5

Jungkook wakes up to the jangly, random chiming of his phone. He’s never changed his default ringtone, something that makes Taehyung righteously offended every time he calls. Coincidentally it’s that witch’s contact info on the screen now, as he blinks at the noise making object through swimmy eyes.

“Yeah? Tae?”

“Good morning, sleepyhead. How’s my favorite hellbound eternal servant?”

“M’fine Tae, why are you calling so early?” Jungkook finally focuses enough to see his alarm clock reading 5:37 am.

“MOTHERFUCKER—“ Someone bellows from the background of Tae’s phone call and Jungkook almost winces away from the phone,

“Jesus, Tae. What’s going on over there?”

“Hmm, funny you should ask that—LET ME OUT YOU SORRY PIECE OF—I don’t know if you recall, but you left us trapped in my house with a very violent and angry version of our Supreme.” Tae’s tone is a little strained,”and it’s, you know, been a long night so we were wondering about how long this all needs to limp onward? Some of us have work today, should we call in? Are you coming back—DON’T FUCKIN TOUCH ME—“

Jungkook can’t miss the weary plea in his friend’s voice.

“Ah—I don’t know I’ll have to check on Jimin. He said something about coming back to tattoo y’all—“ Jungkook heaves his blankets out of the way and fumbles the phone against his ear with one hand while he gropes for pants on the floor with the other.

“Tattoos? C’mon haven’t we had enough of—“

“It’s to make you invisible to Crowley, presumably so you can once again leave your house.”

“Sign me the fuck up.” Indistinct crashing noises trickle down the line.

Jungkook finally brushes his fingertips against the denim of his jeans and yanks them over. His shoulder squeezes up to tuck the phone against his head and his starts struggling into his pants.

“So—maybe tell—the guys—“ Jungkook huffs a little and hops to try and tug the tight denim over his thighs, “To let their jobs—know—they’ll—be—late.” He buttons the jeans triumphantly and lets the phone fall back into his hand.

“Dude…are you…fucking? You sound really…out of breath. Which, if you are, totally not fair. You left me here with the whole coven and a screaming Namjoon to go home and bang—“

“Tae for fucks sake I was putting my pants on.”

“No underwear though, I notice.” The voice doesn’t come from his phone.

Jungkook jumps and slips on a stray sock at Jimin’s voice from behind him, sending him into a rather embarrassing face-plant into his laundry.

“What was that? I thought the screaming and destruction was only on our end.” Taehyung says.

Jungkook flails back to his feet and glares at the sudden appearance of the demon on his bed, “Nothing major, I just slipped and fell on my laundry.”

“Your room is a mess, pig.”

“Yours is no better, bitch.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.” Jungkook covers the receiver. “Are we going back to Tae’s soon?”

Jimin flops backwards onto his pillows while shrugging—a patently silly move that he still manages to make graceful and chic. “Whenever you’re ready. I’m feeling much better.”

He uncovers the receiver, “Yeah, I’m going to eat some breakfast and then we’ll be over.”

“Excellent, thank god. —hey leave that alone the plant never did anything to you—Kook I gotta go, see you soon, yeah?” Taehyung hangs up on him and Jungkook tosses his phone on the bed.

“Why did you scare me? I could’ve hurt myself.”

Jimin reaches over and starts toying with the phone. “All I did was point out that you’re not wearing underwear. You’re the one who got scared.”

“Whatever.” Jungkook snaps, stalking out of the bedroom. “Just let me cook in peace, okay? I don’t need to freak out when I have hot pans in my hands.”

“Don’t be so jumpy, roomie.” Jimin’s voice projects and follows him through the thin walls like he’s walking next to him.

Jungkook scurries to the kitchen much too quickly to deny being spooked and immediately busies himself cooking breakfast. He’s got his head stuck inside the fridge when something odd occurs to him. There’s…he sweeps his head side to side. There’s a completely full fridge, that’s what there is. Leafy green kale and lettuce, veggies and fruit in their little packaged boxes. Hamburger and steak and chicken stacked somewhat precariously. Big gallons of milk and juice and a neat row of beer bottles.

Jungkook doesn’t remember shopping for all this.

“…the hell?”

“You don’t like it?” Jimin, once again prickling his neck by doing that through the walls whisper.

“Did you…go grocery shopping?” Jungkook straightens up to see Jimin perched on the counter. The demon hops off and reaches to the side of the fridge to rub affectionately at a rune carved in the side.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Jungkook pulls his hand back from the shelf, “Ugh, is this like…not real?”

Jimin’s brow furrows. “I don’t…understand what that means.”

Jungkook prods the chicken, “Is it made of magick?”

“Yeah, but why would that mean it isn’t real? Magick is just another way to interpret energy.”

Jungkook feels like there’s something wrong in there but he’s not really sure where to start. He settles for grabbing the eggs. “Thanks, I gu—WHAT THE FUCK?!?”

He drops the eggs and they splatter all over the floor. But can he really be blamed?

There’s a giant eyeball framed in the window of his trailer. It blinks. Jungkook backs up until his hip hits the vinyl of his counter.

Jimin sighs and waves his hand. The egg splatters disappear and the rune on the fridge glows faintly. Another carton of eggs appears on the shelf as Jimin swings the door closed.

“Always so messy, humans.”

“JIMIN. What the fuck is that thing??”

The eyeball blinks. Jimin leans against the fridge. “The first of many of Crowley’s friends, I suppose. Looks like a hellcat, but hard to tell from just a cornea and eyelid.” He side-eyes Jungkook trembling all pressed against the counter. “Relax, it can’t get in here. The wards, remember?”

Jungkook takes a shaky breath, focus glued on the eye shifting back and forth between he and Jimin.

“What do we do about it?” Jungkook is transfixed by the huge crimson eye regarding him through the window. There’s a dead fly stuck in his screen, looks like a freckle on the creature’s eyelid.

“We?” Jimin frowns at him, “There’s no “we”, I’ll go deal with the hellcat. You will stay in here until it’s gone.” He snorts. Jungkook swears he hears him mutter “we” under his breath again.

“So there’s nothing I can do?”

“This isn’t like Crowley. It’ll be over by the time you finish your eggs.”

Jungkook regards the eggs in question. The eye outside the window blinks. He’s never been less hungry in his life. Jimin stalks over to the trailer door, all soft and vulnerable looking with his poofy hair and hoodie. It’s obvious his intent is to go out there with that thing.

“Hey—“ Jungkook starts.

Jimin swings open the trailer door, “Good morning, fucker!” And does a flicking gesture with his fingers that knocks the hellcat back across the lawn.

It rakes deep furrows in the grass with its claws and Jungkook abandons his eggs to go to the doorway and watch. The hellcat bellows—perhaps something resembling a cat’s growl plus several decibels.

Jimin swings his arm out in an arc and a golden whip unfurls and twitches across the ruined lawn. The hellcat swipes at him and Jungkook watches, dumbfounded, as Jimin Matrix dodges under the scything talons and flicks the whip around a giant paw. It looks like barely anything, the force he applies to the whip, but the hellcat crashes to the ground like it’s anchored to a freighter. Jimin’s grinning, totally euphoric.

Jungkook hangs out of his door like a set of curtains; waving feebly in the wind and no real sense of direction. Jimin skips out of the way of another paw and produces a second whip to catch around the hellcat’s neck.

This one he gives some tension to and wraps around his wrist. When the cat inevitably wheels backward and shakes to try and rid itself of the whip; Jimin is yanked into the air like he’s water skiing. He just disappears right off the lawn to bob around up by the cat’s ears.

Jungkook attempts to work himself up into concern but Jimin looks so supremely unaffected by whipping around in the air like a blonde balloon that he finds himself grinning instead.

Jimin pulls on the whip around the hellcat’s paw when a toss of the creature’s head brings him close to the one around his neck. He threads the end of the whip through the loop around its neck and drops all his weight onto it. He falls like a stage weight, bringing the cat’s paw tressed up to its own neck. Jimin steps gracefully off the end of the whip like he’s been lowered to the stage during a Britney Spears concert before the hellcat loses its balance and falls heavily onto its own face. It’s yowls are muffled by the thrashing in the grass.

