyes with the motion, eyes widening in trepidation.

“And that’s wonderful, because we just made the jump to lightspeed,” Jin continues reassuringly, reaching out to give Jungkook’s uninjured hand a gentle squeeze. “Turning back now would be a terrible inconvenience.” The kid visibly relaxes, and Seokjin’s smile softens tenderly. “We need to run a rather time sensitive pick-up on Androvar first, but do you have a home planet we could return you to on the way back? Any family members we could get in touch with?”

Jungkook hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head again, dropping his gaze to his lap. 

Goddess, Namjoon wants to hug him. 

“Why were the hunters after you on Thurazon?” Yoongi asks softly, breaking the brief moment of uncomfortable silence. “I’ve never seen so many in the same place all at once. You must’ve done something big to piss them off like that.”

“Theft of government property,”  Jungkook answers with a soft, humourless laugh. He closes his eyes, clearly exhausted, before adding dryly, “That ‘government property’ being me.”

There’s a moment of grim, faintly horrified silence. 

“I was supposed to be Governor Chuuri’s new consort,” Jungkook elaborates without opening his eyes, sounding tired more than upset. “One of them, anyway. There were eight of us selected from the performing arts programme for a cultural exchange, and placed with new guardians in the Crystal City. They told us living on Thurazon was temporary, like...like an apprenticeship or something. Beauty regimes, being waited on, learning the traditional dance and music of the people - performing for the High Court. But right after we graduated, they started talking about bonding ceremonies, and it became clear I was intended to be some sort of pampered concubine. The others were happy - I guess their guardians had told them the truth, or at least hinted at it - but I never signed up to marry some middle-aged dictator. So I ran.” Another sigh, soft and shaky. “Chuuri sent out hunters the following morning. That was three weeks ago.”

Namjoon’s hands have curled into tight fists at his sides, nails threatening to cut into his palms. He can see the anger and horror and sympathy reflected in the eyes of his crewmates - especially Hoseok, who’s always been such an open book. The medic’s hand even has a very fine tremor as he determinedly continues moving the dermal regenerator back and forth over Jungkook’s blistered skin. 

“You don’t have to keep running,” Namjoon finds himself saying, his voice low but gentle as he steps closer to the bed, laying a careful hand over Jungkook’s ankle beneath the blanket. “You could stay with us aboard Bangtan. If Chuuri extends the bounty beyond Thurazon space, we have connections within the galactic hunting guild, they’d be able to warn us ahead of time if we needed to lay low. You’d be safe here.”

Jungkook’s eyes snap open, and he even finds the strength to lift his head from Yoongi’s shoulder, staring at Namjoon with that same expression of fragile hope he’d worn in the cargo bay.

“I can stay?” he asks, voice catching a little, overwhelmed. “You really mean it?”

Namjoon had meant it before, but now he means it with conviction.

“It’s a big ship, and we’re a small crew,” he answers, to keep from doing something extreme like sweeping the kid into his arms again. “We’ve been meaning to hire someone new to help out with odd jobs here and there. Honestly, you’d be doing us a favour.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Bangtan is a big ship, and they are a small crew. And sure, they get by just fine, but he doesn’t want Jungkook to think he isn’t needed or wanted. Namjoon knows all too well what that’s like.

“You’ll be paid, naturally,” Seokjin adds. “A standard crewman’s wage, plus full bed and board. You’ll need training, of course - I can guide your cultural studies and help you to navigate intergalactic politics. And I wouldn’t mind a hand in the galley every now and then. Perhaps you can learn a little bit of something from all of us, hm?"

Jungkook just blinks at him, stunned.

“I may be a medic, but I’m also the ship’s chief engineer,” Hoseok pipes up, offering a speechless Jungkook a gentle smile. “It’ll be good to have another crewmember who knows how to patch things up when they break - both biological and mechanical. Once this arm’s all healed up, I’ll show you how to fine-tune the hyperdrive, she likes to cause mischief after a night in slipstream.”

Clearly keen to add his two credits, Yoongi gives Jungkook’s waist another squeeze. 

“You’re small and skinny, kid, but you’ve got the muscles of a dancer,” the ex-pirate tells him. “I can show you how to use that to your advantage against a bigger opponent. And I’m getting you a kriffing gun, so that the next time someone shoots at you, you can shoot them the fuck back.”

That finally coaxes a response out of Jungkook, the youth’s mute shock giving way to a tiny, slightly-overwhelmed-looking grin and a bubbling huff of laughter.

It’s a good sound. 

Namjoon gives the kid’s ankle another pat. 

“Every member of Bangtan’s crew needs to know how to fly her,” he announces. “So rest up while you can, kid - your piloting lessons begin tomorrow.”

Jungkook stares up at him wide-eyed for a long beat, before finally a genuine smile curls prettily at his lips, and he fairly beams.

But his cute expression isn’t what draws Namjoon’s attention. No, that would be the fact that his bright pink hair seems to be glowing.

Which is certainly...interesting.

…

“I should go check on him.”

Seokjin rolls over, throwing an arm around Namjoon’s waist, hooking a leg over him too for good measure.

“Hobi’s with him,” he reasons calmly, pressing kisses along the sharp line of Namjoon’s angular jaw. “He’ll be fine. Given his exhaustion and the amount of painkillers in his system, the poor love’s probably going to sleep for a solid cycle.”

Namjoon hums, but remains unmoving, staring up at the ceiling of their cabin with a faint, worried frown pinching his brow.

“Nevarri,” Seokjin sighs, and slips from basic into their native tongue. They don’t use it often - even on Eresh it had been a second language, with classes taught in Galactic Basic - but in times of intimacy between them, or in the baring of one’s soul, it feels more appropriate to use a language that is truly theirs. “He’s safe now. We won’t let them take him.”

The pilot hums again, but turns his head to brush his lips against Seokjin’s hairline in turn, a muscular arm curling tighter around him.

“He’s Vespani,” Namjoon murmurs after a long beat of silence. “I’ve never met one in person before, but...their hair, it’s supposed to glow like that when they’re happy. It’s probably why Governor Chuuri wanted him so badly - it’s a recessive gene, so even among his species it’s a rare trait, and pink even more so. I’d heard rumours that Chuuri was a collector, but I never imagined it would extend to…” He sighs, tired and grim. “There are always going to be men like him, Jinnie - on a thousand other worlds, in every corner of the galaxy. Rich bastards who see something rare and pretty and special and want to lock them away in a crystal display case somewhere, even if they're a kriffing person.” 

Seokjin smoothes the tips of his fingers along the crease in Namjoon’s brow.

“You’re worried about someone else trying to take him,” he surmises softly. He can read his bondmate like an open book, knows that Namjoon is already thinking of ways to up their security on missions. “My love, I don’t think Jungkookie will mind if you ask him to stay inside the ship for the next few cargo runs. He’s had quite the scare - I imagine it’ll be a little while before he’s ready to go exploring new planets.”

Namjoon’s frown lessons slightly, but doesn’t vanish completely. “We can’t keep him inside forever.”

“No,” Jin agrees, and leans over to kiss him, a quick peck to the corner of his mouth. “But we can buy him a truly excessive number of hats and outrageous fake moustaches.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jin tries very hard to remain entirely serious, but then Namjoon’s ugly snort is triggering his own laughter, and a beat later they’re both clutching at each other and giggling like the schoolboys they had once been, the oppressive heaviness gone from the air around them.

 

On the far side of the ship, curled up against Hoseok on the biobed and sleeping peacefully, Jungkook smiles, his fretful dreams soothed to something warmer and kinder, his hair glowing in soft, rhythmic pulses from root to tip as he slumbers on.

 

Chapter 2: Settling In

Summary:

Jungkook settles into his new life aboard the Bangtan, tries and fails to keep from falling in love, and finds out exactly how badass his new crew can be.

 

“Three days,” Yoongi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose to stem the growing tension headache. “Kid’s been here three days, and we’ve already lost him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘lost’, ” Hoseok muses from where he’s half-buried in an open section of wall paneling, upper body hidden from view as he balances on his tip-toes to lean further inside. “More like...temporarily misplaced.”

Yoongi glances heavenwards for strength. “Hoseokie...”

“C’mon, it’s not like I told him to up and disappear on us,” the engineer protests, his pout audible. “I just suggested he explore the ship a little while I finished running diagnostics. I swear I only left him alone for like ten minutes. ”

“Which is nine minutes too long,” Yoongi answers flatly, pulling up the sleeve of his leather jacket to recheck the readout on his left vambrace, frown deepening a little as the holo-image flickers and distorts every few seconds. “Damn it. I still can’t track his heat signature, there’s too much ionic interference from the nebula, it’s messing with my tech. How long until the mainframe’s back online?”

There’s a concerningly loud clang. “Working on it!”

Yoongi sighs again, fingers clenching and unclenching slowly, itching for a weapon, for a sparring partner, for something to help channel all that restless energy that’s been thrumming through him from the moment he first found Hoseok jogging through Bangtan’s corridors in search of their wayward stowaway. 

Once all of this is over and Yoongi’s put a tracking chip on the kid so that it can’t ever happen again, he’s gonna need to shoot a couple dozen targets, throw a few knives, maybe tumble into bed with Seokjin for an hour or two. Bangtan’s second-in-command is always more than happy to lend him a helping hand whenever Yoongi needs to de-stress.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Hoseok continues cheerfully, apparently blissfully unaware of Yoongi’s rising blood pressure. “Kookie managed to survive on the run from Thurazon hunters for three weeks straight, he can look after himself for half an hour or so. Kid’s probably just fallen asleep in an access hatch somewhere, he seems to like cosy spaces. And besides, we’re in the middle of a nebula, it’s not like he can just wander off the ship.” A brief pause, a heavy beat of silence, and then a slightly more wary, “Not unless he’s found the antigrav-suits.” Hoseok leans back just far enough to send the human a worried glance. “Did you check the hull?”

Yoongi resists the urge to give his Zurellian companion a good shake - Hoseok needs to hurry up and finish fixing whatever glitch his diagnostics discovered, and he can’t do that if Yoongi’s shaking him. 

But later. Definitely later. So much shaking.

“Sure, Hobi,” he drawls, crossing his arms over his chest and bracing a shoulder against the bulkhead in a casual lean. “I’ll just go crack open a window and stick my head outside. I mean, I’d use the scanners to sweep the ship in a heartbeat, but someone took those offline without warning anybody.”

Hoseok winces apologetically at the pointed critique.

“Okay, yeah, that one’s on me,” the Zurellian acknowledges, crouching down to grab another tool from the open kit at his feet before disappearing back inside the wall paneling. “But in my defense, tactical systems were only gonna be down for about an hour, you wouldn’t even have noticed if Kookie hadn’t gone missing-”

“Kookie’s missing? ” Namjoon’s voice echoes from the doorway.

Yoongi grimaces in tandem with Hoseok’s little leg-jerking flinch of surprise. Kriff. They’d both been hoping to find the kid and resolve this whole issue without getting the captain involved. 

Joonie’s a great guy, but he’s perfected the art of the ‘I’m sad about the choices you made today’ face, mastering this tone of despondent disappointment that always manages to hit Yoongi like a plasma bolt to the solar plexus. It used to infuriate him, finding himself so affected by little more than a look and a soft, reproachful ‘ Yoongi’, but he’d made peace with that particular weakness years ago. Now he just does everything in his power to avoid disappointing Namjoon at all costs, and has admittedly become a much better person because of it.

“Temporarily misplaced!” Hoseok hurries to correct himself, scooting back out of his access hatch to send the frowning captain a somewhat strained smile. “Gimme five more minutes and we’ll be able to scan the ship, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Namjoon arches an eyebrow at the younger alien’s forced cheer, slowly crossing his arms over his broad chest, silk shirt stretching taught over solid muscles in a way that’s always sinfully distracting. Yoongi doesn’t like displeasing the Ereshii, but damn he looks hot when he’s mad.  

“And why,” the captain asks, deceptively mild, “are the ship’s scanners offline?”

Hoseok winces, fiddling with his hypospanner. “Technical difficulties?”

“Hoseokie.”

Ah, there it is. The look.  

Hoseok’s skin shimmers a vivid gold as the Zurellian blushes, and despite his earlier inclination to give the engineer a good shake, Yoongi feels a pulse of sympathy for his current plight. Hobi never means to cause trouble, he’s just easily distracted by his work and doesn’t always think things through rarely. And he always takes reprimands to heart, it’s why none of them can ever truly stay mad at him for any length of time - Hoseok’s still as sweet and gentle-natured as the day they first met, a pure ray of sunshine utterly untouched by the cloudier parts of the galaxy. Yoongi had been ready to die for him immediately. Yoongi’s never even been able to raise his voice at Hoseok, even when the engineer’s done something dangerous in the name of scientific research - he doesn’t want to deal with the guilt of being the cause of Hobi’s distress. 

And if the younger man’s crestfallen expression isn’t crippling enough, the Zurellian’s dark, slightly-larger-than-the-average-humanoid eyes have this way of melting Yoongi’s resolve in a heartbeat.

Kriff, he never used to be this soft. His ancestors would be horrified.  

“You seem remarkably calm,” Yoongi directs towards the captain, deciding to come to Hoseok’s rescue. “Considering there’s a missing stowaway crawling around your ship, potentially getting himself into mischief. I don’t suppose you happen to know where we might find him?”

“Mm,” Namjoon hums, posture relaxing as he drops the faux-stern act entirely. “Kookie’s taking a nap in my study.”

Oh, that bastard. 

“I found him wandering around near the airlock,” the captain continues blithely, ignoring Yoongi’s outraged gaping. “Thought he might end up accidentally pressing something he shouldn’t, figured it was safer for everyone to keep him where I could see him. Little one fell asleep on the couch within minutes - kid’s probably still recovering from those weeks he spent on the run, I can’t imagine it was particularly restful.” Hands on his hips, Namjoon glances between the two of them expectantly. “One of you should’ve commed me the moment he turned up missing. Anything could’ve happened to him.”

Yoongi wants to throw something.

“I literally ran past your office three times calling for the kid,” he exclaims, torn between relief over Jungkook’s apparent wellbeing and anger over Namjoon being the cause of all his stress. “Kark it, Joon, you could’ve said something!”

Namjoon gives an unapologetic shrug. “I left the two of you on babysitting duty for a reason - Kookie’s not shipwise enough to be left to his own devices, not until he’s learned the basics. If you were that worried about him, maybe you shouldn’t have lost him in the first place.” 

“Except we didn’t lose him,” Yoongi argues, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You stole him.”

“Rescued him,” Namjoon corrects as he turns to leave the engine room, utterly unaffected by Yoongi’s ire. “You can have him back after his nap. Oh, and Hobi? No more unscheduled downtime, angel. I need the navi-computer up and running by this afternoon, we’ve got a drop-off to plan.”

Hoseok gives him a sloppy solute and a bright grin. “You got it, Joon.”

Namjoon sends the engineer a fond smile, then waggles his fingers in mildly antagonising wave at Yoongi before walking away.

Fingers twitching towards the gun holstered on his right thigh, Yoongi glares after the captain’s retreating figure. One of these days, he’s finally going to give into temptation and fire a stun-bolt at the bastard’s leg just to watch him hobble around on it for the rest of the day. Joon probably wouldn’t sleep with him for a week, but damn, it’d be worth it just to see the look on his face.

…

“What about this one?”

Namjoon smiles as he glances down at the purple-vined potted plant, smoothing a hand through Jungkook’s hair in a passing caress as he moves around him to draw up another pipette of concentrated nutri-sol. 

“I picked up Vinnie on Torus Prime a couple of months ago,” he answers, offering his pinky finger to one of the tiny vines. “Saw her in the window of this little tea shop near the trading port, knew I had to take her home.”

