Chapter Text
There is warmth. Everywhere, every inch of his skin. Deep in his core.
There is pressure, a heavy weight in his lap, strong thighs around his waist. Hands pressed into the low of his belly.
And there is pleasure, twisting down his spine and building between his legs. Everything is blurred around the edges, vision hazy. He’s not sure how they went from walking through a grassy field to this. He’s pretty sure they were in a grassy field, at least. They were searching for treasure.
The Faerie Queen personally asked them to. It’s for the elves, or something. Jungkook can’t remember the details but there was definitely a quest.
Dark eyes look down on him, mischief in them as pleasure erupts inside of Jungkook. He grips down in the sheets, thighs trembling. All thoughts of grassy fields and hidden treasure lost from his mind.
“ Look at you .”
The heat building inside of Jungkook pours out of his skin until he feels flushed all over. The pants he lets out sound distant, muffled in his ears.
But the words Jimin say when he leans over him are loud.
“ Jungkook .”
Jungkook closes his eyes, hips bucking up into Jimin’s hand. He wishes it weren’t so blurry around them so he could better focus on the way Jimin looks straddling his thighs. He’s gorgeous, bare skin glistening beneath the sun. Maybe they are still in the grassy field.
“ Jungkook .”
There’s teeth, pain. Jungkook’s never been one to mix pleasure and pain, but he wants Jimin to bite him more. Nails digging into his skin, scraping at it, their skin smacking together roughly.
Even if he wants to gently touch Jimin and caress him and read him poetry from those books he has hidden beneath his bed so Yoongi and Hoseok will never find them.
“ You’re close, aren’t you ?”
Jungkook nods quickly, thighs tightening together. The pleasure is building inside of him, hips bucking. Jungkook’s heart is throbbing in his ears, loudly. Too loud. The loudness of it shatters the bright sky and grassy field away from him.
Jungkook blinks his eyes open to see his bedroom ceiling above him and lap empty.
Jungkook groans low, trembling slightly. He feels like he’s covered in sweat, his bare chest layered with it. His fingers are gripping hard in his sheets, which are twisted around his legs.
Blinking away the sleep in his eyes, Jungkook looks down his body. The way the sheet tents over his lap, transparent where the head of his cock presses into it.
What the fuck.
Sleep still clings so heavily to him that he doesn’t realize at first that the banging in his ears wasn’t his heart, but something else.
Jungkook flies from the bed, curling his body forward and trying to suppress a groan when it adds pressure to his groin. He hasn’t had a naughty dream since he was a teenager, and he’s kind of embarrassed by it. Even more so when there’s another bang that draws Jungkook’s attention to someone else in the room.
Jimin. Of course it’s fucking Jimin, of all people. He leans against the doorframe, his fist hovering over his bedroom wall.
“Hey there, Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook wheezes. Calm, cool, collected. He can do this.
There is mischief in Jimin’s expression, the same cocky grin he had been wearing in Jungkook’s dream.
Jungkook has been pretending to be unaware of his attraction to Jimin. He hasn’t done very well, but he’s trying. It’s unprofessional, and he’s an idiot for letting himself getting convinced to hire someone that looks like sex on legs and knows it.
But he needed to hire Jimin. It was important. He can’t let his dick ruin his plans.
“Good morning, I see,” Jimin says, fingers circling in a wave to indicate Jungkook’s predicament.
Jungkook might die.
“Yep. What? What are you doing here?”
Jimin cocks his hip, leaning more into the doorframe as if he’s trying to show off the length of his body. Teasing Jungkook. He looks alluring. Jungkook can’t help but think about Jimin’s body pressed against his own even though embarrassment is making his arousal die. “I was in the bathroom when I heard you call my name right before you made a sound like you were dying.”
Jungkook laughs. He knows it sounds as awkward as he feels. “I am going to die, actually. If you’d excuse me, I would like to spend my last few minutes of lfie in solitude.”
Jimin grins wider, pushing away from the doorframe. “Make it quick. You have a busy schedule today.”
The awkwardness doesn’t fade. Jungkook is quite sure he’s the only one that feels it as Jimin seems quite at ease. Smug, in fact.
Usually, Jungkook doesn’t remember his dreams. Of course he has to remember this one. The way Jimin looked on his lap, the way he touched him, said his name.
The way his own cock was obnoxiously big. Like kind of gross, actually. He didn’t think he had any insecurities about his actual dick size, but his subconscious sure does. It must. He doesn’t think cocks actually get that big.
“Are you coming?”
Jungkook laughs. His face feels so hot. He wracks fingers through his hair, trying to come off cooler than he is. He is cool. Him and his guild just defeated the Lich King , and Jungkook only kind of cried about it.
Just last week, Jungkook hit Grandmaster League in Overwatch and Lobomon definitely cried about it because he sucks . Unlike himself, because he’s cool. Calm, collected.
“What?” Jungkook asks, words shaking. He clears his throat, makes what Jin calls his murder face.
Jimin snorts. He hooks a hand over his shoulder to indicate the door. “You have breakfast at the same time every morning. Routine and all that?”
Jungkook forgot about breakfast. He’s been trying to cool down his embarrassment in the bathroom, but it didn’t work well. Even when he froze himself beneath the shower head and tried to think more about the Faerie Queen and her quest instead. He refused to touch himself with Jimin still in his mind, though he’s pretty sure Jimin thinks that’s what took his shower so long.
“I decided I’m anti breakfast,” Jungkook says, leaning against the bathroom counter. After his shower, he’s spent the last five minutes staring at his red face. “I’m banning it.”
Jimin’s changed while he’s in the shower. No longer in his sleep clothes, but those leather pants are back. His shirt is a pale pink and tucked into his belt, revealing his smaller waist. The shirt is thin enough that Jungkook can see his lean muscles move beneath it when he closes the space between them.
“Thought you’d be hungry after exerting yourself so much,” Jimin murmurs. Jungkook bites his bottom lip, unmoving as he takes in how close they are. He tenses when he feels fingers against his bare belly, but he refuses to look down.
It’ll cause another predicament if he sees the way Jimin’s fingers graze over the knot that keeps Jungkook’s towel around his hips like he might just tug it off.
“I’m banning this conversation,” Jungkook says. There’s no bite to it because his words come out breathless instead. “Forget what you saw.”
Jimin pushes his lips into a pout, pulling his touch away. “It was kind of hot. Especially since you screamed my name.”
Jungkook pushes past Jimin to grab the folded clothes on the top of the toilet. He’s never going to live this down. He can’t even vent about it because Hoseok will bring it up every chance he gets, and Yoongi threatens to kill him whenever he mentions anything to do with his dick or sex life. “It wasn’t you. I know a lot of Jimin’s. I - I had a boyfriend once named Jimin.”
Sweat collects at Jungkook’s neck. He wipes at it with his shirt before pulling it over his torso. He doesn’t look around to see if Jimin is there as he pulls his briefs on underneath the towel before letting the towel drop to the ground. He considers picking it up and hanging it over his head so Jimin can’t see how red his cheeks are.
“Did you?” Jimin asks. The smirk is still on his face when Jungkook turns back around. “Must have really had an effect on you if you’re still dreaming about him so intimately.”
Jungkook huffs out a laugh. He wants Jimin’s body pressed against his own, but it’s inappropriate. Jimin looks at him like he wants it too, his smile reminding Jungkook of the way Yoongi looks at steak before he takes his first bite.
“Mhm,” Jungkook hums, nodding. “He was very good with his hands. His big massive hands that are not like yours. Quite different. Completely different hands that weren’t yours.”
Jimin rolls his eyes before he saunters off. “Come on, Mr. Jeon. Sunbaenim says you get cranky if you don’t eat on schedule.”
It’s true. Jungkook quickly pulls on his pants to follow after him, foregoing slippers though the floors are cool beneath his feet. He keeps a distance between him and Jimin, though Jimin keeps looking at him with wanting eyes.
It makes Jungkook hot. He considers putting his face against the cool floor instead of his feet to cool it down.
Jungkook wants to ban the entire day. Jimin’s purposefully teasing him. He flicks his tongue out before he takes every bite of food during breakfast, eyes blazing. He brushes their arms together when they walk through the hallway, and tickles Jungkook’s back when Jungkook enters any room before him.