Jungkook isn’t sure if he’s more turned on or afraid of this Jimin; the two emotions are certainly doing their level best to duke it out in his brain and his pants.

The demon hitches up his jeans in such an odd, mundane gesture that Jungkook barks out a laugh, earning an over the shoulder smirk from Jimin.

The hellcat writhes in the dirt, attempting to twist closer to Jimin. The demon merely takes a step backwards and, maybe deciding he’s had enough fun, claps his hands twice.

“Say hi to your deadbeat dad for me.”

The hellcat dissolves into black goo, sinking into the lawn just like the Fingers did when they were fighting Crowley. Jungkook frowns and hops out of the trailer to join Jimin on the ruined lawn,

“Wait, that’s all you had to do? Why didn’t you just clap to start off with?”

Jimin turns towards him, cheeks a little pink and his hair windblown from being dragged through the air. He giggles and Jungkook can feel that gross little tug in his lower belly at the sound,

“Where would the fun be in that?”

He waves his hands and the lawn starts to repair itself. The claw marks erase and the divots fill themselves back in until all the signs of the supernatural struggle are gone.

Just in time, too, because his nearest neighbor has twitched open their curtains and is regarding them through the window. Jimin gives them a jaunty wave and turns to Jungkook.

“We should probably go…” he frowns, “You didn’t eat.”

“Well I—“ Jungkook starts, lifts his hands as if to defend his lack of breakfast, but Jimin does a little finger twirl and a breakfast burrito materializes in Jungkook’s palm.

“Come on I’m sure your coven is getting antsy.”

Jungkook looks up to see Jimin waggling his hand at him invitingly. He looks so giddy, like a person; almost. Jungkook gets a little mentally sidetracked staring at him until Jimin blinks and tilts his head.

“You have to…touch me so we can travel there. I can’t…”

“Oh! Yeah…sorry.” Jungkook startles and reaches over with his free hand to brush Jimin’s fingertips. There’s that whoosh, the tug in his spine and he nearly drops the burrito on Taehyung’s front lawn.

Jimin’s standing on the sidewalk, carefully not venturing onto the grass yet. The tips of his sneakers wiggle on the concrete, and Jungkook is strongly reminded of a cat waggling its butt right before it pounces. Taehyung’s lawn looks as lush as yesterday; a little oasis in a block of suburbia. But he knows it doesn’t look nearly as inviting to Jimin.

“Are you gonna be okay?” He takes a bite out of the burrito and almost misses Jimin’s response from food-gasming.

“—just feels…not great.” Jimin swipes his palms over his jeans and sighs, betraying discomfort. “I’m stalling, I’ll admit.”

Jungkook is inhaling the burrito, but pauses in his frantic mastication to assess Jimin’s state, “We can…bring them out here maybe?”

Jimin takes a deep breath and shakes his head, “Too risky. I can’t do tattooing and protection and dampening of your aura all at the same time. We’ll go, c’mon.”

Jungkook didn’t realize Jimin was doing something about his aura but it made sense, especially since Crowley was particularly interested in and attuned to his magick.

Jimin strides into the lawn. He only wobbles once, right when they cross over where the ritual had taken place, but other than that his footsteps are measured and sure across the thick carpet of grass. Jungkook follows behind him, having eaten so fast that his fingers are merely sticky as opposed to full. He’s kind of spotting Jimin, not sure if he’ll fall over or something. Or if the demon even needs help at all, with anything, ever, after that breezy workout with the hellcat.

He feels foolish, all of a sudden, and drops his arms and strides more aggressively, beating Jimin to the door.

Like he’s waiting for them—actually Jungkook would bet money he was watching them walk up the lawn from the window—Taehyung flings open the door.

“Thank Christ.”

“A little further south.” Jimin quips.

It’s a mark of how tough their night must’ve gone that Taehyung only spares it the lightest of chuckles before employing grabby hands to get them in the door. Of all of them, he’s still the most capable of touching Jimin all casual like that. Though Jungkook can hear his breathing accelerate a little, he’s nowhere near Jungkook’s practical system malfunction which irks him a bit.

“How’s he—“

“EAT SHIT, KEEP THAT FUCKING GRASS OUT OF MY FACE—“

Jungkook winces.

Jimin merely nods, “He sounds better.”

Jungkook hardly thought so—thought he sounded about the same, really.

“Yeah he’s mostly down to verbal violence, which is honestly disappointing because I am more than ready to kick his ass.”

Taehyung leads the way to the living room, where Jungkook tenses to see Namjoon unbound. The Supreme has an exaggerated scowl curling the corners of his mouth but is physically pretty placid; tucked under a blanket with the TV switched on. There’s a strong smell of essential oils, like there had been some disagreement about what to load the diffuser with. Smells like your hippie aunt’s second bedroom; looks like a frat house, with dudes flopped here and there on the furniture.

The source of the Supreme’s irritation seems to be the smudge stick Seokjin is carefully waving near Namjoon. Strong wisps of sage are twisting into the small space. Makes this hazy layer hang around the ceiling.

Jimin gets kind of pale; Jungkook can’t tell whether it’s more from his demon body’s desire to not be here or the sheer assault on sensory organs. He himself is feeling a little queasy from the input. His nose is overly sensitive on the regular and all these herbs are making a little pain point pulse at the front of his skull.

“Listen, Namjoon. You’re my best friend— that’s why we’re doing this.” Seokjin appears strained, probably at the end of his patience, “But if you don’t shut the fuck up I’m jamming this up your ass.”

“We’re watching Jeopardy just like you wanted.” Hoseok mutters from the floor. There’s plenty of open chairs he’s just…on the floor. Got his knees tucked under his chin and the remote clasped in hand around his calves.

“Well these categories are bullshit.” Namjoon grouses.

“You said the same thing about Wheel of Fortune. C’mon man, I’m trying over here.”

“Alex is leading these dumb fucks—look at him, that guy didn’t even know what year Napoleon began his exile. Who’d he blow to be at this taping?”

Jungkook’s relieved it appears that Namjoon has regressed to petty grievances as opposed to full-blown maniacal villain antics.

None of the coven acknowledge them with words, but Yoongi nods their direction when he emerges from the kitchen with tea. The familiars are all trailing after the slight, pale witch but get excited when they notice Jungkook. The cats wind towards him, but all of them except Yeontan stop short at Jimin. The wolf just brushes past the demon—very carefully not touching—to sniff at Jungkook’s sticky hands.

Jimin takes a step or two away to lean a shoulder into the wall. And maybe it’s supposed to be casual—but Jungkook feels certain it’s to give the familiars space to get by and come greet him. Another one of Jimin’s strange kind impulses.

They’re tentative, but Hoseok’s cat launches himself up to Jungkook’s shoulder, and Yoongi’s little fluff scrabbles halfway up his pant leg and hangs there, claws hooking him like a fish, blinking up at him like ‘Now what?’.

“Hey guys.” He murmurs, pries her off his jeans carefully and sets her on his free shoulder. “Missed you.”

Jimin giggles, somewhat thin and worn out, at the picture of Jungkook with cats on his shoulders and a wolf at his feet. The birds were still wary; Seokjin’s owl hopped around maybe five feet away making these worried hoots. Namjoon’s raven stayed on its perch above the TV. Jungkook knew fuck-all about birds but if it was possible for a raven to look deeply and profoundly exhausted and depressed that was certainly the closest descriptor he could come up with.

He turned a little warm, at the sound of the demon’s giggle. A little gooey on the inside.

Yoongi leaves the tea just out of arms reach for Namjoon—prompting another flurry of annoyed grumbles—and comes to greet them.

“Good morning, animal whisperer.”

Jungkook smiles, “Morning, dickhead wrangler.”

Yoongi inclines his head towards Jimin, “Morning.”

Jimin blinks, “Yeah.”

“You’re going to give us a mark? So that demon can’t find us?” Yoongi steps closer. His familiar starts swaying on Jungkook’s shoulder, like she’s calculating distance and he cuts off that ill fated attempt by just placing her on Yoongi’s shoulder. She curls into his neck and chews on the hairs at his nape immediately.

