#jonghyun isnt mafia but he is 100% in a gang lmao

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Volunteer Work; PG

theres a lagoon by my house and u can volunteer there on saturdays and do nature and gardening stuff so like au where taem runs one of those and jonghyun comes to volunteer on saturdays and jonghyun also may or may not be mafia brought to u by gq

tw for like vaguely gang related references

Jonghyun opens Taemin’s truck, tosses his jacket inside gently, and comes to join him at the tree pots, pushing his pristine white dress shirt sleeves even further up his arms. Taemin glances at the suspiciously stab-wound-esque scar on his forearm and decides not to ask about it this time. He’ll bug Jonghyun about his secrets later.

ao3

“Um… excuse me… where’s--? The thing again? Sorry.”

“Oh. Uh, over here.” Taemin gently steps around the high school kid and reaches over his desk to pull out the volunteer sheet again. They’re small; a classic freshman, he thinks. Getting their volunteer community service hours done early but a bundle of nerves about it. “I thought you signed it already?” he asks, handing it over. He could have sworn that he saw them scribbling their name down earlier with their other three friends.

“Oh, I did, but, uh,” they say, squinting at the paper for their name. “I forgot to put the date,” they mumble.

“Ahh,” Taemin says. Yeah. That makes sense. They hand him back the clipboard and he tosses it on his desk again, then leads them out of the education center and onto the gravel of the little parking lot. Their friends have already clambered into the bed of his truck and Taemin smiles at them as he heads to the driver’s seat.

“You’re gonna be raking leaves and then pulling weeds by the middle bridge today,” he tells them. He gets a chorus of nods and “yeah, okay”s and nods back. Nice. It’s still wild that kids actually listen to him here. He’s used to his brother’s kid being a little dingle to him all the time. These kids would probably fish litter out of the lagoon by hand if he asked them to, to be honest. He makes sure that all of them are secure in the back before he clambers into the front seat. As he backs up to putt them down to the supply shed at the other end of the reserve, he catches sight of a shiny white lamborghini in the queue at the stoplight out front, waiting to turn into the little parking lot. A smile tugs up the corner of his lips. Right on time.

Jonghyun is waiting for him when he gets back, leaning casually on the hood of his car. His white dress shirt is loose and rolled up at the sleeves, his expensive jacket is hung over his shoulders, and his hands are shoved lightly into pressed pockets. A heavy bronze wristwatch is set around his wrist and simple black studs dot his earlobes. When he looks up and catches Taemin’s eye as Taemin steps out of his truck, his grin is wide and lopsided and the crinkle at the corners of his eyes under his dark brown hair is gorgeous. Not for the first time does Taemin shake his head and muse about how this man is way too fucking clean and loaded to be volunteering at a place like this every Saturday.

“Morning, boss,” Jonghyun says anyway. Taemin exhales softly in amusement, leaning against the hood of his own considerably less pristine car.

“Hey,” he says back. “Wanna help me repot some apple trees?” he asks. He points lazily over his shoulder back the way he came, towards the tool shed and the baby trees growing in the back. It’s either that or re-varnish the front bridge, and Taemin doesn’t feel like doing that today. Maybe he’ll get the kids to do it next week. Jonghyun shrugs, nodding easily, and pushes off of his car.

“Sounds fun,” he says. He taps the hood of Taemin’s truck when he passes, gives him a quick wink, and invites himself easily into the passenger seat. Taemin rolls his eyes fondly as he gets back into his own seat. Jonghyun thinks he’s so fucking smooth.

“So how’s the family?” Taemin asks conversationally as he drives them passed the ponds. He throws Jonghyun a glance and a wiggled eyebrow, just to make sure that he really caught that emphasis. Jonghyun smiles back at him, pleasantly amused, before he shrugs.

“They’re good,” he says. “Mom is lovely. Sis is wonderful. They’re both shining stars in my life. The usual.” His voice is a touch too light and friendly to be normal and Taemin snorts.