He watches Jungkook with heavy eyes while Jungkook’s on the phone, sat comfortably on the couch with his legs spread. Jungkook fumbles over his words as he watches Jimin play with the seam running over the inside of his thighs.
Jungkook barely listens to the report from the man they sent undercover into Park’s gang. It’s important he pays attention, but he can’t. He usually zones out during these things, but today there’s a reason other than the fact that any talk of the Saja pulls Jungkook away from himself.
“Are you okay, sir? You sound ill.”
“I have a stomach bug,” Jungkook says, clearing his throat. He tries to make his voice sound as ill as possible. “I’ve been sick all morning, throwing up and - ”
“Okay, sir,” Mingyu interrupts quickly, his tone uneasy. It isn’t easy for him to contact Jungkook, and Jungkook really should be paying more attention. Yoongi’s out on a run for him. He usually takes these phone calls. “I hope you feel better. I’ll let you go. I’ll let you know if I get sight of Park’s right hand man.”
Jungkook says his thanks. He doesn’t tell Mingyu that he already knows where Park’s right hand man is. He doesn’t remember why they were talking about him. He can’t remember much after he hangs up the phone. He really did tune him out. Maybe too much.
Jimin brushes his hair back, head tilting and elongating his thick neck. Jungkook pokes his tongue into his cheek, trying to remember what he’s supposed to do now. He has a long list of things he has to do today, somewhere. He wrote it down because he knew his distracted mind would make him forget.
He blames his haziness on the fact that he stayed up so late the night before, playing on his gameboy into the early morning. Only that and nothing to do with trying very hard not to react to the way Jimin looks at him.
What a waste it would be for Yoongi and Hoseok to go through all this to keep him safe only for Jungkook to die because of a wet dream. Hoseok probably wouldn’t be surprised, would put it on his gravestone for all to see.
“You do look very red,” Jimin says, dragging Jungkook’s attention back to him. It never really left him. “Coming down with a fever?”
Jungkook licks his lips, shakes his head. “I’m just feeling a little off today, Jimin-ssi.”
Jimin smirks like he knows why. He definitely does, because he’s making it worse.
He keeps making it worse. Brushing their fronts together when they go back into the dining room to have lunch. Kicking his feet against Jungkook’s thigh while Jungkook finally takes a break to play a video game. Moving across the couch until there isn’t much space between them.
Breathing against his ear when he tells Jungkook how much he sucks at Mario Kart. Aggravation at losing, at how ridiculous he feels, has Jungkook tossing the controller across the couch.
He turns in his seat, ready to tell Jimin off for teasing him, but he stills when he realizes how close they are. Their lengths of their bodies are pressed together, and when Jimin turns their noses almost touch.
Jimin braces himself with an arm on the back of the couch, leaning in a bit more. “You do suck, no offense.”
Jungkook narrows his eyes. He tries not to drop them to Jimin’s lips when they move as he speaks. He fails.
“You suck,” Jungkook snaps back.
“I could.”
Jungkook parts his lips as his cheeks grow hot again. Jimin looks overly amused with himself.
“If you’re so good at it, why don’t you play,” Jungkook says, reaching behind him to grab the controller and toss it in Jimin’s lap.
Jimin’s eyes squint closed when he smiles, cheeks rounding. “Let me show you a thing or two, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook adjusts the headset so it’s covering both of his ears, as he had left one uncovered to hear Jimin. He regrets it.
There is a smug look on Jimin’s face as he settles himself with his legs spread, the controller hovering between. Jungkook grumbles to himself as the game starts, feeling smug about how badly Jimin is about to lose.
He’s actually really good at Mario Kart. The guy he plays is just better. The self proclaimed Kart Master. Jungkook would agree, but he doesn’t need to stroke his ego anymore.
“What the fuck,” Jungkook hears from the headset, mixed in with a series of grunts and curses. “Uruno, are you cheating?”
Jungkook doesn’t reply. He crosses his arms, glaring at the screen.
His attraction to Jimin disappears and changes into frustration when Jimin wins the game. It grows when Jimin gives him the cockiest look he’s ever seen.
“What the fuck. You’ve never beaten me before.”
Jungkook ignores him a second time. “Let’s go again.”
Jimin wins again. Jungkook feels as frustrated as the guy in his ears, who continues letting out a stream of curse words, his voice growing louder and louder.
“I can’t do this,” Jungkook grunts, ripping off the headset and tossing it to Jimin. “Have fun.”
Jimin cackles as he slips on the headset, eyes bright. He looks cute like this. Jungkook glares at him further. “He is cheating. I’m playing.”
The amusement slips from Jimin’s face, but Jungkook turns around and misses it. He feels a little childish, but he really hates losing.
He runs over things in his head that he can definitely best Jimin at. They only have about an hour before Jungkook has another meeting to attend to via phone, but he’ll figure something out.
“I challenge you to an arm wrestling match,” Jungkook declares as he flips around, pointing his finger at Jimin.
Jimin isn’t playing the game, which is paused and waiting for him to start a new round. His lips are parted open like he’s surprised, and he blinks a few times before he realizes Jungkook’s talking to him. He looks out of it for a moment, surprised, and Jungkook hesitates when he realizes it’s not because of the arm wrestling challenge.
“I want to play another game,” Jimin says, nudging his head to the television. “You know, to better that sorry ass score of yours.”
Jungkook grits his teeth and settles back on the couch. He tucks his legs towards his body. “You just say that because you know you’ll lose.” He squeezes his fist and pats the bulging muscle in his bicep. “Can’t win against these babies.”
Jimin isn’t listening or looking as he adjusts the headset again. Jungkook sighs. “You’re good at this game uh - Lobomon?”
There is a quirk in Jimin’s lips from whatever Lobomon says in return. It’s the softest Jungkook’s ever seen him look. So soft that for a moment, Jungkook forgets about his grumpiness to admire Jimin in a different way than he has all day.
The crinkle in his eyes. How they close when his smile, and it grows. Jimin has a cute laugh, a giggle that makes his shoulders shake. Once, Jungkook say his whole body move from the force of his laughter at whatever Hoseok had said to him.
Jungkook had wanted to make Jimin laugh the same way.
“Really? No, that’s him. Uruno.”
On the screen, Lobomon’s Yoshi spins out of control. Jimin winces, and Lobomon says something so loud that Jungkook can almost make it out, though it’s muffled through the headset. They’re playing a level Jungkook’s failed to get past fourth place in, and he wrinkles his nose when Jimin easily zooms up to the second spot.
He frowns when he sees how far Lobomon gets behind. It’s unlike him.
“Don’t talk shit about me,” Jungkook says, pinching Jimin’s thigh. Jimin sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, only glancing at him.
The third round, Lobomon comes in last place. He doesn’t even try to win, and Jungkook’s wrestling the controller from Jimin because Jimin isn’t good at the game, Lobomon’s just letting him win.
“Enough. Arm wrestle time.”
Jimin fights Jungkook back when he tries to take the headset second. His knees press into Jungkook’s thighs as he climbs over him, hands grabbing Jungkook’s to shove them back.
Jungkook’s stomach swoops when Jimin pins him back against the couch, a wicked smile on his face. The worst look he’s had all day. The most annoying blaze of victory in Jimin’s eyes.
“I have to go. I hope we can play again. Mr. Sore Loser here -”
Jungkook grunts gently as he hooks a leg around Jimin and uses all the strength in his body to make it so Jimin is the one flinging back against the couch. It makes Jimin giggle and victory soars through Jungkook.
Who gives a shit about Mario Kart. The real accomplishment is making that sound come from Jimin.
“Fine,” Jimin huffs, tugging the headset off of his head. He doesn’t fight back against Jungkook, and Jungkook has half the mind to crawl over him and pin him down to the couch with his body.
He doesn’t, only hovers his mic to his lips to say, “bye, Lob.”
Teeth dragging over his bottom lip, Jimin watches Jungkook as he pads across the room to put the headset safely away and turn off his television. Jungkook feels oddly exposed, though he’s dressed more than he usually is. Gray sweatpants and a button up shirt just in case someone video calls him unexpectedly.
“You’ve been playing him for a long time?” Jimin asks, waving towards the now black screen. “Lobomon?”
Jungkook moves things from the table in front of the couch, clearing it so he can press his elbow into it. He considers taking his shirt off to make Jimin feel threatened by his body. Maybe he just wants Jimin to take his clothes off, btu whatever. “A couple years now. Stop stalling, Jeo.”