“Yeah. It’ll go…” Jimin gestured to the left side of his own chest, high up on the pec.

“Very midwestern college frat of you.” Yoongi drawls. He takes a glance around the room at all the exhausted witches. “Maybe start with me? Best we get on with it before you get too sick to focus or they fall asleep.”

Jimin gets a little furrow in his eyebrow at Yoongi remembering how Taehyung’s purified house makes him feel. But his emotions aren’t readable for Jungkook yet. He must be putting more effort into the barrier after all that vulnerability yesterday.

“Shirt off.” Jimin is saying, and Jungkook clues back in in time to see Yoongi get a little pink in the cheeks. He sets his cat on the floor and tugs his thin t-shirt over his head to let it crumple next to her. She chirps, kind of irritated at losing the high view. Jungkook is just maybe thinking about feeling some type of way about the whole thing—when Jimin’s left hand starts glowing purple.

Yoongi is looking bare and shivery and apprehensive, standing there watching this ominous halo of magick come for him. Jimin traces a pattern on his own right hand, leaving streaky swirls of purple in the palm. It’s mesmerizing, watching the rune bloom and take shape in the demon’s small hand.

Then he scares the shit out of everyone in the room when he slaps his open palm against Yoongi’s chest.

Even Namjoon, buried as he is in mocking Jeopardy contestants, jumps.

“Fucks sakes.” Yoongi mutters. “Warn a guy, maybe?”

Jimin wiggles his fingers where they’re still splayed across his pec and grins.

Yoongi closes his eyes shut and takes a long breath through his nose.

Relatable, Jungkook thinks, wondering briefly what kind of thoughts come to Yoongi when Jimin touches him.

The elder witch frowns, “Feels weird. Like kinda tingly.”

Jimin pulls his hand back. The rune on his palm has transferred to Yoongi’s skin—glows bright for a second before fading to dull black ink.

“Good weird or bad weird?” Hoseok pipes up from the floor. He looks a little apprehensive at the whole process.

“Just weird weird.” Yoongi scoops up his t-shirt and kind of hunches over himself and backs away into the nearest chair. His cat follows, making little peeps to telegraph her disapproval over the whole affair.

Everyone pretends the boner isn’t a thing.

“Who’s next?” Jimin chirps.

No one seems to be in a hurry to get up in Jimin’s space.

“Bunch of—“ Namjoon pushes the blanket off and stands up. This sets off a chain reaction of every witch in the room getting defensive. Yoongi lights up his pendants rather reluctantly.

“I’ll go next.” Namjoon says, to widespread surprise. “I want to get out of this house, too.”

Jungkook doesn’t like anything about this, but Jimin just shrugs and beckons him over. Jungkook snags the tall witch’s sleeve before he gets all the way over, “You gonna mind your manners?”

Namjoon blinks at him, then snickers, “Easy, loverboy. I got the message loud and clear yesterday. Save the dick waving for later.”

“Not about that. It’s about how you treat Jimin, we square?”

“Four-sided as fuck.” Namjoon pops the syllables and shakes Jungkook off his sleeve.

Jimin has the beginnings of a smile turning up his pale lips. Paler than when they entered the house, for sure. Jungkook is reminded all over again that the longer they stay here the less comfortable the demon is. He almost groans at his own mislaid chivalry. Waste some more time, why don’t you, he chides himself.

Namjoon shucks his shirt onto the tile and Jimin does his little purple drizzle routine again. The slap has less impact this time, except Jungkook almost snaps like a rubber band at Namjoon’s fingers coming up to rest on Jimin’s wrist. But Jimin betrays no hint of anxiety so he forcibly unclenches and gets back to shouting at himself inside his head.

“You’re right about it being weird.” Namjoon breathes. His voice is a little intimate for the bland nature of the observation. Jimin tilts his head, no doubt parsing through the veritable library of perversion that must be in Namjoon’s head.

Jungkook starts gnawing on his pinky nail. The feeling of being strapped in on all sides by his skin to keep from exploding intensifies.

Jimin has a distinctly glittery and knowing grin on his face when Namjoon shuffles back to the couch with his shirt and semi, and the demon locks eyes with Jungkook.

He drops his hand from his mouth.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow and Jungkook looks away. The jealousy is irrational and pointless and HUGE and Jimin knows all about it so he just stands there and stares at his boots. Brings his ragged nail back up to chew on when Seokjin sets the sage on the coffee table and stumbles over to get slapped with purple.

When they’re all gang-tattooed up and the level of testosterone is high enough to choke Jungkook out, he somewhat frantically unfreezes from his “looming sensitive prick” pose. “We’re good? They’re good? Crowley won’t—he can’t find them?”

“Yeah,” Jimin licks his lips and studies the room of witches, “They’re good. Feel free to go on about your lives.” He points to Namjoon, “You though…maybe one more night here? For maximum asshole resolution.”

Taehyung looks about a thousand years old as everyone peels off to go to work or go home, leaving him with his still detoxing Supreme. Jungkook and Jimin pause on the porch to offer some semblance of solidarity to the poor guy.

“He’s much better.” Jungkook hears himself say, “Bet he won’t be too hard on you tonight.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at him and kind of sags against the doorframe. “Whatever. You gonna be okay with the flowers alone?”

Jungkook nods, kneading between his eyebrows, “Not much to do anyway, just a van-full or two. Take care, okay? If you need to punch him…well…you’ll have my support.”

Taehyung smirks, the shithead, “Yeah I bet I do. How many times you almost pop him in the last hour?”

“Shut up.” Jungkook grunts. Turns to Jimin, who is leaning on the porch railing. His focus is a little too fixed to be natural on the wood grain. “You okay?”

“Bit fucked,” Jimin sighs, “But it’s okay. You good?”

“Yeah. Why don’t you go back to the trailer? I’ll go deliver flowers.”

Jimin blinks at him, “You don’t want me to come?”

Jungkook frowns at his tone, “Um…not really? You can’t touch the plants without killing them and literally everyone we’re going to see wants to fuck you. I could do without that for an afternoon. You should go home and recover…I know it’s been hard for you to be here.”

He means it to be nice, mostly. Although he’s telling nothing but the truth about needing a break. But Jimin’s face goes blank.

“Fine.”

That doesn’t sound like anything resembling a fine but Jungkook doesn’t have any idea where he went wrong. And Jimin can’t lie so if he’s not fine he would say? But this weird look?

Jungkook’s head hurts.

“Fine.” He says, slow, “See you later?”

“Yeah.” Jimin clips off the end of the word by stalking to the edge of Taehyung’s lawn and disappearing.

Why does Jungkook feel this sense of impending doom?

He looks over at Taehyung. “Why was that the most scary Jimin has been so far?”

Taehyung chuckles, “Maybe because it was so…human. Seemed awfully like a sulky boyfriend, to my eyes. You monster—not wanting to cruise around in the flower van with him.” Taehyung fake scolds.

Really though, this anxiety. Jungkook shelves it and stalks towards the van still parked by their empty bottles. There’s scratches all over the paint from the Fingers and the axle seems a bit off kilter.

He finds himself wishing Jimin has stuck around long enough to get this fixed.

The engine coughs and grinds ominously, but it does start. He prays that Taehyung’s mom doesn’t come outside to see how ratchet their van is after the run-in with Crowley.

He could do with a couple drama-free hours.

It’s not exactly easy to keep his mind blank as he cruises and delivers flowers, but the lack of input from the bond and his own ongoing gay crisis makes the afternoon go by quickly. He scratches absentmindedly at his own rune, matching the other coven members’, and guesses that it’s doing its job because no hellspawn assaults the van during its laps around town.

Of all the concerns he never thought he’d have at the beginning of the week…

\~\~\~

Jungkook strolls up his lawn, eager to be off his feet and watching his shows with a full belly. He’s brought up short by a snippet of…feeling. He feels a swoop in his low belly not unlike when he makes the mistake of touching Jimin’s skin. But Jimin’s in the trailer. And the feeling came out of nowhere—maybe it’s Jimin’s? Is Jimin…turned on?

