Danger | Sope ✓

Prologue

"You want some?"

No, Yoongi didn't want some. He didn't want any. He wasn't hungry (even though he was the one to suggest they'd eat an hour earlier). But Seokjin wouldn't stop picking at a takeout box of Japchae next to him, slurping at noodles and squealing at the cooking.

Yoongi only deadpanned at him, slender fingers tapping at the steering wheel irritatingly. But when Seokjin offered him some cold noodles with his chopsticks and bright eyes, Yoongi still opened his mouth to eat it.

Honestly, Yoongi didn't know what was more annoying- the awful dubstep that quietly played on the radio or Seokjin's sharp, squeaky chuckles and inhales.

"Sorry for taking so long," Seokjin hums, chewing at more noodles as Yoongi drove out to the street with a soft sigh. "The line was long. And it was the only place nearby that sold Korean noodles."

Yoongi sighed sharply when someone cut him off before a stoplight.

Everyone had those days. Days where the only damn place that sold Korean Noodles was also in the middle of a busy fucking street. Days where only shitty dubstep and lame rap songs played on the radio. Days where it seemed like the world was out to get him if Yoongi even stepped out of the car.

And he was having one of those days. A day where his partner insisted they go to this Korean Noodle Restaurant smack dab in the middle of one of the busier streets in LA, days where none of the radio hosts have good fucking music taste- a day where the world was just against him, even if he stayed in the car.

But it didn't matter. Glancing to a happy Seokjin eating noodles, he was kind of inclined to be happy too.

And he just wanted it to be over. He just wanted to go home and sleep all of this away, instead of watching the hours drag by on his watch. Actually, that irritated him too. The ticking was too loud in his ears. He should've thrown it away years ago- or maybe Yoongi was just being a bitch.

Being partners with Kim Seokjin trained him to be an optimist, though. So when they made their rounds through the city, handing out tickets, and patrolling for any "wrongdoing," Yoongi believed that tomorrow would be better.

That maybe Seokjin wouldn't crave Korean noodles tomorrow, or the radio would finally play something Yoongi would like (or he could just gather the courage to ask Seokjin to change the channel), or maybe the world would alleviate some of their anger toward him.

He believed that maybe this was the worst it could get.

"All Los Angeles units, code 211, 888 South Figueroa Street, 888 South Figueroa Street."

Seokjin immediately muted the regular radio, both officers listening intently as their dispatcher listed information. The older turned on the sirens, Yoongi turning to get out of the regular LA traffic.

Using the smaller streets, Yoongi sped toward their location.

This was the worst it can get, he reminded himself. Once this was over, his shift might be over. Yoongi could almost feel the sweet embrace of the bed, the warm fur of Holly pressing against him.

And in an emergency like this, Yoongi was grateful he drove their patrol car. It irritated the officer whenever Seokjin drove their car- and while he had no faults in his training and was a skilful driver; he drove too slowly in an emergency. It had almost become a running joke between the officers that a police dog could drive faster to a crime scene.

But that drove Yoongi to switch with Seokjin, taking the helm in their two-man team. They wouldn't be last today. And if anything good came out of this shitty afternoon, they wouldn't be a knee-slapper the officers giggled at during their breaks. No, Yoongi couldn't let their team be beat.

Another officer was already at the scene as Yoongi pulled the patrol car over in front of a bank. Yoongi rushes out of the car, using his car door as a shield just in case while they waited for more officers at the supposed sight of a robbery.

Seokjin, however, ate his noodles, staring at the bank doors.

"Hey, Namjoon!" Seokjin waved to the first officer there, already standing behind his car door beside Seokjin.

"Hey," Namjoon eyed the noodles that Seokjin stuffed into his mouth, moaning at the taste of his food. "Japchae, huh? Lucky bastard," Namjoon sighed with a smile, shaking his head.

Idiots. Yoongi would always think. Those two never took their job seriously. They always talked whenever they pass each other on the job, joke with each other when there's literally a robbery happening before their eyes, like in this situation. One time, Seokjin literally stuck his head out of his window and waved to Namjoon while they were driving down the freeway.Driving!

Honestly, that was one of the few reasons Yoongi suggested that he'd drive instead of Seokjin.

"Guys!" Yoongi barked at them before they could break out into another pointless conversation of... Japchae and other variations of cold noodles. "There's a bank robbery going on!"

While more patrol cars pulled up beside them, a man in a white mask pushed the door open with his shoulder. He dressed neatly, with a suit and tie, dress shoes. He even had a pin on the lapel of his suit, a name tag most likely. Namjoon's previously bright features dropped, scrambling to get the microphone to his PA system, pressing the side button.

"Sir! Come out slowly with your hands in the air!"

Standing out before the cars and the officers, he pulls out a gun.

"Sir!" Namjoon calls out, Yoongi the first to pull out his gun and aim it at him. "Put the gun away! Fuck- don't shoot! Don't-"

Yoongi shrieked when he felt a bullet pierce his hip, falling to the ground in a loud thud, the concrete scratching his cheek and tears watering in the corner of his eyes.

"3467, shots fired, officer down! West 8th Place and South Figuera Street!" Jin screamed into his radio, running to his partner's side. The other officers pulled the trigger of their guns, shooting the man's leg as to incapacitate him.

Yoongi lay on the floor, trying to place any pressure on his wound, letting out sharp breaths.

"Shit- Yoongi just- You're not going to die. Hold on- Just hold-"

"Seokjin! I'm not fucking dying!" Yoongi hissed, blood seeping through his uniform and onto his hands. Seokjin furrows his eyebrows, glancing back as they reprimanded the suspect. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh. Yep, this was just the peak of his misery. This was the worst it could get. Tomorrow would be better. He'd get a night's sleep and tomorrow would be a good day.

"Yah, Seokjin," Yoongi groans, Seokjin nodding as they both hear the nearing ambulance sirens. "I can't believe you placed your food down first, then came to see if your partner was okay."

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This is the first rewrite!! yaaaay

-Ly <3