The idiotic shop owners had been using her as a decoration of all things, keeping the tiny sentient sapling in a hanging glass orb with minimal air circulation and far too much water. Poor baby had barely been able to breathe in there, the frail purple vines pale and mottled-blue with sickness. Namjoon hadn’t been willing to leave the planet without her, cargo run be damned. Ever loyal, Seokjin and Yoongi had staged a dramatic argument directly outside the shopfront to create a distraction while Hoseok hacked into the building’s security network to turn off the surveillance cameras, giving Namjoon the time he needed to make his move. He’d made quick work of rescuing the poor succulent from its glass prison, smuggling it out of the shop and back to the ship before the owners could even notice anything was amiss.

It had taken the better part of three weeks to nurse the underfed, touch-starved plant back to health again, but with daily stimulation, adequate nutrition and an environmentally-controlled terrarium, she’d quickly regained the vibrant shimmering-purple colouring typical of her species.

“Vinnie loves company,” he continues, “so don’t be shy about saying hello. Some of my other kids aren’t too fond of being poked, though - watch your fingers around the Chi’Paxi snapdragons, they’re carnivorous.”

Jungkook shoots the orange flowers in question a curious glance as they fight each other over the handful of fat grubs that Namjoon had tossed into their tank a few minutes ago, but quickly returns his attention to Vinnie, leaning in a little closer to watch in awe as the plant’s thin tendrils curl around the captain’s proffered digit eagerly, pulsing a brighter purple.

“Hey there,” the Vespani greets softly, and tentatively offers the plant a finger to curl around. “I’m Jungkookie.”

It’s a special sort of thrill, seeing the kid willingly taking such an avid interest in all of Namjoon’s treasured hobbies. Jungkook has been endearingly enthusiastic about everything so far - he’s taken to his interstellar navigation lessons like a fish to water, and at this rate it won’t be long before Namjoon starts letting him take the shuttle out for a few test-runs (under careful supervision, of course), and the Vespani has already finished the series of holo-comics that Namjoon had recommended to him, but his obvious interest in the genre still doesn’t quite measure up to the satisfaction of seeing Jungkook fall in love with botany so quickly.

There are scarce few people in Namjoon’s acquaintance who appreciate plants as much as he does. Seokjin tries to keep up with all the varying requirements of Namjoon’s growing collection, and happily indulges his husband’s habit of sentient-plant-adoption whenever they stumble across another rare and uncared-for specimen in the course of their travels, but he’s never really had a natural proclivity for plantcare. If anywhere were to happen to Namjoon, he’s confident that his babies would be well looked-after, but he doubts Seokjin would truly enjoy the process.

And although Hoseok loves plants - in that same keen, sweet-natured way he loves all things (both living and inanimate) - the Zurellian gets so easily distracted by his engineering tasks and medical research that he often seems to completely forget about the existence of Bangtan’s aeroponics bay. Hobi’s habit of getting so utterly invested in a new project that he neglects to eat or sleep is something the rest of the crew are careful to monitor, and it’s sort of an unspoken rule between the rest of them that whoever isn’t manning the helm is unofficially on Hoseok-wrangling duty, responsible for pushing food and water and caff into the engineer’s hands every few hours until the tinkering-haze finally lifts and he can be pried away from the medbay or the hyperdrive to enjoy some well-earned downtime.

And as for Yoongi, well...the one and only time he’d taken plant-tending duties while Namjoon was planetside on a date night with Seokjin, the ex-pirate had gotten into a full-on fistfight with the giant Kivosian grapple-vines and turned the aeroponics bay into an active warzone. Namjoon had returned to the ship later that evening to find Yoongi looking a little worse for wear, missing a boot and half a trouser leg, pointing a charged plasma cannon at the bed of agitated carnivorous snapdragons in an apparent stand-off, soil and plant food scattered underfoot.

Naturally, Namjoon’s still a little reluctant to let the man babysit his menagerie again, even years later.

With Jungkook, on the other hand, things are already looking very promising. Seeing the youth’s face light up the moment he stepped into the aeroponics bay had given him cause to hope, and the Vespani hasn’t stopped asking questions for more than a minute since then, insatiably curious about everything in that endearing way of his. Truly, Jungkook seems as eager to learn about Namjoon’s adopted plant-children as he had been to master the basics of Bangtan’s primary flight systems.

“Clingy little thing, isn’t she?” he murmurs, breathing a quiet laugh as Jungkook allows his own fingers to be captured by the tiny purple vines with an expression of absolute delight. “She’s still a baby, really, but her species grows pretty fast, especially in a climate-controlled environment. Another few years and she’ll be big enough to wrap around your whole arm.”

He carefully brushes the tendrils out of the way to apply the nutrient solution to the silver-gray soil at her base. The vines immediately wiggle in excitement, releasing their grip on his finger at the promise of food, and Jungkook giggles at the display, a sound that’s bubbly and bright and cute, his hair glowing a vibrant pink as he turns his wide, beaming smile up towards Namjoon.

It’s as arresting a sight as it had been that first day in the infirmary, and Namjoon can’t help but smile in return, something warm and  immeasurably fond blooming in his chest. The Vespani really is beautiful.  

He and the rest of the crew have been going out of their way to make Jungkook laugh and smile as often as possible this past week. Seokjin had even resorted to tickling the kid yesterday, and goddess, hadn’t that been a sight - Kookie’s slight frame squirming beneath Jin’s larger one as the Ereshii pinned him to the couch in Namjoon’s study, the younger man’s bubbling laughter echoing around the cabin as his hair glowed such a vibrant pink that it reflected off the walls. 

It had been one of the cutest things he’d ever witnessed, but Namjoon can’t deny that seeing Kookie pinned in such a manner had prompted his thoughts to stray in far less innocent directions.

“It’s mutual, you know,” Seokjin had teased him last night, sitting astride Namjoon’s hips and peering down at him with a sultry smile as he rocked back and forth languidly. “Little one’s got a crush on you a parsec-wide, and he’s so responsive to praise. Ohh, Joon...imagine how pretty he’d look between the two of us. Fuck, he’d be such a good boy. I wonder if his hair does the Thing when he’s being pleasured?” A soft, breathy chuckle. “Really brings a different meaning to the word ‘afterglow’, doesn’t it? We wouldn’t even need to keep the lights on.”

The mental image alone had been enough to tip Namjoon over the edge, which of course had been Seokjin’s intention all along, the teasing bastard. 

It really had just been teasing, though - Jin knows well enough that Namjoon has reservations about allowing himself or the rest of the crew to share intimacies with Jungkook so soon after his arrival, mindful of the somewhat traumatic manner in which their little stowaway had joined the team. 

Jungkook still looks at them all like they hung the stars, and clearly he feels indebted to them for their role in his escape from Thurazon. He’d been eager to immediately repay their kindness with manual labour, especially those first few days, even with his left arm still locked inside a regenerator-cuff while the skin grafts healed. It had only been Hoseok’s insistence that he was being helpful simply by sitting still in the infirmary (and allowing the medic to run a full battery of complex diagnostics to test out the equipment) that had kept Jungkook from trying to scrub the whole ship from aft to stern.

Despite Namjoon’s initial concerns, it hasn’t taken more than a week for Jungkook to settle in, slotting so neatly into their lives that sometimes it seems as though there must have always been a Vespani-shaped void before he’d appeared, and now at long last the crew feels whole again. Jungkook shares his affection and admiration so freely and unabashedly, it’s impossible not to love him. He’s quick to initiate physical contact, especially now that he knows the crew don’t mind his closeness, and it isn’t uncommon to find him draped over Hoseok’s back in a clingy fashion while he peers over the engineer’s shoulder at whatever project he’s working on, or latching onto Yoongi’s arm as he trails after the weapons specialist on the way to target practice, or tucked up beside Seokjin on the couch as they pour over cultural guides pertaining to whichever planetary system they happen to be passing through.

And more recently, Jungkook has begun to perch on the arm of Namjoon’s chair on the bridge rather than taking his own seat, legs draped loosely over the captain’s as he listens with rapt attention to his daily navigation lessons. The temptation to pull the Vespani down into his lap for a proper cuddle is always there, ever-present, but so far Namjoon has been able to resist the urge. Although only just. Their adorable pink-haired stowaway really does look so wonderfully huggable.

“There, all done,” he murmurs, once the pipette is empty and Vinnie is pulsing a happy and well-fed purple. He gives the vines one last caress before curling an arm around Jungkoook’s shoulders to draw the Vespani away from the succulent station. “How about we go say hello to the giganta grapple-vines next? They’re very friendly - I call them Hugger.”

With a cheerful nod, Jungkook allows himself to be steered to the far side of the aeroponics bay, where Hugger is now wiggling in eager anticipation within its three-metre tall paludarium, thick blue-and-silver vines bouncing off the low-level energy barrier in its enthusiasm to greet the newcomer, each point of contact producing soft little bzzt sounds. 

“I don’t like keeping them behind a forcefield,” Namjoon admits, reaching for the controls to disengage the barrier. “But this particular species has the ability to grow exponentially to fit its surroundings - the biggest specimen on record was over fifty metres wide. On Kivosa IV, they’re actually considered an invasive species, which unfortunately means they’re routinely culled before they really have a chance to grow bigger than a sapling. I stumbled across Hugger here a few years ago - poor little thing was about to be torched by local pest control officers, so I decided to intervene. Had to slip them a few credits to keep everyone happy, but they let me leave without a fight.” A particularly large vine thwacks the barrier in obvious impatience, and Namjoon laughs. “Yeah, baby, I see you, gimme a second. You wanna say hello to Kookie?”

The forcefield flickers and dies, and the thick blue vines immediately dart out to curl around Namjoon’s waist and lower legs as several thinner tendrils gently pat at his face and neck, scenting him curiously in their usual manner of greeting. The contact only lasts for a few seconds before a wandering vine comes into contact with Jungkook, and immediately Namjoon is released in favour of this new and significantly more exciting discovery.

Jungkook lets out a startled meep as half a dozen vines latch onto him, almost lifting him off his feet in their enthusiasm to familiarise themselves with their new humanoid visitor. Namjoon reaches out reflexively towards him, ready to forcefully wrangle Hugger back into its giant paludarium.

Before his hands can even make contact, Jungkook’s bubbling laughter echoes around the aeroponics bay, rumpled hair glowing a brilliant pink against the dark blue of the vine that’s toying with it curiously.

“Okay, I see why you’re called Hugger,” the Vespani giggles, giving a cute little wriggle to test the plant’s grip before relaxing, apparently unbothered by the total invasion of his personal space. “You don’t eat people, right? Because that might put a damper on our relationship. Ai, you’re so pretty.”

Namjoon’s probably grinning like an idiot, but he doesn’t care, because Jungkook’s doing the voice - the soft, lilting little coo that Namjoon himself tends to use whenever he’s talking to his adopted plant-babies. None of the other crew members do that, aside from Hobi - but the Zurellian also sings lullabies to the hyperdrive when he thinks nobody’s looking, so he doesn’t really count. 

“I wouldn’t have lowered the forcefield if Hugger was a carnivore,” Namjoon promises, and jerks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the Chi’Paxi snapdragons. “Which is why you won’t be petting those little beauties over there. Hugger’s big and perhaps a little overenthusiastic, but you’ll never be in any real danger, even if I’m not around.”

Jungkook gently bats a vine away from its tickling exploration of his ear, his grin widening as he glances towards Namjoon.

“You mean I can come visit them without you?” he asks, surprised.

Smiling, Namjoon nods. “As often as you like. But we’d better finish the tour first so you know which little ones you can cuddle with and which species you need to keep at a safe two-metre distance. C’mon, let me introduce you to Betsy, she only bites when she’s hungry…”

…

Jungkook doubts the novelty of his new life will ever wear off. 

Sometimes, in those first few groggy moments after waking, it’s still hard to convince himself that this whole thing is real, that it hasn’t just been one big shock-induced fantasy, that the ceiling above his bed really is the smooth silver panelling of his own little snug cabin and not the inside of a Thurazon jail cell.  

It’s almost too good to be true, knowing how everything came about in the end - that having a bounty put on his head by a powerful dictator, being chased by angry hunters for weeks on end, getting shot with a plasma rifle and subsequently passing out in a cargo crate had somehow managed to work out in his favour. 

Against all odds, he’s found himself a new life among the stars with no unpleasant strings attached, new friends who seem genuinely invested in his wellbeing, and a place to call home for the first time since his enrollment in the Cultural Arts Academy . 

His hair hasn’t glowed this bright or this often since he was twelve .

Life aboard the Bangtan is so very different from anything he’s ever experienced before, but in the best way. There are no Thurazon guardians monitoring his every move from dawn ‘til dusk, enforcing daily beauty regimes and controlling his dietary intake; no Academy dance instructors pushing him to practice traditional routines over and over until his muscles tremble from exhaustion and his feet begin to blister. And most importantly, no daily summons from Governor Lek Chuuri asking for a private dance. For months he’d performed for Thurazon’s supreme court, their watchful, hungry eyes like sticky fingers against his skin, and his passion for the arts had slowly begun to dwindle with every new summons until eventually he’d begun to dread public performances altogether. He hadn’t had the power to say no back then, refusal was never an option - but here that isn’t an issue. 

If anything, there are almost too many options. A whole wardrobe of beautiful clothes, gifted to him by Seokjin the day after his arrival, and he’s allowed to choose what he wants to wear. At mealtimes he can eat something sweet, or savoury, or spicy, or hot, or cold, and there’s never the expectation of decorum, no watchful guardian correcting his posture or chiding him to take daintier bites as though the meal itself is a performance. If Jungkook’s hungry, he has the option of taking a second helping without rebuke, without the expectation that he’ll need to work doubly hard the next day in his training to avoid allowing himself to become ‘undesirable’ to his hosts. And if the foreign spices overwhelm his palate a little too much (Hoseok is a fantastic cook, but Zurellian seasoning seems to set his mouth on fire from the first bite), nobody scolds him for being unable to clear his plate - instead, Yoongi will be there with a cup of blue milk to help soothe the burn, and a bowl of something a little less fiery will appear in front of him, with only a minimal friendly teasing about his red face and streaming eyes.

In Bangtan’s galley, meals seem to be a relaxed and lighthearted affair - Seokjin even sits sideways in his chair sometimes and rests his legs across Namjoon’s lap while he steals bites from his husband’s plate, enthusiastically narrating outrageous tales of their intergalactic escapades, apparently determined to make Jungkook laugh as often as possible. The Vespani hadn’t realised that shared mealtimes could be so enjoyable until he joined the crew.

Every meal feels like a small act of rebellion in and of itself, a way for Jungkook to say fuck you to the academy trainers with every too-large mouthful, and he’s never felt so powerful.

He owes his rescuers a debt he can never repay, and he wishes they’d let him do something to earn his keep. He had expected to be put to work immediately aboard the Bangtan, especially since Namjoon had mentioned how shorthanded the crew were (four crewmen for such a big ship was definitely the definition of shorthanded), but since his arrival two weeks ago he’s barely had to do more than a handful of simple chores, and never anything too physically taxing.

Initially, Jungkook had assumed it was because he was still healing. The blaster wound had been pretty serious, and while Hoseok’s timely intervention had likely prevented longterm tissue damage, his left arm had essentially been out of commission for the first few days of his stay, buckled into a study sling to keep it immobile, despite Jungkook’s protests that it felt better already. Hoseok is probably one of the most cheerful individuals that Jungkook has ever had the pleasure of meeting, but the medic had left him with very firm instructions not to remove the sling under any circumstances without his say-so, to allow the humming regenerator-band the full forty-eight hours it needed heal the wound properly.

“I’ve synthesised enough tissue that it shouldn’t scar too badly,” the medic had explained, pressing a hypospray into the curve of Jungkook’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the skin a moment later to soothe the sting. “But the cellular bonding takes time, and you’ll need to keep that arm totally immobile until the regenerator’s worked its magic. I’ll be giving you regular nerve-blockers for the pain - let me know if it starts hurting at all between doses, okay? Good boy.”

At the gentle words of praise, Jungkook hadn’t been able to hide the pleased flush that rose to his cheeks, or the hot tingling along his scalp that indicated his hair was probably glowing again.

It’s been doing that a lot lately.

