AN: Hello to the two people who probably read this, and the one that actually seems to be following it!  *waves*

Again, feel free to point out any errors I may have made.  I tend to fix things as I catch them, so if I update the chapter a few times, it's just typo-fixing.  Any major changes would be notated at the beginning of a chapter.

Cheers!

Edited 2/3/2020 - Just fixing a few things, mostly sentence mechanics.  Nothing new.

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Chapter Two:  In Which Namjoon Ruins the Sauce and Then Trusts His Gut

Namjoon was two steps from the bar when a hand caught his elbow. Instinctively, he reached over and gripped the wrist of the offender, looking the other man over. "May I help you?" Namjoon asked, raising an eyebrow at what appeared to be a middle-aged businessman.

The businessman leaned into Namjoon's ear slightly after a cursory glance around. "Why did they send you?"

It took all Namjoon's willpower to not react to the obvious North inflections in the way the man spoke. He must have overheard Namjoon talking with Seokjin. The younger man blinked slowly but didn't respond, staring the man down, brain racing as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"This is Choi's doing, isn't it? He doesn't think I can do it myself." The businessman smirked. "Well, my friend, you've traveled all this way for nothing. This is my assignment; I will handle the traitor." He released Namjoon's arm and turned to the bar, ordering a couple drinks.

The blonde couldn't help but frown in confusion. He felt he was missing something and his gut told him that it was important to figure it out. He followed the Northerner toward the bar, keeping a close eye on the man. Namjoon watched as, when the bartender turned his back to grab another glass from the counter behind him, the businessman dropped something into one of the drinks. As the Northerner passed Namjoon with the drinks, the older man sneered at the younger. Then the businessman approached Seokjin and offered him the spiked drink.

Shit. Namjoon started back toward his mark. Regardless of why his own countryman wanted him dead, Seokjin wasn't allowed to die until Namjoon got the stolen data from him. Namjoon wasn't even sure if Seokjin had gotten the hand-off yet; if the North killed him too soon, the hand-off wouldn't happen and the mole in the South's government wouldn't be exposed.

Namjoon had almost reached the pair when Seokjin lifted the glass toward his lips. There was a split second where the dark-haired man's eyes met Namjoon's over the shoulder of the Northerner and Namjoon gave Seokjin a barely perceptible shake of his head. It was little more than a slight jerk of his head to the side and a flick of his eyes at the businessman, but Seokjin paused before the liquid met his lips. Namjoon didn't bother to analyze the relief that washed over him, ducking back into the crowd before the businessman glanced over his shoulder to see what Seokjin had been looking at. Seeing nothing, the businessman shrugged and turned back to his prey.

Namjoon maneuvered his way through the crowd until he had his target back in his sight. He saw Seokjin say something to the businessman, smile warmly, and set his glass down on the dessert table. With a slight bow, Seokjin moved away from his would-be assailant and toward a hallway behind the tables. The Northerner didn't seem concerned with Seokjin's departure. Instead, he had pulled out a phone and was swiping at the screen with a tiny smile on his lips. As unobtrusively as possible, Namjoon followed Seokjin, ensuring that the other assassin hadn't seen him slip by. As he passed close to one of the tables, he snagged a butter knife from the top and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

Namjoon entered the hallway just in time to see Seokjin's dark head disappear through the door to the men's room. Without hesitating, Namjoon followed, shoving into the room. Seokjin spun at the sound of the door and his eyes widened when they fell on Namjoon.

"Did you drink it?" the blonde blurted.

Seokjin shook his head quickly and narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "Who are you?" he hissed, moving toward Namjoon more swiftly than the younger expected. Before Namjoon could react, Seokjin had fisted his hand in the front of Namjoon's shirt, shoving him back against the bathroom door.

The impact with the door triggered old, unused training and Namjoon's hands moved automatically. He grabbed Seokjin's wrist with his opposite hand, dug his thumb nail into the sensitive skin between the ligaments, and jammed his other hand up to the shorter man's elbow, wrenching the grip loose. Seokjin twisted free of Namjoon's hold before his elbow could overextend and took a couple steps back, fists raised and brows drawn in.

"I could ask you the same thing," Namjoon said, trying to calm down his breathing as a surge of adrenaline hit him. Seokjin was a field agent and would outmatch Namjoon in a straight fight. The younger man really didn't want to come to blows if he could avoid it. "Why did he want you dead?"