Jimin rolls his eyes but sits across from him. He teases his shirt sleeve up into his shoulder before readying his elbow across from Jungkook’s. “How did you meet him?”
“Online.” Jungkook stretches his fingers before clasping Jimin’s hands. He doesn’t actually remember meeting Lobomon. He knows that isn’t his name of course. His initials are in all of his users - KTH - but Jungkook doesn’t press him for a real name. He understands needing anonymity. Even if Lobomon’s reason is not because he’s a member of a notorious gang like himself.“He does game tutorials.”
“Isn’t it weird to know someone so well but not what they look like?”
Jungkook grunts as he uses all of his strength to try and force Jimin’s arm back. Jimin’s biceps bulge, and he puts up a resistance that Jungkook can’t break. It frustrates him further.
“No,” Jungkook grits out. “I can’t quite show off my face either.”
“I’ve wondered why you’ve kept yourself hidden,” Jimin says. At least the exertion sounds in his voice though he doesn’t look as if he’s even trying to use all of his strength to push Jungkook’s hand to the table.
Jimin is wicked strong, his arms looking like mountains beneath the thin pink shirt. Jungkook tries not to look at them because it makes his chest flutter.
The stronger Jimin presses against his fist, the more Jungkook’s life flashes before his eyes because this is backfiring badly. He tries to think about anything but Jimin pressing him down with those strong arms of his before he accidentally pops a boner trying to win this game.
“Why there are so many guards here,” Jimin goes on, dragging Jungkook back out of his thoughts.
“I was kidnapped when I was younger,” Jungkook huffs. He breathes heavily, victory thrumming through him as Jimin’s hand moves an inch back. It dies when it then moves two inches forward in response.
Fuck , Jimin is really strong.
“Twice,” Jungkook says, his face throbbing now. He thinks he’s going to pop the vein in his temple from the strain that builds in his face. “By Park’s men.”
Jimin falters, and Jungkook takes advantage to smash his fist into the table.
“Victory,” Jungkook grunts, tired. He wrings out his arm before holding out the other one. “Now the other, let’s go.”
Jimin looks at him as he rubs his hand. Jungkook hopes he hadn’t squeezed onto it too tightly. “You were kidnapped?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook says, resting his elbow onto the table and wiggling his fingers to beckon Jimin. He doesn’t move. “It’s not a big deal.”
It is, but it was so long ago that Jungkook can’t do anything about it.
“Your father must care a lot about you,” Jimin says, still not moving. “To put this much protection around you so it doesn’t happen again.”
Jungkook sighs, pulling back his arm. He wouldn’t say his father cares for him, he just also hates losing. It would be losing if Park killed his son before his father could kill Park’s.
The promise to marry Park’s daughter does nothing to protect Jungkook. Park doesn’t care about his daughter, easily giving her up in a fake attempt at a peace treaty. A peace treaty that he’s already gone against in multiple ways.
Park Jaegyu just doesn’t know Jungkook knows he’s gone against it.
“That’s mostly Yoongi’s doing,” Jungkook says, leaning back. His arm still aches. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s kind of protective.”
Protective all around. Not just Jungkook’s safety, but his mind too. There have been times Yoongi’s taken over doing something Jungkook was supposed to because he knew how much Jungkook hated violence, how sick it made him.
There are rumors about the things that Jungkook has done, and they’ve been spread by Yoongi, who has actually been the one to do them. He hates it, though he thinks it’s amusing that Hoseok’s spread the word about him using an ax of all things.
“I didn’t,” Jimin jokes, expression easing. Jungkook hates when people look at him with pity, and he’s glad Jimin’s stopped. “The hundreds of times he’s threatened me, I thought he was just playing around.”
Jungkook laughs, cheeks tinting red for a different reason now. He likes the way Jimin smiles, makes him less annoying. “Come on, round two.”
Jimin beats his ass in round two, hitting Jungkook’s fist so hard to the table it feels bruised throughout the rest of the day.
“Mr. Jeon, this is getting a little ridiculous.”
Jimin is panting heavily, face burning red. Sweat drips down his face, soaks his collar. His shirt sticks to his chest, his hips.
“It’s Jungkook,” Jungkook reminds him. He jogs in place, hyping himself up. He claps his hands in front of himself than bangs his fists against his chest. His heart is pounding so hard his face throbs with it. “One more time.”
The noise that leaves Jimin’s lips makes him sound like he’s dying. His face twists in pain. “We’ve ran this track five times already. I’m faster than you, get over it.”
Jungkook wrinkles his nose, shaking his head. “No way. Buckle up, Jeo. I’m winning this time.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, planting his hands to his hips as he tries to catch his breath. “If you win, can we finish?”
“Don’t lose on purpose!” Jungkook exclaims as Jimin drops down to grab a water bottle and chugs nearly the entirety of it in one go. “Give it your all or it doesn’t count.”
Jimin glares at him, jaw tensing. He looks at Jungkook like he had looked at Yoongi during the fake kidnapping. “I’m not doing this.”
“It’s an order,” Jungkook says, stretching his arms around his body. He’s definitely going to win. “I’m your boss.”
Jimin takes off running without warning.
“Fucker,” Jungkook grunts, catching up to him in seconds. He swats at Jimin’s ass before he breezes by him.
It’s starting to get dark out. Jungkook’s skipped his last phone conference to kick Jimin’s ass in running. There is a track in the field behind Jungkook’s house, thankfully. He’s going to be boneless by the time he gets back, and he’s glad it isn’t a far walk.
Something hits Jungkook’s back and he tilts forward, tripping over his feet. He tucks his body in time to roll over the pavement before that something lands on him. That one year of gymnastics he took coming in handy.
Jimin is sweating so hard it drips off of his face and onto Jungkook. He hovers over him, hands on each side of Jungkook’s head.
“I’m not doing this anymore, boss ,” Jimin grunts through his heavy breaths, aggravation on his face. “Is this how you kill people? Make them run laps over and over?”
Jungkook is breathless. Not just from running. It’s embarrassing how quickly Jungkook pictures Jimin breathing heavily over him for other reasons. “I tie them to the treadmill.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. He sits up, but he doesn’t get off of Jungkook’s lap. His weight presses against Jungkook’s stomach, and he prays he doesn’t get hard from it like a fourteen year old.
It brings him back to the problem he’s been avoiding. It makes him think about his dream, with Jimin on his lap almost the same way as he is now, looking up at the sky.
Maybe Jungkook is a prophet. He doesn’t believe in that kind of stuff really, but he also hadn’t told Jimin about his dream to mimic it so correctly.
The only difference is there are clothes between them and Jungkook’s cock is regular sized.
“Sadistic,” Jimin says as he brushes his sweaty bangs from his forehead. “You know when you first told me you had a kill room, I didn’t think you meant video game kills.”
Jungkook giggles. He wants to get up before he becomes too affected by Jimin on his lap, but he also doesn’t want to move at all. The ache from running so much is going to hit him soon. “What? You thought I meant like a place to murder real people?”
Jimin gives him a strange look. “Jungkook-ssi, you lead a gang. A huge gang that’s known for their violence. It isn’t that odd of a thing to think.”
Jungkook deflates. It’s true. “I’ve never killed anyone.”
Jimin stares at him. His expression is blank. Jungkook grabs his hips to sit up, but he doesn’t push Jimin off of him. Maybe he should, as he can’t help the way his eyes dart towards Jimin’s lips before flicking up towards his eyes. Like this, they’re quite close. Jungkook can feel the heat from Jimin’s body mixing in with his own.
“What?” Jimin asks, eyes turning wide. Jungkook just now notices he has a scar over one of his eyelids.
Jungkook probably shouldn’t tell him this. He rolls his eyes at himself, wishing he could catch his breath better. He’s really off his game today. He’s already given Jimin too much to use against him, and he knows Jimin is going to. Jimin doesn’t need to, but he’s going to. “I said, I haven’t killed anyone before.”
Jimin pushes a hand into his shoulder. “Funny.”
There is no point in trying to convince him, so Jungkook doesn’t try. Jimin crawls off of his lap and holds a hand out for him to help him stand. It’s probably a stupid thing to tell him anyway, as it’s something Yoongi’s worked hard to keep off the streets.