Not that the crew seem to mind. Jungkook often catches them smiling at each other whenever it happens - soft, fond little grins, like he’s just done something cute, and the warmth in their expression only serves to fuel the tingling in his scalp. Jungkook likes pleasing people, especially when they’re been so nice to him, and he’s been praised and complimented more often these past two weeks than he has been in years.

Seriously, it’s been so long since he last felt safe and calm and happy enough to glow around anyone. No wonder his body’s reacting so readily to the slightest provocation.

It seems to happen most often around Namjoon. 

Jungkook can’t help it, his control just goes flying out the nearest airlock whenever the Ereshii captain is nearby, he’s just so...so wonderful. Big, and strong, and capable, and kind, and the way he smiles at Jungkook makes the heat in his scalp tingle all the way down his spine, dispersing pleasantly into a thrumming warmth throughout his body. He’s had crushes before, of course - even tumbled into bed once or twice with a couple of fellow dancers back at the Academy, before his ‘cultural exchange’ placement on Thurazon - but this feels like something different. It feels like so much more.

And Namjoon’s been so patient with him - Jungkook doesn’t even know how to pilot basic landspeeders, never mind fly a spaceship, but the captain doesn’t seem to mind teaching him everything from scratch. Most of his first week aboard the Bangtan had been spent at Namjoon’s side, listening attentively as the Ereshii talked him through the ship’s various systems and controls. A lot of it had gone way over his head to begin with, but Namjoon is an excellent teacher, and Jungkook has already memorised the activation sequence of the primary flight systems. He isn’t quite ready to fly solo yet, but he’s eager to learn more, and Namjoon has promised to take him out for a test-flight in the shuttle as soon as he’s mastered the basics. 

This morning’s lesson finds Jungkook in his usual perch on the arm of the captain’s chair, watching closely as Namjoon taps away at the shimmering holoscreen in front of them. The Ereshii is showing him how to chart a slightly more complex route through multiple star systems in order to avoid detection from galactic Enforcers as they courier sensitive cargo to an isolated mining colony in deep-space.

“Mirrian batteries aren’t forbidden under galactic law,” Namjoon explains, showing Jungkook where he’s made a minor course adjustment to avoid a handful of patrol ships in the neighbouring sector. “But they’re a key element in the creation of seismic charges, so the Senate closely monitors larger shipments to make sure they don’t fall into the hands of illegal weapons dealers. We’ve been running shipments to the Vandex mining colonies for years, they use the batteries to power their drills, nothing more. But the quantity we’re transporting would definitely raise suspicions if an Enforcer vessel decided to scan our cargo, and we have a duty of confidentiality to our clients, so it’s better to avoid any unnecessary confrontations that might lead to uncomfortable questions being asked. The Bangtan isn’t built to withstand direct firepower from a galactic vessel, so the best way to keep ourselves in one piece is to stay off their radar altogether.”

“Joonie here can out-maneuver the entire galactic fleet,” Seokjin remarks, crossing the bridge to drop down into his own seat beside the captain’s chair, squeezing Jungkook’s knee in greeting. “Aced his advanced navigation exams, broke every record on the flight simulators back at the Academy on Eresh - he had all the instructors fawning over him for a solid five years. The fleet admirals were practically lining up to offer him a position on one of their flagships after graduation, he was all set to land the fastest promotion in history from cadet to Lieutenant-Commander. And then-”

“And then,” Namjoon interrupts, slanting a fond grin in Seokjin’s direction, “the day before I was due to get my commission, someone showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night with a pair of bonding coils and convinced me to run away with him to the stars.” The captain’s amused gaze flickers up to Jungkook, who warms beneath it. “And his family thought I was the bad influence.”

Seokjin scoffs, leaning around Jungkook to poke Namjoon in the chest, and kriff, even with the few inches of height he’s gained by perching on the arm of the captain’s chair, Jungkook suddenly feels very small between the two of them. Vespani aren’t necessarily short, at least not compared to to a number of other galactic species, but he’s come to understand that Namjoon and Seokjin are tall even by Ereshii standards (that is to say, fucking huge), making Jungkook feel particularly tiny when the two of them are sitting either side of him like this. And he can’t deny that it’s...a very good sort of feeling.

(Jungkook isn’t thinking about what other things might be on the larger side, absolutely not.)

“Oh please, it’s not as though you were genuinely considering joining the fleet,” Jin teases, his smile playful. “Enforcer uniforms are so drab, you’d look awful in grey . Besides, those stuffy bastards with all their rules and regulations wouldn’t have let us get married until you’d at least made Commander, and I wasn’t willing to wait that long. You were mine first.”

“Always, nevarri,” Namjoon murmurs with a dimpled smile, taking Jin’s hand to kiss the back of it gently. 

“Oh goddess, could you not?” Yoongi groans from the doorway, a steaming cup of caff in one hand as he flips them off with the other. His dark hair is rumpled, and the human appears only semi-conscious as he trudges towards his seat at the tactical station, eyes still half closed as he peeks towards Jungkook and sends him a slightly friendlier wave in greeting before he all but collapses into his own chair. “It’s too early for your lovey-dovey shit, you’re gonna make the kid lose his breakfast.”

A couple of weeks ago, Jungkook might have bought Yoongi’s gruff, dismissive tone as genuine, but he knows better now. Beneath that steely exterior, the weapons specialist is kind and gentle and unfailingly patient, never raising his voice above a murmur during Jungkook’s target practice sessions, quick to praise his successes and generous with his encouragement when things go wrong. Jungkook has also found something of a kindred spirit in the man’s appreciation for art and music from ancient galactic cultures - Yoongi’s extensive collection of old holoconcerts and classical albums is a veritable treasure trove of cultural delights, and Jungkook has spent many a pleasant evening sitting in the human’s cabin, watching Yoongi clean and dismantle his various weapons as they listen to the angelic harmonies of the Trillian wind-singers. 

“Good morning, starlight,” Seokjin coos in return, as unaffected by the man’s gruff tone as the rest of them. “Funny, you didn’t seem to mind my ‘lovey-dovey shit’ last night.”

The human immediately chokes on a mouthful of hot caff, cheeks dusted a light pink, 

Namjoon’s soft, rumbling chuckle is almost drowned out by his bondmate’s higher, squeaking laughter, but the sound of it still makes something in Jungkook’s belly flutter with a pleasant heat. There’s something about the captain’s low timbre that just hits different, he could listen to him talking all day long.

“I will stab you in your sleep, pretty boy,” Yoongi manages to croak, levelling a tired glare across the bridge, although even Jungkook can see that it lacks any real heat.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other in a slouch that somehow still looks entirely elegant, and smiles serenely. 

“Promises, promises.”

The human’s eyes narrow further, this time in the sort of grim determination of a challenge accepted, and Yoongi abruptly knocks back the rest of his caff (Jungkook’s own throat burns in sympathy - how can the man tolerate that sort of heat , Vespani epithelia are far too sensitive to tolerate scalding hot beverages), standing up to stalk towards Seokjin with clear intent.

“Do not kark each other on my bridge , ” Namjoon warns with a note of humour in his voice, not bothering to look up from the navigation controls that blink at him from the holoscreen. “Take it to the cabin, you’re distracting Kookie from his studies.”

Which is true, but Jungkook certainly isn’t complaining. 

On the contrary, he has absolutely no qualms about continuing to be quite thoroughly distracted. He could happily sit here and watch the escalation of this particular challenge all day long if his new crewmates were amenable. 

“And don’t be too long, Jinnie,” Namjoon adds, tapping Jungkook’s knee to focus his attention again. “You still need to give me coordinates for our next supply run.”

Seokjin rises from his seat, all handsome poise and effortless grace as he brushes invisible lint from his silk shirtsleeves. “I already have a destination in mind. It’s been a busy couple of weeks, and we all need some downtime. I figured a little retail therapy is in order - we have a new treasure to spoil, after. We’re going shopping.”

“Enjarro?” Namjoon guesses, sending his husband a knowing look. “Are you sure? It’s always so busy there, it might be overwhelming for his first trip planetside.”

Jungkook sits up a little straighter, immediately a whole lot less distracted by the way Yoongi is currently eyeing up Seokjin like a particularly good cut of meat, because it sounds like Namjoon’s suggesting that Jungkook might be allowed to leave the ship this time. He’s grateful for how protective the crew have been these past two weeks, and admittedly he definitely hadn’t been eager to leave the safety of the ship those first few days while his body was still healing from the blaster-wound, but Yoongi’s taught him how to shoot a moving target and throw a knife and lock a bigger person on a chokehold with his thighs, he feels more sure of his own strength now than ever before. And he desperately wants to go out and explore new places with Namjoon and the others.

“Enjarro boasts the lowest crime rates this side of the galactic core,” Seokjin reasons, waving a flippant hand. “And we’ll stick to the upper levels, it’ll be safer there - you have to pay premium access just to step inside the Dome, it won’t be as busy as the main shopping district. Besides, I found this cute little bonsai shop on their holonet site, it only opened up a couple of months ago - apparently they’re selling lunarwisps saplings.”

Namjoon visibly perks up at that, all traces of his previous dubiousness vanishing in an instant.

“Enjarro,” he repeats, and the arm around Jungkook’s waist gives a little squeeze, the captain levelling a softer smile at him. “What do you think, Kookie? Feel up to leaving the ship for a little while?”

“Yes!” Jungkook immediately blurts, clutching at the hand on his waist, glancing quickly from Namjoon’s smiling face to Jin’s. “Where’s Enjarro? What’s it like? Do they speak galactic basic? What’s a bonsai?”

Yoongi laughs softly at his enthusiasm, pulling a compact datapad from the inside pocket of his jacket and passing it to Jungkook with a smile.

“Why don’t you read up and find out? This can be your first taste of pre-mission research. We’ll be touching down in Enjarro’s capital city, see if you can find us a safe and strategically optimal landing platform. Consider the safety factors we talked about yesterday and come find me in a couple of hours to discuss our options. Think you can manage that?”

Jungkook nods eagerly, shuffling further back on the arm of the chair to get more comfortable, thumbs already flying over the screen of the datapad as he accesses the holonet to begin his research. A hand ruffles his hair, and he vaguely registers the sound of retreating footsteps and the soft hiss of the door as Yoongi and Jin leave the bridge, but he’s far too absorbed in his first official pre-mission task to spare them a glance.

He can’t quite seem to sit still, fidgeting in place as he scrolls through the some sort of tourist-focused guide to Enjarro’s capital city. Something in his chest is fluttering with a sort nervous anticipation at the multitude of unknown possibilities that lay before him - he can scarcely begin to imagine all of the new wonders he’s going to encounter on this strange, alien planet. New sites, new smells, new tastes. What sort of foods do they eat? Sweet and delicate like the Ereshii desserts Seokjin makes for him, or sharp and spicy like the rich Zurellian dishes Hoseok prefers? Jungkook wants to try everything.

In his distraction, he fidgets an inch or so too far, the arm of the chair disappearing out from underneath him as he goes toppling sideways to sprawl inelegantly across Namjoon’s lap, saved from tumbling to the floor by the man’s quick reflexes.

“Sorry, captain,” he squeaks, slightly mortified as he struggles to get his feet underneath him.

Namjoon’s low, fond chuckle rumbles through him, the Ereshii’s arms helping to steady him into a more upright position seated in his lap.

“You’re fine,” the captain reassures, keeping one arm loosely wrapped around Jungkook’s midriff as he tucks the Vespani closer to him. “Can’t have you braining yourself on the decking, Hobi wouldn’t be happy if he had to patch you up again so soon after the last bump. Why don’t you sit here with me? Only if you’re comfortable. I’m sure Jin won’t mind if you want to use his chair instead.”

Jungkook’s brain short-circuits for a moment, and by the time it’s managed to pull off an emergency reboot, Namjoon’s gone back to tapping away at the navi-computer’s holoscreen with his free hand, apparently unaware of the pleasant warmth thrumming through Jungkook’s body at this new, close contact. Sure, he cuddles up to Jin’s side when they read together, and curls around Hoseok when they’re studying the infrastructure of the hyperdrive, and Yoongi presses up close against him to help correct his posture during target practice. But this is so much more than that, and something Jungkook’s been silently yearning for these past two weeks. He always knew Namjoon would give amazing cuddles.

His scalp tingles ever so slightly, and there’s a good possibility his hair’s glowing again, but if Namjoon hasn’t noticed it already then Jungkook certainly isn’t going to call attention to it.

He swallows past the fluttering feeling in the base of his throat and ignores the heat pooling in his cheeks, settling back against Namjoon’s solid chest with a pleased little smile, returning his gaze to Yoongi’s datapad.

It’s a little harder to concentrate on his research after that, but the happy-buzzy-warmth tingling through him makes it all worthwhile.

…

Enjarro’s famous retail domes just scream luxury, enormous curved structures that glitter silver and crystal transparisteel beneath the pleasant warmth of a midday sun. 

There’s so much to see, Jungkook can barely take it all in, allowing himself to be towed from one store to another, his hand captured in Seokjin’s larger one. The Ereshii moves like a man on a mission, and that mission apparently involves spending a truly horrific number of credits on clothing and jewellery for Jungkook. 

“It’s too much,” he tries to decline politely on more than one occasion, as Seokjin finds yet another pretty silk thing to add to the basket Hoseok’s toting around for them. “I don’t need it, honest.”

“Of course you do,” Jin coos, and tows him over to another display table. “You deserve so many pretty things. And I deserve to spoil you, because nobody else shares my appreciation for high-end fashion, and it’s tragic . Oh, this would look darling on you! How do you feel about chokers?”

After his sixth attempt to dissuade the man from buying out half the store, Hoseok lean in closer with a gentle grin of sympathy and gives Jungkook a quick sideways hug.

“It’s no use, sweetheart,” the engineer murmurs, with a tone of resignation that speaks of years of experience. “You gotta just let him splurge when he gets like this, there’s no reasoning with him. And he’s right, you deserve pretty things. If you genuinely don’t like the style of something he’s picked out, he’ll be happy to listen, but otherwise it’s easier to just roll with it.”

It’s really not easier, because Jungkook’s never had someone spend so much money on him like this - the Academy had been responsible for feeding and clothing him throughout his adolescence, and he’d certainly been given many pretty outfits, but only so that he could wear them for performances and tea ceremonies and practical exams. He’s not used to being given things purely as... gifts. The Bangtan crew have already been so generous, sharing their clothing and toiletries and food with him without asking for anything in return. But at least those had been practical gifts, given to him because he’d arrived onboard with nothing but the clothes on his back and a handful of universal credits sewn into the seams. 

Having Seokjin spend half a fortune on pretty silks just because he thinks Jungkook might like to wear them? That’s a different matter altogether.

Hoseok’s right, though, there really seems to be no stopping Jin now that he’s started. 

By the time the man seems satisfied with a job well done, it’s late afternoon and they’ve amassed a truly impressive number of bags from a dozen different shops. Jungkook hadn’t even been allowed to carry any of them - Namjoon and Yoongi stepping in to neatly intercept him every time he’d tried to offer his own free hand to the store cashiers. 

The group had eventually settled down at a table outside one of the fancy-looking cafes (Yoongi’s chair strategically placed so that he was closest to the wall of the building with an open view of the surrounding area), and Jungkook had eagerly tucked into the toasted bread thing Seokjin had ordered for him, filled with meat and cheese and some sort of green leafy plant coated in a delightful tangy dressing. By the time he’d cleared his plate, Namjoon had already gone off to order desserts for everyone, and now Jungkook’s happily making his way through a tall vase-like crystal glass of soft pudding and jellied fruits and cake pieces, with so much whipped cream and sweet, sugary sauce that his old Academy health instructors would likely have had a conniption just at the sight of it.

“The bonsai store is only one floor up,” Seokjin tells them as he sets down his gold-rimmed teacup, studying the little holo-map of the Dome that glimmers above their table from the tiny oval projector in the centre. “How about we leave the bags here with the three of you while Joonie and I head up? I think Kookie needs a little break from shopping.”

