Jungkook stood immobile as he watched Taehyung leave. The fact that he saw him again and especially under these circumstances was at the very least... surprising. Did he manifest it to happen? Although Taehyung often popped up and lingered in his mind the past few days, he didn’t remember himself wanting to meet him again. 

He was curious, of course. Curious about how he would feel seeing him again. How he would treat him. But meeting him as a potential prostitute, and combined with his infuriating behavior, wasn’t ideal to cogitate about his feelings, if he had any. Did he? Because he only identified shock upon encountering him and fury just by talking to him. It was just a fuck after all, and he wasted enough time overthinking it, he decided. 

Sloughing off any redundant rumination with a half cough and a gulp, he advanced to the door and strode towards the interrogation room where Han Misu was after he instructed Seung Ho to finish the report of the guy he was handling before. He slipped into the observation room first and nodded to the detective from unit two, who was standing in front of the one-way mirror, not failing to notice him jolt in his spot. “What?” 

“Um, I wasn’t—I mean...” Ahn Jeong scoped his countenance in search of any sign of rage, though he found none. “You’re not mad that I’m here?”

Jungkook mused over his words and soon grasped the source of his startle. It was their case, and usually he would get crazy mad at the unit two if they even tried to get involved in his cases. But his brain seemed rather disoriented for some reason. “No—uh, yeah, why are you here?” 

“I was just curious. I’m not trying to get information to steal the case. And even if I was, I would have nothing to tell my leader about this case.”

A sigh pushed out of Jungkook as he observed Misu sitting with his arms locked over his chest and a mask of utter apathy on his face. “He hasn’t said anything, huh?”

“The only thing he’s said is, ‘I prefer to rip my tongue out than snitch.’” 

Jungkook snorted bitterly and inhaled a deep breath, filling his lungs to the brim. 

“You’re rather calm,” Ahn Jeong noted. 

“I’m...” Jungkook attempted to find any word that would describe what he was feeling. “I don’t even know,” he murmured and headed to the interrogation room. He entered and kept the door open as he nonchalantly gazed at his team members. “Leave.”

“We’re not leaving the room,” Namjoon stated and motioned Hoseok to follow him to the side, giving room to their leader. 

Jungkook shrugged a lazy shoulder as he closed the door and then took his seat, leaning back in a relaxed manner, chin lifted inches higher than normal, eyes dull and not focusing on anything in particular. “We don’t really care about Jong Hoon,” he started, indifferent.

“We don’t?” Hoseok whispered to Namjoon, who just shushed him with a moue of irritation. 

“We only care about Jin Mo.” Jungkook perceived a twitch in Misu’s face at the name. “The thought process here is that if we get Jong Hoon, we’ll get Kim Taehyung”—he marked another spasm of his muscles, more intense this time—“who will lead us to Jin Mo. So if you don’t want to be a snitch for the man you work for, be a snitch for the man you all hate.”

“How do you know we hate him?”

“Come on,” Jungkook sneered. “Everyone in the business hates him because of his greed and meddling in everything. Also, he put a snitch next to your boss, right? I bet that angered him, given that he even killed that snitch.”

Misu untangled his arms and folded them over the desk instead. “Fair enough. But why would I help you get Jin Mo? There’s no reason for me to do that.”

“That way, you can keep your boss safe. And you’ll eliminate your boss’ biggest rival. Not to mention you’ll get a lesser sentence of the aggravated assault you have going on here.”

“There’s no victim, though,” Misu argued. “Why would I even go to jail for that?” 

“Because we want to.” The corner of his lips tipped up in a jeering sort of flick. “It’s that simple. Two officers caught you red-handed, and that’s enough to send you to jail. But if you cooperate with us, we’ll let you go with probation or even just a fine.”

His offer ushered Misu into a trance of contemplation that ended several seconds later. “Yeah, but I don’t know where Jin Mo is, so I can’t help you find him.”

“You don’t know where his hideout is?” 

“No. If I knew that—If we knew that, we would have already gone there to get Kim Taehyung.”

“So not even Jong Hoon knows where he is. And he also doesn’t know where Kim Taehyung is. So he’s useless,” Jungkook considered out loud, a sinking feeling pressing down on his chest and getting rooted right in the center. 

“We heard he’s in a remote place in the mountains, but I don’t think that’s true. We’ve already searched every possible location and found nothing.”

Storing the new information for later, Jungkook propped his elbows on the desk. “Listen. We’re both looking for Kim Taehyung, obviously for different reasons. So let’s make a deal that’ll save you some serious jail time.” He waited until Misu nodded, receiving the affirmation he already knew he’d get to hear him out. “But first, let me ask you this. How did you find one of Jin Mo’s men?” 

