Chapter Text
Angel twirled.
The pole stood cold under his hands and he wrapped his legs around it. The glitter strings around his pink glitter shorts flowed in rhythm with his hips and his waist curved at three angles making him flow like water. Body lith and toned, eleven liner abs glimmering under the silver highlighters, angel was glamorous as ever under the spotlights.
The room stood dark, other than the dim lamps in the vip booths all Angel could see were the light reflected glasses of whisky on the rocks. The boots of large, burly, and weekly tired men shined too and Angel smirked, how easy it was to get their dicks in a twitch even when they very well knew that he himself wasn't packing much differently inside these jewel encrusted lingerie.
Doing a pirouette, hands clasping tight on the pole, and legs spreading out in the air, he swayed and turned around, slithered down the metal pole just like they wish he would on their hardened minis in the back room. The music was loud, picked up beat and slowly towards the end Angel was getting into his own headspace. It's a tough shit up there, easy to lose, be mindless and let that tenth guard down making them think that a bare chest shown off is all he got. On the ride back home, it's a different story altogether.
A little tut of his hips and he was preparing for his final routine. Locking his legs in, Angel flung himself outside and in the air – head grew lighter, and the music came to a thumping beat in the background. He was bracing himself for that enchanting smile, a look at which will have hardened men getting out of their seats and seeking Taehyung, his manager, for thirty minutes with him if not an hour. The lights started coming back up and Angel rose up along the pole with every beat of the music. The brightest orange light glowed up near the bar and he saw Rainy awaiting her turn next while cheering on him. Angel smiled and then turned to the front, he was about to cast his smile and that characteristic flying kiss out to the audience when his eyes stopped roving on one man. Yoongi sat there expressionless and one leg crossed over the other, not to hide his boner but in a looking down upon stance. His face was stone hard and Angel froze — this was not supposed to happen, anything at all but having his arranged husband, who obviously loathed him, was not supposed to be in front of him.
A speck of bile rolled in Angel's stomach and he pulled his gaze away. In no time, he was off the stage and already heading to the back. Naturally, he looked back and saw Yoongi follow his steps with his eyes. Infuriated, Angel strutted purposely, swishing his hips as he moved through the tables and avoiding every hand that was rising to touch a patch of skin. Taehyung caught up to him at the door and Angel rushed to his dresser room, his manager following behind like a nervous dog.
"You cannot do this!"
"Of course I can, Taehyung. If you've forgotten the contract that I had signed three years back then go over it. The file is with you."
"Angel, they've paid. You can't just fucking refuse."
Angel turned, eyes flaring red.
"Don't curse in front of me. And it's just some bucks, return it to them."
"That's not in our policy."
"Then tell your haughty boss to change the policy. I'm not here to serve!"
"Ummmm"
"Shut up. –" he violently wiped off the foundation, "– and what do you mean 'them'? How many have you booked?"
"Uh- four?"
"Do I look like a whore to you, TAEHYUNG?"
Angel was screaming at this point, heart and mind giving away towards insanity.
"No, but…"
"Tell Mikela that I refuse to and if she thinks that she will take a legal step then remind her that I can buy this whole place out and hat too without a penny from that man sitting out there like he's about to prey me down."
His manager sighed, "Oh…", he took a nervous step closer, "Seokj-"
"Outside my Christmas parties, it's Angel for you."
"Sorry, sorry, I think we should calm down."
"You can sit down, calm down, go to sleep but I'm out."
Angel packed his bag and hauled it over his shoulder.
"Oh and… if it's that big of a deal, just subtract the total amount from my pay."
With that, he was out of the room, through the back door and then the cold wind was brushing under his nose. Stumbling over a small rock mound on the pavement he found his step again, a taxi was speeding by and he waved a little too energetically and it stopped before him.
"Gangnam", he muttered and shut the door loudly after him.
Seokjin had chosen to train in pole dancing at eighteen, had chosen to audition at the nearest club at twenty and had chosen his pseudonym, Angel. But at twenty seven he had not chosen to be hitched. In his second year of college, a little done with his small circle of friends, a little intrigued to try out his hidden, though learned, talents and in a bit more need of liquid cash, Seokjin had woken up from his nap at the absurd hour of eight in the evening and headed out. He had no idea what he was going for, no idea if it would even work, if he could pull off and more importantly if they'd take him in at all. What he didn't know was the part about his ungodly charisma.
When the night's finale had called him up on stage randomly, Seokjin almost hid behind the bar counter. Almost, because when he went up and wrapped an arm around the pole while he let her pull him in by his other arm and he could swear he felt a wad of cash hit his bare arms on the side of his tank top. In the after hours he was called in the dingy office, offered a free beer and announced that he had been hired. Back then, he was young, almost immature even though his very initial memory is of his boss holding his chin and saying, "listen boy, have fun but learn to say no first", and leaving his house on the weekends in thrifted and fancier clothes than he has ever worn and coming back home in the wee hours of the night when the birds were already opening up their doors to the morning and changing dates on the calendar.