Jungkook flashes him a smile as he digs another sugared berry of the creamy depths of his sweet, fruity dessert, grateful for the man’s perceptiveness. He’s genuinely having the time of his life, but the past few hours have left him feeling exhausted , even though the boutiques hadn’t been anywhere near as crowded as he’d initially feared. It’s been so long since he was out in public (aside from when he was on the run, which was just a whole different kind of stress), and he’d forgotten how draining the general hustle and bustle of everyday life could be.

“I saw some hovercarts down by the entrance to the monorail platform,” Hoseok mentions, using a napkin to wipe his hands clean of the sticky spiced-honey from his sugared doughballs, nudging the last one towards Yoongi and stealing a quick sip from the human’s fancy iced caff. “I could probably manage the bags by myself if I borrowed one of those. Why don’t I meet you guys back at the ship?”

Yoongi snorts and steals his beverage back with a fond grin. “You just want to go play with that new laser scalpel kit.”

“It does micro incisions,” Hoseok enthuses by way of a defence, holding his thumb and forefinger a hairsbreadth apart. “Never thought I’d find a unit like that in a commercial med-store. The last time I saw one I was still with the galactic MediCorps, they were in their early testing phase by the time I graduated. There’s probably been a dozen new upgrades since then, medicine always moves fast, but I’m sure the original model will do just fine. I just need to test it out a little, check the programming for bugs.”

“No testing it out on yourself,” Namjoon warns, pointing a finger at Hoseok. “Inanimate objects only, Hobes.”

Jungkook shoots a startled look between the two of them, faintly alarmed. Judging by the way Hoseok’s skin flushes a glimmering gold and his smile turns wincingly apologetic, that particular warning stems from prior experience.

“I’ll synthesize a few skin grafts,” the Zurellian reassures. “No self-testing, I promise.”

Namjoon nods, satisfied, and polishes off the last bite of his purple puff-bread before pushing his chair back as he stands, dusting the green powdered sugar off his fingers and reaching out to gently flick the brim of Jungkook’s oversized hat.

“We won’t be long,” he promises, his smile full of easy warmth. “Stay with Yoongi, finish your parfait.” 

Oh, is that what this sweet-pudding-cake thing is called? Jungkook hadn’t bothered to ask, he’d just seen the cute animal-shaped design of the ice cream and cookies that topped it and had decided it was going to be his new favourite food in the whole entire universe.

He smiles at Namjoon around his spoon, earning himself a quiet chuckle and a gentle tap beneath his chin, before the captain loops an arm through Seokjin’s and sets off in the direction of the orb-shaped elevators on the far side of the dome. 

Hoseok, after several attempts, manages to pick up all the bags at once, shooting his two remaining companions a parting grin as he slowly waddles off, heavily burdened, towards the monorail platform in the opposite direction. Other shoppers give him a wide berth, but that might have more to do with the slightly manic look on his face than the sheer quantity of bags he’s carrying - Hoseok really is very excited about that laser scalpel, it seems.

Yoongi scoots his chair a little closer to Jungkook’s, still with his back to the wall, eyes scanning their surroundings even as he settles back in a casual slouch, ever-watchful. He’s been quieter than usual these past couple of hours, having returned from running an errand with a brand new vibroblade and a pensive expression, muttering something about old friends and gifts he couldn’t refuse. Jungkook knows better than to pry, but he’d been worried. As had Namjoon and Hoseok, who had stuck especially close to the human after that, always within touching distance, casually bumping elbows and brushing up against him as they walked as though Yoongi needed the continual reassurance of their presence. 

Yoongi hasn’t quite lost that grim, tired look in his eyes, but his tense posture had eased significantly over the course of the afternoon, and the giant iced caff seems to have revived him a little. He hadn’t eaten much, other than the few bites Hoseok had practically hand-fed him, but Jungkook knows that isn’t usual - Yoongi’s told him before about being wary of unusual foods prepared by unfamiliar hosts, and had even gone so far as to show him a somewhat alarming list of all the different drugs and poisons an enemy might try to slip into his food at any given moment. 

Seokjin had interrupted that particular lesson with a pointed “stop scaring the baby” and dragged Jungkook away to help make vozberry puffbreads instead. Yoongi hadn’t brought up the topic again.

Suddenly catching Jungkook staring at him, Yoongi breaks into a soft half-smile, reaching out to tuck a strand of pink hair back beneath the rim of Jungkook’s hat.

“You holding up okay?” the human asks, wiping a smudge of cream from the corner of Jungkook’s mouth with his thumb, before popping the digit in his mouth to clean it. “I know Jinnie can get a little out of hand with the whole shopping-spree thing, but it’s how he shows people he loves them. He tried to do the same thing with me not long after I first joined the crew, but things didn’t turn out so well. I had a...minor disagreement with one of the shopkeepers about the authenticity of his wares. Ended up getting us all blacklisted from that precinct. Jin doesn’t bother dragging me out anymore when he wants to spoil me, he’ll just buy things he knows I like and hang them up in my closet without telling me.”

Jungkook muffles a laugh behind his hand, trying to ignore the way his cheeks have heated and his scalp is tingling at the human’s gentle touch.

“I’m not even sure I’ve got enough room in my closet for everything he’s bought me,” he confesses wryly.

Yoongi chuckles and takes a sip of his iced caff. “Don’t let him catch you saying that, or next thing you know he’ll be trying to buy you a new closet. ”

Oh kriff, the man’s got a point. Jungkook will need to be more careful about how he phrases things from now on, he can’t have Jin throwing away his hard-earned credits at the drop of a hat.

Settling an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders with a comfortable sort of ease, Yoongi leans back a little more in his slouch, feet propped up on the seat of the opposite chair. He’s still got a hand beneath the table, and Jungkook knows without looking that the man’s fingers will be resting on the holstered blaster strapped to his thigh. One of the first lessons the ex-pirate had taught him was to always be ready for a fight, even when confrontation seems unlikely, even when you appear to be among allies - he gets the impression that the human is speaking from personal experience, but Jungkook doesn’t want to pry. It doesn’t seem like the sort of story Yoongi would be willing to share with him, and it wouldn’t do anyone any good to dredge up past pains, even if he is insatiably curious about the twin swords mounted on the wall in Yoongi’s cabin that he never seems to touch.

“Can I see the vibroblade you bought?” Jungkook asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence, scraping the last of the moja-fruit-flavoured cream from the bottom of his dessert glass. 

Stirring a little as though pulled from his own thoughts, Yoongi hums in easy agreement, retracting his arm from around the Vespani’s shoulders to reach into his jacket and retrieve the new knife from a hidden pocket there. Jungkook doesn’t doubt he’s carrying at least another six on his person, tucked away into his boots and beneath his belt and hidden up his sleeves, because the second lesson Yoongi had taught him was to always wear a blaster someplace visible - like holstered to his thigh - so that the enemy will assume that a gun is your weapon of choice, and therefore be less likely to expect several daggers to the face.

The blade of the knife is no bigger than Jungkook’s palm, but it’s wider than he’d expected, glimmering faintly with micro-vibrations from the moment the metal is unsheathed, the hilt thrumming beneath his grip as he handles it carefully. 

“I’d kinda assumed they wouldn’t sell weapons in a place like this,” Jungkook comments, turning the blade over, admiring the tiny script etched into the metal, a language he doesn’t quite recognise despite his years of cultural study. “The Dome seems a little too... posh for that kinda thing.”

“Mm,” Yoongi hums again, considering. “You’ll find a lot of rich people enjoy collecting deadly accessories. And even mercenaries and smugglers appreciate things of good quality.” He sends Jungkook a salacious wink. “ Especially smugglers. If a blaster or a knife is the only thing keeping the wolves at bay, you don’t go for the cheapest option. Good craftsmanship will cost you, but it’s worth every penny.”

Nodding, Jungkook hands the blade back carefully, leaning into Yoongi’s side a little as it’s resheathed.

“What does the inscription say?” he asks curiously. “I didn’t recognise the language.”

Yoongi pauses for a moment, fingers tightening briefly around the hilt of the knife, before relaxing again as he breathes out a quiet sigh.

“It’s Hangul,” he answers after a long pause, running his fingers over the sheathed weapon almost reverently. “The language of my ancestors. They lost their home centuries ago in the Terran wars, but my people fought hard to preserve their culture. Perhaps a little too hard.” He tucks the knife away securely. “A lot of traditions should’ve died with our homeland when the Earth fell.”

Jungkook doesn’t much like the tired, sad sort of look in Yoongi’s eyes, his own chest aching as he shifts closer to cover one of the man’s hands with his own.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to tell me what it says.”

Yoongi’s gaze flickers up to meet his own, lips twitching in a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he lifts a hand to playfully flick the rim of Jungkook’s gaudy purple hat. 

“You don’t have to apologise for being curious,” Yoongi reassures him, his melancholy slowly ebbing away. “I’ll tell you about the inscription another time, okay? I just have a lot on my mind today.”

The weapons specialist shifts his stance to sit up a little straighter, lifting his head to scan their surroundings once again in a passing sweep, only to tense up all of a sudden, freezing in place. 

Startled by the immediate change in his demeanour, Jungkook sits up straighter himself, following Yoongi’s gaze across the wide platform of the Dome’s eatery level to where a trio of shoppers are lingering outside a confectionery store, seemingly talking amongst themselves.

“Jungkookie,” Yoongi murmurs, quiet and calm in a way that’s almost frightening given how tense his posture is, and how he’s deliberately not looking at the trio anymore, his gaze focused somewhere in the middle-distance. “Keep your hands under the table for me, I need you to ping Namjoon. You remember how to activate the distress signal on your wrist-comm?” 

With a jerky nod, Jungkook fumbles to do just that, trying to follow Yoongi’s example and not stare at the newcomers even though all three of them have now turned to face them and are slowly heading in their direction. He isn’t sure what it is about them that has Yoongi so on edge , but he isn’t about to second-guess the man’s judgement - when the guy carrying two blasters and eight knives thinks there’s something to worry about, there’s probably something to worry about.

The fingers of Yoongi’s left hand tighten into a fist briefly against the surface of the table, before unclenching again slowly. Then, reclining back in his chair once more in a deliberately casual slouch, the human reaches for his tall drink of iced caff, acting for all the world like nothing is amiss. 

“Whatever happens, stay close to me and say nothing,” he murmurs, the tip of the straw poised at his lips to hide their movement. “They’re pirates, it’s me they want. I won’t let any harm come to you, I promise.”

As the newcomers draw closer, Jungkook begins to realise why Yoongi thinks there’s going to be a problem. He immediately recognises the thigh-holsters sported by the man in the middle and the woman on the right as being of the same design as Yoongi’s, and the guy on the left seems to have a sword strapped to his back, although the rest of his outfit is suitably stylish in keeping with the high-end fashion of the other Dome patrons. Seriously, who walks around a shopping mall with a sword strapped to their back? On Thurazon, only the hunters were permitted to carry such weapons in the capital city, and civilians could find themselves arrested (or worse) for so much as looking at a blaster or rifle. 

The people of Enjarro clearly have different priorities.

Jungkook’s heart is thundering in his ears, but there’s also a silent, rhythmic vibration in his wrist that doesn’t match his pulse, so at least he knows the emergency beacon is working. Namjoon and Seokjin are only one floor up - even if the situation escalates into a fight, it’s reassuring to know that backup is already on the way.

He isn’t sure what he’d been expecting the trio to do when they finally reached the table, but sinking down as one on bended knee with clenched fists pressed to their hearts certainly wasn’t anywhere near the top of his list.

“Jeonha,” the newcomers murmur in unison, heads bowed.

Yoongi’s breath hitches, barely noticeable if Jungkook hadn’t been leaning in quite so close, but he remains otherwise outwardly unaffected, taking a careful sip of his caff, the fingers of his right hand still resting his holstered weapon beneath the table. 

“We’re in the middle of a shopping mall on an alien planet,” Yoongi comments, his voice cold and hollow in a way that Jungkook isn’t used to hearing from the man at all. “Speak in basic - my companion here isn’t familiar with our tongue. Deliver your message and leave me in peace.”

The three pirates share hesitant glances between themselves for a moment, before slowly rising to their feet. The man in the centre steps forward, keeping his hand clenched to his chest in some kind of respectful salute.

“Forgive the intrusion, your highness. The Empress has yet to rescind her previous orders, and as such, we are duty-bound to escort you back to the Palace.”

Jungkook feels as though an iced beverage has been dumped over his head, but he fights against the urge to glance at his companion in shock. He’s been performing in front of audiences since he was twelve years old, he knows how to school his expression when it matters. 

“Many have tried and failed,” Yoongi warns, his tone softening only by a fraction. “I don't want to fight you, so consider your options carefully - I have more than a decade of combat experience on each of you, and absolutely no intention of coming quietly. This isn't going to end well.”

The younger man shifts his stance nervously, but his expression remains determined, unwavering. “We have our orders, Sire. We must do as the Empress commands.”

Jungkook startles as Yoongi slams his drink down hard enough that the lid pops off, dark liquid sloshing against the sides. 

“No,” he grits out. “You have a choice, you always have a choice - to walk away, to put an end to this blind obedience, to take responsibility for your own actions. The Empress doesn’t deserve your loyalty - you know what she did to her own people, to the clans who refused to conquer peaceful settlements in her name. And you’ve seen what she does to the children of so-called traitors.”

“An Empire cannot be built on weak foundations,” the woman on the right argues calmly, and even to Jungkook it sounds like she’s quoting something by rote. “We need strong warriors to cull the herd and preserve the purity of our bloodline. And strong leadership to help guide us in our conquest.”

She pulls something from her sleeve and holds it out towards them in cupped hands, bowing forwards with the motion.

Yoongi goes utterly still beside him, but the beautifully detailed hairpin that rests across her palms doesn’t look all that dangerous to Jungkook. Perhaps it’s an explosive? He knows Yoongi has a set of earrings that lock together to create an EMP bomb, so he’s learned not to trust pretty things by appearance alone.

A long beat of tense silence lingers between them, unnoticed by the shoppers who continue to mill about on the far side of the platform. 

“He’s dead, then?” Yoongi finally asks, his voice low and strangely hoarse.

With a slight grimace curling at his tanned features, the young sword-bearing warrior on the left crosses his arms over his chest.

“He betrayed us,” the pirate answers, anger making his words sharp. “Slaughtered the warlords in their beds and took control of half our battleships overnight. He and his followers broke away from the main fleet and fled to the banished colonies on Chadikka - they’ve sworn allegiance to the traitor clans.”

Beside him, Yoongi’s shoulders begin to shake, and for one terrible moment Jungkook thinks it might be in grief, and he turns a little in his seat to reach for him, to offer what comfort he can-

Only for Yoongi to throw his head back and laugh, louder and more freely than Jungkook has ever heard from him before, the bellowing guffaws drawing more than one disgruntled look from passers-by.

The sight is...startling. And beautiful.

And, perhaps, a little concerning.

“The Empress needs an heir, your grace,” the female pirate tries to insist over Yoongi’s gleeful cackling. “With your brother a traitor to the crown, this task now falls to you. It is your duty-”

“Duty?” Yoongi echoes, finally managing to contain his amusement long enough to form words. “What duty? I willingly surrendered my birthright years ago, and my grandmother was all too happy to see the back of me then. Hell, she even paid me for the trouble of abdicating. She can’t take it back now just because her precious golden phoenix turned out to have a beating human heart after all.”

“Jeonha,” the sword-bearer protests. “The remaining warriors would willing to swear fealty to you, in your father’s name, and your past disgraces would be swept aside. This is a chance for you to redeem your bloodline. The Empress-”

“The Empress,” Yoongi interrupts bluntly. “Can go kriff herself.”

The matching expressions of shock and outrage on the three warriors’ faces might have been amusing had circumstances been different, and if their hands hadn’t immediately shifted to their holstered weapons, ready to defend the honour of their sovereign. 

