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when Jin gets the summons for lunch, he thinks it must be a joke.
"not a joke," Hoseok says, as he pushes Jin around by the shoulders so he can untie his apron himself. "Yoongi wants you to meet his fiancé, Jin, i hardly think that's unreasonable."
"not while i'm wearing this," Jin hisses back. there's flour dusting his shirt above where the apron begins, there's a patched hole in the outer thigh of his pants that couldn't be more obvious if he'd tried. he can feel the eyes of the staff on him, a stranger in their midst, someone at their level and yet so often paraded in front of nobility. "hobi, you can't be serious."
"i'll give you something of mine."
"that's not the problem," Jin finally says, voice tight in his throat. Hoseok is vouching for Park Jimin, but-in all their past experiences with Yoongi's titled friends and acquaintances, he's rarely been welcomed with open arms as a server, much less as a friend. "i know he means well, but-"
"argue with me upstairs," Hoseok breaks in, hands gentle on Jin's shoulders. "come on, jinnie. take a break for us."
it's not like he has much of a choice. Jin sags, dragging a hand down his face as he turns to Seojun, who-to his credit-is pretending to look incredibly disinterested in the conversation.
"if Jungkook needs anything, get it for him," he instructs. Seojun's eyes go wide, the knife in his hand stilling as he glances around, like Jin would possibly be talking to anyone else. "anything at all, understand?"
"yes, hyungnim," Seojun stutters out. Hoseok muffles a laugh into his elbow, disguised passably as a cough. Jin pastes on a smile, and flicks him nastily on the shoulder.
"i am respectable," he whispers viciously, as soon as they're out of hearing range from the kitchen.
Hoseok pats his shoulder in consolation, and ushers him quickly to Yoongi's quarters with a hand on his lower back.
"Lord Min doesn't really care what we do," is Hoseok's answer when Jin asks why the happy couple won't be dining with their families. "he's too busy talking up trade deals with Jimin's father, and stressing about how clean everything has to be for the prince's visit."
"i doubt the prince cares," Jin says, dubiously holding up one of Hoseok's shirts up against his front. "he got his boots so dirty our second day on the road that Jungkook wouldn't even clean them for him. made him do it himself."
the guards had jeered good-naturedly, and Namjoon had laughed along with them, wine flushing his cheeks along with light from the campfire. he'd offered to polish anyone's, if they could pin him for more than five seconds, and only Jungkook had managed it. beyond that, though, the prince doesn't seem like someone too preoccupied with the cleanliness of a manor.
"well, it keeps him off Yoongi's back, at least." Hoseok swaps out the shirt in Jin's hand for another; something dark red and soft enough that Jin is loathe to let his fingers drop from the sleeve. it's nothing like the silks he'd borrowed for the ball, that had felt like being swaddled in rainfall, but it's nicer than anything he'd work the kitchens in. "that's a nice color on you."