“No important family business things to take care of lately?” he asks. This time at his pointed question Jonghyun chuckles softly, resting his elbow on the armrest of his seat.

“You think you’re so subtle,” he mutters.

“Not at all, actually,” Taemin hums. He is very obviously trying to pry into Jonghyun’s secret illegal life. It’s fascinating.

“I took my dog to the vet the other day,” Jonghyun says, very obviously denying his prying. “She’s doing great.” Taemin grins, pulling his truck to a stop next to the shed.

“Grab some spare gloves from inside,” he says, pointing to the shed and wiggling out of his seat. Jonghyun nods easily, jogging inside and grabbing his work stuff without needing to be shown around. When he comes back outside, his jacket is off of his shoulders and draped over his arm instead. He opens Taemin’s truck, tosses it inside gently, and comes to join him at the tree pots, pushing his pristine white dress shirt sleeves even further up his arms. Taemin glances at the suspiciously stab-wound-esque scar on his forearm and decides not to ask about it this time. He’ll bug Jonghyun about his secrets later.

For now, he goes through the motions of repotting the trees with him, making regular smalltalk as they work. They cover the usual range of topics, from “it’s supposed to rain tonight” to “you know how sometimes when you masturbate it’s like the best thing in the world and you feel pure and clean like the angels themselves had their heads between your legs, but then other times it’s like, ‘wow, when did Satan crawl into my bed and lick my asshole,’ you know?” They laugh and catch up and just have a nice time together, Taemin pulling his red hair into a ponytail so it doesn’t get all sweaty in the sun and Jonghyun making overexaggerated noises of exertion when he moves a sapling from one pot to the next. It’s comfortable and familiar, all the way up until a jazzy little tune starts playing from Jonghyun’s pocket.

“Oh,” he mumbles, looking down at it. “Sorry, one sec.” He flaps off his gloves and pulls his phone out, smiling quickly at Taemin before jogging into the tool shed to take the call. Taemin wonders blandly if he realizes that there are so many cracks and holes in the wood of it that it’s not soundproof at all, even with the door closed.

“What?” Taemin hears him snap. “Why are you bothering me? Are you gonna pay me or what?” Ooh. Taemin raises his brows, switching from not particularly trying to hear to completely, absolutely eavesdropping. He loves Jonghyun’s threatening phone calls. “Yeah, I know I have money already,” Jonghyun says. “But we both know that it’s not about the money. It’s about respect. As in, if you respect me, then maybe the next time we meet my foot will decide to respect your fucking teeth, and let them stay inside of your mouth.”

Taemin snorts. That wasn’t one of Jonghyun’s best threats. Still, though, he’s sure it has whoever’s on the other line stammering and shaking right now.

“Shut up,” Jonghyun snaps. “I don’t want to hear it. You know where to find me. And, more importantly, I know where to find you.” Taemin laments the fact that flip phones went out of style years ago because he would have loved to hear that satisfying little snap of an ended conversation. Instead, there’s just silence for a few moments before Jonghyun comes out of the shed, fixing up his shirt sleeves and smiling at Taemin. “Hey, I’m back,” he says. Taemin snorts. He sure is.

“Mafia problems?” he asks sympathetically. His grin widens when Jonghyun huffs at him with a sharp glare.

“It’s not--mafia,” he snaps, the hesitation an obvious tell.

“What is it then?” Taemin asks.

“None of your business,” Jonghyun grumbles. Taemin cocks a brow. Mmhmm. Sure. He’s heard that before.

“What if it is, though?” he asks as Jonghyun pointedly ignores him and reaches for another tree pot. “What if they’re, like, my dentist or something?” He doesn’t think a dentist with missing teeth would do very well in the business. At his question, Jonghyun laughs himself, an escaped little chuckle that he muffles into the back of his hand.