To Jungkook’s surprise, Yoongi doesn’t so much as twitch beside him, merely inspecting his fingernails as though thoroughly done with the whole situation.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to respectfully decline her majesty’s offer,” he apologises, finally glancing up again, this time with a fire in his eyes that Jungkook knows means danger. He often gets that look right before he tackles Hoseok to the ground during sparring practice. “Ceremonial red really isn’t my colour. What do you think, Captain?”

“I think,” Namjoon drawls, as the three pirate warriors swivel around in surprise to face him, wide-eyed as the Ereshii towers over them, “that your new friends have overstayed their welcome.”

The captain has a gun in each hand (although where exactly he’d been stashing those Jungkook couldn't say), and he flicks one in a casual gesture at the sword-bearing pirate as the human male makes to unsheathe his weapon. 

“Ah-ah,” he warns. “Don’t try it, kid. I won't lose sleep if I have to blow a hole through each and every one of you, but my husband’s just spent half a fortune on silks and silver chokers, so I’d prefer not to fork out any more credits on what will undoubtedly be a very expensive cleaning bill. And just in case anyone starts getting any clever ideas about trying to disarm me, you probably ought to know that I have a sniper waiting on the floor above us, and he’d just love an excuse to rain down a little hellfire on the little shits who interrupted his shopping spree.”

Slowly, with obvious reluctance, but clearly knowing they’re outmatched and outgunned, the trio of pirates remove their hands from their weapons. Namjoon beams at them, a grin that’s all teeth and no warmth, without any of its usual dimple-softness. 

“There, doesn’t this feel more civilised already?” the Ereshii remarks, dangerously cheerful. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to keep those hands where I can see them. You’re going to walk your pretty asses into that cafe over there and order spiced puff-bread and moja lattes. You’re going to tip the waitress, generously. And then you’re going to sit there and think about how much better your lives could be if you weren’t blindly following a psychotic, mass-murdering dictator. And if I’m feeling lenient after an hour, I might consider telling my sniper to stand down. Sound good?”

None of them seem particularly happy about the proposed plan, but the trio don’t try to reach for their weapons again either, so Jungkook considers that a win. He might have even felt relieved, if his heart hadn’t still been trying to beat its way out of his chest.

“Excellent.” Namjoon side-steps to allow them to pass. “Go on. I’ll be watching.”

It’s almost comical, the wary manner in which the young pirates slink past the tall Ereshii captain like scolded children - albeit dangerous, brainwashed, heavily-armed children. Namjoon remains unmoving for a moment, grim-faced and watchful as he observes their humiliating retreat, before he reholsters one of his guns and lifts his left vambrace to speak into his wrist-comm. 

“We’re clear, Hobi,” he reports, his tone immediately switching back to a more familiar timbre. “Power down the phaser cannons, prep the Bangtan for takeoff.”

“The phaser cannons?” Yoongi echoes in an aghast whisper. “What were you gonna do, blast through the fucking dome from the outside?”

“If we had to,” Namjoon replies calmly, keeping his eyes trained on his targets even as backs up slowly towards the table, reaching out a hand without looking to gently squeeze the back of Yoongi’s neck. “You hurt?”

Yoongi shakes his head with a huff of humourless laughter. “They’re rookies, Joon. Kids. Green, unblooded, sloppy. All the best warriors were loyal to Geumjae, and it sounds like he's finally woken up to reality and taken them out from under my grandmother’s thumb. She must be getting desperate if she’s sending out literal teenagers to track me down. If this is the best the clan has to offer, I don’t think we need to worry about future confrontations.”

Namjoon hums in agreement, carding his fingers briefly through Yoongi’s hair. Then he moves to perch on one of the empty chairs, squarely facing the cafe opposite them, his feet propped up on the edge of the table, blaster resting comfortably in his lap.

“Take Kookie back to the ship,” he orders. “I’ll join you in a little while.”

Yoongi frowns a little, clearly getting ready to argue. “I’m not leaving you on your own-”

“Nevarri,” Namjoon interrupts, softer still. “Please. For me.”

The human’s expression twists like he wants protest further, before he seems to think better of it, the fight going out of him with a sigh as he pushes his chair back, reaching for Jungkook’s hand to help him up. As soon as the Vespani is on his feet, Yoongi’s arm wraps around him in a side-hug, drawing him in close, the human’s other hand still resting on his holstered blaster.

It’s a long, tense, silent walk back to the Bangtan, and Jungkook wants to say something, to ask if Yoongi’s alright, to offer him reassurance of some kind - but the words die in his throat before he can voice them, and he settles instead for looping his own arm around Yoongi in return, letting himself be tucked in close against the older man’s side as they head across the landing platform towards their waiting vessel. 

The boarding ramp lowers to greet them, the lip barely having time to touch the ground before Yoongi’s tugging Jungkook up and into the ship. 

Yoongi hits the mechanism to retract the ramp as soon as they’re onboard, and maneuvers Jungkook to stand behind him, one hand still poised on his blaster as he watches the landing platform warily until the ramp has sealed the entrance shut. Only then does he finally let out a shuddering exhale, his body sagging with the sudden release of tension.

“Are you both alright?” Hoseok calls as he comes sprinting into the cargo hold, medkit slung over one shoulder, eyes wide and full of concern as his gaze darts over each of them in turn. “They didn’t hurt you?”

Yoongi shakes his head wordlessly, and turns to face Jungkook fully for the first time since their unpleasant encounter began. He reaches up to cup the Vespani’s face between his hands, his gaze full of concern and regret and frustration, before leaning in to press their foreheads together, knocking the ridiculous purple hat off in the process.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” he murmurs shakily, and Jungkook has to close his eyes at the sudden hot sting building up there, something in his chest aching in sympathy. “If I’d thought even for a second that she’d send scouts this deep into neutral territory, I never would’ve endangered you by tagging along.” 

Pulling back a little, Yoongi studies him closely, thumb stroking tenderly across his cheekbone, lips set in a thin line, and for a moment the man looks almost painfully fragile. 

Seeking to reassure him, Jungkook musters up a smile, tilting his cheek into the contact as his hands tighten in the fabric of Yoongi’s leather jacket, tugging him closer. He  sees the man’s expression soften a little in apparent relief, and Yoongi lets himself be pulled down, wrapping his arms around Jungkook in turn.

“Hey, can anyone get in on this hug, or is it an exclusive thing?” Hoseok teases, wrapping an arm around both of them and gently thunking his own forehead against Yoongi’s temple as he cuddles in close. “Scared the kriff out of me, both of you. Almost sliced my hand open with that laser scalpel when the emergency beacon went off.”

Yoongi’s expression flickers, his eyes narrowing after a beat as he slants a suspicious glance at the Zurellian. Hoseok immediately clamps his mouth shut and flushes a shimmering gold.

“Hoseokie,” Yoongi warns.

The medic winces. “It was only a little self-test…”

Yoongi groans, head falling forwards to pillow against Jungkook’s shoulder, and despite the unpleasant situation they’ve just been through (or perhaps because of it), Jungkook finds himself laughing, hugging Yoongi tighter against him as Hoseok takes advantage of the human’s momentary distraction to beat a hasty retreat back to the bridge.

Yeah. They’re going to be okay.

 

 

 

Notes:

Nobody interrupts Seokjin's shopping spree, queen is ALWAYS packing. -_-

So this chapter turned out a whole lot longer than planned! Yoongi's backstory decided it didn't just want a casual throwaway reference, it wanted a big dramatic entrance with jazz music, and now I need to restrain myself from writing the how-Yoongi-joined-the-team spinoff fic that my brain really wants to write. Because badass Namjoon meets bb pirate Yoongles just presents SO many fun fluff possibilities. One day, mes amis, one day.

Hoseok is a precious dumb-dumb genius who must be protected. Thanks to him, the rest of the crew already have a LOT of practice when it comes to keeping a smol bb safe and happy, so Jungkook's in good hands.

Namjoon has SO many plant children, the sentient noodles are his favourite, he reads them philosophical bedtime stories because he wants to make them smarter.

Jungkook succeeded in sitting in THE LAP, he's very proud of himself. Next stop dickville, boy's on a mission! :P

 

Hope you enjoyed the update, fam! Thank you for all your amazing comments on chapter 1, sorry I didn't have time to reply to them all, but I appreciated each and every one of them! :)

Also kudos to anyone to can catch ALL the Star Wars/Star Trek/Firefly references! I'm having so much fun being a big-ass sci-fi nerd with this story. :D x

Chapter 3: Promises, Promises

Summary:

Newly-trained smuggler Jungkook acquires himself a smol fluffy friend, gets all the D he could ever desire, and gives his hyungs several heart attacks.

 

.

“Behind you, look out!”

A fist-sized orb goes whizzing over Yoongi’s head as he bites out a curse and dives out of the line of fire, tucking into a neat forward-roll. His momentum carries him behind a row of empty fuel canisters, and he takes a moment to regain a solid footing beneath him, double-checking the powercell on his gun as he maintains half an eye on his surroundings.

From his vantage point, he can see Jungkook taking cover behind a stack of storage crates nearby, the Vespani’s usually-vibrant pink hair dulled a little with fatigue, face flushed and gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat. Even in his state of exhaustion, Yoongi’s pleased to see the sharp glint of determination in the youth’s gaze as Jungkook tracks the orb’s trajectory, maintaining a firm grip on his weapon, clearly ready to open fire if an opportunity presents itself.

A pulse of pride and satisfaction flares in Yoongi’s chest at the sight. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” he announces, deciding to take pity on his battle-weary companion. “Computer? Cease fire.”

The dark amber tinge imbuing the cargo bay immediately dissipates as the usual overhead lights flicker on again, and Yoongi rolls smoothly to his feet, bringing up his weapon and neatly discharging an energy bolt with deadly accuracy. The glowing orb hovering a few metres away abruptly explodes in a shower of holographic pixels.

“Aw, hyung,” Jungkook gripes, even as he all but collapses back against the empty crates, chest heaving. “I almost had it.”

“Next time, Kookie,” Yoongi reassures, slipping his stun-gun back into its thigh holster and vaulting nimbly over the haphazardly-constructed barrier to land on light feet beside the slumped Vespani, patting Jungkook’s head gently. “Twenty-nine out of thirty targets is still an impressive feat, and you shaved thirteen minutes off your previous time. You did good.”

The hair beneath Yoongi’s fingers shimmers and blooms to its usual vibrant pink as Jungkook grins at the praise.

“Thanks, hyung!”

That fluttering something in his chest stirs to life once more at the familiar moniker, and Yoongi finds his own smile softening in response. It’s been well over a month since the night that Jungkook had curiously inquired as to why Hoseok sometimes called him hyung and why he couldn’t find a translation for the word in the Zurellian language database - a month since Yoongi had haltingly confessed some of the closely guarded secrets of his mother-tongue to someone other than Hoseok - but he still isn’t used to hearing the word fall so freely and easily from Jungkook’s lips. 

Even now, somewhere in the far recesses of his mind, Yoongi can hear his grandmother calling him a clan-traitor and a disgrace to the Min dynasty for daring to speak of their culture to outsiders. Knowing how utterly horrified the blood-purist, xenophobic bitch would be be to discover that he frequently shares his bed with multiple non-human species never fails to put a smile on his face.

“I think you’ve earned yourself a little downtime before your next lesson,” Yoongi decides, reaching down to help Jungkook up. “Fancy lending me a hand in the galley?”

The younger man practically rockets to his feet. 

“Yes!” Jungkook enthuses. “Will you show me how to make chop-jae?”

Yoongi huffs a laugh and ruffles the glowing pink hair. “It’s jopchae, baby. And sure, Hobi’s been nagging me to fix him a bowl for days. But we’d better go wash-up first, Seokjinnie might actually space us both if we sweat all over his galley.”

Jungkook wrinkles his nose in a cute feigned-grimace, still smiling as he grabs hold of Yoongi’s sleeve.

“Fine,” the Vespani fake-sulks, and tugs at him. “Come shower with me?”

Which, predictably, ends the way these things usually do on the starship Bangtan - with Jungkook pressed up against the bathroom wall, head thrown back in pleasure and pink hair pulsing so bright that it’s almost impossible to look at without squinting, moaning a breathless little hyung as he spills prettily all over Yoongi’s fingers.

Now this, this is still strange and wonderful and thrilling, in the way such intimacy always is between new lovers. 

It’s only been a few weeks since the casual touches and platonic kisses became something more, since Hoseok had knocked on his door one evening with a blushing Jungkook in tow and demanded that the two of them “stop pining after each other and just fuck, please” in that unabashed, straight-forward way that Zurellians tended to approach sexual intimacy. Still, it had done the trick, and Hoseok had looked delightfully smug an hour later with a still-glowing Jungkook passed out in bed between them, covered in a variety of body fluids and looking all the prettier for it.

The Vespani has lost that initial shyness entirely in the weeks since then. If anything, Jungkook has become an insatiable little deviant who now deliberately shows up to combat training in too-tight leather and shirts that reveal far too much skin, but still flashes Yoongi his most innocent smile and feigns confusion whenever his selective wardrobe is pointed out to him. The brat.

Yoongi is so fucking in love, it’s unreal.

“Mmm, that was nice,” Jungkook sighs, once they’ve stumbled from the shower to flop inelegantly onto Yoongi’s bed in a tangle of limbs, his hair pulsing faintly with the steady thrum of his heartbeat, lighting up the room in a soft pink glow. “Thanks, hyung.”

With a faint hum of acknowledgement, Yoongi draws the Vespani closer against him, eyes still closed as he comes down from his own high. Minutes pass in comfortable, hazy silence, and Jungkook’s fingers trace lightly up his torso, following the swirling pattern of his tattoos, soft lips pressing against the dragon’s head near his left shoulder. 

He knows that Kookie is curious about the markings, but either intuitively or perhaps acting under advice from Hoseok or Namjoon, the Vespani has yet to ask about the story behind them. Yoongi is loath to keep anything from his youngest lover, but there are some secrets still too painful to share, some too dangerous to speak aloud, and the Dragon’s Oath is one of them. He’ll carry it to his grave, if he must.

“So,” Jungkook says brightly after a beat, immediately banishing the brewing stormcloud in Yoongi’s mind like the pure ray of sunshine that he is. “Chop-jae?”

Yoongi opens his mouth to automatically correct the pronunciation, but pauses when a glance at Jungkook’s face reveals a teasing grin and playful glimmer in the younger man’s eye.

“ Ai, this brat,” Yoongi bemoans aloud, simply because he knows it’ll make Jungkook laugh. “One of these days I’ll lose my temper, you know.”

And Jungkook just giggles at him, so utterly certain of his place in Yoongi’s affections that he knows it’s only an empty threat, even though he’s seen the ex-pirate ready to blow a gasket at Namjoon on more than one occasion.

It’s true, though. He could never truly lose his temper with Jungkook, the same way he could never bring himself to get angry at Hoseok - no matter how idiotic and utterly reckless the engineer can sometimes be when it comes to his own safety, he’s sweet and kind and gentle-natured, and Yoongi will protect that part of him with his life.

“Alright, you win,” Yoongi relents with a huff, rolling to his feet and lightly swatting Jungkook’s pretty, naked, conveniently-angled rump on the way past. “Jopchae time. Put some clothes on first.”

Jungkook peers back over his shoulder at him with another playful grin, arching his back alluringly, an obvious invitation. 

“Or what?”

“Or you’re liable to burn off something vital that Hobi can’t re-attach,” Yoongi snarks back, but he’s already abandoning his previous trajectory towards the closet in favour of doubling back towards the bed, flopping on top of Kookie with a playful growl that sends the Vespani sprawling flat against the bedsheets with a delighted giggle.

It takes another thirty minutes, a quick, rough fuck and a second rather hurried sonic shower before they actually make it to the galley, but neither Jungkook nor Yoongi have any complaints on the matter. 

…

Transporting live cargo is a risky business, which is why Namjoon prefers to avoid it at all costs.