Jungkook feels like his tongue gets heavier, weighing down his jaw, because something just banged into the wall of the trailer. It’s a solid, human kind of thud.

His brain is buzzing as it picks up on a bunch of chemical pheromones that aren’t coming from him. Whenever he’s around Jimin, his own arousal is distracting enough that he’s never picked out Jimin’s before.

But here it is, all sticky and swirly and on the other side of his rickety trailer door. He can’t decide if it’s excitement or nausea that shoots through him when he puts his hand on the doorknob and hears the giggle.

There’s a woman in the trailer.

Her laugh is warm and low, for a woman. Following her laugh comes Jimin’s own—that kind of crackly HAH HAH that Jungkook wasn’t even aware Jimin was capable of making. But the demon is, after all, supposed to be everyone’s fantasy. There’s endless sides to him.

He swings the door open.

Two startled sets of eyes blink at him from where Jimin has the girl up against the wall. Her legs are bare, held around his waist and his jeans are peeled down to about mid-thigh.

Jungkook erodes on the spot.

“Oh, hey roomie.” Jimin is full-on, shit-eating grin leering at him now. “Ava, this is Jungkook. Jungkook, Ava.”

“Hey.” She’s got that continued amusement turning up the corners of her mouth. Pretty, in that liberal arts, artisan coffee kind of way. Looks like a Uni girl. But the subtle touches of sex are there; her hair is messed with, skin flushing with non-environmental heat. There’s little pink marks across her neck and collarbones that Jungkook just knows are the shape of Jimin’s mouth. Where did he find this girl? And when?

“Ava’s a Human Sexuality major, so we’re going to spend the evening exploring her sexual hang-ups.” Jimin smirks and Ava giggles again, bouncing in Jimin’s hold just the slightest.

Jungkook’s wasting away. Just wants to crumble into dust in the doorframe.

“Uh.” Jungkook’s brain supplies him with absolutely nothing useful. Just snags on all that bare Jimin leg leading to where he’s buried inside Uni Ava.

“You joining?” Jimin asks, forever stretching the boundaries and testing; always testing. He punctuates this with a roll of his hips that knocks her back into the paneling. She clutches his nape, squeaks a little, but keeps eye contact with Jungkook. Jimin’s eyebrow quirks up and Jungkook can sense the consequence in his gaze. This is what you get, that eyebrow seems to say, this is what you get for sending me home.

He drops his eyes immediately, mutters something to the effect of “no” and hauls ass to his room. Before the door even closes there’s rhythmic thumping coming from his living area and Uni Ava’s breathy whines.

Jungkook sits on his bed, arms resolutely folded over his chest. Doing his damnedest to ignore his straining pants and aching balls.

He’s not going to jerk it to Jimin fucking some girl against the walls of the trailer. He’s not.

That would be the saddest of sad dick things that have happened since Jimin became a fixture in his life. Uni Ava moans, high and reedy and the trailer rocks, actually fucking rocks on its axles.

“Jesus fuck.” Jungkook mutters. His ears feel full of burning whooshing heartbeat. Must be his own.

Why should it matter if Jimin brings a girl back to the trailer? Jungkook made it perfectly clear he didn’t want to…do that. He’s fine. This is fine.

Jimin sticks it, pretty deep apparently by the squeal that floats through the wall. He’s off the bed scrabbling for his headphones—blindly, desperately.

“Why don’t you leave?” He hisses to himself, “Jungkook, what the fuck are you doing?” Instead of leaving, though, he fumbles his headphone jack into his phone and turns on anything—the first thing in his library to drown them out.

He ends up falling asleep fully clothed, listening to Lana Del Ray and hating himself a bit for second-guessing his choice not to join.

So Jimin can’t lie, exactly, but Jimin can certainly be passive-aggressive.

Jungkook stumbles into the kitchen the next morning feeling as though every minute he spent asleep actually conspired to make him more tired.

Taehyung texted him to say Namjoon was doing better and decided to go to work today. He, however, begged Jungkook to let him stay home and sleep since he’s been sorely lacking that since the Crowley incident.

Join the fuckin’ club, Jungkook thinks, but texts back that it’s no problem. He’ll go to work alone again, today.

He’s sort of dreading going into his living room. What if Uni Ava is still there? He’s quite certain after what he heard last night that he’s not capable of interacting with them normally.

Luckily, or maybe unluckily depending on your point of view, Jimin is alone.

Alone in a giant four-poster bed that’s snug up next to Jungkook’s shabby sofa.

He blinks at it.

There’s gauzy curtains hanging from the rods and Jimin is lounging under the covers.

He’s not wearing any clothes.

Jungkook turns red—like his default shade around Jimin at this point—and pointedly focuses on making himself coffee.

Jimin is reading, and doesn’t seem to notice Jungkook.

But he can feel a tiny tendril of emotion reach out for him before Jimin quells it.

“Good morning.” He says to the coffee maker.

Jimin hums. “Hey.”

His voice has never been so flat.

Jungkook gets the distinct impression he’s being punished.

“So Tae needs to stay home and sleep…do you want to come deliver flowers with me?” Jungkook tries. Maybe this weird tension will dissipate if he lets the demon come with him?

Jimin tosses the book aside, shrugging, “Not really. Think I’ll stay here today.” He finally looks over at Jungkook, “You need the break, right?”

He stands up to stretch and the sheets just cascade off him like water. Jungkook turns his back.

“Crowley can only find your trailer, now. Probably best if I just stay here and guard it. You’ll be fine.”

There’s more, Jungkook can feel it like a weight, but apparently omitting isn’t the same thing as lying because Jimin doesn’t offer any more.

Jungkook is beginning to see how it might have frustrated Namjoon, how obtuse the demon can be.

“Okay…well…see you later, then?” Jungkook says weakly, still facing completely away from Jimin.

“Yeah, see you.” Jimin brushes past him to pad down the hall and Jungkook takes the opportunity to scurry out the door. The atmosphere is choking him with how uncomfortable it is.

There’s no evil creatures on the lawn, today, so for the first time in several days he goes to his own car and settles behind the wheel.

The trailer sits, still and innocuous.

“What are you expecting?” He mutters to himself, “He’s not going to change his mind.”

He turns the key in the ignition and his car struggles to start again. He thumps his forehead on the steering wheel; he’d rather combust than re-enter the trailer and ask this cold version of Jimin to fix it.

As soon as he has the thought, though, a zip of magick crackles across his windshield and the car growls to life.

It wasn’t his, he knows, so the demon must have…

Whatever, he thinks, just go to work Jungkook. Just go to work.

His stomach drops into his toes when he gets back to the lawn late that afternoon. The feeling is back. Jimin’s got someone in there again.

Jungkook swallows hard and pushes the door open.

There’s a naked man, all smooth and hairless and slender propped up on the edge of the bed. Whoever it is isn’t facing the door but Jungkook couldn’t care less because behind him is Jimin, on his knees, face buried—

Jungkook sprints down the hallway to his room, not entirely sure he had the presence of mind to close the front door.

“What the fuck was that?” He hears an unfamiliar voice say through the door.

“Must’ve been the wind.” Jimin sounds so, so amused. A slap, followed by a groan, “Face in the sheets, bitch, ain’t gonna eat you out if you keep misbehaving.”

Jungkook’s knees give out and he slumps in a heap on the other side of his door.

It’s another long night of noise-cancelling headphones and pretending he doesn’t feel the trailer shiver from Jimin doing satan knows what to that boy. Another long night of pretending he’s not so turned on that he thinks he might actually die when Jimin moans loud enough he can hear it over Kehlani.

As punishments go, this one is bad.

And it just keeps going.

Taehyung is back in the van with him the next day. He asks where Jimin is and Jungkook has a flash of PTSD when he says “At the trailer,” remembering how he left Jimin in a fluffy blue robe leaning against the counter sipping coffee. He didn’t even grab any for himself, a sign of how desperate he was to get the fuck out. The naked twink was nowhere to be seen.

