"Jimin, what is it exactly that you do?" I piped up from the couch where I'd been watching Jimin flipping through some papers on the floor.

"Hm?" His eyes flickered up to me. "I do a lot of things. Like last night in bed I—"

"Your job." I threw a pillow at him. "What is it exactly that do for your job? Do you actually train militants?"

Jimin easily ducked the assailing cushion. "This specific district doesn't have official training camps, so not really. Maybe one or two special cases might visit here every few months who might need extra training because they're falling behind in the official training camps."

"And you're the one who trains them?"

He hummed affirmative.

"So like, you teach them how to punch, do combat, handle weapons, all that sort of stuff?" I pressed, intrigued.

It was fascinating to think of the cunning, sharp combative mind hidden underneath that silver hair and sultry eyes.

Jimin laughed a little. "There's much more to the military than fighting," he said. "But yes. If it's combative training they need then I do teach them 'how to punch' as you phrased it."

I pondered his words for a few moments, watching him continue flipping through the papers around him. I enjoyed moments like these the few times he stayed home for work. Usually it was just like this: me sitting on the couch with my online assignments and him working either on the floor beside me or at the kitchen counter. There was a certain allure to watching someone when they were focused on something.

"Could you teach me how to fight?"

"You're already prepared to lunge at someone's throat in a heartbeat. I'd be terrified if you actually knew how to fight."

"Jimin I'm serious." I leaned forward. "It's just... that night those assassins came in and attacked us..." I involuntarily ran a finger down the slightly raised scar along my palm. "I was helpless against that man. And then you swooped in and disarmed him without breaking a sweat."

Jimin set down the papers to focus his whole attention on me. "That's because I've had a lot of training, Jiyeon," he said quietly. It was the first time he'd really alluded to his background in combat. "I've had years of hard and even harsh training."

I swallowed. "I'm not saying I want to fight as well as you can. I probably never will reach that level. But I just... I want to be able to properly defend myself and hold my own if I ever get in a tight situation again." I quickly looked down at my hands. "I may not have you around to help me if I'm in a tight situation like that again."

Jimin sighed softly and reached over to cover my hands with his. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

"You can't promise something like that."

The silver Outworlder closed his eyes briefly. "Alright, just let me think about it a little, okay? I can probably teach you some basic self defense moves. Though at the moment I'm a little busy."

"What are those?" I nodded over to the papers scattered across the floor.

"Goodness, you are just overflowing with questions today aren't you?" There was no maliciousness in Jimin's voice. "Because of the... increase of tensions throughout the region I've been ordered by my higher ups to increase possible recruit options as well as monitor the ones I already have. Not to mention they want me to start thinking of some new training programs that they can use at the training camps."

"Have you ever trained the recruits at the camps?"

I didn't miss the way his shoulders stiffened a little. "A few times," he replied shortly.

I couldn't help but lean forward and kiss the top of his head. "If you ever want to talk about it let me know okay?"

"Are you going to be my therapist?" Jimin beamed up at me, his very Marks seeming to flare happily at my peck.

"Do you want me to?" I grinned back.

"Mm." Jimin hummed as he gracefully slid up onto the couch and stopping to hover over me. "It depends on what kind of therapist."

A nervous, bubbly chuckle escaped me as he leaned down and began planting little kisses all over me.

Just as our lips connected an obnoxious buzz alerted an incoming notification from Jimin's phone on the ground.

I began to pull back but his hands quickly caught my face and he enveloped my lips with his. "Ignore it," he mumbled against me.

I wrapped an arm around his neck as he pressed his body down on mine, one hand braced on the sofa's armrest right above my head so his entire weight didn't crush against me. Deep down I probably wouldn't have minded that though. I loved how my body sank cozily into the cushions with him hovering over me—

Jimin's phone buzzed loudly again.

He exhaled in irritation and hefted himself off me and onto the floor. "Excuse me while I send a colorful shut up message to the bastard ruining this moment," he said, grabbing his device.

I released a breathless laugh, my body still buzzing from his touches and kisses moments before.

However when Jimin turned on the screen and saw the notifications he stopped. I sat up, alerted by his attitude shift. "What? Is it Hoseok?"

The Outworlders from the other night had finally found a hospital almost forty minutes away who accepted Hoseok into their institution. Jungkook, or one of the other Outworlders of the group, sent daily update texts that Hoseok was thankfully recovering and slowly, but surely, healing.

The tall Outworlder, Namjoon, had studied the substance that had ravaged Hoseok's body useless. He had yet to figure out what it was but from what he'd figured so far was that there had been multiple toxic chemical compounds in substance.

"It's my father," Jimin said quietly.

I straightened at that. "General Konu?" It still was strange for me to think that Jimin's father was an Infinity Council member. "What does he want?"

"He wants his dear son to visit him this weekend."

"You don't want to go." It wasn't even a question. I could tell just by the tone in his voice.

I didn't quite know the details of the bad blood between Jimin and General Konu. All I'd deduced from the situation was that it had something to do with the militant background of Jimin.

"I have to," Jimin sighed. "I should've arranged to go to the North City earlier anyways. But now I'm actually being summoned."

"When are you leaving?"

"It looks like Father already purchased the airfare ticket for day after tomorrow."

"How long will you be gone?"

"It's hard to say. It depends on how long he wants to keep me there." Jimin carelessly tossed the phone onto the table and flung his head back against the couch to gaze up and meet my eyes. "Hey partner."

"Hey."

He smiled. "Would you be interested in accompanying and seeing the North City with me?"

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