It’s not as though they really need the credits, after all - he and Seokjin have amassed something of a small fortune over the years, now safely stored away in a number of reputable galactic banking chains. However, the Bangtan and her crew have always been in high demand in certain wealthy corners of society, and Namjoon does have a reputation to maintain as a reliable and readily-available smuggler who’ll deliver the goods come hell or high water for the right price, and sometimes that means saying yes to transporting a herd of sacred cattle to a remote temple on Jazuir, or acting as caretaker to a flock of shrillbird nestlings intended as a courting gift for the High Priestess of Tel’Kor.

The promised payment for such delicate and time-sensitive missions is often quadruple his standard rate, which is nice enough, but even so...sometimes the end reward just isn’t worth the potential danger involved.

There’s always a risk of the creatures breaking free from their enclosure and damaging his ship, or getting sick enroute when the Bangtan is woefully unequipped to provide the necessary veterinary care. And there’s the more serious danger that a member of his crew might end up getting hurt during essential feeding and maintenance (especially if the cargo happens to be the fanged, venomous type), and sometimes the credits just aren’t worth all that stress and hassle. 

Then there are the more upsetting cases, where the creatures they’re transporting have clearly been neglected or unfairly treated - those missions always end the same way, with in an immediate drop-off at the nearest deep-space Galactic Fauna Sanctuary, and an anonymous report sent to the trading guild about their clients having breached the Imperial code of fauna rights. Sure, at the end of the day they don’t get paid when they fail to deliver the promised cargo, and sometimes that decision has gotten them blacklisted from less reputable corners of the pet-trade industry (no great loss there), but Namjoon certainly sleeps better at night for it.

And then there’s the greatest risk of them all - attachment. 

Sometimes live-cargo missions can take days, even weeks, especially if the creatures they’re transporting are too delicate for slipstream travel. Getting from points A to B without use of the lightspeed hyperlanes creates complications in the form of Imperial cargo checkpoints, which often necessitate a number of quite lengthy detours through asteroid fields and nebulas and a fair amount of skillful navigation on Namjoon’s part to avoid being detected by Enforcer patrols. And even when they can make the jump to lightspeed, sometimes their intended destination is a hundred star systems away and they’re still left travelling for extended periods of time in the company of potentially very cute lifeforms, which can only ever be a bad thing.

Case in point - today marks Jungkook’s first experience with live-cargo smuggling, and Namjoon has very swiftly come to the realisation that allowing a hoard of small, fluffy, adorable creatures in close proximity to his youngest crewmate had been a terrible idea.

“Oh!” Jungkook breathes beside him, kneeling on the cold durasteel of the cargo bay floor to press a hand up against the plexiglass wall of the giant enclosure, eyes wide in awe. “They’re so fluffy.”

One of the furry, four-legged animals hops over to the side of the quarantine tank, whiskered nose twitching as it snuffles at the imprint of the Vespani’s hand. Unlike the other pure-white creatures, this particular specimen has a small brown patch marking the tip of one of its long ears, which twitch in apparent curiosity as it hops up to sit on its hind feet, forepaws braced against the translucent barrier. 

Jungkook gasps in laughing delight and hunkers down further to put them at an even height, pressing his own nose up against the glass in turn, pink hair glowing vibrantly.

“Hi there,” the Vespani coos, audibly awed. “Captain, look! I think it likes me.”

Kriff.  

Namjoon winces. Thirty seconds into the new mission, and the little one’s already smitten. That doesn’t bode well for when they inevitably have to part ways in a week’s time. 

“They’re the cutest things I’ve ever seen,” Jungkook enthuses, lightly tapping a finger against the creature’s tiny paw through the glass and grinning when its snuffling nose tries to follow the motion. “What are they?”

“Lagomorphs,” Seokjin answers distractedly, busy scrolling through the detailed ‘care and handling’ information package that the supplier had provided at the behest of their intended client. “Herbivores, non-venomous, easily domesticated. Classed as an endangered species following the destruction of their home-planet, and thus highly sought-after in the pet trade, hence why our client is willing to pay us upwards of forty-thousand credits to ensure their safe delivery. Apparently on Rahxa V, owning a Lagomorph is currently the height of fashion.”

There’s a derisive snort from above, and Namjoon glances up from where he’s been watching Jungkook making kissy-faces at the creatures to see Yoongi leaning against the side-rail of the overhead walkway in a casual slouch, rifle slung over his back as he peers down into the plexiglass quarantine-dome. 

Usually their resident weapons specialist is a wall of tension whenever they’re transporting creatures, eyes and weapons trained on their new passengers at all times (Yoongi hasn’t let his guard down around live cargo since that one particularly memorable incident with Hoseok and the giant Urka squid), but Namjoon hasn’t seen him this relaxed on a job in a long time. Clearly the ex-pirate has decided that these Lagomorphs don’t pose any real threat to the crew. 

Which to be fair, is probably an accurate assessment. The tiny furry things don’t even seem to have claws.

Although Namjoon is still reluctant to remove his hand from his own thigh-holstered gun. Sometimes it’s the small, cute ones that have the deadliest bite. (Yoongi himself being a prime example there.)

“Something you’d like to share with the crew?” he prompts after a beat.

“Those are rabbits,” Yoongi drawls, lips quirking. “They’re native to Earth. Or they were, anyway. Goddess knows why Rahxa’s suddenly obsessed with them, rabbits breed so readily that they’re far from an endangered species. Hobi? You can power down the shields, hon, they’re harmless.”

Hoseok calls back a cheerful affirmative from the control station at the far end of the walkway, and the background humming sound of the cargo bay’s inbuilt forcefield cuts off abruptly, the faint shimmering light along the far wall disappearing along with it.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Seokjin asks, glancing up from his padd. “The guide indicates that lagomorphs are inclined to dig.”

“Rabbits burrow through soil, hyung, not metal,” Yoongi elaborates with a fond roll of his eyes, moving along the overhead walkway towards the winding staircase to begin his descent, the thunk of his armoured boots against the metallic grating echoing loudly in the open space. “And I doubt these particular rabbits even know how to dig, they’re obviously domesticated.”

Namjoon’s fingers have finally strayed from their resting place on the barrel of his weapon, both reassured and intrigued by Yoongi’s apparent familiarity with these ‘rabbits’. 

Even after years together as crewmates, as friends, as something more, it had still been a rarity up until fairly recently to hear Yoongi share anything about his lost homeplanet. Jungkook’s arrival seems to have inspired something of a change in that regard, and Namjoon has learned more about Earth and her scattered Terran population in the past few months than he has done in the last three years, with Yoongi seemingly unable to leave Jungkook’s sweet-natured curiosity unsatisfied, calmly answering the Vespani’s every question with an ease previously unhoped for.

“How can you tell, hyung?” Jungkook asks, finally glancing up from his staring-contest with the rabbit as Yoongi comes to stand beside him.

The weapons specialist sinks into a crouch, hand gently fluffing up the younger man’s glowing pink hair in a way that makes Jungkook smile at him sunnily.

“They’re curious, rather than afraid,” Yoongi explains, and taps a finger lightly against the translucent barrier separating them from the hoard of rabbits, most of whom pause only briefly in their lazy exploration of the quarantine enclosure to peer towards the source of the noise before continuing on, clearly unbothered. “Wild bunnies are prey animals, they would’ve spooked by now. These ones have clearly grown up around larger lifeforms long enough not to see us as a threat.”

“Bunnies?” Jungkook echoes, with that familiar head-tilt of curiosity. 

“Bunny is another word for rabbit,” the ex-pirate elaborates as he taps Jungkook gently on the nose, a tender sort of gesture that makes the Vespani giggle and something in Namjoon’s chest clench painfully. “Sort of a cuter name, like Kookie.”

Jungkook fairly beams.  

“I like it,” the pink-haired youth declares, and presses his nose up against the plexiglass again. “Hi, bunny!”

“Apparently domesticated lagomorphs benefit from regular close contact with caretakers,” Seokjin informs them, glancing up from the datapad to send Namjoon a smile that’s entirely too innocent. “The instructions specifically request that an assigned handler spends at least an hour a day within the enclosure.”

“Ooh, me!” Jungkook shoots upright onto his knees and twists around immediately to shoot Namjoon and Seokjin a pleading, wide-eyed look. “Please? I wanna play with the bunnies.”

Namjoon should say no. Kookie’s new to live-cargo transportation, and the little one gets attached so easily - if he lets the Vespani fall in love now, it’s going to break his little heart when they eventually reach Rahxa V and he has to say goodbye.

But goddess, those eyes. Namjoon’s never been able to say no to Jungkook, not once in the past three months. Hardened galactic smuggler and starship captain he may be, but he’s not entirely without weaknesses. 

“Captain, please? I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Kriff, not the ‘captain’.

“Only when someone else is here to watch you,” Namjoon permits begrudgingly, ignoring the fond, knowing smirk that Seokjin is directing at him. “And not until they’re out of quarantine, I don’t want you getting sick. Let Hobi check them out, first.”

Jungkook nods eagerly, and swivels towards Hoseok immediately, clearly intending to ask about a timeframe. The Zurellian laughs, his skin a pretty shimmering gold, and holds up a hand to forestall the question.

“It’ll be at least another hour before the bio-scans are complete,” Hoseok tells him apologetically, coming to lean against Seokjin’s side as the tall Ereshii wraps an arm around him in a comfortable side-hug. “Live-cargo sweeps take a little longer than a regular inorganic haul. Sorry, Koo.”

The Vespani pouts a little at the news, and Namjoon breathes a fond laugh, extending a hand towards him. He knows just how to cheer the little one up.

“C’mon, bunny-boy, it’s time we started making tracks,” he encourages. “Wanna try your hand at a low-grav takeoff?”

Predictably, Jungkook perks up immediately. 

“Really? By myself?”

The captain nods, his smile curling wider as Jungkook punches the air with an exuberant whoop of delight and leaps to his feet, immediately barrelling towards him to seize hold of Namjoon’s sleeve, tugging impatiently as he sets off towards the bridge at a brisk jog.

Namjoon lets himself be towed along, stoking the flame of Jungkook’s enthusiasm by prompting his youngest crewmate to talk him through the necessary preflight checks. By the time they reach the bridge, it’s clear that the Vespani has entirely forgotten about the existence of their tiny four-legged passengers in his excitement to pilot the Bangtan off-planet, and Namjoon laughs as he sits in his captain’s chair and allows Jungkook to take his usual preferred perch directly in his lap, angling the control-panel closer towards them and wrapping an arm around the Vespani’s waist to keep him from wriggling too much in enthusiasm.

Getting Jungkook excited about flying is proving to be an excellent distraction from the small, fluffy, easily-adoptable bunnies down in the cargo bay.

It’ll be simple enough to keep Jungkook’s mind focused elsewhere, Namjoon realises with an internal sigh of relief. He’ll just double the Vespani’s assigned bridge-duties under the guise of additional navigation lessons, and Kookie will be so busy eagerly trying to impress him that the youth won’t have time to form any permanent attachments to the rabbits. Everything will be fine.

 

.

 

Everything is not fine.

“This is Smudge,” Jungkook tells him keenly, swaying from side to side a little as he cradles the fluffy creature against his chest. “He likes kisses.”

Oh goddess, Kookie’s gone and given them names.  

Abort mission. Abort, abort, abort-

“Does he?” Namjoon manages to croak, trying not to look too devastated by the news as he watches Jungkook carefully tread his way through the fluffy throng of bunnies, all of whom seem determined to form a cluster around the Vespani’s feet. “That’s nice.”

“Hm?” Jungkook hums distractedly, busy smiling down at the hopping creatures, before finally tearing his gaze away to beam in Namjoon’s direction instead. “Oh! Do you wanna hold him?”

No, Namjoon wants to say. Definitely not.

“Sure,” his traitorous mouth agrees in spite of his brain’s screaming protests. “Kookie, did you...baby, please tell me you didn’t name all of them?”

Jungkook laughs and shakes his head, carefully nudging the herd of bunnies out of the way with one of his bare feet (why are they bare, where are his shoes, what if one of the rabbits bites him, abort abort abort-) , deactivating the shimmering containment field at the entrance to the domed enclosure and reactivating it again the moment he’s stepped through to prevent any possible escape-attempts.

“Nah, I call the rest of them Fluffy,” he answers cheerfully. “It’s hard to tell them apart, they all look the same, and I couldn’t just keep calling them all bunny. But this little one has a mark on his ear, so I called him Smudge.”

Somehow that’s worse. Jungkook has singled out one of the fluffy little things, given it a name, and apparently spent enough time cuddling it to discover that it likes kisses, of all things...this doesn’t bode well.

Although Namjoon has to admit, as the fluffy thing is plopped unceremoniously into his arms, that it is hands-down one of the cutest little creatures he’s ever laid eyes on. With its twitchy little nose and soft, floppy ears. Kriff.

“Aw, look, he likes you,” Jungkook coos, leaning in to press another kiss to the top of the bunny’s head. Namjoon isn’t certain if the Vespani is talking to him or the rabbit. 

“Smile, Cap!” a cheerful voice hollars from the walkway overhead, and Namjoon makes the grave mistake of glancing up.

There’s the flash of a holographic pictoroid, and Hoseok beams at him, sharing a thumbs-up with Jungkook. Obviously the two of them are in cahoots, and clearly Namjoon needs to do something to rectify the situation before it escalates to a mutiny.

“How about we put Smudge back with his friends,” Namjoon suggests, already walking back towards the domed enclosure. “I have some star maps I wanted to show you in my office.”

His offer is eagerly accepted, as predicted, and Namjoon pointedly ignores Hoseok’s knowing grin as he gently deposits the bunny back in its dome and ushers Jungkook out of the cargo bay and away from temptation.

And if their lesson in interstellar cartography ultimately ends with Jungkook spread out across those ancient star maps, high on the faint aphrodisiac nature of Namjoon’s ejaculate and therefore no longer interested in spending the rest of the day with the rabbits in the cargo bay? He counts it as a win-win situation for all involved.

 

.

 

“We can’t go through with this,” Seokjin sighs, arms wrapping around Namjoon’s waist from behind. “Just look at him, Joon. Poor baby’s gonna be heartbroken tomorrow.”

Namjoon’s been looking. And he’s already heartbroken on Jungkook’s behalf.

He always knew, regardless of how many distractions he conjured up and how often he steered Jungkook’s focus away from the bunnies, that the Vespani had already grown far too attached, and that parting from his new fluffy playmates would be difficult and painful and horribly upsetting because of it. 

But goddess, seeing it with his own eyes...it’s so much worse than he could’ve imagined.

Jungkook is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the domed enclosure, surrounded by a throng of hopping creatures as always, but tonight everything seems dimmer and more morose than usual, and it takes a beat for Namjoon to realise that Jungkook’s hair isn’t glowing at all. Not even the faint, pale pink of its standard background hue, usually seen when the Vespani is in a dreamless sleep or studying something complex and isn’t tapping into his emotions at all. 

Tonight, though? The colour’s so dim it looks positively puce.

And the most painful thing of all is how hard Jungkook is clearly trying to pretend that everything’s fine, ostensibly for the sake of the bunnies. He’s still chatting away to them in that soft, cooing lilt, but there’s an edge of forced cheer that just sounds wrong, and a tiny wobble to his voice every now and then that leads Namjoon to suspect the Vespani is fighting tears.

Goddess, his chest hurts.

“Joon,” Seokjin murmurs, arms tightening a little around him. “I don’t care what oath we have to swear to the Council of Rahxa V to bargain for Smudge, but we are not taking that bunny away from him.”

“Do we even need the credits?” Hoseok’s voice pipes up quietly from his hiding-spot behind a stack of storage crates. “Couldn’t we ask to waive the smuggling fee in exchange for one of the rabbits?”

The Zurellian looks near-tears himself, and if the way that Yoongi quickly scoots out from his own hiding spot to wrap his arms around the engineer comfortingly, Namjoon isn’t the only one to notice. 

“We don’t need the credits,” Namjoon confirms, keeping his voice hushed to avoid being overheard - not that Jungkook, in his poorly-hidden grief, has even noticed their presence yet. “But it’s no use trying to strike a deal with the Rahxaens - I already contacted our client three days ago to make enquries. Apparently the government intends to gift the rabbits to a selection of highborn families in some sort of reward ceremony, so they’ll need all fifteen of them.”