Taehyung gives him a weird look but chats about bland, innocuous things with him for the rest of the day without pushing it.

That evening he tries, really tries not to look when that heavy sticky stuff settles in his stomach during the walk up the lawn.

But of course, of course he’s weak because it’s Jimin mewling this time; some big athletic-looking guy pounding his ass with serious dedication. Like, might have a stroke dedication.

Jungkook doesn’t dare fully look, but he can’t help but peek as he motors to his room. Jimin’s beautiful mouth is lax and his eyes glassy and half-lidded and definitely looking RIGHT AT HIM AND—

Jungkook sits on his bed with his headphones on, white-knuckling it until he gives in just a little bit and shoves a hand down his pants just to touch, relieve the pressure a little bit, something—

He gets disgusted with himself only a few minutes in and blasts Blink 182 until he’s reasonably certain he’s gone deaf. Still a sad eavesdropping boner-haver…but deaf.

The cold shower becomes an essential tool.

He stands under the icy spray the next day until he is more prune than man.

No work today. He’s scanning his limited repertoire of excuses that will get him out of the trailer so he doesn’t have to stew in his ever-increasing desperation to have the beautiful man taunting him from his living room.

Because Jimin is a demon, but he’s also a man. A man with a dick. A dick Jungkook cannot unsee no matter how long he saturates his brain with cold water.

Which he understands Jimin being the demon of Lust means it probably CAN’T be disappointing but it would be nice if there was one goddamn inch of him that wasn’t absolutely perfect.

Jimin has a yellow robe on today when Jungkook emerges from his prolonged internal crisis. With his fluffy blonde hair he looks like a baby duck and Jungkook wants to die for an entirely different reason than he did last night.

Jungkook is stressed.

He nearly just turns back around to go into the bathroom and maybe drown himself when Jimin breaks the silence first.

“So do you want a magick lesson today? Since you don’t have work?”

Jungkook actually allows himself to regard the demon head-on for the first time in three days. Jimin is drinking his coffee again, and though Jungkook would never admit it, he checks for bites or hickeys.

There are none. Jimin is as untouchable as ever.

His voice is also back to that mellow ring he’s accustomed to. Did Jungkook hallucinate the last 36 hours? Has this whole week been a dream??

“Sure…” he says cautiously. “Only if you…want to though.”

Jimin throws back the remainder of his mug, “Let’s do it.”

Jungkook feels a little dazed as he turns around and heads for the door. Is there any point in pretending he can keep up with Jimin’s mood swings? He’s not paying attention, so he’s got the door open before he realizes there’s 6-foot long teeth dripping drool right outside the trailer.

Some creature so big he can’t see the top of it from this angle roars at him and Jungkook slams the door shut, almost tripping over his own feet as he backs into the trailer.

“Oh yeah. Forgot to mention that.” Jimin lilts from behind him. “Hellhound. So we’ve got a cat, and a dog. Makes you wonder what he’ll send next, right? Hellhorse? Hellbird? Hellwhale?”

“Forgot to mention it,” Jungkook mutters, steadying himself, “Sure you forgo—wait, hellwhale?”

“I think this is a perfect opportunity to teach you some offensive magick—let you do a little of the pest control.” Jimin hooks a finger into the blinds and pulls down to create enough of a gap to see the hellhound pacing back and forth in front of the trailer.

“You want ME to take care of that thing?” Jungkook heads for the kitchen hoping there’s enough coffee to banish the headache he suddenly has. There is, Jimin has apparently made enough for both of them.

“Why not? You’re the one always moaning about not being independent.”

Jimin lets the blinds snap back, slightly bent from his hands, and fixes Jungkook with a patronizing look.

Jungkook can almost feel himself become defensive, “You sure that’s not your pet from last night? It’s certainly big enough. Wouldn’t want to kill one of your boytoys.”

Jimin’s smile has turned nasty again like this reaction was the point of all this because of course it was, “You mean Keith?” He asks, voice very bland, “Does that bother you? When I bring Keiths home?”

“No.” Jungkook huffs. Far too quickly.

“Are you sure?” Jimin tilts his head, “Because you kind of brought it up out of nowhere.”

Jungkook is extremely sure he needs to backpedal out of this conversation.

“So anyway what do I need to do to kill a hellhound? Does my magick, like, become a giant axe or something—“

“And you know,” Jimin talks over him, “If it bothers you, all you have to do is order me not to anymore. Just say out loud ‘Jimin, don’t fuck anyone else.’ And the Keiths will be gone.” He strolls over in his sunny bathrobe and carefully brackets Jungkook into the counter. He’s not touching him, but unless Jungkook wants to force him to move they’re very close like this.

“It doesn’t.” Jungkook stares at his mug, “It’s fine. I don’t—I don’t care.” He understands now. This is part of Jimin’s game. Another escalation in this little sexual version of chicken they’re playing.

Well Jungkook doesn’t like to lose.

He swallows and stares right at Jimin, not leaning away, “What do I need to do to kill the hellhound?”

Jimin smirks, but backs up, letting Jungkook away from the counter.

“Time to learn to shape magick into weaponry!”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and moves to the window to look at the hellhound again.

“Does it matter what kind of weapon?”

“Nope!” Jimin says brightly, “Although I recommend something you’re comfortable with that you can call up easily. It conserves brainpower, and therefore magick, when you keep it the same.”

“So I could really have a giant battle axe?”

“If you…want…”

“I want a giant battle axe.”

Jimin eyes him critically, “You…have a lot of experience with axes?”

“No,” Jungkook shrugs, “But I don’t really have any experience with any weapons…so…”

“Don’t your kind typically prefer guns?”

“And miss out on the opportunity to fight with a giant axe? I’m starting to think YOU might be the one who needs a lesson in fun.” Jungkook teases.

A flicker of a smile passes across Jimin’s face. “Okay, axe it is. You know what you want it to look like?”

Jungkook blanks for a second before smiling triumphantly and fishing his phone out of his pocket, “That’s what Google is for.”

For a few moments it’s quiet save for Jungkook’s fingers tapping on his screen.

Jimin can apparently only take so much of that, though. He sighs heavily, “Are you ready yet?”

“Almost—I’m torn between something kind of like Thor’s axe Stormbreaker and like a bigger version of Gimli’s from the attack on Helm’s Deep.”

“Okay.” Jimin is looking back out the window again, “Well it would be nice if you could come to a conclusion before the hellhound gets antsy and starts eating your neighbors.”

Jungkook nearly drops his phone, “Okay, damn okay how do I—“

“Focus.” Jimin comes and stands directly in front of him, of course messing with his ability to do what he’s asking. “It’s like you want to scoop the magick out with your hands and concentrate it into a shape. Sort of like rolling snakes out of clay.”

“Like play-doh?” Jungkook asks, already fluttering his eyes closed to better concentrate on his magick.

There’s a silence while Jimin presumably searches his knowledge of human pop culture for “Play-Doh.”

“…Yes? Anyway, start at the handle and work your way out to the blades. You want the highest concentration of magick to be in the handle so you have the most direct access to it.”

Jungkook tries to imagine just what Jimin is describing, and gets a little giddy when he feels something solid begin to take shape in his hands.

“I think I’m doing it!”

Jimin grunts, “Celebrate later; worry about finishing correctly.”

He almost claps back, but Jimin has a point. The more intricate the axe gets, the more often he has to save it from all slipping away. It’s like doing a difficult math problem—like his brain is doing weight training or something.

Finally Jimin makes a somewhat pleased-sounding hum and Jungkook feels the axe stop pulling on his magick.

It’s done.

And it’s…really fucking cool.

It’s about the size of his entire body, the whole thing this gleaming silver color but much stronger than actual silver. Without his conscious effort there’s twisty runes worked up and down the body of the double-bladed axe and the handle. They glow faintly when he flexes his fingers where they’re gripping the handle.

He expects it to be heavy, but when he hefts it up it swings like its part of his arm. He nearly smashes it into the ceiling, though, so he quickly sets the edge back on the carpet.

