Cockaigne

chap 2

by the time he's crept back into his family's quarters, Jin is dead on his feet. his sister stirs when he creeps by, Yoongi's clothing wrapped in a discarded apple sack and clutched close to his chest. his father's snores are enough to mask the quiet sounds of his bare feet on hay-covered stones, but when he pulls down his blankets and settles carefully onto his side, Jin blinks his eyes open to find Minyoung's eyes glittering at him in the dark.

"where have you been," Minyoung hisses. there's barely two feet in between their cots, though Jin is lucky enough to have his own-he's too broad now to fit in the bed Minyoung and Eunjoon share.

"nowhere," he mumbles. he curls a little tighter around the bundle of cloth pressed into his stomach. there's a lone candle flickering on the other side of the room, melted down almost to its base. "with Hoseok-hyung."

"Hoseok came down to the hall for dinner."

Jin glares as much as he can through swollen eyes. Minyoung squints through the dark, fumbles out with one hand until his palm is pressed against Jin's cheek.

"you've been crying." he still sounds accusatory, too suspicious to only be seventeen. "if that bitch noble did anything to you-"

Jin shakes his hand off with a scowl. "Yoongi didn't do anything to me. don't talk about him like that."

for a long moment they're quiet, Jin's jaw tense, Minyoung's face pinched. they've had this conversation before, it feels like; Minyoung takes after their father, doesn't trust anyone with a title as far as he could throw them.

"go to sleep," Jin finally sighs. he rolls onto his back, worms his fingers under burlap to brush over silk. hay pokes through his thin mattress and into his skin, coarse and prickly.

the ballroom feels like an eternity ago, all glittering lights and marble columns and Namjoon's hands pressed to his skin. Namjoon-the prince, Jin reminds himself. the crown prince, who could have Jin executed for looking him in the eye. if he weren't clutching Yoongi's finery tight enough to damage the fabric, Jin would believe he dreamed the whole thing.

"i won't tell dad," Minyoung finally sighs into the space between them. "but this isn't going to get you anywhere, hyung. you're still stuck down here with the rest of us."

Jin pulls his thin blanket up over his head, and angles his face away, and watches the dim glow of the candle through the fabric until the wax melts into nothing.

the next morning is less hectic than Jin is used to. he's still dragged out of bed before the first rooster crows, eyes painfully sore and head spinning with exhaustion. he still holds Eunjoon's hand as they walk to the washroom at the very end of the servants' hall together, even though she's thirteen and only lets him show affection when they're both half-asleep. he still wakes up to the familiar motion of kneading endless loaves of bread, surrounded by the familiar sounds of the palace slowly coming alive.

"did you see that lordling again?" his father asks, from where he's preparing platters for the royal family. Jin keeps his eyes down, watches the glaze of syrup over the tray he knows gets sent to the crown prince's room.

"i did," he replies. the dough is soft beneath his fingers, the last batch he'll make until the afternoon meal. the quantity of food that needs to be prepared later in the day has risen, to accommodate the excess nobility after the ball, but Jin has heard enough gossip from the handmaids and valets that have ducked into the kitchen to grab trays to know that most of the castle is busy sleeping off a hangover. "you know he sent for me."

the whole kitchen knows Yoongi sent for him, because Eunjoon doesn't know how to keep her lips sealed around her friends. Jin can see her flush a little, where she's busy glazing a batch of sweetmeats.

"i don't like it, Jin-ah." his father softens his voice, his hands steady around the wooden handle of the peel. "you know what nobility's like. whatever he's promising you-"

"father," Jin says, sharper than he intends. his fingers have bitten jagged holes into the loaf he's kneading; Jin smooths them out as best he can. "Yoongi is my friend. nothing more."

no one in the kitchen has believed that for a long time. not since Jin was sixteen at least, and Yoongi had been visiting the castle regularly. they've been friends for longer than that, and Yoongi is more than happily engaged by now, but-well. Jin knows as well as anyone that it wouldn't matter, if Yoongi were that kind of man.

his father frowns, familiar lines settling deep in his face. he doesn't reply as he pulls the latest batch of rolls out of the oven, browned just the way they've perfected after so many years working together.

the first few days of Jin's training had been difficult. he'd only been allowed to eat the bread he made, and his father had no sympathy for when he'd mixed up what seemed like endless types of powder and procedure. Jin finishes loading the last tray of the morning, and watches as it slides into the oven.

"i'm here!" a voice calls from the doorway, and Jin startles back to himself like there's been a bucket of water dumped on his head.

Jungkook-Jeon Jungkook, the crown prince's valet-weaves through the bustling kitchen like slipping through water, winking at kitchen girls as they practically fall in his path. Jin jerks his head away, heart pounding thick against his ribs, because-Jungkook had seen him, last night. had probably watched from the sidelines for hours as Jin had danced, and spoken, and laughed with their prince. hair pushed back, dripping with borrowed finery or not, Jin had been stupid. reckless. his face burns like he's standing in front of the oven.

"i'm here," Jungkook pants again, bracing himself on his knees in front of Jin's father. "ah, what a run."

Jin's father smiles tightly, offering out the prince's usual tray. Jungkook glances at it appraisingly, then casts his eyes toward the half-empty tray of pastries, fresh from the oven, the first thing Jin makes each morning. the two princes' favorites, they'd been told, and Jin has started his morning with them ever since.

"mind if i..." Jungkook trails off, and reaches over to pile four more of the buns onto his tray with an apologetic grin. "Namjoonie is in a mood."

Jin bites down hard on his tongue. his father quirks an eyebrow, frown settling deeper on his face.

"half of those are for the spare," he grumbles. Jungkook flaps a hand idly, balancing the tray on one arm as he gathers himself back up for the walk.

"Chaeyoung won't care, i'm sure. and i think making Namjoon happy is in my very best interest for today, so you're doing me a favor too!" every ear in the kitchen is turned to him, the girls and boys alike listening for any scrap of gossip they can find. Eunjoon and a few of her friends take pride in conning the sweetest tales from the royal attendants; they like the currency of knowledge more than the measly scraps of gold tossed their way every few months.

"thank you, sir," Jungkook beams, and offers a perfunctory bow, and strides back out the way he came.

the mangled scrap of dough under Jin's hands is unrecognizable. Jungkook doesn't glance at him once.