"They’re not, trust me,” he says. “Pass me the spade,” he says next, holding out his hand. Taemin hands him the little shovel easily, watching him dig gently around the base of a tree and loosen the dirt up. After a moment, he sighs exaggeratedly and goes back to his own work. Jonghyun is playful, but once he’s moved on to a new topic he starts just blatantly ignoring Taemin’s prying questions.

Oh, well. Taemin holds the pot while Jonghyun gently pulls the tree out, grinning at his dramatic grunts of effort. He’s good. Situationally, at least.

They continue down the lines of saplings, getting into a rhythm of work and jokes. At some point another of Jonghyun’s shirt buttons comes undone and Taemin takes his time in looking at his chest, the soft muscle, the golden skin. Very lovely. There’s also the smattering of small, circular scars that are very obviously cigarette burns, not that Jonghyun will ever admit it. “None of your business” is a very popular excuse for them, which really just proves Taemin’s theory about them. Jonghyun only ever grumbles when Taemin asks about something shady. Sometimes Taemin finds things out that he wasn’t even trying to just because Jonghyun refused to answer his innocent questions. Taemin sure hopes that he’s a better liar around people that actually matter.

He’s about to open his mouth to ask about the scars again, just to bug Jonghyun, when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He hums shortly, pats his pocket, looks up at Jonghyun and opens his mouth for a different reason.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“Uh,” Jonghyun says. He lifts his fancy watch and squints at it under the sunlight. “Ten twenty,” he says.

“Ooh,” Taemin hisses, glancing over his shoulder. He squints through the trees and bushes, looking for the kids down there by the lagoon. He almost forgot about them. “Almost snack time,” he says, leaving the tree he was working on and pulling his gloves off. With his own little noise of excitement, Jonghyun follows him back to the truck.

“Ice cream?” he asks, shaking out his sweaty hands. Taemin grins and nods, driving them back to the visitor center to grab the cooler.

“And other snacks for everyone’s dietary needs,” he says. “But mostly for me,” he adds. It’s only ever around one in ten kids that can’t have ice cream and has to take a popsicle or some form of fruit, honestly, and Taemin enjoys hogging all of the good shit for himself.

“Nice,” Jonghyun says. He taps his hands excitedly on his knees as they roll passed the ponds. Taemin throws him a quick glance and a fond smile. Sometimes he’s way too cute.

At the center, Jonghyun follows Taemin inside with his hands stuffed in his pockets, smile easy and relaxed. It’s silent, but it’s a comfortable silence, just Jonghyun looking at all of the science stuff while Taemin digs in the mini kitchen for the cooler he prepared earlier. Lugging it onto his desk in the main room, he snags a strawberry shake for himself first, then offers it to Jonghyun.

“Take your pick,” he says, uncapping his bottle. Jonghyun hums in contemplation, looking everything over before taking a water bottle and a chocolate coated ice cream bar. He peels off a corner of the wrapping and takes a small bite, watching Taemin organize things in the cooler a little better. Taemin doesn’t know why he tries; they’re gonna get all fucked up in the back of the truck anyway. When he closes the lid, he looks up to find Jonghyun just staring at him instead, a fond smile on his thick lips. It’s the kind of look that makes Taemin feel like he’s being searched and judged and he scrunches his nose, meeting Jonghyun’s little smile with his own little frown. “What?” he asks.

“You know,” Jonghyun hums. “I’ve been thinking.” His words are slow and measured, a little lower and smoother than they usually are. “You’re, like. Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, “and really fun to be around, so, you know, if you wanted to be around me more later, I know this nice restaurant that we could--”

“Nooooo,” Taemin says, cutting Jonghyun off before he even finishes that question. He laughs at Jonghyun’s shocked and confused expression, but shakes his head anyway. “Nooo,” he repeats, picking up the cooler in his free hand. “No no no.” Not in a million fucking years would he go out to dinner with Jonghyun. Just the thought makes him want to double over with laughter. Holy shit.

“Ahh, come on,” Jonghyun says, following Taemin as he backs out of the visitor center. “I’d buy you like. So many cute things. Little leaf earrings. You’d love that shit.” He helps Taemin push the cooler far into the bed of his truck even as Taemin giggles and shakes his head.