It leaves him vulnerable if people knew how queasy and afraid of violence and killing he is. How difficult this life is for him in general. His father always told him he has to bite through pain and loss in this life, but Jungkook is afraid of it.
He’s always been a little envious of Yoongi, who he feels should have been in his position instead. Jungkook thinks Yoongi is the strongest out of all of them, so strong that he’d be able to push through even the hardest of losses.
“Race you in?” Jimin asks, wagging his brows.
Jungkook forgets about it, rushing past Jimin before he can get out another word.
He flies high on adrenaline as he runs into his house through the back door, nearly running into one of the guards. His steps slow as he realizes how many there are here, that none of them are his. He may not know everyone who works for him’s name, but he knows their faces. Has them memorized.
Jimin hits his back again from the sudden stop, his arms coming around to hug Jungkook from behind so they don’t fall.
“Jungkook. Son. About time you showed your face.”
Nerves erupt inside of Jungkook. He hesitates as Jimin lets go of him, feeling comforted that at least one of his guards is with him amongst a group of his father’s men. Technically Jungkook’s as well, but Jungkook doesn’t trust anyone who works so closely to his father. “Appa.”
Jungkook quickly steps aside of Jimin and bows as deep as he can.
His father didn’t tell him he was coming, but here he is, Jeon Yunbok, sitting in Jungkook’s den. He’s dressed to the nines, an expensive suit on and his most expensive watch wrapped around his wrist. There’s a glass in his hand filled with a dark liquid, and there is a plate on the table like he has been here for some time and ate already. His hair is colored to hide the normal peppered color of it, the make up on his face to hide the age spots that started to appear a few years ago.
“I didn’t know you were here, sir,” Jungkook says as he pulls himself up, straightening his shoulders. He doesn’t have the best posture, but his mother is always smacking him in the shoulders to improve it. It is a habit now to stand as straight and posed as he can whenever his parents are around.
“We couldn’t find you,” his father says. “You have some of the security cameras disabled.”
“I told you I didn’t want them in the house,” Jungkook says back, hoping he doesn’t sound as aggravated as he feels by the mere mention of cameras. “I was outside anyway.”
Yunbok’s eyes narrow slightly, a calculating look in them. That’s how he always looks at Jungkook, like he’s trying him up for size. Jungkook’s thankful he didn’t come earlier when he was business on top and party at the bottom with his dress shirt sweatpants combo.
“I know how you feel about the cameras, Jungkook, but they’re staying,” Yunbook says as his eyes flit over to the other side of the room where Yoongi strolls in, phone pressed to his ear.
“Why did you come here today, Appa?” Jungkook asks instead of arguing about the cameras. Yunbok won’t let him be disrespected in front of his staff, and he isn’t around enough to actually maintain the cameras. He’ll make sure to deactivate them all again once he’s gone.
Which Jungkook hopes is soon, like in a couple minutes kind of soon. But with the luck he has today, he wouldn’t be surprised if his father announced that he is staying for a month.
Yunbok’s jaw ticks. “You were in contact with Gyu today. I want to hear about it.”
Jungkook rubs his sweating palms over his thighs. His father is intimidating, and sometimes it’s hard to look him directly in the eye. He knows he has to. His father’s always stressed the importance of it. He tilts his chin, focuses between his father’s eyes and is glad he isn’t closer or he’d go cross eyed.
“There was no useful information given,” Jungkook says, lies. He is sure there was, but he was too busy being eye fucked by Jimin to pay attention. His father’s going to kill him. “Gyu’s looking for Park’s right hand man, says he’s been missing.”
Jungkook has no idea if Mingyu actually said that, and if his father is just testing him, he could be screwed. But, Park’s right hand man has been missing.
“Interesting,” his father hums, rubbing his lips together. “Park could have him hidden away the way he has his daughter hidden.”
Jungkook nods. He should sit, or get water, but he’s still dripping in sweat. The couches in the den were bought by his mother during her visit in Italy and were expensive. He can’t leave butt stains on them.
“That’s a possibility, yes.”
About this time, Seungcheol should have gotten the video to Park. After months of Park lying about having his daughter in his hands, he doesn’t think Park would reach out to his father about the Neugdae Paeg holding her hostage. But he doesn’t know. He’s paranoid his father knows. It’ll ruin his plans if his father finds out.
Seungcheol swore his father won’t find out, that Park won’t let it get out. He’ll strike quietly, which doesn’t make Jungkook feel too much better. But it’s important. This is important.
He’s risking his entire relationship with Yoongi for it.
“I don’t think it’s likely,” Yoongi says as he slips his phone into his pocket. “Jaegyu’s too old to handle things on his own. ”
“He isn’t much older than myself,” Yunbok grits out, glaring at Yoongi. Yoongi doesn’t look apologetic. “Son, if your informant doesn’t provide you with useful information, pull him.”
Yunbok downs the rest of his cup before he stands. Jungkook drops his gaze to the ground, waiting.
The fingers Yunbok press beneath his chin are gentle. “Go wash up. Your mother is here as well.”
Jungkook loves his mother, he does, but he has to stifle a groan at that. “Yes, sir.”
He leaves then and is thankful when Jimin follows after him. His father didn’t ask about Jimin, so Yoongi must have informed him about a new guard. A new guard that his father won’t like is running around with Jungkook.
It’s quiet as Jimin and Jungkook walk back to his bedroom. Jungkook doesn’t say a word in case he runs into his mother on the way to his room. He doesn’t, thankfully.
“You can shower first,” Jimin says as he pulls off his sweat soaked shirt. Jungkook trails his eyes over his bare torso, not moving.
Jimin flashes him a knowing grin. “Sunbaenim told me I should stick in the shadows around your father. With Yoongi here, should I make myself scarce?”
Jungkook nods, though he doesn’t want Jimin to. He had fun today playing with him.
“Maybe I’ll play some games,” Jimin sighs, stretching his arms back. “This is my first real break since I’ve gotten here.”
Jungkook snorts, eyes rolling. “If you wish for more, you only need to ask.”
Closing the space between them, Jimin gets close enough that Jungkook can feel the heat radiating from his body. He touches Jungkook’s neck, a brush of his fingers that tickles. “Go shower, Jungkook-ssi.”
It isn’t anything dirty, but the way Jimin’s voice drops and the slow way he says it makes Jungkook feel like Jimin just offered to suck him off in the bathroom.
Spending time with his parents is tiresome. He hates that everything is business between them, though his mother dotes on him while they eat dinner. Her face remains blank for most of the talk about work, and Jungkook doesn’t join in the conversation as often as Yoongi.
If his father notices, he doesn’t say anything. He’ll get a lecture in private, probably. But he pretends like he’s listening, head cocked to the side with his ear in his father’s direction.
Over the years, Jungkook’s become ace at pretending. His head shifts around at the different voices, depending on who’s speaking.
“No, you are correct. It shouldn’t have been that easy to access Park’s information. Those businesses are owned by our allies. Loyal ones. I will look into it.”
“Yes sir. If only we knew the man that protected Park’s private information, we would have a better idea -”
“We do know the name. His name is Kim Namjoon.”
Jungkook twirls his chopstick through his noodles, watching them catch around the tip. He perks up at the mention of the name, lazily looking over to his father like he’s unbothered.
He’s anything but. Bothered he’s here, bothered that he seems to be staying awhile. Bothered because Yoongi’s bothered. Bothered because Yoongi’s stolen the dipping sauce for his dumplings and there hasn’t been an opportunity for Jungkook to ask for it back.
“Twenty five. Raised in Park’s home,” Yunbok explains. Yoongi is watching him too, a hard expression on his face. The same expression he wears whenever Yunbok is around. Like he’s thinking about pulling off all of his fingernails. “A genius, of sorts. An expert in his craft.”
“Don’t let Jin here that,” Yoongi jokes, the corner of his mouth quirking up but he looks anything but amused. “Is he still alive? As quickly and easily Jin got into the database and how long he was in there before getting kicked out has us under the impression Park has someone else working for him. Someone mediocre in comparison.”
“As of four days ago, yes,” Yunbok responds. “We have had our eyes on him for some time.”
Jungkook pulls his chopstick from his noodles to place it beside the bowl. His mother is looking down into her own. He glances between the dipping sauce and Yoongi a few times, but Yoongi doesn’t get the hint. He dips his own dumpling into it and ignores the want in Jungkook’s eyes.