“Alright, I admit, I sort of see the appeal now.” Jimin’s voice has that amused tone coming through. “You ready to see what it can do against a hellhound?”

Jungkook’s grin subsides a little.

“I mean, I still don’t know…how to fight with it…”

Jimin taps the blade and a spark zings off of it, “I mean, it’s an axe right? Swing it in the direction of the hellhound.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, your intention matters. The axe will draw on your magick to complete your intent. So if your intent is to defeat an enemy with combat the axe might send out a shockwave to stun it, or become white-hot and scorch it, or any number of things. You won’t know until you give it a shot.”

Jimin jerks his head in the direction of the trailer door, “Plus if you totally fuck this up I’ll be here to protect you.”

Jungkook just sort of grunts at that. It’s going to be incredibly embarrassing if he gets his ass handed to him by this thing and Jimin just claps his hands to get rid of it.

“That won’t be necessary. I have a feeling I’m actually a badass.”

“Yeah, well, go with that. We’ll see either way.” Jimin’s bathrobe disappears, and while Jungkook is stuttering and turning away he blinks the hoodie and jeans back on.

“You did that on purpose—“ Jungkook accuses, “You didn’t have to get all the way naked—“

“I thought it didn’t matter.” Jimin says lightly. And Jungkook freezes.

“It doesn’t.” Jungkook grouses, and hefts the axe.

“Because if I need to stay clothed all the time all you have to do is—“

“Help me get this damn thing out the door.”

\~\~\~

“Jimin, I’m having second thoughts.”

The hellhound is scrambling to its feet where Jimin’s magick flipped it backwards away from the door. Jungkook stands on the lawn, one side of the double-bladed axe sunk into the grass, the other gleaming in the morning light.

“Don’t be such a human—what happened to being a badass?” Jimin is perched in the doorway of the trailer, legs swinging and scuffing his shoes in the dirt.

The hellhound has regained its footing and bares its teeth at Jungkook with a bellowing growl.

Jungkook tugs the axe out of the lawn and swings it over his shoulder hesitantly.

The hellhound charges.

“I’m having third thoughts!!” Jungkook skitters back reflexively but the hellhound is too close. Jaws snap and foul breath wafts into his face.

On pure instinct he swings the axe down and—

—misses entirely.

The axe sinks deep in the lawn right at the hellhound’s feet. Jungkook would be puppy chow if it weren’t for the blast of flames that spreads from the point of impact, rolling over the hellhound and setting the whole lawn on fire. The giant dog howls, wheeling backwards, and Jungkook wrenches his hand back off the axe handle in reflexive disbelief.

“Fire, huh?” Interesting.” Jimin has flames licking at his boots but he seems entirely unperturbed.

“Is that a—good thing?” Jungkook twists over his shoulder to look at Jimin.

The eyebrow hitched up again, “Well, it’s a HELLhound, how afraid of fire could it be?”

As if to punctuate his point, the hellhound is recovered from the shock and is bouncing back across the lawn towards him.

“Shit—okay fuck—yeah fire, hellspawn, not the best choice what about…” Jungkook yanks the axe back out of the earth in time to bury it into the hellhound’s scything paw, where it sticks and he’s forced to let go lest he be dragged back when the beast staggers to the side.

The hound regards the injured paw like the axe is no more annoying than a thorn. But when it goes to shake the axe off…

Ice crackles and spreads from the wound up its leg.

The runes on the blade and handle are glowing brightly now. The more the beast twists and turns and tries to shake the axe loose, the faster the ice thickens and spreads in unfriendly-looking spikes across its massive body.

Jungkook grins, “Not bad, huh?”

Jimin rolls his eyes from the door. “Beginner’s luck.”

The hellhound only manages to thrash and move a few feet closer before the ice renders it immobile. Once he’s confident the beast is actually frozen, Jungkook steps forward and tugs the axe free from the paw with the crackle of breaking ice.

Jimin claps his hands and the enormous dog dissolves into black goo. He waves his hands and the lawn extinguishes and the damage is repaired.

Jungkook frowns, balancing the axe on his shoulder, “Why don’t you just ward the lawn so the creatures can’t ruin my grass every time?”

“Let’s not get too precious about your grass, now; it was essentially five blades of green and a sea of weeds. But it’s safer for your neighbors if the creatures can see where we are. It keeps them nearby.”

“Oh.” Jungkook looks past his lawn at the sprawl of trailers. He’s sure plenty have seen the craziness that infests his lawn, but Jimin assured him most people only see what they want to see.

Jungkook just assumes that people around these parts are smart enough to mind their own business. Look outside; see giant demon; close the blinds and blame it on a bad trip. “That makes sense.”

“Jungkook…is that a fucking axe?”

He whirls around to find Yoongi and…Namjoon, of all people, strolling down the street.

They’re both a little bug-eyed at the huge weapon.

“Uh. Yeah.” Speaking of conspicuous… “Jimin. What do I…do with it?”

Jimin hops out of the trailer and the door closes behind him. “The ocean metaphor was working for you, right? Think about dropping the axe back in the water.”

As Jungkook does so, the axe fades from view, the weight dropping out of his hands.

“Freaky.” Yoongi remarks. Namjoon is watching with intense interest, but back kind of wedged behind Yoongi. Like he’s trying to be invisible.

“I can get it back though, right?” Jungkook eyes his empty hands.

“Yeah you just have to imagine fishing it out of the ocean.”

Yoongi frowns, “Why does the ocean metaphor work?”

Jimin studies the pale witch for a moment, “The metaphor is totally arbitrary. Your brain is an endless playground of your own creation. Some people just can’t imagine more than one kind of swing set.”

“I get the distinct feeling I’m being roasted, here.” Jungkook mutters.

Jimin rolls his eyes, “You tried to kill a hell-dweller with fire. Literally fighting fire with fire.”

“Hey I’m new at this, quit dragging me.”

“Explains why Jin was so worthless in that demon fight.” Namjoon says.

Everyone turns towards him and he looks like regret is his middle name. Obviously drawing attention to himself wasn’t on the agenda for today.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook doesn’t like how sharp his own tone is, but he can’t help it.

Namjoon appears to be well over his little Crowley phase, however, if the way he cringes at Jungkook’s words is any indication.

“I, um…came to apologize.” Namjoon nods at his feet.

Yoongi steps out of the way so Namjoon can’t hide,

“He came over to my office crying about what an asshole he had been—“

“—I wasn’t CRYING—“

“—and I told him the easiest way to fix that was to come over.” Yoongi shoves his hands in his pockets, “He wouldn’t come alone. So here I am too.”

Jungkook eyes his Supreme expectantly.

“I’m…sorry.” Namjoon says quietly. “I was pretty horrible to you.”

Jungkook blinks at him, “I’m not the one you were horrible to.”

Namjoon turns towards Jimin, who’s standing quietly off to the side, “To you. I was horrible to you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Jimin almost whispers, “I’ve been possessed by him before too; it’s not pretty. You actually weren’t too bad. He flooded ten Mesopotamian villages when he had my powers for a week so, really, tattooing a sourcerer isn’t even in the top ten.”

Namjoon cracks a very fleeting grin and Jungkook and Yoongi make quick eye contact in bewildered camaraderie.

Jimin seems to notice their consternation and misinterprets it, “Truth or dare gets a bit wild down there.”

That just leaves Jungkook with more questions but at he and Yoongi’s weary eye contact they both silently agree to let it go.

Namjoon, however, is looking practically giddy,“I took like five showers when I got home from Tae’s. I still feel icky.”

Jimin chuckles, “It’s horrible. Like tar coating your insides. Imagine: that poor asshole feels like that all the time.”

They laugh together.

Jungkook is sure he’s seen men bond over weirder stuff before, but nothing immediately comes to mind.

“So what was with the axe?” Yoongi pipes up.

Jungkook smiles, “Jimin was teaching me how to do offensive magick.”

“Does your magick tell sexist jokes now?” Namjoon quips. He’s in entirely too good of a humor after his little Jimin interlude.

Yoongi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m literally begging you to stop. Jin doesn’t need any help filling the cringe quota.” He gives the peaceful lawn a once-over before eyeing Jimin curiously.