"Dead?" Seokjin raised his eyebrows but did not drop his guard.

"He put something in your drink." Namjoon rolled his shoulders and slowly lowered his hands, hoping that if he appeared non-aggressive, his target would relax as well. His mission wasn't completed yet; there was still a chance of success if he could lull Seokjin into trusting him.

"Wouldn't be the first time some ugly, old man tried to roofie me." Seokjin dropped his fists but Namjoon could tell he was still on alert. "I wonder, though, why you thought it would kill me." The elder narrowed his dark eyes and, in the Northern dialect, added, "Very suspicious of you, Kim Namgi."

Namjoon pressed his lips together in a thin line. This was getting way beyond his normal job description; at no point in time did he think he would have to fake being a northern spy in order to get close to a northern spy. He wasn't sure he knew enough to pull it off. Knowing how to talk like them didn't mean he could pass as one. "No more suspicious than you," he returned in the same dialect. He paused and lifted his chin slightly. "Kim Seokjin."

Seokjin took a step back, fists raised again.

"More suspicious, though, is why a man from the North would kill his own." Namjoon shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned his hip against the counter by the sinks, dropping the northern dialect in favor of his native accent. "He called you a traitor." A half-formed plan had settled itself in his mind. It was ludicrous but Namjoon had learned that trusting in his intuition usually yielded good results. His plan, at least, would mean he wouldn't need to pretend to be a Northerner.

"Who are you?" Seokjin repeated. Namjoon could see beads of sweat dotting the older man's forehead. "Not many talent scouts speak Northern."

"Well I'm obviously not a talent scout," Namjoon returned dryly, leveling Seokjin with a sharp stare. "I'm here to neutralize the Northern threat."

"Then what are you doing in the bathroom?" Seokjin snapped. "He's out there putting roofies in the drinks of handsome men." The shorter man pointed at the mirror behind the sinks, indicating the ballroom beyond.

Namjoon let his eyebrows lift slightly. "Really." He hummed lightly in the back of his throat. "My information tells me that he's standing in the men's room arguing with me."

"Your information is sadly misinformed." Seokjin dropped his fists again and straightened his suit jacket. "I am not North Korean." He framed his chin with his thumb and pointer finger. "Does this face look like it comes from the North?"

"Plastic surgery can do wonders."

Seokjin sputtered. "I beg your pardon! I will have you know that this face is one hundred percent natural!" He huffed a few times and placed his fists on his hips. "Okay, maybe I have a little bit of make up on, but my cheeks get blotchy when I drink and I didn't want to look a mess tonight."

Namjoon was momentarily at a loss for words. Was this guy for real? It had to be part of his cover character. This was an act. It had to be. No one was this much of an unhumble ponce. Realizing his mouth was open as he stared at the darker haired man, Namjoon snapped his teeth shut and made an effort to regain his cool outward composure. "Alright, Mr. Not-From-The-North, maybe you can explain to me then why I've been told that you're here to steal important government information?"

"April Fool's Day prank?" Seokjin shrugged nonchalantly before crossing his arms.

"It's September." Namjoon shook his head at the shorter man, baffled. Throwing caution to the wind, Namjoon tossed his hands up into the air in defeat. "Okay, listen. I'm supposed to figure out who is passing information to you, get that information, and kill you. So why don't we skip the hard parts, eh? Tell me who your contact is, give me whatever he's handed you, and I'll make sure your death is quick and painless."

A sudden grin split Seokjin's face before his wiper-laugh burst from his lips, startling Namjoon. "Wow, someone really got their wires crossed!" The shorter man leaned his backside against the sink counter, wrapping his arms around his stomach as he doubled over in laughter. "You..." He gasped and grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser behind him, dabbing at the corners of his eyes as he struggled to control himself. "We..." He snorted. "Namgi-ssi, we're on the same side." With a few deep breaths, Seokjin managed to still his laughter. The moment his eyes met Namjoon's, though, the giggles started up again. "You look like frog with your eyes all buggy like that!"

"What-" Namjoon started but Seokjin cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Obviously someone on your side did a bit of homework since you know my name, but I guess they didn't mention that I'm a member of the NIS. Shoddy information gathering on their part."