“Why have we not been informed?” Jungkook asks as he glares at Yoongi, whose eyes brighten when he takes the dipping sauce and moves it even farther away from him.
Yoongi truly is a master of torture.
“He is not easy to keep an eye on. Holed up in a secure location that he rarely leaves. It was not until four days ago that we realized that he is the man behind Park’s security,” Yunbok explains as if they should know this.
They have guessed as much. Park Jaegyu loves keeping everyone hidden. Jungkook’s father has always talked about it, condescendingly so like he hasn’t hidden his own son for his entire life.
Jin’s good at tracking people, and the fact that he’s yet to find the man behind the screen, has always given them the impression that Park Jaegyu’s put a lot of energy into protecting his hacker.
Which, he should. Even if Jin gets angry whenever they say it, Joonbug really excels at what he does. Really gives Jin a good fight. They’re on the same level.
Joonbug . It plays over Jungkook’s head a few times, wondering if Jin knows Yunbok’s suspicions.
Yoongi cocks his head to the side, eyes calculating. “What happened four days ago?”
There is silence as Yunbok traces a finger over the rim of the glass he’s yet to put down. The moment he takes his last sip, the guard behind him is refilling it, has been all night.
It’s sloppy behavior. Yunbok is too comfortable in Jungkook’s home. He has no reason to hurt his father, right now at least - maybe never will have the courage to, but Yunbok can’t possibly miss the distrust amongst them all. Yoongi’s always blank faced and cold, but his hate for Jeon Yunbok always takes over his expression when the folks come to visit.
“He resurfaced,” Yunbok explains slowly, dragging it out because he knows it annoys Yoongi. There is a slur in his tone, barely there, but Jungkook notices it. “After months and months. Met with one of ours. An old colleague of his from Ilsan’s Institute of Technology.”
Jungkook is used to his father withholding information. It pisses Yoongi off. Jungkook doesn’t care normally. He’s long separated his father and himself as business partners in his mind.
He thinks his father distrusts him just as much as he distrusts his father. He would have a reason to if he knew the things Jungkook and Seungcheol were up to.
But he doesn’t. Maybe it isn’t mistrust, and his father’s just an asshole that likes to play games.
“Didn’t let much slip, but enough,” Yunbok continues. Another sip. Jungkook wonders if his father thinks he has the same alcohol tolerance he had when he was younger. “Claimed he worked at an average technical company. A company we know is tied into Park’s businesses.”
Yoongi laughs, the sound twisted. He leans onto the table with his elbows. If the air wasn’t tense, Jungkook would laugh at how quickly his mother looks at Yoongi’s elbows with daggers in her eyes but the table is rattling and worry fills him that Yoongi might spill the dipping sauce.
“And that is proof? Of what?” Yoongi challenges. He isn’t wearing his blades, but his words slash into the air anyway. “I tell everyone I work at a goddamn Golf Resort but have never played the game in my life. Can’t tell you a thing about it.”
The tension grows. Jungkook doesn’t interrupt. He rubs a finger against his jaw, eyes darting between Yoongi and his father to watch for any sign that one of them may strike.
As many men as his father has brought along, Jungkook’s guards are doubled. Hired by Hoseok to protect Jungkook, but as they’re hired by Hoseok - they’ve no doubt been instructed to have Yoongi’s back as well.
Jungkook hesitates then, realizing Hoseok isn’t amongst them. He always makes sure he’s at the forefront when Appa Jeon visits. Even a surprise visit like this, Hoseok should be here. He looks around to make sure, but he definitely isn’t present.
“Watch your tongue,” Yunbok reprimands. “You are not in the position to speak to me this way. I do not care what you mean to my son, I will treat you the way I treat any of my men who disrespect me.”
“You won’t,” Jungkook finally joins in on the conversation. His heart takes off in a race whenever he talks back to his father. He wishes it didn’t. “I’ve instructed hyung to speak freely from now on. He is only following orders. Hyung will you please pass me the dipping sauce?”
The daggers in his mother’s eyes soften, taking over with hesitancies instead as she darts her eyes between father and son. She is a lot better at making her expression blank than his father is. The concern in her eyes flicker away with a blink as she reaches over with delicate fingers and taps Yoongi’s wrist until he finally, finally passes Jungkook the dipping sauce.
“And regardless,” Jungkook goes on, twirling his fingers dismissively. He’s watched his father do this a thousand times, surely he can mimic him. “Hyung is correct. That is nothing to go on. I know you have more information, and I will not beg for it, Appa. You have emphasized the importance of finding Park’s hacker and if you are withholding information to test me, I am uninterested in playing.”
Jungkook stands then, hands firm on the edge of the table. He presses his weight into it as he feels a tremor rush up into his fingers.
“If you’d excuse me,” Jungkook says, eyes only grazing over his father before he straightens his back and grabs his dumplings and dipping sauce to walk off and eat somewhere else.
It isn’t until he’s stepped from the dining room, away from the guards, that Jungkook considers letting his shoulders fall.
He glares up at the corner of the wall, aggravation filling him at the sight of a camera that doesn’t allow him to be himself, even in private.
“I need you to get all information on a Kim Namjoon. Twenty five years of age. Attended the Institute of Technology in Ilsan. No - no, I don't have anything else to go on unless you fancy hacking Appa’s computer. Seeing as you don’t know, I have a feeling he has someone else helping him.”
Jungkook rests against the edge of his desk, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He’s locked himself in his office, though Jimin is with him. Sat on the couch with his headset still on, one ear free.
He’s given Jimin permission to continue on his break. Yoongi will get aggravated at the chair pressed beneath the handles of the office door, but Jungkook doesn’t want to be bothered. He also doesn’t want Yunbok to convince Yoongi to let him in and see how comfortable Jimin is in his home.
Jungkook has been on edge all day, and he doesn’t want to deal with a drunken scolding from his father about how he shouldn’t treat his staff like normal fucking people.
“Call someone else to help you get your dick sucked man,” Jin bites back. “That’s not my job.”
“Yeah? Thought you’d be interested as I’ve gotten a tip that he may be your man. The Draco to your Harry. Kim Namjoon? Joonbug .”
There is silence. Jungkook lets his gaze fall on Jimin, whose fingers dart over the controller he holds. There is food on the table in front of them from the secret stash Jungkook has on the other side of the room. He had a hidden closet for his snacks built shortly after he moved in for when his mother visits and dumps out all the snacks in the kitchens.
“I’m on it,” Jin finally says, acid in his tone. “Give me a day.”
Jungkook hangs up without a word. He slides the phone across the desk, catching Jimin’s attention. His eyes dart between the screen and Jungkook.
“The Draco to Harry?” Jimin asks, amusement in his tone.
“Enemies,” Jungkook explains. It’s annoying how attractive Jimin is with his soft fluffed hair, still damp in places, and in his pajamas. The headset on his head because maybe Jungkook is into gamers.
Jimin snorts. “You ever heard of Drarry, Mr. Jeon?”
Heat rushes up into Jungkook’s face. “Of course I have,” he says defensively. There is no way Jimin could possibly know the type of fanfiction he read when he was thirteen.
“I see an enemies to lovers work in progress,” Jimin teases, eyebrows wagging. His cheeks are shiny from washing his face, making him glow. “Two enemy hackers falling in love. What if this Namjoon is a hottie? Or forced to work this kind of life and steals away Jin’s heart with his tragic backstory? Jin and him can save each other and disappear to be gay and do crime.”
Amusement bubbles inside of Jungkook, though he’s sure Jin would murder Jimin for suggesting it. If his father is correct about who Kim Namjoon is, he’s the bane of Jin’s existence. More his Voldemort than anything, but Jungkook’s always been too terrified to say Voldemort out loud.
“Are you playing anyone?” Jungkook asks instead of responding. He moves away from the desk to see the television screen.
Jimin isn’t dumb enough to talk about hackers where anyone could hear. Jungkook’s usually very careful about what he says when he’s online, has a strict no work talk rule while he’s playing.
It’s also an excuse because he hates talking about work. There have been times when his employees will chatter his ears off like they can’t see he’s in the middle of a game.
“Jungkook-ssi,” Jimin calls, pulling Jungkook’s attention away from the screen before he can fill look at it. There is a devilish look in his eyes as his tongue licks over his lips.
