Sky Pirates

mainstream

the guy at the counter is getting seriously scared.

how many has he had now? six? ten? who's even counting anymore? all that's sure is, yoongi has had one shot of vodka too many.

when he and seokjin first arrived at the venue in their thousand dollar ensembles, they were the very image of pristine, near untouchable, epitome of god-like. a handsome, established young model-slash-actor in burberry and armani with his incredibly talented music producer and rapper in his own right best friend in ralph lauren and luis vuitton; there was no surprise that people's initial reaction was to either ogle in awe or look away due to their own unworthiness.

after the press conference and short autograph session, seokjin made the mistake of suggesting they get a couple of drinks.

it was innocent fun at first; their usual banter. joke complaining about their peers, real complaining about their schedules, and then, seokjin mentions his engagement and inviting a whole roster of people yoongi has never met or heard of and/or have fallen out with.

that's when yoongi's pale complexion got paler, big boy drinks were ordered and shit got real.

now, seokjin has left and yoongi is at the bar by himself, red faced, forlorn and slightly less than civil.

"sweartojayzeesus if i hear that song one more time sum's gon' catch these hands" he slurs, hiccuping as he slams his palm on the marble counter. the frightened bartender opts to move the bottle and glasses away before yoongi accidentally breaks something.

"s-sir, please calm down. y-you're scaring the other guests" the young man pleads.

yoongi's finger jabs at the boy. "'mmnot playin' around, son. if i hear it a-gen-"

hiccup.

"fuckyou mean four years, bitch? if you ain't callin' for years, fuckin' show your face round here, boy. see what happens"

some of the guests laugh. some of them cup their hands around their mouths and whisper.

"bitch, you laughin' at?" yoongi snaps at an older man two seats over.

"bald ass mofo witcho face hair pubic hair lookin'...das right" he says when the man places a hand over his mustache, mouth hanging open in shock. "ain't no lookin' pretty in no damn bar, ho. nah, you get fucked up or get the fuck up outta here!"

yoongi gets off his seat, attempts to lift one of the built in stools off the floor. the crowd gasps and even his own bodyguards are at a loss.

"so baby pull me closer in the backseat of your rover, ho~" he sings, still pulling on the leg of the seat, one of the men he came to the place with trying to stop him, starts screaming at the cushion when nothing happens.

"you think just cause i said nothin', i feel nothin' you asshole, not answerin' my damn calls. wrote no letters or no ah ah i can't stop~ son of a bitch ass mofuckmissyourhorsefaceass"

"sir, i'm calling security. if you don't calm down-" the bar manager's firmness dissipates when yoongi's angry fit turns into a sob. he trips on air and drops down, face first onto the platform.

the last thing he knows is a bunch of shadows bending over to look and a couple of black leather legs running toward him, some guy yelling hooooly shit.

when he comes to some hours later, forehead throbbing where he hit the edge of the bar, he finds himself sandwiched between the biggest, softest pillows he's ever encountered in all history of hotel stays.

"you're alive. that's good" says a voice in the dark. yoongi squints.

the edge of the bed dips down and he's offered a glass of water.

"really, yoongi. you couldn't have made a bigger fool of yourself than you did back there if you tried. i'm both embarrassed and impressed"

"don't" yoongi croaks, pushing the hand aside.

"c'mon now"

the ice in the glass clinks. he bites back the urge to punch the guy sitting in front of him.

"how the fuck are you here?"

"well, work. and then, there's jin hyung's engagement and... you. hotel bar. not so pretty, i have to say, hyung, but-"

"you're really pulling this shit?"

hoseok inches closer, cheeks puffed. "how's it go again? baby pull me-"

"nah" yoongi grimaces, stopping him with a hand on his face.

"fucking hell, jung. you think you can just come back? and act all..." he looks him up and down. "like... this?"

the other man laughs, defeated. but then, yoongi goes "shit...SHIT"

he breathes "fuck, okay"

yoongi lowers his hand, sticks his face up to hoseok's and scrunches his nose in disgust.

"alright. go ahead. sing it"

hoseok blinks, dumbfounded "for real?"

"yeah" he challenges.

"sing it into my mouth"