Seokjin sighs grimly. “And if we only gave them fourteen?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Yoongi cautions, fingers carding soothingly through Hoseok’s hair as the engineer stares forlornly towards their grieving crewmate. “The fifth planet holds a lot more political power in the Senate than the other seven in the Rahxa sector.”

“They could brand us as thieves, have the Bangtan blacklisted from every reputable trading port in this entire quadrant,” Namjoon expounds gravely. “We’d lose ninety percent of our preferred client base almost overnight.”

“And that’s if they even decide to let us live,” Yoongi mutters, pressing a kiss to Hoseok’s temple as the engineer finally turns to slump against him. “The people of Rahxa might show an appreciation for all things pretty and delicate and cute, but they take betrayal of trust very seriously. They’re one of the few planetary systems where tax evasion still carries the death sentence.”

Behind Namjoon, Seokjin suddenly grows tense.

“Wait, say that again,” the Ereshii breathes.

Yoongi shoots him a bemused look. “They...execute people for tax evasion?”

“Nonono,” Jin dismisses with an impatient wave of his hand. “The first part.”

“What, that the people of Rahxa appreciate things that are pretty and delicate-”

“And cute,” Seokjin finishes, and kriffing hells, Namjoon knows that tone of voice. “Oh. Oh, my loves, I might just have an idea.”

Goddess help them.

 

.

 

The regally-dressed gathering waiting for them on the landing platform seems a little excessive for the delivery of a few fluffy creatures, but Namjoon keeps those thoughts to himself as he and Seokjin lead the sombre procession down the ramp from the Bangtan.

“Blessed morning, your excellency,” his husband greets, with the silver-tongued charm of a born politician. 

The tall, silver-skinned Rahxaen in the centre of the greeting party steps forward, inclining their head slowly, a serene smile distracting from the dark depths of their pupiless eyes. The crown of delicate blossoms perched on their head and the fluffed-up purple shrillbird perched happily on their shoulder is almost enough to make Namjoon forget that the court system of Rahxa is the deadliest in the quadrant.

“Celestial greetings, honoured travelers,” the slender being returns, their voice deeper and softer than Namjoon had expected. His third-party contact had been considerably younger and blunter in their refusal to entertain the possibility of a trade deal for one of the bunnies. “I am Korrel, Grand Minister of the fifth planet of Rahxa. We thank you for escorting our precious treasures safely to us.”

Namjoon’s throat feels stuck, his heart sitting at the base of it and thrumming away at lightspeed. 

This isn’t going to work, the Rahxaens clearly value the rabbits far more than he’d initially calculated, it’s all going to end in tears-

“It was a pleasure to offer you our services, your excellency,” Seokjin reassures, pressing a hand to his chest and dipping his head in a half-bow. “Would you care to inspect the delivery to ensure it meets your admirably high standards?”

Behind him, Namjoon can hear the soft whirring of the hover-clamps as Hoseok and Yoongi carefully guide the rabbits’ domed enclosure down the ramp and across the landing platform. 

Several members of Korrel’s party quite literally clasp hands with each other in apparent anticipation, and that nauseating twist of anxiety in Namjoon’s stomach churns up a few notches higher. This isn’t going to work, the Rahxaens are going to be pissed, he should’ve brought a bigger gun-

“You’ll find the lagomorphs are all in excellent health,” Seokjin continues cheerfully, beckoning their audience closer. “Our chief medical officer has seen to their dietary needs personally, and they’ve all had regular handling, as specified by our contact.”

There’s a murmur of quiet approval and a few soft, breathy coos from the gathered Rahxaens, but the easy atmosphere is broken a moment later when Korrel raises a long-fingered silver hand, calling for silence.

“There seems to be a discrepancy, my dear friends,” the Grand Minister muses, lowering their hand just enough to pet the puffed-up shrillbird on their shoulder, the purple-feathered creature giving a soft peep of happiness at the attention. “Were you not assigned to escort fifteen lagomorphs to Rahxa V? By my count, you appear to be one short.”

Kriff. This is it. This is where he gives the emergency hand-signal to Yoongi and they all turn tail and run, because he can’t go through with this, he can’t, it’s far too risky-

“Ah, forgive me,” Seokjin claps his hands together with a soft, self-deprecating laugh that he still manages to pull off as utterly charming. “In my excitement to greet your excellency, I’d quite forgotten about the little one. Fear not, Grand Minister, the last lagomorph will be here momentarily. Kookie? Come out, sweetling, it’s time to say goodbye now.”

The assembled group all turn as one, following Seokjin’s gaze towards the Bangtan, and the figure who’s slowly descending the ramp.

Jungkook’s appearance is... breathtaking.

Namjoon had only seen a glimpse of his getup back onboard, too busy trying to safely navigate around the glimmering spires and glowing biospheres of the fifth planet’s capital to even think about the latter half of Seokjin’s plan until they’d safely landed on the main platform to the citadel. And after that, everything had been such a rush that he hadn’t had a chance to really look.

The Vespani is draped in layers of delicate Ishlan silk, pale pinks and brilliant whites that glimmer faintly as he moves, the slit in the front of the formal dress revealing tiny jewel-studded sandal-like shoes with thin, delicate gold chains that wind up Jungkook’s ankle and lower calf. The upper body of the silken garment is low-cut enough to show the intricate choker-like necklace that sits about his throat, with delicate interwoven gold chains that seem to fan out across what Namjoon can see of his chest to goddess only knows where beneath the fabric (Namjoon is resolutely not allowing himself to think about the Vespani’s nipples, not at a time like this). His silk sleeves are a shimmering white and decorated with tiny pale-pink flowers, and the billowing nature of the fabric somehow succeeds in making Jungkook look even smaller than usual.

Although that could be because the little one is currently cradling a rabbit in his arms and trying very hard not to cry. 

“Oh,” Namjoon hears more than one member of Korrel’s party breathe behind him, and that ball of anxiety in his chest eases somewhat. Oh indeed. Maybe this hairbrained plan actually has a chance of working after all.

“My apologies, Grand Minister,” Seokjin continues blithely, acting for all the world as though he hasn’t noticed the way that the Rahxaens are staring at Jungkook with varying degrees of awe. “Our youngest darling grew rather attached to one of the lagomorphs, you see, and I thought it prudent to allow him a moment longer to say farewell. The poor little love will be so upset to be parted from it, but he’s bearing it bravely.”

“Yes...yes, indeed,” Korrel acknowledges after a beat of silence, pet shrillbird entirely forgotten as the minister watches Jungkook’s approach with a peculiar sort of intensity that makes Namjoon want to step in front of the Vespani protectively.

Judging by the way Hoseok reaches out to grab onto Yoongi’s sleeve, he isn’t the only one experiencing such inclinations.

Finally Jungkook reaches the Rahxaen party, Seokjin gently tucking a strand of pale pink hair behind the delicate jewelled circlet of gemstone flowers that sits atop his head.

“Kookie, my love, this is Grand Minister Korrel,” the Ereshii prompts, in a deliberately soft coo that Namjoon has seldom heard his husband use outside the bedroom and certainly not mid-mission in front of total strangers. “Say hello, precious.”

Eyes still shining overbright with unshed tears and soft lips trembling faintly, Jungkook nevertheless dips into a graceful half-curtsy, keeping one arm wrapped securely around Smudge and touching the fingers of his free hand to the centre of his brow.

“Celestial greetings, Grand Minister,” Jungkook utters, soft and demure. “May the goddess guide your path and guard your children.”

There’s a hushed murmur of surprise from the gathered councillors, and if the people of Rahxa had eyelids, Namjoon imagines Korrel would be blinking rapidly if their faintly stunned expression is anything to go by.

“You...seem familiar with our customs, little one,” the minister manages after a brief pause, as Jungkook rises smoothly and resumes cuddling his bunny with both arms.

“I had the honour of studying the Twelve Tenets of Rahxa during my time at the Galactic Cultural Arts academy,” Jungkook answers, keeping his head down shyly. “Traditions steeped in beauty and grace are not so easily forgotten.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to be a mind-reader to sense how much the youth’s answer pleases Korrel and their associates.

And naturally, Seokjin chooses to capitalise on that one step further.

“He’s such a talented dancer, too,” his husband continues warmly, stroking the back of Jungkook’s head as he leans in to kiss the Vespani’s cheek. “He moves like an aziti-blossom caught in the wind, truly the prettiest little thing one can find this side of the galaxy.”

It has the desired effect on Jungkook who, even distraught at the prospect of saying goodbye to his bunny, has always delighted in the slightest display of Seokjin’s admiration and affection. To be praised so openly, petted and doted on and cooed over, it’s clearly more than sufficient to overpower the Vespani’s sadness.

Jungkook’s hair blooms a bright, brilliant pink, and he leans into Seokjin’s touch with a shy little giggle.

The result is almost instantaneous, several of Korrel’s party gasping softly as others clutch at their chests or clasp their hands together in delight, and the grand minister is left openly gaping for several seconds before they appear to shake themselves out of their shocked inertia. 

Before the minister can speak, however, Seokjin breathes a heavy, resigned sigh and gently turns Jungkook towards him, tilting the little one’s chin up.

“Now, precious one,” Jin murmurs, smoothing the pad of his thumb over Jungkook’s plump bottom lip. “I’m sorry, truly I am, but it’s time to say goodbye to your dear little friend. Grand Minister Korrel requires all fifteen lagomorphs, and it wouldn’t be polite to withhold their property.”

Jungkook’s lip wobbles, tears welling thick and fast, and Namjoon has to physically hold himself back from pushing past the minister to get to his little one. 

“Go on, sweetling,” Seokjin encourages, nudging Jungkook gently towards Korrel, and oh, so that’s Jin’s play. Clever. 

Obediently, but with a tremulous breath and an expression so fragile and distraught that it just about kills Namjoon inside, Jungkook takes a few tiny steps to plant himself directly in front of the grand minister. He presses one last, lingering kiss between Smudge’s fluffy ears, then slowly extends the docile bunny towards Korrel, peering up at the tall Rahxaen through his lashes as a fat tear tumbles loose to spill down his cheek.

“Please take good care of him, your excellency,” the Vespani manages in a wobbly voice. The pink glow of his hair has quickly faded again, but here it darkens even further. “His name is Smudge, and he...he likes kisses.”

The grand minister looks almost wounded even as they slowly reach out to accept the bunny, and there are several noises of protest from the gathered councillors, soft cries of “oh, grand minister” and “surely not, your excellency”, and Namjoon sends a prayer to the goddess and any other deity that might be listening for good measure, teeth clenched so hard his jaw is starting to ache. If Korrel actually takes the bunny and walks away after all this, Namjoon might have to punch him for it, and damn the consequences.

“I think,” Korrel speaks after another long pause, their hands smoothing over Smudge’s fur briefly before gently nudging Jungkook’s extended arms back towards him, “that it would be cruel to part that which has already become one. It goes against the Eighth Tenet to inflict such needless grief upon a soul so pure. Accept this treasure as our gift to you, little one, on behalf of the Fifth Planet, that we might part as friends.”

Jungkook clutches Smudge to his chest, wide-eyed and overjoyed and beautiful as he breathes a dozen breathless thank-you’s, his hair blooming such a vibrant pink that Korrel actually flinches back for a moment in shock, before their soft, trilling laughter echoes around the landing platform.

“Such a precious gem,” the grand minister muses, and reaches out to touch Jungkook’s cheek in a way that makes even Jin’s warm smile freeze a little at the edges. Korrel seems to sense it, because their touch only lingers for a brief moment before they step back again with a polite nod towards Namjoon and Seokjin. “A rare treasure indeed. Guard well, honoured travelers.”

Korrel bows, deeper than the first time, and the rest of his assembled companions hurry to follow suit, lined up alongside the domed enclosure like a royal escort. 

A strong pinch to Namjoon’s arm reminds him that he ought to be responding in kind, and he quickly dips into a shallow bow of his own, already knowing he’s going to get an earful from Seokjin later about etiquette , goddess help him. 

He doesn’t mind, though. Kookie has his bunny, that’s all that matters.

And goddess be his witness, Namjoon is never taking another live-cargo smuggling job ever again.

…

It was only a matter of time before Jungkook found himself in hot water.

Honestly, Yoongi had expected it to happen a lot sooner, especially given the young Vespani’s propensity to obliviously bumble his way into perilous situations at every turn with a complete lack of regard for his own safety that somehow managed to rival even Hoseok’s exuberant recklessness. And that’s saying something, given that the Zurellian still has a tendency to balance full mugs of caff precariously close to open circuitry panels when he’s tinkering with the hyperdrive.

The universal phrase 'curiosity killed the kordra” is unfortunately easily applied to their youngest crewmate. Jungkook is just so goddess-damned keen to see and explore and touch and acquaint himself with anything and everything the wider galaxy presents to him, regardless of the potential danger to his own person. The Vespani seems to acquire minor injuries with such alarming frequency that Hoseok has taken to carrying around an extensive travel medkit whenever their newest recruit so much as steps a toe off the Bangtan.

Suffice to say, Yoongi no longer considers bounty hunters to be the primary threat to Jungkook’s continuing existence. That position is reserved for Jungkook himself. The Vespani poses far more of a danger to his own continuing existence than the entire combined force of Thurazon’s elite army.

It’s been something of a source of stress for all involved, these past few months.

And to be fair to Namjoon, the Ereshii captain has remained fairly even-tempered throughout even the most trying of accidental-injury mishaps. Direct disobedience, however, has always been the line that the crew knew not to fuck with, and Jungkook has always managed to stop just shy of crossing it. 

Until now, that is.

“I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear,” Namjoon lectures, thick muscled arms crossed over his broad chest as he stares at fidgeting form on the biobed. “You stay close, you stay focused, and you don’t wander off.”

Jungkook squirms, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. “I’m sorry, Captain, I...I didn’t mean to-”

“To what?” Namjoon interrupts. “Deliberately disobey my orders and run off to explore a carnivorous forest the moment my back was turned?”

“I didn’t run off,” Jungkook protests, but already his voice is taking on that fragile, wobbly quality that indicates real tears aren’t far off. “I already told you, someone shouted for help and I-”

“Left without telling anyone where you were going,” Namjoon finishes firmly. “Stars above, Kook, what don’t you get? There never was someone in need of our help, that was an adult wailer-vine trying to lure you into the forest so it could eat you!”

“Well how was I supposed to know?” Jungkook yells back, voice cracking and tears brimming. “I’ve never been to Guvorri before!”

“You don’t have to know, you just have to listen,” the captain retorts, and points a warning finger at him. “And I told you those forests were dangerous, you had no business going anywhere near them-”

“Joon,” Seokjin murmurs, resting a settling hand on the captain’s arm, Namjoon now breathing heavily. “Gently, nevarri. Gently”

Yoongi isn’t worried about the Ereshii losing control. Not here, and definitely not with Kookie. Namjoon loves all of them, but he treasures the Vespani like he’s made of spun glass, handles him tenderly and carefully without any of the snarky confidence that had been present at the start of his relationship with Yoongi. Namjoon would sooner shoot himself in the foot than raise a hand to their youngest crewmate.

“No,” Namjoon declines after a beat, significantly calmer than before but still every bit as firm and unmoving. “ Gently isn’t working. This is the third time this month you’ve almost gotten yourself killed. If I can’t trust you to listen to me and stay where I can see you, then you won’t be coming on away-missions at all.”

Oh. 

That actually seems...unexpectedly harsh, coming from Joon.

Totally warranted, of course, and in Namjoon’s position Yoongi likely would’ve put his foot down weeks ago and confined Jungkook to his room for the day to help the lesson sink in, but fuck, he can’t remember the last time the captain took such firm measures with any of them.

Even Hoseok looks a little shook up by Namjoon’s decision, pausing in his careful bandaging of Jungkook’s lower leg to shoot the Ereshii a startled glance. 