“There are specific times in the day that his men go to certain locations to do business. They usually don’t reveal the name of their boss, but that guy wasn’t so bright, apparently. He said Jin Mo’s name to prove that his stuff is the best. He’s such a idiot.”

Another piece of intelligence Jungkook had never heard of. It made him wonder, really, just how many more things were going on that he had no idea about. He had a fairly long file of intel on Jin Mo, though apparently it still lacked a lot. “Okay then. The deal is that you make a list of the times and locations you know his men go to. And if you find Kim Taehyung first, you force him to tell you where Jin Mo’s hideout is, or at least something that’ll help us find him before you kill him.”

“Wow. How can a detective be so nonchalant knowing that we want to kill him?”

“I don’t give two shits about him. I only care about catching Jin Mo.” 

“Jungkook,” Hoseok muttered in disapproval, but it was as if he never spoke. 

“And why would you trust me? What if I just lie to you that he didn’t say anything, no matter how much we tortured him?”

His question goaded a smirk from Jungkook, and he tilted a bit closer, a look of muted madness eddying in his eyes. “If you find him and kill him and you have nothing to tell me about Jin Mo, you’ll join Kim Taehyung in hell in no time.”

Misu secreted his disquiet with a shaky chuckle. “You’ll kill me, detective? Interesting.” 

“Well, not me. Even though I’m sure I’ll want to. But I’ll throw you in jail and accidents happen all the fucking time in there. You won’t be safe anywhere if you have nothing to tell me about Jin Mo.”

Still in feigned nonchalance, Misu smirked. “You’re an interesting and dangerous man, detective Jeon Jungkook. It’s a waste you joined the police.”

“Criminals are a waste, but let’s not go there. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.” Misu put out his hand and waited for a handshake that would seal their deal, which Jungkook finalized soon enough. “So, what happens to me now?”

“Nothing. There’s no victim, so we’ll drop the charges. You’re a free man.” Jungkook held a hand towards the door, signaling him he was indeed free to go. “Also”—his voice stopped Misu as he was about to reach the exit and forced him to center in on him—“if I were you, I would think about it twice before telling my boss that the police caught me and made a deal with me. With his trust already shaken, he would kill me at once. At least that’s what I think.”

Misu’s face darkened at his words with a scintilla of worry. “I won’t tell him anything. I’m not stupid. I know he’ll kill me just for getting caught.”

“Wise choice. You can leave now.”

Once he did, his two friends trod closer. “Jungkook, that’s not right,” Namjoon uttered. “You’re basically giving them permission to kill a person. Who are you to give permission to anyone to do such a thing?”

“Relax,” he sighed. “They won’t kill him. We’ll get them before they do.” 

“How are we gonna get them?” asked Hoseok. 

“Why do you think I emphasized again and again that we don’t care about Jong Hoon?” 

Hoseok’s eyes drifted away in hesitation by the response he conceived. “Because... you... don’t?”

Jungkook nailed him with a hard look at his cagily broken inquiry instead of verbally defending himself and disregarded it. “He’ll get sloppy now that he’ll find out that the police aren’t focused on him.”

“But you told Misu not to say anything to him,” Namjoon pointed out. 

“Trust me, he will. Not the whole thing about the deal, but I’m sure he’ll tell him he heard the police are focused on finding Jin Mo. He’s an informant after all. It’s his job.” 

“And what, do you think he’ll reveal his location because of that?”

“He’ll be more... relaxed. Especially if we take him off the wanted list.”

“Yah. We can’t do that. He’s still a criminal. He killed someone!” Hoseok scolded, alarmed.

“Hoseok hyung. If all the attention is on him, he’ll continue to hide, and we’ll never find him. It’s been a little less than a month now and we only got one of his men. Pursuing him like that won’t give us anything. We need to change tactics.” 

“He has a point,” commented Namjoon, skeptical about the ruse his brain crafted speedily. “We can also tell the officers not to arrest him even if they see him somewhere just to prove that we don’t care about him. He’ll get even sloppier then, we’ll get track of everything he does, and when we have him for sure, we’ll arrest him.”

“Exactly,” Jungkook concurred. “It’s all about playing with their minds. And also”—he pulled his phone out and tapped a few things before a map showed on the screen with a moving red dot—“Misu will probably lead us straight to his hideout.”

“Damn, you’re fast,” Hoseok grinned. “Is it on his phone?”

“No. He’ll definitely throw away his phone because he’s cautious. But he won’t dump his two million won watch. And even if he opens it to search for a tracker, he won’t find it because the tracker is the hour hand, which is identical to the one it had before.”