Wait. Jungkook flushes, watches Jimin’s fingers deftly move over the controller and has the foolish thought that he wishes Jimin would stroke his thumbs over him like he does the right and left sticks. Especially when Jimin’s legs part and this look takes over Jimin’s face like he’s a goddamn demon sent to seduce Jungkook into giving him all of his money.
“Yes?” Jungkook asks, his palms sweating again.
“You look good,” Jimin whispers, voice low. “Dressed up like that. You should wear normal pants more often.”
Jungkook lets out a strange sound. He isn’t sure that he actually made it because his stomach is turning into a mess of butterflies and it’s all he can focus on.
“Though,” Jimin goes on, his eyes growing heavy, “if you wanted to keep all pants off, that’s fine by me too.”
Heat starts to blossom over Jungkook’s neck. He tugs at his ear, making sure they aren’t burning too. “I usually don’t wear pants.”
Jimin snorts. “I am offline by the way. Let’s talk more about this budding romance between the enemy hackers.”
The smirk he gives Jungkook tells him he’s aware of how easily flushed he gets.
Jungkook wishes it were easier to be blank faced with Jimin as he is with his father.
He assures that Jimin is offline before he sits beside Jimin on the couch, keeping a space between them so he can watch Jimin’s expressions.
Too often has Jungkook notices that Jimin listens when he’s pretending not to. He’s good at not reacting, but there are times when he does. When he thinks no one is looking.
Jungkook is always looking. He’s like the cameras he hates so much, taking everything in.
“It is unlikely,” Jungkook says slowly. “If Jin finds the correct man, he won’t have time to fall in love with him before my father kills him.”
Jimin doesn’t look away from the screen. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
His thumbs hesitate. Just a moment.
“Would I be wrong to assume he’d be quite protected? If you’re only finding out his name now?” Jimin asks, voice curious. Nothing to tell in it.
Jungkook presses an elbow to the back of the couch to nibble on his knuckle. He curls his legs onto the couch, watching openly. He thinks about the way Jimin had smiled at the information Jin had gotten after hacking into Jaegyu’s databases. “My father has had an eye on him for some time. Not as protected as he should be.”
Another hesitation. Another swallow. “Sounds like you’re right then. No enemies to lovers here.”
“I didn’t take you for the fanfiction type, Jimin-ssi.”
Jimin laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You’d be surprised. Have you ever heard of ziam?”
Jungkook shakes his head. He is still on edge, should probably go to bed soon. His mind works over a thousand different thoughts as Jimin and him make mindless chatter. He doesn’t relax, and he can see that Jimin doesn’t relax either.
He loses at the game he plays after he goes back online. He keeps losing, and Jungkook doesn’t mention it.
When Jimin gives up with a frustrated sigh, he tosses the headpiece aside. “You wore me out. Was that your plan? So you can finally beat me at this.”
Jungkook laughs. He can’t help it. “No, no. I don’t cheat. All fair and square here.”
Jimin looks like he doesn’t believe him. He leans back against the couch, head tilting back. He gazes at Jungkook, doesn’t break the eye contact.
Jungkook gets flustered, considers breaking it first. Jimin’s eyes are dark and heavy in a way that doesn’t look like he’s just sleepy. Or sleepy at all.
“Your friend on there says you cheat.”
“Because he eats ass,” Jungkook scoffs defensively.
“What’s wrong with that? I think it’s kind of hot.”
Jungkook hesitates. Jimin is fucking with him, his smirk bright. “I meant - like, the saying. To - to explain how bad he is at the game. Not like, actual butt eating. That’s fine. Hot. Yeah.”
Jimin’s smirk grows until it is shining in his eyes. He has a habit of wagging his head gently from side to side when he presses Jungkook’s buttons. The right buttons. “Are you going to have another dream tonight?”
Jungkook lets out a noise of complaint as he kicks his foot out to kick Jimin with it, but Jimin captures his leg into his hands to rest it over his lap.
The way Jimin’s fingers rub up his calf tickles but feels good at the same time. He is sore from exerting himself today, and he’s sure Jimin is too.
“Tell me about the dream,” Jimin tries, palm cupping over the round of Jungkook’s calf to massage it gently. Jungkook should probably move, get him somewhere else before this goes down a road he most definitely wants to travel but definitely cannot. “About this Jimin you were with.”
“We were on a Faerie Quest given to us by the Queen to find hidden treasure,” Jungkook says quietly, swallowing down the thickness in his throat. “For the elves.”
Jimin giggles again, and Jungkook’s chest expands with pride. “That is the oddest sex dream I’ve ever heard. Was it the Queen that did it for you or the elves?”
Jungkook hesitates, mouth falling open. He shakes his head, leg pulling back from Jimin’s lap. “No, neither. It was a human. I’m not into elves. Well, Link is pretty cool but not like that. Not like, attracted to him. It’s a cartoon.”
Oh god, he’s rambling and can’t stop himself.
The smile on Jimin’s lips grow wider. He pushes up on his knees, and time seems to slow and Jungkook tries to figure out what he’s doing as he moves over the couch, closes the space Jungkook’s put between them.
Jungkook tenses, the muscles in his abdomen tightening as Jimin crawls over him. He is stuck in surprise, unable to move. Jimin seems pleased by it, and Jungkook quickly tries to get his shit together.
“Mr. Jeon,” Jimin whispers, fingers tracing over his jaw. “Did you dream about me?”
Jungkook licks inside his mouth. It’s dry. He needs water. He shouldn’t have gotten the dipping sauce because it’s high in sodium, and he needs to cut back on sodium. It makes him thirsty, like he is now.
He considers lying. He knew Jimin would use this to his advantage, Jungkook’s attraction to him. Not that he minds too much if Jimin wants to touch him, to try and take advantage of him. “I did.”
Jimin hums like he’s pleased by this too. He cocks his head to the side as he crawls further over him, and Jungkook finds himself guided back until his head hits the arm of the couch.
The only otherworldly creature Jungkook dreamt about was Jimin, who is beautiful in a way that seems a bit inhuman. Maybe he really is a demon, he’ll have to look over his birth records again.
His faked birth records.
“Then I hope you dream of me again,” Jimin whispers, leaning in so Jungkook can feel Jimin’s lips moving against his cheek. Jungkook wants to touch, but it’s Jimin that trails a hand down his chest and to his side, grips at the band of Jungkook’s pants.
Jungkook bites his lips, eyes widening. This is very fast. Jungkook doesn’t even hook up with people, normally. Hoseok does all the time, is always sporting love marks on his neck. Jungkook should ask him about it.
If it’s okay that Jimin works for him. Quid pro quo and all that, but Jungkook’s already working to give him everything without anything like this given to him in return.
“Goodnight, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin murmurs against Jungkook’s lips before he’s catapulting off of Jungkook and heading towards the door.
Jungkook is stuck, staring up at the ceiling. He tries to catch his breath, tries to tell his cock to simmer down because he really doesn’t want to embarrass himself a second day in a row.
After Jimin leaves the room, Jungkook rubs a hand down his face, groaning softly. Closing his eyes only makes him thinking about how it felt to have Jimin’s body on his.
“Are you dying?”
Jungkook tilts his head over the couch at the sound of Hoseok’s voice. He looks disheveled, hair a wreck and shirt untucked. Jungkook jumps from the couch at the sight of blood on it.
“Not mine,” Hoseok says immediately as Jungkook comes up to him. He touches Hoseok gently because it’s definitely his. The way it soaks into the material, still fresh like he’s currently bleeding. “Someone else’s. Tried to rob me. A dealer.”
“You’re lying,” Jungkook says, reaching out to grip the brim of Hoseok’s shirt. It’s confirmed in the way Hoseok grunts in pain when he tries to push Jungkook’s hand off.
“Quiet,” Hoseok says, eyeing the door he locked behind himself. “Hyung will kill the guy if he knows he hurt me.”
It isn’t deep. Jungkook guides Hoseok to the couch to inspect it himself. He’s no pro at wounds, but he’s patched up enough over his life time to tell the difference between emergencies and non-emergencies.
“Who was it?”
Hoseok shrugs, sweat beading over his forehead. It’s a small cut on his stomach. Maybe it could use stitches, but Jungkook thinks butterfly bandaids could work just as well. “They didn’t get much. I was going to pick up, didn’t have anything on me yet.”
Jungkook doesn’t care. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t care. Your safety is more important.”