And Jungkook...the poor love looks devastated.

“But...but Captain,” the Vespani tries to protest, blanket slipping from his shoulders as he sits up a little straighter. “No, please, I won’t-”

“You’re confined to the Bangtan for the next three weeks,” Namjoon tells him firmly. “And if you try to set a foot off this ship before I say so, I’ll implement further restrictions.”

“But Namjoon, I-”

“No, Kookie,” the captain interrupts, steel in his voice. “If I can’t trust you to follow basic instructions designed to keep you alive, I need to take proactive measures to keep you someplace where I know you’ll be safe. And if that means locking down the Bangtan, so be it.”

Jungkook’s face twists, the shock and grief and frustration seeming to well up all at once into something bigger that looks a hell of a lot like anger.

“If you wanna see me locked up so bad, why don’t you just take me back to Thurazon ?!”

Namjoon flinches like he’s just been slapped - barely a flicker of an expression, only for the briefest moment, but it was there and they all saw it, that raw hurt and grief and regret, and Yoongi’s own chest aches with it as he pushes himself away from the wall of the medbay, intending to comfort his captain.

The Ereshii pushes past him gently and slips quietly out of the room, the medbay doors hissing closed behind him.

A ringing silence lingers afterwards for a long beat, then two.

“Bunny,” Hoseok finally murmurs, gently chiding. “That was uncalled for.”

And the Vespani’s face crumples, tears finally spilling over as he buries his head in his hands.

“I didn’t mean it,” Jungkook grieves, as Yoongi and Seokjin move to sit either side of him on the biobed, offering what comfort they can. 

“Joon knows that, baby,” Jin soothes, gently pulling Jungkook’s hands away from his face so that he doesn’t rub off the healing bacta gel covering the scratches along his cheek and brow. “You were upset and lashing out, and Joon caught the brunt of it because he was the one putting his foot down. Give him time to cool off, and you can apologise and make up, hm?”

Jungkook sniffles miserably. 

Yoongi sighs, and kisses Jungkook’s uninjured temple, arm curling carefully around his waist, mindful of the still-healing bruises.

“And Namjoon’ right, Kookie,” he adds, his voice soft but firm. “You almost died today. You’re getting far too reckless, and if putting you on ship-suspension is gonna make you think twice next time, then I’m fully behind it.”

“We all are,” Hoseok agrees, in a rare display of backbone (when it comes to Kookie, the engineer is notoriously the biggest pushover in the known galaxy). “You really scared us today, bunny.”

Whether it’s the petname or the fact that he’s overstepped the line enough for even Hoseok to scold him (albeit gently), that seems to be the tipping point for Jungkook’s emotional stability. Soon enough, all three of them are carefully wrapped around the crying Vespani, letting him sob his sorry little heart out into their shirtfronts until Jungkook eventually seems to wear himself out, or simply run out of tears, and abruptly falls asleep.

“I’m going to check on Joonie,” Seokjin murmurs, slowly scooting out from underneath their semi-dozing crewmate.

Jungkook whimpers either at the loss of warmth or the discomfort of his healing injuries until Hoseok neatly slips into Jin’s abandoned post, pressing a hypospray against the younger man’s neck with a murmured reassurance, likely some sort of analgesic concoction if the way Kookie immediately goes lax in relief is any indication.

After a brief period of silence, Hoseok sighs, and Yoongi glances across at him to find his ray of sunshine looking unusually pensive.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching over to card his fingers through the Zurellian’s hair. “You okay?”

Hoseok nods, tilting a little into the touch. “Just thinking how long it’s been since any of us had a disagreement like this. I always hated it when you and Joonie went head to head about stuff, but...it hasn’t happened in a while. Like, months. Not since we found Kookie.”

Now that Yoongi thinks about it, the Zurellian’s right. He genuinely can’t remember the last time any of them argued over anything, minor differences in opinion aside. They’d come close on a few occasions, but Jungkook had always been there right in the middle of it, interjecting to ask curious questions in a way that somehow managed to diffuse their growing frustration with one another in a heartbeat as they both refocused their attention on explaining their sides of the argument to a third party.

In hindsight, he wonders how many of those interruptions had been born of genuine curiosity, and how often Jungkook had simply utilised a tried and tested method of distracting them from each other in order to diffuse the situation.

Clever bunny.

“I guess he’s improved a lot of things around here,” Yoongi muses, gaze shifting to the sleeping Vespani between them even as his fingers remain in Hoseok’s hair, rubbing soothingly against the Zurellian’s scalp. “It’s hard to remember how we used to manage without him. What did I even do all day before I started teaching Koo?”

“Meh. Shooty-shooty, stabby-stabby,” Hoseok answers dismissively. “And a lot of brooding.”

Yoongi shoots him a withering look. “I did not brood.”

“Oh please,” Hoseok scoffs teasingly. “If you log into the galactic-basic language database, there’s literally a picture of you right next to the word ‘brooding’. No seriously, there is. Honest to goddess, swear on my life.”

Which is...a very extreme promise for something that ought to be a joke.

“Seokie,” he murmurs. “Please don’t tell me you hacked into the Imperial language archives to mess with me again. ”

Hoseok smiles at him beautificately. Yoongi closes his eyes and counts to ten.

“You know that’s a felony, right?”

“Only if they catch you.”

“You just admitted to leaving a picture of my face in a universally-accessible online dictionary,” Yoongi presses. “They’re not gonna catch you, they’re gonna catch me.”

“Relax, I’m not that reckless,” Hoseok reassures, catching Yoongi’s hand to brush a kiss against the back of it in a manner that is, admittedly, quite charming. “I never said it was a picture of your face.”

“Then what…”

Oh goddess.

“Never mind,” he groans, seeing Hoseok’s playful grin, and cups his hand over the Zurellian’s mouth. “We never had this conversation, and you’ll speak of this to nobody. ”

“Mmhm,” Hoseok agrees, eyes crinkling in a smile that Yoongi can’t actually see, but it warms him all the same.

Goddess help him, he’s in love with a bunch of idiots.

.

It’s later, much later, when a figure slips quietly from between his two sleeping crewmates and hobbles down the dimly-lit corridors of the Bangtan, heading in the opposite direction from the crew quarters and instead making his way towards the bridge on a hunch.

Namjoon doesn’t glance up from the glowing holographic projection of the Cordula star system as the bridge door hisses open, assuming that it’s Seokjin having returned a second time to try and bully him into coming to bed. 

Over the past hour or two, he’s gradually slumped further and further in his captain’s seat, now in a truly uncomfortable slouch that’s already put a crick in his neck. Still, he can’t be bothered to move, gaze lost amongst the holographic stars of a far-off system, his mind wandering even further.

So it’s entirely understandable that he nearly falls off his chair in surprise when a familiar pink-haired figure leans over him.

“Captain?”

“Kriff!” Namjoon yelps, only saving himself from a sore ass and a bruised ego through quick reflexes, booted feet squeaking against the durasteel plating of the floor beneath him as he pushes himself upright in his chair. “Kookie, what in the stars-”

“You never came back,” Jungkook blurts, arms wrapped around himself as he fidgets in place. “And I get it, because you were upset and I said something awful, but I couldn’t sleep knowing that I hadn’t apologised yet and I-”

Namjoon’s already moving to draw the Vespani into his lap, being especially gentle when he sweeps Jungkook’s legs up over the arm of the chair, knowing the deep thorn-gouges from earlier are likely still tender despite Hoseok’s skillful care. He holds the younger man gently in his arms. With the height difference his species affords him, he can maneuver Jungkook with relative ease, tucking the Vespani in close against his chest and brushing soft kisses across his brow. 

The scratches and contusions that had marred his pretty face earlier that evening have all healed without a trace thanks to a generous application of bacta gel, but Namjoon still remembers them, remembers seeing the blood and the torn skin and Jungkook’s wide, panicked eyes, and that awful feeling of utter terror that had struck his heart when the carnivorous wailer-vine had hefted his youngest lover high into the air.

Goddess, he’d been so scared.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he soothes, tilting Jungkook’s chin up gently to briefly press their foreheads together. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“But I said something awful, ” Jungkook insists, his voice growing thick with the threat of tears that Namjoon desperately hopes he won’t shed, because he seriouly isn’t going to be able to keep his composure this time. “I implied that you were like...like him, and didn’t mean it, I promise I didn’t, it just came out-”

Namjoon hushes him gently as Jungkook’s voice grows increasingly more wobbly, cupping the younger man’s cheek to brush soft, soothing kisses against his trembling mouth.

“You’re fine,” he murmurs. “We’re fine. I know you didn’t mean it, baby, it’s alright.”

Jungkook’s arms wrap around his neck tightly in a clinging hug.

“But you were upset,” the Vespani insists. “I saw.”

Kriff, Namjoon had been hoping he hadn’t. The last thing he’d wanted to do was add to the little one’s guilt and grief, but Jungkook’s words had come as such a shock that his initial reaction had clearly been poorly-hidden, even if logic and reasoning had kicked in a moment later. 

Namjoon knows Jungkook would never truly think of him as a monster of the same calibre as Governor Chuuri, but he’d still needed a moment to step outside and collect his thoughts, and by the time he’d calmed down enough to talk more rationally with Jungkook about his pending confinement to the Bangtan and the projects they could work on together to pass the time, Kookie had been a sobbing mess huddled between Hoseok and Yoongi and Seokjin. So he’d slipped away quietly, unseen, to let the guilt chew at him in private.

He ought to have known Kookie would need closure sooner rather than later. They’ve never had a disagreement of any kind before, never mind an argument that escalated to shouting, and it had been fucking cowardly of Namjoon to just up and leave like that rather than face his demons head-on.

“I wasn’t upset with you,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers through Jungkook’s dim, pale hair. “I was upset with myself for how I’d handled things; for letting it escalate to the point of anger. It wasn’t fair for me to have scolded you so harshly like that when you were still recovering from your injuries. I’m sorry for not putting your feelings first. I was just...goddess, I was so scared, baby.”

Jungkook pulls back slowly, eyes overbright and tears clumping on his lashes, but his cheeks blessedly dry.

“I know,” the Vespani acknowledges softly. “And I’m sorry for not listening to you. I didn’t mean to put myself in danger or worry anybody, but...I seem to be doing that a lot lately, huh?”

Namjoon breathes a fond laugh despite himself. “Yeah, baby. You do.”

The younger man pulls a face, but he’s trying not to smile too, even as he ducks down to tuck his head beneath Namjoon’s chin.

“And I promise to stay on the ship as long as you tell me to,” Jungkook continues. “Even if it’s boring.”

That startles another huff of laughter out of Namjoon, and the captain gently bullies Jungkook out from underneath his chin, until he’s cupping the Vespani’s cute pouting face between both his large hands.

“Nevarri,” he purrs, and sees the way Jungkook’s eyes widen a little at the Highborn Eresh dialect that Namjoon so seldom uses with anyone except his husband. “I said you were confined to the Bangtan. I never said you’d be alone for your confinement.”

Jungkook blinks at him, stunned. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Namjoon echoes with another fond laugh, and kisses his youngest crewmate tenderly. “Sweet thing. I’d never leave you alone. I made you a promise all those months ago that I’d always take care of you, and that’s what I intend to do.”

The Vespani makes a soft, cute noise in the back of his throat and squirms delightedly in his lap, hair pulsing a pretty pink.

Namjoon smiles, drawing his fragile lover closer against him, mindful of the younger man’s still-healing injuries even as he mouths lingering kisses along Jungkook’s jawline and down his throat.

“I think I’ll start right here,” he muses, and slides a hand down Jungkook’s stomach to palm the front of his cotton sleep-shorts, rubbing promisingly as the Vespani bucks up into the contact with a soft gasp.

“ Ah, J-Joon...”

“Shhh, I’ve got you,” Namjoon soothes, and slips his hand inside. “Let me take care of this first, little one.”

 

It’s an unusually frazzled Hoseok who comes to find them an hour later, the disgruntled medic taking one look at Jungkook, now naked except for Namjoon’s too-large shirt draped over him like a blanket, and immediately launching into an admirably stern lecture about the necessity of informing him when a patient ‘ goes walkies in the middle of the night’ in order to avoid causing a ship-wide panic.

When Jungkook’s fake-snores transition into muffled giggles halfway through, Hoseok redirects his very-mild-ire towards the Vespani, gently scolding him for running off on his still-healing leg (to which Kookie’s sassy response of “I didn’t run, I hobbled” earns him a sharp glare and a light poke to the ribs) and extracting several promises out of him that the event won’t be repeated in the future.

Thus mollified, Hoseok manages to successfully herd the pair of them off the bridge and into an actual bedroom , Namjoon carrying Jungkook in his arms despite the younger man’s protests that he’s capable of walking, and the three of them tumble into bed without bothering to undress or re-dress who wash up, and promptly pass out, limbs thoroughly entangled.

By the time Namjoon’s internal body-clock drags him back to consciousness at zero-seven-hundred hours Intergalactic Standard Time, the bed has somehow acquired an additional two bodies and everything feels far too hot and cramped and sticky, but honestly? He couldn’t think of a better way to wake up.

Still. At the next trader’s port, he’s putting in an order for a bigger bed.

…

 

 

- Fifteen Months Later -

Jungkook cuddles Smudge closer to his chest for comfort, glancing nervously between the two peacefully-sleeping entities hooked up to twin monitors on the biobeds opposite his own.

“Joon?” he asks tentatively, and feels the captain stir a little behind him, finally thawing a little from the grim pillar of silence he’s been these past twenty minutes.

“Mm?” the Ereshii hums, brushing a kiss against the top of his head.

Jungkook fidgets for a moment, letting Smudge nibble at the edge of his sleeve.

“Koo,” Namjoon prompts, arms circling around him a little tighter, an edge of concern pulsing across their mating bond. “What is it, sweetheart?”

He takes a deep breath, bolstering his courage.

“Jimin and Taehyung,” he whispers. “You’re not really going to hand them over to the Enforcers, are you?”

To his relief, the captain huffs a quiet laugh. 

“Not on your life, little one,” Namjoon rumbles, pressing another kiss to his hair. “Imperial property doesn’t mean squat on my ship. You know my motto when it comes to stowaways.”

Jungkook grins, and it feels a little vicious. “Finders keepers?”

“Mmhm,” his lover confirms, and squeezes him again, a comfort and a promise in one. “And the other one?”

“The Empire can suck your giant cock?”

That prompts a surprised, explosive laugh out of Namjoon, but the Ereshii quickly quietens down again, clearly mindful of their unconscious guests.

“The other one, brat,” Namjoon chides.

Jungkook turns a little in his hold, Smudge lifting his head to snuffle briefly at Joon’s chest before snuggling down into his guardian’s arms again, quiet and content. Namjoon holds his gaze for a long moment, a smile playing around his lips, before he leans in to cup the Vespani’s cheek.

“I protect what’s mine,” Namjoon reminds him quietly. “And as of today, that includes our new guests. I won’t let the Empire hurt them, baby, I promise.”

And that’s more than enough to reassure Jungkook.

Because when Namjoon makes a promise? He keeps it.

(To be continued in the primary fic, “Finders Keepers”)

 

---

Come find me on twitter @Arobeebee :)

 

Also check out this absolutely gorgeous art piece of pink-haired Koo, courtesy of the lovely Kei! :)

 

Notes:

Hope you enjoyed this prequel! I've got the main fic mostly planned out already, but my aim is to get some of my existing WIPs finished before I start formally writing it so that I'm not juggling to many projects at once.

But I'm also thinking of dipping in and out of this 'verse to write the occasional oneshot (horny alien thoughts, there's so much potential, bring on the tentacles), but we'll see what the future brings.

Go give lots of love to RowenNoir on twitter, this was her birthday present (finished quite belatedly, my apologies), and brainstorming aspects of this 'verse with her has been an absolute joy. I hope you enjoyed the NamKook, beloved. :D

Let me know your thoughts, peeps! Thanks for reading. :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Fragile - Please Handle With Care