Namjoon tensed as Seokjin reached into his jacket but all the other man pulled out was a wallet. Seokjin tossed it at Namjoon and the blonde flipped it open, glancing at the NIS ID card with Seokjin's name and face on it.

"This proves nothing," Namjoon said tartly, tossing it back. "There are some really good forgeries out there."

"Think what you want, but you're not from the North so we're not enemies." Seokjin tucked the wallet back inside his jacket before smoothing down his lapels. "You're obviously not NIS; you've done nothing correctly since barging in here. You'd be an embarrassment to the organization. Which means you're either lying about being from the South, or you're an independent operative." He fiddled with his cufflinks, glancing up at Namjoon through the fringe of his bangs. "And, while you're pretty good at faking a Northern accent, it isn't good enough to be native. And that means you're an independent operative." Seokjin tapped a crooked finger against pursed lips. "So then who hired you to kill me is the real question at hand," he mused, although it sounded more like he was thinking aloud than actually pointing the comment to Namjoon.

The younger man opened his mouth to respond but no sound emerged. He had no idea what to say, or what to make of the agent standing in front of him. Part of him wanted to argue that his Northern accent was perfect, thank you very much, but Seokjin's deductions were otherwise spot-on. He wasn't sure whether or not to believe that this oddball was a Southern NIS operative and that Namjoon's information was entirely wrong. The shorter man was very convincing, but that just proved that he was a good agent, regardless of which side of the DMZ he hailed from. And it really wasn't Namjoon's job to question who he was supposed to kill.

There was a momentary silence while Namjoon tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling that was settling in the pit of his stomach. Something about this entire situation was wrong and his intuition was whispering in his ear that Seokjin was genuine and that Bang's informants had royally fucked up. Namjoon was not yet fully convinced of the other man's innocence, though. But pretending he was could lead to the answers he needed. He took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly before extending his hand toward the dark-haired man.

"My name isn't Kim Namgi. It's Kim Namjoon."

Seokjin took the hand, shaking it for the second time that evening. "You could have picked a cover name less similar to your real one," he said with a smirk.

"I didn't pick it," was all Namjoon replied before dropping the hand and moving toward the bathroom door. "I have more questions but we've been in here too long. Care to move to more comfortable surroundings and we can swap notes?"

"Oh, is the bathroom not romantic enough for you?" Seokjin gestured around himself with a flourish.

Namjoon glanced over his shoulder at the other man. "Uhm, not really?" He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. "I mean, it's a bathroom," he continued, as if that was explanation enough. "Not a good place for that sort of thing."

"You do realize I was joking, right?" Seokjin followed him into the hallway.

"Oh." Namjoon ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, of course."

The awkward silence returned as they stood in the hallway right outside the bathroom. Waiters zipped to and fro behind them, carrying trays with champagne out toward the ballroom and dirty glasses back the other way. Namjoon guessed the kitchens lay further down the passage, which made sense as there really wasn't any other way out of the ballroom other than the front doors.

"So, that comfortable place we were moving to?" Seokjin reminded him.

Namjoon cleared his throat. He hadn't actually thought past getting out of the bathroom. He couldn't very well take Seokjin back to his apartment and there wasn't anywhere private they could go at this venue. He supposed he could take the other man to a hotel. There were plenty of nice ones in the area, and he would just use the credit card Bang had issued him to pay for it.

About to suggest hitting up the Hilton, Namjoon was cut off as a voice hollered down the hallway. He turned his head toward the ballroom to see the businessman standing there, flanked by a couple more rather angry-looking men.

The five stared at each other for half a heartbeat before Seokjin grabbed Namjoon's wrist. The blonde glanced his target from the corner of his eyes. The dark-haired man licked his lips. "Run."

They took off like a shot, pounding down the hallway away from the ballroom. Shouts echoed behind them as the other men followed suit. The hallway ended in a T and Namjoon slammed into the wall with his shoulder as he and Seokjin scrambled to the right. Another hallway branched off to the left before the next T and the two men raced around the corner before their pursuers hit the first T. They didn't stop, however, and barreled through a swinging door at the end of the offshoot, right into the middle of a very large, very noisy kitchen.

Seokjin glance around a few times before snagging Namjoon's sleeve and dragging him over to one of the walls where a dozen hooks held aprons, chef jackets, and hats. With hardly a pause, Seokjin put his wallet into his pants pocket, tore off his dress jacket, tossed it into the corner, and donned one of the chef jackets, then plopped a ridiculously tall white hat on top of his head.