Hoseok grunts as he sits up. “I have to go clean this up and hide away from that psychotic hyung of yours until this is healed. God, I love him.”
Holding his hands out, Jungkook helps Hoseok stands. Hoseok is like Yoongi; strong. He gleams despite being in pain.
“You’ll be able to keep it hidden,” Jungkook says, understanding Hoseok’s worries. Yoongi will kill every dealer in the area Hoseok got robbed if he found out. “Under your clothes.”
Hoseok looks at him for a long moment, mouth parted before he snorts loudly and claps Jungkook’s shoulder. “Right. Clothes.”
Jungkook doesn’t understand the amusement in Hoseok’s expression, but he doesn’t question it. He’s more worried he’s correct about Hoseok not being that badly hurt. “Find out who it was.”
For a moment, Hoseok doesn’t say anything. He lingers, his back to Jungkook so he can’t see his expression.
“Find out who it was so hyung doesn't kill everyone,” Jungkook tries to persuade him. “Also if it was one of the Saja -”
Hoseok holds up a dismissive hand, quieting him. Yunbok would take away Jungkook’s title for allowing the disrespect, but it’s Hoseok. His hyung, his mentor. “Can you call Wonwoo and ask him to deliver some medical supplies? Not a word to hyung.”
Jungkook promises and waits for Hoseok to leave. He considers following after him, but Hoseok hates being tended to. Hates it because it makes him feel weak.
He slips his hands into his pockets to find his phone, but comes up empty. He looks around his office, but it’s gone.
**
Jimin’s heart is pounding, rage inside of him. He should be a fucking actor for how well he’s pretended like he’s unbothered.
The phone only rings a handful of times, but it feels like it’s an eternity. The phone number comes up on all searches as a barbecue place not far from here, one owned by a local family and neither one of their gangs. It won’t look strange on Jungkook’s phone. The man loves to eat.
It isn’t until the phone is picking up and it’s too late that Jimin remembers Jungkook never orders out himself. He always has someone else do it, or one of the guards pick him up food.
“Hello?”
“Tell me you heard that,” Jimin says quickly, quietly. He doesn’t know how long Jungkook will notice his phone is missing.
“Yeah, I did,” Taehyung says back, voice low. It sounds so good to hear his voice even though it’s only been a couple weeks. “How the hell did they figure out who Joon is?”
“I have no idea. He mentioned the school he went to,” Jimin goes on quietly. It was hard not to react when Jungkook talked about how his father would kill Namjoon, to ignore the protectiveness that whipped through him.
Seeing Yunbok had Jimin on edge. The hair sticking up at the back of his neck, the disgust filling him. He didn’t worry about Yunbok recognizing him, the last time they met Jimin was six years old and it had been very briefly.
“I got his message, the one with the businesses,” Jimin goes on. He doesn’t know if Jungkook’s as distracted as he seems. Easily flustered over some flirting, distracted enough that he didn’t notice Jimin was online when they were talking about Namjoon. “Good coding. Tell him thank you for reaching out, but he needs to be more careful. The easy way he let Jeon’s guy in raised flags.”
Taehyung cusses quietly. “He just knew you would worry about her.”
Jimin has. He can’t stop thinking about Jia, even though he knows she’s safe.
The businesses Jin had found were a code developed by the three of them years ago based off their birthdays, oldest to youngest. It’s a lot of work, actually turned out to be a lot harder than they imagined, but Namjoon is a fucking genius for figuring out a way to do it.
“There’s something else,” Jimin whispers quietly. “They’ve got a guy in the Saja. I don’t know his name, only Gyu. I have no other information.”
“What the fuck am I going to do with that? There’s like eighty Gyus there can be,” Taehyung goes on quickly. Jimin feels as annoyed as he sounds, knows Taehyung doesn’t mean it towards him.
“It isn’t anyone high up,” Jimin says, eyeing the door like it could break open at any moment. “Doesn’t know where Jaegyu’s right hand man is.”
Taehyung snorts loudly, his amusement still annoyed. “Is that what they call it? That won’t help narrow it down much. Jaegyu doesn’t even trust his most trusted.”
It’s true. Jimin’s one of his most trusted and Jaegyu hates him, is probably hoping Jimin gets himself killed while being undercover.
“Gotta go. Tell Joon,” Jimin says. “Love you. See you during Mario Kart.”
“I love you too. You need to tell me who Uruno is -”
But Jimin is hanging up before Taehyung can finish. He quickly cleans out the recent calls and stuffs the phone into the back of his pants.
Jimin comes out from the bathroom he was hiding in, eyes working over the empty hallway. He isn’t afraid of Jungkook, who so easily was distracted by a pretty boy in his lap, enough to get his phone stolen, but his defenses rise when he makes his way back into the office.
Jungkook isn’t there. Jimin slips the phone up his sleeve as he makes his way to the couch, making sure not to look at the cameras.
He lingers a bit, curling his legs up to hide the way his hand runs over the crease between the cushions to ease the phone from his sleeve without the cameras catching onto it.
Yunbok had said Jungkook had them deactivated. He knows they’re there unlike Jimin had thought before.
The sound of footsteps has Jimin moving his hand aside and back to his lap. His other hand falls to the side of the couch, reaching down to the carpet to feel around for the book he had tossed aside a few days ago.
It isn’t Jungkook that appears, but Yoongi. He’s alone. It’s the only time they’ve been alone together, and Yoongi is someone that makes Jimin afraid. His heart thumps a little heavily in his chest as he pulls the book onto his lap.
“Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin greets with a bow of his head.
Yoongi crosses his arms, eyes narrowing. Things have been even more tense since Jimin stuck a knife into his shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Jeon has me on a break since you are here,” Jimin explains, a sweet touch to his tone. He doesn’t want Yoongi to know he’s afraid of him. “Asked for me to give him space.”
It’s a lie. Jungkook really looked like he wants anything but space between them.
And Jimin will admit he liked the way Jungkook felt against him. His body is nice. He showed it off a lot today as they ran, bringing his shirt up to wipe his forehead and revealing his toned stomach. The bulge of his muscles when they arm wrestled, his strong thighs as his feet pounded across the turf.
How soft and breathless he became when Jimin moved in to steal his phone, distracting him with lips against his cheek. Jimin wonders if Jungkook would have let him kiss him, would have let him done more.
Not that he wants to after listening to Jungkook talk about his father killing one of his best friends. He’s just surprised Jungkook hasn’t made a move when he’s so obviously attracted to him. Men in this life always go for what they want, expecting to get it.
Jimin thinks about what Jungkook said, about never having killed someone before. He’s a liar, and it’s an insult if Jungkook thinks he’s that much of an idiot to believe something like that.
“Make yourself scarce,” Yoongi says with a head nod to the door. “Old Man Jeon ain’t asleep yet, and he isn’t going to like seeing you laze about.”
“How’s that shoulder feeling?” Jimin asks as he stands. He gives Yoongi his kindest smile, which makes Yoongi’s eyes darker.
Sure, he’s afraid of Yoongi, but he also doesn’t let other people walk all over him. Even if he should in this situation, as Yoongi and Hoseok are his superiors. But there’s just something about Yoongi that irks Jimin, makes Jimin want to knock him down a peg.
“Get out, Jeo,” Yoongi says, ice to his tone as Jimin comes near. “You’re lucky Hoseokie is so soft for you or it’d be your ass on the street. Watch your mouth.”
Jimin flutters his eyelashes, walking right up into Yoongi’s space. “Being soft for someone will make you weak, you know.”
Yoongi doesn’t break the eye contact, just as irked looking as Jimin feels. Jimin sees it coming, but he doesn’t budge, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react when Yoongi grips his chin.
It isn’t gentle, but the touch won’t bruise. Jimin only smirks at Yoongi, who seems to grow even more annoyed by his lack of reaction.
“Is that a threat, Jeo?”
Jimin grins, a laugh sneaking out between his lips. “No. Just a fact, Min.”
It’s also the truth. Jimin almost lost all of his composure just at the mention of Namjoon’s name, the sudden shock of it. The same happened when he put on that headset and heard Taehyung talking back to him.
Jimin would most definitely die for them, and he’s not sure if that makes him weak or strong.
“Get out of my face,” Yoongi seethes, pushing Jimin aside. “I don’t trust you, Jeo. My guts never been wrong. You won’t be around for long.”