In a year, he had a bank balance of millions. He had sat aghast on his bed, doubting every element in his life at that moment. His grades didn't fall as much as he had expected to and he got more confident. At twenty one, he had fully stripped on a Saturday night and allowed a man to touch him down to his bare crotch. It was insane and euphoric but he made a rule of once a month for himself, he was getting richer with lesser friends and more clubs that he had never visited started learning about him. Seokjin started getting calls, Seokjin started performing as a guest, he got big and then suddenly he was in his graduation robe and a text from his manager, about that night's show, on his phone. Four months later he was in front of his laptop on a tired Wednesday morning with a steaming mug of coffee and looking for decent and tellable jobs to apply for – who knew he'd land up at an oil export giant's office.
Everytime he held the pole he felt the liberation that never came from holding the described cup of coffee in that designated cup sleeve for his boss. Twenty four and a budding millionaire, but Seokjin was less trash than he tagged himself to be. He had juniors coming in and saying that they were fans, Seokjin used to always laugh and warn them to be careful. He said to them that success is easy but so is losing one's dignity, he knew how hard he had to work to keep his head high and not return home thrashed from alcohol washed veins. When workload increased inside the panelled walls of his boss's cabin, Seokjin was busy with over hours of his files and next day's conference preparations. When they signed three deals in a row, Seokjin thought he would have some rest, so he danced away to his heart's content for four nights consecutively at the club. When he returned on Monday next, he was told about the business trip he was to accompany his boss.
Now, Min Yoongi wasn't a bad guy. In fact, he was not even near that end of the scale and Seokjin could swear he'd seen him crack a smile on April 10th and November 22nd in one year. But traveling abroad with his superiors and other colleagues and having to inhabit a common space without being his lazy, comfy, non-black boxer self was bugging him.
Even if he missed the stage, a week later, he was loving his new found observation skills. He looked, paid attention because that's what gave him the cheques at the end of the month, and learned. Beyond his work and beyond all the projects being discussed, he learned Min Yoongi. Unintentionally so, but Seokjin was mesmerised by the way that his boss spread the nutella evenly on his toast, how he glugged the water while his mouth was still on the bottle. How he had a reminder set on his phone at 11:39 and it took him exactly a minute to locate his pill and take it. Seokjin, glancingly, learned that his boss was extremely agile at his Windsor and had a funny habit of flipping his coat outward before sitting down in a chair.
He said nothing, but all those small nuances, somehow, made Seokjin look at him differently than before.
Seokjin had one day found himself smiling at the mirror reflection of Min Yoongi in the hotel lobby, he had been wearing a violet shirt under the black suit jacket and Seokjin thought that he looked good. In a lonely moment he felt horrible obsessing over the man, but he knew that it was only temporary, only because he didn't have the distraction of the stage.
Call it funny or fate, when Seokjin searched for the seat 18B on the flight back home, Min Yoongi was already seated in 18A and with earphones plugged in. Movies would show the Seokjin character getting pissed at the settlement but for the real one, he was a little shocked and a little surprised. Didn't have the mind to disturb Min-ssi but the moment he brought the laptop bag on his lap, he heard a rumble of voice beside him and he turned to a rather bright Min Yoongi asking him about the document from the last conference.
Both of them had ordered a whisky sour and had reclined their seats, Seokjin had chuckled at the coincidental timing and seen Min-ssi turn and spare him a glance. It was him who transfixed people with his gaze and paralysed them but the weight had shifted for a moment to the other side this time. He was locked in place for a moment and then Seokjin had looked away.
An hour and a nap later, Seokjin was awake – he rubbed his eyes and yawned, sitting up and stretching his legs. When he turned to face the window, Min-ssi was looking at him.
"Sir?"
Min-ssi snapped out of it and rubbed a hand over his thigh, throwing a baseless chuckle.
"You have a funny habit of yapping your jaw while you're asleep."
"You've noticed?"
"In my defense, I was bored."
Seokjin had chuckled.
A dinner and a longer nap later, Seokjin was up at three in the morning. Blinking heavily, he looked around at the dimly lit airplane and was about to slump back into his seat when he noticed the laptop light reflect off the glass in his hand – Min-ssi was still awake. Seokjin bent forward and tapped on his shoulder.
"Do we have proof that you're not a vampire?"
Min-ssi had taken his ear plugs off and played a light smirk at the end of his lips.
"Do you mean that I'm eternally beautiful?"
"No, I just think that that's the only explanation for your zero sleep schedule."
"It's a disease, Kim-ssi."
Seokjin shook his head, "I think you're just too buzzed."
Min-ssi had looked at him sceptically, then he had laughed.
"Maybe…"