"Hurry up!" the shorter man snapped at Namjoon, shoving an apron and hat into the blonde's hands.

Baffled, but figuring that the other agent knew what he was doing, Namjoon transferred the contents of his jacket into his pants pockets, ditched his dress coat, and tied on the apron. He jammed the hat onto his head and followed Seokjin deeper into the kitchen. Dressed as they were, they looked like the rest of the black-slacked, white-shirted kitchen staff.

"Quick, stir this." Namjoon found a wooden spoon shoved into his hands as Seokjin stopped them at workstation that contained a couple of pots that were simmering on low. Right as Namjoon's spoon touched a white sauce, the doors to the kitchen burst open and the Northerners entered.

Blend in, he told himself. I'm a chef. I'm cooking. Ignore them. Blend. Blend. Stir. Doing his damnedest to look like he knew what he was doing, Namjoon turned the heat up on his stove and grabbed a couple bottles of spices that were sitting nearby. Kiddy-corner to him, Seokjin was chopping vegetables with the zeal of a real chef, tossing them into a stock that gave off a delicious aroma. It was mesmerizing to watch the older man slice and dice as if he was in his element. Behind them, their pursuers raced on, ignorant to their prey's disguises.

"Yah!" Seokjin suddenly yelped, looking over at Namjoon. "What are you doing?!"

Namjoon blinked then turned his eyes back to the pot he had been forgetting to stir. It was bubbling over the edge, oozing onto the stove top. "Shit!" He tried stirring but only sloshed more of the thick liquid out of the pot. Seokjin reached over and flipped the dial on the heat down and pushed Namjoon to the side. The older man took a taste from the wooden spoon and scrunched his nose in distaste.

"This is terrible!" Seokjin tossed the spoon into a nearby sink and, arms akimbo, rounded on Namjoon. "Where did you learn to cook?"

"I... didn't?"

"Obviously! You just destroyed a perfectly good alfredo! Did I tell you to turn up the heat?"

Namjoon found himself fidgeting with the hem of his apron. "N-no."

"And what did you even put in there?" Seokjin grabbed one of the spice bottles and looked at the label. "Cinnamon?!" He dropped it onto the counter and put a hand to his forehead. "I gave you one job. One. Job. Stir the damn sauce!"

"I thought I was helping," Namjoon defended weakly, grabbing another spoon.

"Now what are you doing?" Seokjin snagged the spoon away from Namjoon.

"You just told me to stir the damn sauce, I'm going to stir the damn sauce!" Namjoon tried to grab the spoon back but Seokjin held it behind his back at arm's length.

"No! That ship has sailed! You are demoted from sauce stirrer to vegetable scrubber!" Seokjin pointed at the sink with the spoon. A pile of dirty potatoes sat in the basin. "Try not to put cinnamon on those, okay?"

Namjoon glared at the other man and took a couple steps toward the sink. He picked up a scrub brush before pausing. "What the hell are we doing?" he demanded, turning and grabbing Seokjin by the arm.

"I'm going to remake the sauce," Seokjin explained, banging a new pot onto the stove top.

"Damnit, Seokjin, we need to get out of here before they come back!" Namjoon hissed, pointing a scrub brush in the direction the North Koreans had run.

"Oh, right!" Seokjin dropped the spoon onto the countertop. "Sorry, I got carried away."

Namjoon just stared at the other man and slowly shook his head. "You're nuts."

"Probably. Let's go." Seokjin grabbed Namjoon's wrist and pulled him back the way they came. They didn't bother to stop for their jackets, heading into the hallway. They moved further into the building, taking a few turns as they tried to find an exit that didn't lead them either back into the kitchen or into the ballroom. They finally came to an exterior door and slipped out into the chilly night, finding themselves in an employee parking lot.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Namjoon asked, glancing behind himself at the door they came through. He quickly untied his apron and tossed it, and the hat, into a dumpster next to the door.

"Get somewhere safe." Seokjin was moving amongst the cars, checking door handles. He still wore the chef's jacket but his hat had vanished at some point during their flight from the kitchen. "Those men know our faces and I'm pretty sure they weren't chasing us to ask us to dance." He finally pulled open the door of an unlocked car.