“Do you mind if we stay and watch?”

Jimin hitches a shoulder, “It’s up to Jungkook. He’s the boss.”

Jungkook glares at him, sure he’s being mocked somewhere in there. But Jimin’s face betrays nothing.

“You can stay. But nobody mocks me, deal?”

“No deal, brat. Nice try though.”

\~\~\~.

It’s actually not as horrible as he would’ve guessed, having the older witches there. They both ask thoughtful questions and allow Jungkook to have the space and concentration to try each new technique.

Jimin seems to flourish in front of an audience as well, especially one as cerebral as Yoongi and Namjoon.

It’s just approaching evening when Jimin announces that Jungkook needs to stop and eat because he’s losing focus. His last three magick bursts have fizzled out long before reaching Jimin. Jungkook wants to argue but as soon as the demon mentions it he realizes he’s starving.

“You want to go get food?” He asks his coven members.

“Sure.” Namjoon grins, “We could go to that coffee shop that becomes a wine bar past 7. Jin said their sandwiches are Jin-approved and I haven’t had the chance to go yet.”

“I’m in.” Yoongi clambers to his feet from where he’d been lounging in the grass.

“Jimin? You, uh, want to come?” Jungkook is immensely betrayed by how hesitant he sounds. But it’s hard to tell if Jimin is still mad at him. Or if he was ever mad at him.

The demon shoots him a small smile, “Sure. Time to find a new Keith, after all.”

Jungkook’s good mood evaporates in an instant.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want you to miss out on all the quality Keiths.” He stalks over to his car and Namjoon and Yoongi follow, eyeing his change in demeanor with confusion.

“If…you don’t like sandwiches we can…go somewhere else…” Namjoon says uncertainly.

Jimin pats Namjoon on the shoulder—the Supreme looks like he’s been hit in the head with a bat at the touch, “Sandwiches are fine. Jungkook’s just had a rough week.”

They pile into Jungkook’s car; the elder witches surrender the front seat to Jimin because no one feels quite up to sitting next to him. Jungkook is angry enough to not be overly distracted by how good the demon smells in the closed quarters of his Honda.

The car starts with no resistance, but one look at Jimin’s sly smile makes him suspect supernatural involvement. Which just makes him angrier, under the circumstances.

It’s a tense car ride to the wine bar. The elder witches slink out of the backseat as soon as they park, but Jimin seems to be in no hurry.

“Something bothering you, Jungkookie?”

The nickname again. At a time like this.

“Not at all.” He grumbles, more than contradicting his words with his tone.

The evening is crisp and his jacket is just on the edge of not being warm enough. There’s a fairly good-sized crowd milling around the entrance to the bar, and Jungkook has the extremely unsettling experience of having every eye turn to look at the four of them walking up. Well, they’re probably all looking at Jimin, but enough curious eyes flick to him that Jungkook hunches deeper in his hood.

He can almost feel the questions bouncing around their heads. Who is THAT? And who are these boys with him?

The crowd parts like extras in a cheesy 80’s movie and Jimin leads the way to the hostess stand. He smiles at the girl taking names and handing out wait times and Jungkook rolls his eyes at her answering blush.

They get seated with an alacrity that makes Jungkook suspect they’re not respecting the wait list or any kind of first-come-first-served rule. Namjoon seems a little uncomfortable, taking in all the people who are waiting for tables, but Yoongi just trudges after Jimin as the hostess leads the way.

The demon, of course, looks as serene as ever.

Jungkook is trying. He’s trying not to brood, as much as possible, but as they scan through Jin-approved sandwiches and peruse the wine list he knows he’s not exactly improving the mood of the table.

“Hey, are you okay?” Yoongi hangs onto the menu just a second too long when passing it to Jungkook, forcing him to look up.

“Yeah I’m…I’m fine.” Jungkook determinedly doesn’t look over at where Jimin is leaning back, chatting up someone at the table next to them, “Just. Hungry.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick over to the demon and he hums in understanding. Which really just makes Jungkook feel worse. How much more obvious can he be? He props up the menu in front of his face.

“Kook? Baby?”

The whole table zips with tension. Jimin can sense the shift and turns his focus back to them a little quizzical.

What fresh hell is this?

Jungkook flips the menu down from in front of him to see an unpleasantly familiar face.

“Long time no see,” Jungkook’s ex chuckles from the edge of the table. His apron and collared shirt, as well as the notepad in his outstretched palm give Jungkook a head start as to what his ex could be doing here.

“Jason.” He feels like someone else. “The hell are you doing here?” He knows what he’s doing here. He just has exactly zero other things to say to a man he hasn’t seen in close to a year.

“I work here,” Jason gestures to his nametag with a giggle that Jungkook supposes at one time he found endearing. Yes I know, Jungkook wants to say, I just don’t know what else I’m expected to say to you.

Namjoon and Yoongi are bouncing their attention between him and Jason like they’re watching a Wimbledon match.

Jimin is eyeing Jason curiously. The waiter has noticed. He gives Jimin the up-down, “I know these two, but, who’s your new friend?” Jason grins but it’s all for Jimin, “He sleeping on my side of the bed?”

At that information Jimin switches his focus back to Jungkook.

Jungkook can feel his clinical sort of focus burning into his ear. Jimin doesn’t look at Jason again.

Jason doesn’t do well with being denied attention.

“You still clean? Or are you fun again?”

He’s still pretty, before Jimin he would’ve said devastating. He’s still pouting in a way Jungkook had memorized with his lips.

Jungkook blinks.

Yoongi huffs irritably. Namjoon shifts, “Hey, that’s—“

“Still clean.” Finally he’s found his voice. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“S’okay. Still get to make you squirm.” Jason’s got his pen poised over the notepad but there’s no sign of the conversation heading towards their food selection. “Maybe even chase you away from this bar after tonight.”

He hasn’t even really thought about Jason in a while.

But of course boys that look like Jason always have the gall to believe you’re hung up on them. It’s central to their identity.

He might’ve been right like two weeks after they broke up. Jungkook had avoided places where they might run into each other and given up one or two favorite spots to keep the dealer out of his life; where he belonged.

Now, though,

“Nah, at most you’d chase me away for a month until you inevitably flake out, disappear, get fired and then evicted. I have the patience to wait you out.”

Jason’s smile turns hard, kind of brittle at the corners.

“Don’t worry, baby, I have the patience to wait out your sobriety too. Someday soon you’ll be back at my door—begging your way into my pants and my stash. Your kind never really leaves.”

Namjoon and Yoongi both make angry noises, and Namjoon shifts forward to start talking but all Jungkook can see is the cruel smirk on Jason’s face.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears, and he’s formulating a reply, it’s coming, when—

“Yeah I can’t eat any of this shit.” Jimin stands up quick, skimming his hand back through his hair. This derails whatever choice words Namjoon was working up into. Jason’s eyes snap over to the motion; he looks a little dazed.

Or maybe just stoned.

But when it comes to Jimin, what’s the difference, really?

Jungkook is beyond lost. Jimin was happily weighing the pros and cons of all the sandwiches just minutes ago. What the hell is he doing?

The hell he’s doing is dropping to his knees by Jungkook’s chair—causing him to nearly tumble backwards out of it and a fair amount of people to look up from around the bar.

“Daddy…”

Jungkook’s whole body seizes up. He’s pretty sure he disassociates.

Everyone else seems to be experiencing something similar.

Jimin coquettishly wraps his fingers around the arm of Jungkook’s chair, “Daddy, please. Can you take me somewhere nice? Don’t wanna suck you under this cheap table.” He frowns, all pouty and irresistible, “Please?”

Jungkook’s alarmed expression is mirrored by everyone at the table…and by some people sitting across the room. They’ve captured quite a bit of attention. Yoongi is frozen like his brain has a bad WiFi connection; Namjoon is rather red in the face.

Jason’s arms have fallen limply to his sides and his jaw has dropped open.

It’s this that reminds Jungkook; Jimin’s last words were a question to him. It’s his line, so to speak.