“Seokjin hyung can work miracles,” Namjoon let out in amazement. “Great job, Kook. You’re always one step ahead.” He gave a praising squeeze on his shoulder. “Did you finish with the reports of the four guys?”

“Yes. It was just a misunderstanding and we let them go. Also, I have to step out for a bit—” 

“Detective Jeon,” released Seung Ho’s tense voice as soon as he shoved the door open. “We have a suspect for yesterday’s robbery.”

Jungkook sighed, seeming to be in thought. “You guys can—” 

“He’s violent,” Seung Ho muttered. “You’ve said to call you if someone is violent.”

“It’s okay, Kook. We’ll handle it. You can go out,” Hoseok reassured. 

“No. I won’t let you deal with that piece of shit alone. Let’s go.”

It was a good call that he didn’t leave because that guy was on a rampage and even attempted to attack Seung Ho despite that he was handcuffed. The safety of his team members was always a priority for Jungkook, and even though they were well-trained and capable of restraining him themselves, he didn’t want them to have even the tiniest bruise on their body.

So, of course, Jungkook lunged at him before anyone could move and beat him enough to daze him and nearly lose his consciousness. That seemed to tame him and got him to slowly cooperate with them. 

By the time they finished, it was already past eleven, and a dizzying fatigue encircled Jungkook's brain after his back-to-back interrogations. Everything happened mechanically when he dragged his feet towards the changing room to take his stuff and depart. His eyes bulged for a fleeting moment with the remembrance of Taehyung and the instruction he gave him to wait outside, but the tension seeped out of his frame just as fast, since he was sure Taehyung would have left by now. 

He traipsed through the now stilly station and nodded his head as a goodbye to the few officers who just started their night shift, then he pushed the door open with his shoulder. 

His plod rested stepwise upon glancing at his right, zeroing in his centralization on a wound-up mass nested on the bench. Confusion painted creases over his forehead and edged him into approaching the obscure sight. The said confusion only escalated and left him at a complete loss once he recognized the mass as Taehyung, who was sleeping with his knees drawn snugly to his chest. 

“Seon Taehyung.”

The velum of blankness carpeting the man’s senses fractured at the call of his name, though it wasn’t enough to bring him back to full coherence. 

“Yah,” Jungkook let out with an edge of impatience, nudging his shoulder hard enough to move him from his coil of comfort.

Taehyung groaned at the force as he gradually slipped out of his slumber, but once he fully did, he hastened to straighten himself, his dark orbs fighting against the cloudiness to absorb his surroundings. 

Jungkook waited until he trained his eyes on him as his scowl deepened. “Why the hell are you still here?” 

“I fell asleep, obviously.”

“So what, you’ve been sleeping here in the cold for six hours?” 

“No, I fell asleep like an hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you leave since you saw I wasn’t coming?” Jungkook questioned, still in a maze about his actions. 

“That cube is important to me. I want it back today.”

“Why is it so important?” 

Taehyung released a throaty sigh, trying to tame a forthcoming blast of vexation. “It’s not your business.”

“Then I’m not giving it back. You dropped it, I found it. Finders keepers.”

A semblance of absolute mocking disbelief and shock sprawled on his face at his childish remark. “How old are you, ten? Because I thought you were twenty-six. The team leader of the violent crimes unit one, the son of the chief of police acting like a ten-year-old. Nice.”

His extended knowledge of his position and personal life rendered Jungkook in puzzled annoyance. “How do you know these things?” 

“I just know. I know a lot of things,” he copied his words from before, adding crisp derision in his pitch. 

Jungkook attempted to chop off his mask of contempt with a death glare, though Taehyung didn’t seem affected by it. It irked him, to be honest. How Taehyung wasn’t at all intimidated by his warnings, the cruel tone he often used with him, and his frosty stares. “Tell me how you know.” 

“Look, I’m fucking freezing, okay? I just want my cube back and go home.”

“Tell me how—” 

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed in a blaze of exasperation. “You’re a fucking detective, the son of the chief. There’s information about you on the internet.”

Jungkook accepted his explanation with no further inquiries on that matter. “Why do you curse so much?” 

“Why do you ask so many fucking questions?” Taehyung tossed off, though his brain generated an answer within seconds. He’s a detective. It’s obviously in his nature to be so noisy and curious about everything. 

“I’m tired,” Jungkook sighed, indeed wholeheartedly tired to continue this pointless conversation. “The cube is at my house. Let’s go.”

“I was waiting for you for hours in the cold, but sure, let’s go because you are tired,” he said in a murmuring rant of niggle. “I can’t even feel my hands,” he added silently as he pulled himself to his numb feet and strolled off. He spun around soon enough and trudged closer again. “Where’s your car?” 