Good , Jimin thinks to himself. He doesn’t want to be here much longer. He wants to get what he came for and leave. The sooner, the better. Though part of him knows Yoongi doesn’t mean just a dismissal from his position as Jungkook’s bodyguard. “Being conceited is a weakness too, Min. Everyone is wrong sometimes.”
“I can’t practice today.”
Jimin looks up from where he’s on the edge of his bed, pulling on his sneakers. Hoseok usually comes for him around this time, wherever he’s watching for Jungkook, but Jungkook’s still with his father.
Another free day for Jimin. He wishes he could call Taehyung again, or play with him, but Taehyung’s offline.
Once Jungkook’s father is gone, Jimin’s going to find a way to see if Jungkook’s deactivated the cameras again. It will help him get the information he needs. Hopefully.
Jungkook never leaves. It has to be here somewhere.
But there is a feeling inside of Jimin that Yoongi is a bit more in charge than they thought. The way Jungkook looks to him whenever he’s supposed to be the one giving orders, the way Jin hesitated to present information to Jungkook, his hand extended like he might give what he found to Yoongi instead.
The pure cockiness that Yoongi amits in general. Jungkook comes off quite humble, modest.
If he were someone else, he’d think it was Yoongi that had Jungkook’s reputation, was the son of a gang leader.
“Hurt,” Hoseok goes on, standing in Jimin’s doorway. He waves to his stomach but doesn’t offer any more.
Jimin sits back, hands behind him. “You can still train me?”
Hoseok’s face is blank, but he’s babying his side when he moves. It isn’t that noticeable, the curve of his side, but enough that Jimin sees it.
“Nah. I need you on duty. Can’t move much, and I don’t like that prick too close to Jungkook and Yoongi. He’s brought too many guards with him.”
Quickly, Jimin shucks off his boots and searches for a more guard appropriate outfit than the workout clothes he’s wearing. “You know, Yoongi doesn’t trust me and Yunbok clearly puts him on edge. Me being there might make it worse.”
Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at him. “He won’t do anything. Stop worrying about him.”
Jimin grins at the confirmation. “He’ll be angry you keep telling me not to worry about his threats.”
Hoseok smiles brightly, babies his side some more when he moves. “Make up sex is the best, Jimin-ah. Don’t worry about me.”
In no time, Jimin’s dressed in all black, his gun Hoseok had given to him tucked at his belt. The knives in his boots. He throws a leather jacket on to hide the weapon before taking off after Hoseok.
They go to the den again, a room that Jungkook rarely goes into because everything inside of it looks like it’s the kind of expensive where it should never be touched. Jungkook look soft in his cashmere sweater, too big on him so the sleeves fall over his hands. He’s looking off to the side, unfocused and staring out of one of the windows as Yunbok and Yoongi speak. There are other men there too that Jimin doesn’t recognize, but they look as if they’re important.
There’s tea and food between them. Jimin wonders how Yunbok allows Jungkook to pay so little attention, especially with other people around.
“- small attacks. Can’t tell if it’s low levels going rogue or from direct order of Park himself. Couple of our dealers got jumped last week, one of our trucks hijacked.”
“He is making it worse for himself. Hiding Jooeun was enough to break the treaty, but sending low levels after us is a sign of war.”
“Jaegyu doesn’t want a war. He wants that peace treaty because his daughter is still a child.”
“It doesn’t matter. Park has no soft spot for children.”
Jimin stands off to the corner, near the wall. He’s listened to Hoseok instruct him on how to behave around Yunbok quite often, and it isn’t any different than how Jaegyu expects low levels to act around him. Jimin’s just never been a low level.
“His own daughter?”
“Could care less, I’m telling you.”
Jungkook finally looks away from the window, eyes gazing lazily over the man that said it. Jimin can only see the back of his head, his perfectly styled hair.
“Caring about things people makes you weak,” the man goes on. “He’s always said this.”
Jimin juts his chin. It’s true. Suspicion fills him, and he wants the man to turn around so he can see his face, but he needs him to keep his back turned.
If they know Jaegyu well, they’ll recognize him.
It will piss him off if he finds out Saja’s been subjected to another mole. Another person that could hurt Jia.
“Why do you think he’s agreed to marry his eldest off to you? An enemy? You could torture her, or worse, and he doesn’t care.”
Anger tumbles inside of Jimin. That’s true as well. Jaegyu is a shitty human being, but so is Jeon Yunbok. Jimin can be shitty too, won’t ever claim he isn’t bad. But he finds at least he’s more in the morally gray section than just the shitbag section.
Jungkook looks to Yoongi then, whose eyes are already on him. He leans in, pressing his forearms to his elbows. “If that was the case, he wouldn’t have hidden her. Why are we talking about her again? This is about the attacks. How many of our dealers have gotten hit?”
Jimin doesn’t take his eyes from Jungkook when they start discussing numbers. Jungkook bites at the corner of his mouth, eyes wide in a way that almost look vulnerable when he turns to the side.
He wonders if he would torture the one he’s supposed to marry just for being Jaegyu’s blood. He wonders if Jungkook truly believes Jaegyu has hidden his daughter, or if he’s the one lying about it. For some reason, Jimin wants to know how he feels about the marriage in general.
Not that he cares how Jungkook feels.
Those wide eyes fall over Jimin, and Jungkook smiles softly. His cheeks redden a bit before his eyes dart down like he’s shy.
Yoongi’s still watching him.
“Look into it Wonu,” Yoongi says, eyes unmoving from Jungkook as he points a finger to the man whose face Jimin can’t see. Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice he has his hyung’s attention, or that his shy fluttering eyelashes seem to create the acid in Yoongi’s tone. “Figure out who is giving the order.”
“Got it, broski bro.”
Jimin’s body locks up. He tries to breathe in but he can’t. He didn’t recognize the voice because it’s been years, almost ten since he’s heard it. But that was his term, everyone was broski bro. Taehyung still uses it sometimes.
He looks back at the man’s head, heart thrumming hard in his chest. He considers excusing himself, but Hoseok is still standing close by him and it would be suspicious.
Ten years ago, Jimin could trust Jeon Wonwoo. He doesn’t know if he can now, not enough to trust him turning around and not squealing about who he is. He never knew what had happened to him, why he just suddenly stopped coming around.
There is a collective groan at something Jimin misses, but Jungkook’s face lights up. He reaches beneath the chair he sits in, pulling out a folder. He doesn’t look as deathly bored as he had a moment ago as he opens the folder.
Over the few weeks Jimin has been here, he’s found Jungkook to be fascinatingly good with numbers. Doing his finances, bills, and checks, he never uses a calculator. He lists off numbers and adds them together without a pause to think it through. He remembers numbers in the games he plays from weeks back, always repeating back statistics to Lobomon - Taehyung.
Now he seems to shine as he starts listing off funds and profits in. He speaks like a businessman, and Jimin imagines him as one.
Sat behind his desk in his expensive button up and suit jacket, and his fuzzy Olaf pajama pants hidden beneath it.
Another man Jimin doesn’t know leans over to whisper something to Yoongi while Jungkok speaks and those nerves fill Jimin again as Yoongi reaches for Wonwoo to indicate they’re leaving.
Jimin’s heart thumps so quickly that he’s sure if he looks down, he’d see it trying to come out of his chest. He schools his expression as Wonwoo stands, head bowing towards Yunbok and then Jungkook and going ignored by both.
Time is slow, but it rushes at full speed as Wonwoo turns around. There’s no denying it’s the same Wonwoo Jimin had been tutored along side, whose father used to work with his own before receiving life in prison for a reason Jimin never found out. His face is the same, just older. His pointed nose and sharp eyes. The scar on his jaw from smashing it into the side of the trampoline Jimin used to have in his backyard.
Wonwoo doesn’t look his way, and Jimin hopes he doesn’t do something to silently call his attention to him. Yoongi’s cupping a hand to Wonwoo’s elbow, and his eyes are finding them. Hoseok first, soft, then hard over Jimin.
He isn’t sure he doesn’t look as on edge as he feels. There’s too many guards here. If Wonwoo exposes him, he’s dead for sure. As good as Jimin is at fighting people off, he can’t fight dozens by himself. Dozens of trained men with weapons at their belt.
But Wonwoo’s eyes move right over him. Taught just like Jimin had that the guards are supposed to remain in the shadows.