BLOOD MONEY || bts mafia au

sixteen.

Six years ago...

The bag of money in Jungkook's hands landed on the table with a resounding thunk. "Two million won, just as agreed upon," he announced proudly, placing his split knuckles on the wooden surface in front of him as he leaned forward.

The black-haired boy sitting in front of him grinned as he stuck his hands into the bag, thumbing through the money greedily. "Nice job, kid," he said, picking up the stacks of cash and heading toward the small safe they kept in the corner of the small abandoned warehouse they'd taken over. "Not too bad."

Jungkook's smile twisted unhappily as he stalked after his leader, upset by the nonchalant dismissal. "When do I get to up my game? I'm tired of picking off the weak players."

The older boy scowled as he slid the day's haul into the steel box, pulling himself to his full height, which, admittedly, still came up short next to the younger. Despite the four year age gap between them, Jungkook had somehow always managed to be taller than him.

"You'll do what I tell you to," he snapped, jabbing a finger into Jungkook's chest so hard that the other boy stumbled backward from the force. "Don't forget that I didn't have to let you join my operation. I could have taken you out the second I realized you were stupid enough to be trying to steal my gig."

"But then your operation wouldn't have grown so much, now would it?" Jungkook threw back, an arrogant smirk teetering on the edge of his lips. "Face it, Yoongi. You need me."

Yoongi tried to deepen his scowl but only succeeded in allowing the corner of it to quirk upward. "I just keep you for the hell of it. That and you insist on following me everywhere like a lost puppy."

Jungkook grinned, leaning against the table. In the sparsely lit room, the contours of his face cast sharp shadows, erasing all hints of the fact that he was only seventeen. "Don't be afraid to say it, Min. You keep me for the eye candy. It's okay to admit you're attracted to me, everyone else already is."

"And there goes your impossibly large ego again to ruin it."

"At least I live up to it."

"I don't know about that. I saw you when you got your gun caught on your belt the other day and ripped your pants straight down the middle. Oh, by the way, nice underwear. The Thomas the Train pattern is really cute when you're walking into a drug deal."

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but a faint flush colored the tops of his ears. "You're just snippy cuz you didn't get to see what's underneath them."

Yoongi snorted as he sat down next to the other boy on the table, used to his lilting bravado by now. But it didn't matter how many layers of bluster Jungkook put on. Yoongi never forgot the desperate look in those dark eyes when he saw the younger for the first time, a naive fifteen year old who thought he could waltz straight into a gambling den and hold his own. There had been something of himself that he'd seen reflected in Jungkook's gaze that had made him take him under his wing even with the rumors he'd heard flitting around. And Jungkook had done his best to prove his worth.

"Are you staying with me tonight?" Yoongi asked his best friend, tapping his filthy boots against the dusty floor.

Jungkook pulled a face, pushing himself up off the table. "My father wants me back home for dinner with the mayor. He's trying to work on getting him to support his campaign to get reelected back to the council and wants to pretend for once that we're some kind of functional family."

Yoongi frowned.

In the gambling den he used to work in to pay the bills, there wasn't a regular there that didn't recognize the name Jeon. Not when Jungkook's father was the big-name politician that was threatening to come down hard on all of the dens within his jurisdiction as a councilman. So when Yoongi heard that his son was lurking around the tables, he wasn't sure what to make of it. Had he been sent as a spy to scope out the criminal types that lurked around there? To find just the right information to have a police squad there in an hour?