“I have a motorcycle.” 

“It’s like two degrees! We’ll freeze to death.”

“I’m okay, though. I have my coat and gloves.” He fished the said gloves from his pocket and drew them on rather demonstratively. 

Taehyung huffed an aggravated noise as he regarded him with rowdy eyes. I can’t believe that’s the guy I had sex with. He’s like a completely different person. “You’re insensitive. No, a jackass. An asshole. A fucking—” 

“Fuck off,” Jungkook spat out and stormed off, throughout done with his insults.

You need your cube back! At least try to pretend to be nice, Taehyung told himself, and dashed behind him. “Fine, I take it back.”

Jungkook sent a glance towards him as he resumed walking to his motorcycle. “Which one?” 

“The last two.” He detected the upward slant of Jungkook’s brow, as if in reproach, and reciprocated it with a bland shrug. “Well, you are insensitive. I’m not taking that back.” 

“I don’t really care what you think.” Upon reaching the motorcycle, Jungkook slipped his helmet on and climbed over it. “Hop on.”

“You don’t have a second helmet?” 

“No.” 

“Then give me yours.” 

“No.” 

“Yah!” Taehyung cried, his face warping in a furious frown. “I’m not riding this monster without a helmet. What if we fall?” 

“I’m an excellent driver. We won’t fall.” 

“You’re an excellent jackass,” Taehyung gritted out, not meant for him to hear. 

But of course, he did. 

“Do I need to remind you that I’m a detective?” 

Taehyung’s clenched muscles mellowed at the question. “So?” 

“I’m a detective who saved your ass from at least a year of prison.” 

“Your point?” 

Noting the utter disinterest in his countenance, Jungkook sighed and almost dropped the matter without making his intent known. “My point is show some gratitude and respect.” 

He then gasped in meretricious gratitude. “Thank you, detective Jeon, for not throwing me in jail. And for telling me to wait outside and coming six hours later while I almost died from the cold. And for not giving me your helmet.” Taehyung’s contemptuous rant ended as he slid over the motorcycle. He knew he was overreacting, but did he care? No, not really. He wanted to piss him off. He didn’t know why he had that urge to rail against anything he said and just grate on him. 

Jungkook secured the strap of the helmet under his chin. “Just shut up.” 

“You don’t know what to answer, huh?”

“I have a great response, but it doesn’t contain any words.”

“You mean you want to hit me? Or spank me maybe?” Taehyung mischievously said as he scooted closer, bringing his chest in contact with his bulky back. 

“I will elbow your fucking face if you say anything like that again.” 

“But you most certainly enjoyed spanking me that night—”

An elbow was thrown his way, but Taehyung was already expecting it and ducked just in time to dodge it. A delighted giggle bubbled at the base of his throat at the groan he evoked from Jungkook. “Don’t ruin my pretty face. You praised it so much that night. Remember?”

Jungkook’s only response was the booming noise of his motorcycle as he started the engine. “Hold my coat if you don’t want to fall.”

“I prefer hugging you.” He draped his arms over his stomach then and clasped them together. 

Jungkook huffed a strangled noise at the iron-like hold and shut his eyes in irritation, biting his bottom lip to lease an infuriated tirade that his actions triggered within him. “Be thankful that I don’t want to pay for your funeral. It’s the only reason I won’t fling you off my motorcycle on the way.”

“Well, you can afford it, anyway.”

Choosing to ignore his remark, Jungkook drove off. Right away, he felt the man behind him shiver as he buried his face between his shoulder blades. It’s okay. It’s only ten minutes away. He’ll live. 

He sped up more, wanting to arrive as fast as possible, and sensed Taehyung’s already bone-crushing grip firm up so much it almost cut his airway. A few minutes later, he stopped at a red light and lifted the visor of his helmet as he turned his head to the side. “I can’t breathe. Don’t squeeze me so hard.”

“I’m fucking cold! I hate the cold! I hate you!” he cried through his trembling teeth, without loosening his grasp at all. 

“You’re driving a motorcycle yourself. Aren’t you cold then?” 

“I’m wearing just ripped jeans, a t-shirt, and a jacket while you wear your fucking coat and gloves and helmet! So don’t nag me. Take it and shut up.”

Jungkook groaned, then grasped his hands and wrenched them away, startling him. He shed his coat and threw it at him before he returned his eyes to the light. He hated that light; it always took forever to turn green. 

Taehyung wordlessly wore the coat, instantly feeling its warmth heat his icy body. He looped his arms around Jungkook’s belly again, and only then his eyes registered the clothing he was wearing. It was just a t-shirt. “You—You’re wearing—” 

His words were swallowed as Jungkook began driving, not even caring about what he wanted to say. 