“Listen,” Taemin says, pushing the tailgate up and making sure it locks into place. “You’re a babe. And super loaded. And I’m sure it would be wonderful to date you and let you buy me things and touch your butt.” He’s admittedly thought about that last part a lot. He smothers another giggle into his hand as he slips back to the driver’s side door. “But I’m just not gonna have a mafia boyfriend,” he says, shrugging simply and clambering inside. Before he shuts the door he hears Jonghyun huff loudly.

“I’m not mafia,” Jonghyun hisses when he opens the passenger side door. Taemin snorts.

“Okay, well, whatever line of work it is that you’re in that involves you taking phones calls that include the phrases, ‘Pop out one of their eyes, that’ll make their friends talk,’ and ‘Just take care of it,’” he says, cocking a brow as he starts up the truck again. “I’m not having that shit as my babe.” No thank you. He’s good. Jonghyun scoffs, crossing his arms and grumpily nibbling his ice cream.

“Alright, now you’re just making shit up,” he says. “I have never once said ‘just take care of it.’ I am not that cliché.”

“You absolutely fucking are,” Taemin says. “You said those exact words, like, three weeks ago. I heard you.” He doesn’t have proof or anything, but still. He knows what his eavesdropping heard. Jonghyun huffs again and grumbles, frowning at his ice cream as Taemin turns them down a side road and up to the second bridge. By the looks of things, the kids on the other side of it have been working hard. All of the leaves are piled into two big bins and about half of the weeds have been plucked up. Their sweaty souls absolutely deserve a break. Before Jonghyun can pull him back into their conversation, he rolls down his window.

“Hey, angsty teens,” he calls. The two that hadn’t already noticed his arrival look up as well and he grins. “Snack time,” he says, waving them over with one hand and unlocking the trunk with the other. “Pop the cooler in the back and grab a water,” he says when they all eagerly come closer. “You’re doing really well,” he adds, just for the pleased smiles that brings to their faces. Nice. He loves supporting kids and shit.

“Anyway,” he says once the four kids are all clambered into the back of his truck. They can’t hear their conversation inside of the car and he turns lazily to Jonghyun, cracking open his strawberry shake again. “You buying me expensive gifts is not worth me potentially being kidnapped and held hostage and, like, possibly being tortured or whatever just to fuck with you,” he says. He’s not about that life. He takes a sip of his drink as Jonghyun winces.

“That’s not… probable,” he says. Taemin just raises his brows at that until Jonghyun sighs. It turns quickly into a grin, a breathy little laugh, and he lifts his free hand to run through his hair. “Good point, I guess,” he says.

“Mmhmm,” Taemin hums. “No offense, but I want like. As little to do with you as humanly possible when you’re not being an innocent volunteer at my place of employment.” He shakes his head and waves off whatever thoughts always come into his mind when he thinks about big scary mobsters finding out that Jonghyun has an easily kidnappable kind-of-friend, let alone an easily kidnappable boyfriend that Jonghyun loves and cherishes. Jonghyun sighs heavily, but he’s smiling around his ice cream anyway, grinning at some internal probably kidnapping-related joke that Taemin would probably be horrified to hear.

“Cockblocked by the job,” Jonghyun says, shaking his head wistfully. “The job that totally isn’t, like, mafia or gang related or illegal in any way, by the way,” he adds, turning to Taemin and pointing at him with his ice cream. “I don’t know where you come up with these absurd ideas.” He tsks and shakes his head disapprovingly. Taemin chuckles into his own drink.

“If the police or whoever actually do manage to trace you back to me, you better not get mad at me when I expose your ass,” he mutters. “I’m not going to jail or being murdered just because you’re garbage at keeping a secret.” He meets Jonghyun’s arched brow with his own for a few seconds until Jonghyun shrugs and looks back to his ice cream.

“Yeah, fair enough,” he says.