“Uh. Yeah, baby.” At his words Jimin smiles encouragingly, “We’ll eat wherever you want tonight...” After a beat he leans more into character, “You’ve…been so good today.”

Namjoon makes some sort of choking noise.

Jimin beams, eyes creasing up and bouncing off his knees. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Jungkook realizes Jimin’s given him a reason to get to his feet and leave without having to deal with Jason.

He takes it.

He rises from the chair and reaches out a hand for Jimin to help him off his knees. The demon gets to his feet like a ballerina.

Jungkook finds himself smiling, in spite of it all, “Let’s go, baby.”

And they breeze right past Jason to the door.

Namjoon and Yoongi reboot and scurry after them.

\~\~\~

”That was a hell of a thing.”

“We KNOW, Yoongi. You’ve said that five times.”

“I can’t believe you just—“ Yoongi shakes his head and bites into the street tacos they settled for after their dramatic exit from the wine bar.

They’re sprawled on some benches in the park munching happily while the nature of their departure gets told and retold.

“This is a small town, Jimin.” Namjoon is giggling, “People are going to remember this forever. The two of you are going to be legends. Just out roaming around calling each other Daddy and shit and talking about sucking dicks. Wild.”

Jimin shrugs, “Sometimes you have to fight ridiculousness with ridiculousness.” He hoovers a taco and regards Jungkook, “What did you do to that guy to make him so obsessed with you?”

Jungkook scratches his ear so Yoongi jumps in, “Jason is Kookie’s old dealer…and boyfriend.” He ruffles Jungkooks hair, “He didn’t take it well when Jungkook quit using.”

“He’s very hung up.” Jimin remarks, licking sauce off his fingers.

“He just doesn’t like to lose.” Jungkook shakes his head, “None of it was ever about me. Jason has issues with attrition.”

“Are you similarly afflicted by him?” Jimin swings his legs back and forth as he asks.

Jungkook snorts, “No. Not anymore.”

“I suppose you must be telling the truth. I hadn’t seen him in your head before.” Jimin smirks.

“My head’s been kinda…” his gaze snags on Jimin’s adam’s apple bobbing as he knocks back another big bite, “Preoccupied.”

The elder witches give him a Look.

“With magick—“ hes quick to elaborate, “—with figuring out my magick. No room for unapologetic junkies.”

“Mm.” Jimin hums and hops to his feet. “Well gentlemen, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Where are you going?” Namjoon frowns.

“Out.” Jimin quips. And he’s halfway down the block before anyone can think to stop him.

“What’s that about?” Yoongi jerks his head towards Jimin’s retreating back.

“Probably going to find another lay. He’s got kind of a…thing going these last couple days.”

“Wait, aren’t y’all—“ Namjoon starts and then makes eye contact with Yoongi.

“We thought—“

“No.” Jungkook says, kind of sharp and frustrated. “Why does everyone assume that??”

“Well, because we would be.” Yoongi says simply. Namjoon nods; emphatic.

“Everyone told me not to fall for a demon!” Jungkook shoves his trash into a bag with more violence than is strictly necessary.

“Who said anything about falling for him?” Namjoon’s brow creases, “We’re just talking about sex…have you…? How have you…” he trails off.

“Jungkook do you have…feelings for Jimin?” Yoongi ventures.

“Of course not…I mean—it’s not possible to fall for a demon of lust.” He can’t have them cave on this point. If they start seeing Jimin positively…how on earth will he justify holding back?

“Well I didn’t think it was possible to BIND the demon of lust.” Namjoon points out, “So who KNOWS what is possible?”

Jungkook stands up like that’ll provide some answers, “He’s a demon. The only thing that keeps us safe from him literally killing us is the deal. Don’t encourage this line of thought.”

“Yeah but…” Yoongi chews thoughtfully, “Where in the deal does it say “construct an elaborate dom/sub scene in order to save me from an awkward encounter with an ex”? Where was that in your terms?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that seems like a lot of effort for something you never explicitly stated he had to do. What do you make of that?”

Jungkook has no answer.

He drives Namjoon and then Yoongi home, and still doesn’t have an answer.

He pulls up outside of the trailer and feels that mix of heavy waves that makes his stomach sink and doesn’t have an answer.

He trudges to his room past what looks like a trio of fitness models climbing into bed with Jimin and doesn’t have an answer.

He leaves his headphones off for the first time.

It’s twenty tense minutes into listening but pretending to not be listening when Jimin’s voice tickles him through the walls.

“Oh…Jungkookie…right there—just like that—“

His face gets hot immediately. Spreads through him like fire to burn everywhere it touches, this rough, needy entreaty of his name. Something inside him cracks—nearly breaks, like he didn’t realize how much he wanted to hear it until he did.

He swallows past the lump of shame in his throat and jerks it quick and embarrassed, cums so hard his legs go numb for a minute.

And he still has no answer.

\~\~\~

The next two weeks aren’t particularly enlightening on that front either.

The parade of Keiths continues through his living room every night, disappearing without a trace by the morning.

Sometimes he leaves his headphones off.

Sometimes the stuff in his gut rises up like it’s going to choke him from the inside out and he paces his room like a caged bear, listening to whatever violent slash rock will drown out the whisper in his ear.

“Jungkookie…”

He’s weak, though, in that Jimin’s continued and aggressive campaign to ruin his psyche has done nothing to lessen his enthusiasm for his days off.

Because he gets magick lessons on those days.

Because Jimin stays and laughs and teaches him amazing things.

Sometimes Namjoon or Yoongi will join them. Occasionally Hobi and Tae, or very rarely Seokjin, because he’s got a Real Job and has to be a busy and important adult most days.

But when the other witches head home in the evening it’s just him and Jimin. They cook dinner from Jungkook’s overstuffed fridge and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend the demon isn’t a person.

He laughs at jokes like a person.

He itches his nose like a person.

He lounges on Jungkook’s bed with a beer like a person.

It’s all very confusing.

But no matter what, when the day is over, Jimin goes out and collects another Keith to take to bed.

And Jungkook goes to his own, alone.

The only minor consolation Jungkook maintains from all this is how irritated his stubbornness makes Jimin. For someone who can make anyone fall at his feet in a second, the sheer novelty must be incredibly frustrating.

What started off as the sly peering over the coffee mug in a robe has escalated to lips being left kiss-swollen and red.

Bite marks left obvious on collarbones.

Hickeys sucked into long slender neck.

And all the time just making breakfast and chatting like it’s totally normal and humming while he brews coffee.

And Jungkook dies every day.

But Jimin breaks first.

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook hears the confrontation coming. He’s doing laundry for once—he’s out of clean underwear.

Jimin is leaning against his doorframe with a face like thunder.

“Why won’t you stop it? I know you hate it.”

No clarification is necessary. They both know what’s being discussed.

“I don’t need to control you.”

“You made a deal with me specifically to control me. Stop pretending you have some kind of moral obligation or stance.” Jimin has this burning intensity to him, today, after bringing home six mixed-gendered Keiths home last night and getting no reaction.

The demon is positively simmering,

“You’re not better than this.”

Jungkook flinches, “I don’t think I’m better than anything.”

“You do. You think you’re better than fucking.”

“You can see inside my head; you know I’m not.”

“I can’t see ENOUGH.” Jimin is on the verge of what Jungkook would describe as “losing his cool” if he thought such a thing could be applied to this creature. “I can’t see what the trigger is. Is it number? Men or women? Friends? What would make you do something about it?”

Jungkook thinks about how often he’s cum into his own fist over the last fourteen days and disagrees that he’s not doing anything about it.

But everyone has their own definition of weakness.

“There’s nothing, Jimin. Do what you want. It doesn’t matter who you bring back—it doesn’t bother me.” He pushes past the demon and skips out the door.

He buys breakfast from McDonald’s that morning.

He munches on his hash browns and listens to Taehyung talk about his week. He definitely doesn’t let himself think about eggs. Or bacon. Certainly not about enough coffee for two in his trailer kitchen with an evil creature who smiles like the sun.

HIS definition of weakness has broader parameters every day.

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