"Good thing, too." Namjoon jogged over to the car and climbed into the passenger seat as Seokjin shimmed himself under the console on the driver's side, pulling at some wires. "I can't dance worth a shit."

"Was that a joke? Is Joonie-ah making a joke?" Seokjin touched a couple wires together and the car roared to life.

"Don't call me that," Namjoon snapped as the shorter man got into the driver's seat, slammed the door, and threw the car into drive.

"Why not?" Seokjin pulled out of the parking lot, slipping smoothly into the flow of traffic. "I'll let you call me Jinnie."

"Joonie and Jinnie? We would sound like twins with unimaginative parents," Namjoon grumbled. "I don't know you well enough for you to be so familiar."

"Then let's get to know one another," Seokjin returned logically.

"Let's get to safety first."

"Right." Seokjin adjusted the rearview mirror then glanced over at Namjoon. "Where to?"

The younger man chewed on the side of his pointer finger for a minute, racking his brain. "Turn left at the next light. There's a safehouse not far from here. Although we'll have to decommission it now that you'll know where it is." His original plan to take Seokjin to a hotel was worthless; Namjoon needed weapons and the safehouses were fully stocked.

"You could blindfold me so I won't know where it is," Seokjin offered in a helpful tone.

Namjoon rolled his eyes. "You can't drive while blindfolded."

"You think?" Seokjin rolled his eyes right back at the blonde. "You'd be the one driving. I'll switch with you if it makes you more comfortable."

The younger man licked his lips. "That won't do us any good. I can't drive," he admitted.

"Wah?" Seokjin sent Namjoon a startled look. "How do you get around?"

"Take a right here." Namjoon pointed at the upcoming road, ignoring Seokjin's question. "It's two blocks down on the right. We can lay low there for a bit and figure this-" he waved a hand to indicate the two of them "-out."

"Not much to figure out," Seokjin murmured. "Peg A in slot B. Pretty hard to mess that up."

Namjoon choked on his own spit as Seokjin maneuvered the car into an empty parking space next to a short, innocuous apartment building that sat next to an identical, innocuous apartment building. Mirror images of the building lined both sides of the residential street for a few blocks. It was a place easily disregarded as unremarkable, which made it a perfect place for a safehouse.

The younger stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He heard Seokjin's door close but didn't hear the man approach. He was quickly learning that the shorter agent made very little noise when he moved, especially since he glanced over his shoulder and saw Seokjin directly behind him, close enough that if Namjoon stepped back, he would have smacked right into the other. The man should have to wear a bell or something.

Shaking the thought from his head, Namjoon opened the door into the building and ushered Seokjin through, then up two flights of stairs to the third floor. Like all the other complexes on the street, each floor housed only a single, larger family unit so there was just one door on the third-floor landing. Namjoon made sure to bolt it firmly behind him once they were inside.

After switching his dress shoes for a pair of house-slippers, Namjoon moved through the apartment, checking for signs of recent habitation. Seokjin padded silently behind him, his eyes taking in the rooms with an air of curiosity. When they reached the narrow kitchen, the older man started opening cupboards. He made a happy noise when he found a stockpile of instant ramyeon bowls, pulling a few out and setting them on the counter.

"Hot pot?" he asked Namjoon, rummaging around in more cupboards. The blonde opened one near the fridge and pulled out the electric kettle, passing it to Seokjin without a word. He hid his amusement that the other man was making instant noodles while still dressed in the stolen chef jacket. Seokjin thanked him and set about boiling water for their poor man's dinner. "Chicken or shrimp?"

"Chicken. I don't eat seafood." Namjoon walked over to the window by the dinning table, lifting a blind-slat to peer out at the street below.

"You don't cook. You don't drive. You don't eat shrimp. What else don't you do?" Seokjin hoisted himself up to sit on the counter next to the hot pot.

"Usually I don't let my targets live long enough to find out." Namjoon turned away from the window and frowned at Seokjin sitting on the counter. "That wasn't made for your ass."

Seokjin tsk'ed in response but didn't hop down. "I appreciate being the exception to your rule." He kicked his long legs a couple times.

"Which segues nicely into the conversation we really need to have." Namjoon moved out of the kitchen toward the living room and then into one of the three bedrooms. "I'm going to change first, though. Feel free to dig through the closets. Unless you want to walk around looking like last week's Iron Chef." He pulled some jeans and a plain, black, cotton t-shirt from a dresser and tossed them on the bed before digging through a sock drawer.