Taehyung peeked over his shoulder, struggling to keep his eyes open by the strong wind, and scanned his tattoos. God, he’s hot. I almost forgot he had them. This hand gripping my hair while his cock—shut up, brain! Although he couldn’t see much with the dim lights of the street and the constant blow blurring his vision, he released a hand and placed it on his biceps, tracing his tattoos with the tip of his finger. 

Jungkook, unaware of the touch on his arm since he couldn’t feel it anymore, notched up the speed some more, feeling like his arms would fall out at any moment. A hand skimming his skin came to his senses as its pressure was strong enough to pierce through the numbness, and he jerked it away, removing his hand from the throttle momentarily. “What are you doing?”

“I missed them,” he yelled in his ear to be heard. “They’re so pretty. And hot. How can you have tattoos since you're a detective?”

Dismissing his question, Jungkook’s face wore a scowl as he replaced his hand on the throttle and kept a low speed to answer, “Seon, I told you. I don’t fuck anyone twice. So just please. Just stop.”

“I gave you a compliment. I didn’t ask you to fuck me.”

“You’re implying it! In almost everything you say. And honestly? It’s not fun or a turn-on. It only shows how desperate you are.”

Taehyung’s grip around him slackened until his hands parted and withdrew completely, holding onto his seat instead. Why did his words sting so much again? Why did his words make him so livid? No one had that effect on him. Why did he? 

“We’re almost there,” Jungkook said, loud enough for him to hear. “Just hold on to me for a little more. It’s not safe leaning back.”

“Like you fucking care.” 

Jungkook only sighed and accelerated. As he had said, the drive was short, and he parked his motorcycle just a couple of minutes later outside of his house. 

Taehyung jumped off and removed the coat, then tossed it on the motorcycle. A pronounced frown of rage adorned his features, his chin firmly tucked into his chest, afraid he’d punch Jungkook if he met his gaze. 

“Wait here,” Jungkook instructed as he took off his helmet and hung it on the handle of his motorcycle.

“I wouldn’t come inside even if you asked,” he muttered seconds later, unwittingly causing him to halt.

“Yeah?” Jungkook snickered as he swiveled to face him, inclining his head to the side a drop. “And why don’t I believe that?” 

Taehyung's eyes flitted to his face at his derisive tone — the look he fixed him with was austere, shadowed with severe aggravation, and something crazily ominous around the edges. “I’m this close to punching you,” he gritted out, his temper clearly reaching the danger point. “So go get my cube now and don’t say another word to me.”

“I don’t like being ordered around, Seon. I suggest you watch that tone and rephrase your statement.”

“And I suggest you fuck off.”

He snorted, shaking his head in opprobrium. “I had enough of you. You’re not getting your cube back. Get lost.”

“Jungkook!” he bellowed. “Give it back. Now.”

“Ask nicely.”

Taehyung dissected the arrogance of his dominant stare and the smirk dancing over his annoyingly taunting countenance through stormy eyes. His rage rose so high it suffocated him, wrenching any fragment of logic out of him. He lurched forward and seized his shirt in a fluid, riled motion. “I’m not your bitch. I’m talking to you as you deserve. Give back what’s mine. Or you’ll regret it.”

Jungkook didn’t display any indication of counteraction; he only maintained his smirk and mask of irony. “Don’t act tough. You’ll get your so precious face ruined.”

Taehyung remained silent for a moment’s internal wrangle with a bizarre look — the look of irrationality that always came with maniac thoughts. His hands clawed harder at his shirt, but instead of caving under the intensity of his madness, he jostled him. “It’s the last time I'll ask nicely. And believe me, this is me being nice. Give it back.”

“And it’s the last time I’ll say this,” Jungkook said as he smoothed out his wrinkled shirt and then locked his eyes on him for what he hoped was the last time. “Get lost. I don’t want to see you again.”

“The feelings are so fucking mutual.” Taehyung marched off without sparing him another glance. Despite the extravagant amount of fury smoldering in his gut as he stamped away, the corner of his mouth twitched into his cheek. 

Jungkook reveled in his triumph. He managed to keep that cube for a little more at least and dominated the situation — dominated Taehyung. Of course, he would return the cube sometime since it wasn’t his, but he would relish his victory for the time being heart and soul. 

What he didn’t know, though, as he strutted towards the entrance of his house with triumphalism oozing out of him, was that he was up against Kim Taehyung, and no one, no fucking one could take what was his without consequences. 

───⭒───༺🌑༻───⭒───

Yes, they're fighting and I love it🤭