"Mind if I shower?" Seokjin opened the closet and started pawing through the shirts.

"Go ahead." Namjoon pulled a towel out of a linen closet outside the bathroom and passed it to Seokjin before going back into the bedroom. "When you're done, we can eat. And talk."

***

Namjoon sat on the couch, staring at the dark-haired man that sat across from him on a loveseat. Seokjin was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, one hand raised in front of his face. Between the fingers of the hand he gripped a shiny black thumb drive.

"I'm guessing that this is what they've sent you to retrieve." Seokjin turned the data stick around in his fingers a few times, regarding it with half-closed eyes. "Did they tell you what's on it?"

"No." Namjoon shifted forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, hands dangling between his legs. "I'm only told information vital to the job."

"How about you explain to me what you were told." Seokjin palmed the thumb drive and sat back against the seat cushions, folding his arms across the pale pink button-up he'd chosen from the closet.

"Not much. You were getting a hand-off from a mole in the government. Like I said in that bathroom, my job consisted of finding out who that was, killing you, and taking that back." He nodded his head toward Seokjin's closed hand.

Seokjin nodded in understanding. "Who hired you?"

Namjoon sighed. "That I can't tell you. Someone high up is all I was told." A lie, but a necessary one. He wasn't about to tell a possible Northern spy that President Moon Jae-in was aware of what was going on in his cabinet; if he failed to kill Seokjin, the other man could alert his contact and put the president in a lot more danger than the man might already be in.

His lie must have been convincing enough because Seokjin didn't question it. "Odd that they would hire an independent, though."

"Not really. You're with NIS but they think you're a Northern operative. Your department would be viewed as compromised." Namjoon ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead before letting it flop back into place.

Seokjin pursed his lips. "I suppose that could be true."

"So, what is on it, if not information you're taking back to the North?"

Seokjin fiddled with the thumb drive for a moment. "Would you believe that I don't know?"

"No."

Seokjin huffed indignantly. "I don't! Not fully, anyway." He regarded the thumb drive silently for a moment. "I know you don't trust me anymore than I trust you, but I hope you will believe me when I say that I am loyal to the South. You see, Joonie-ah-"

"Don't call me that."

"-I'm a double-agent. Which is why your sources probably messed up when looking into me." Seokjin stood and walked to the living room windows, lifting a slat and looking out. Both men had been periodically peeping outside for any sign of their pursuers; so far there had been no movement outside but neither man was letting his guard down. "NIS assigned me to infiltrate the North as one of their agents. Ironic that, once I was established up there, the RGB sent me down here to do the same for them." The dark-haired man turned and regarded Namjoon through his lashes. "I know who the mole is but I can't blow his cover yet. Not until I get this thumb drive to the right people."

Namjoon stood from his seat and moved toward Seokjin. "And who are those people?"

"Southern operatives involved in my mission. Whatever is on this," he held up the data stick, "has the chance to blow open a conspiracy against our government. I'd appreciate you not killing me until I can pass this along to them. Otherwise I will have wasted five years in that god-forsaken country, and we will be no closer to exposing the traitors."

Joining him at the window, Namjoon took his turn looking out at the streets below, eyes flicking from one side of the road to the other. The coast still looked clear from that direction. He would need to check the windows in the kitchen and the bedrooms to determine if their perimeter was truly clear but that would have to wait because Seokjin was being surprising again.

Namjoon looked down at his hand as Seokjin grabbed it. Wordlessly, the older man dropped the thumb drive into Namjoon's open palm then curled the blonde's long fingers over it. The gesture spoke volumes to Namjoon about how much Seokjin was risking, trusting the younger operative. It would be easy enough to kill Seokjin now and take the drive back to Bang. He might not fully complete the mission, not knowing who the mole was, but if the data on the stick could expose a larger conspiracy, then what did it matter if he didn't get the name of the informant?

"Do you know where to find your contacts?" Namjoon slipped the thumb drive into his pants pocket as Seokjin nodded. "Alright. We'll leave in the morning, then."

"I'll take first watch," Seokjin offered.

Namjoon hesitated before listening to his gut instinct and nodding. If Seokjin was going to show him enough trust to give him the thumb drive, he would need to return the favor and trust that his mark wasn't going to run off in the middle of the night. Or try to smother him in his sleep.