➵ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓: 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 [𝐊.𝐓𝐇]

"STOP CHASING ME WITH THAT FLYSWATTER OF CERTAIN DEATH THEN!"

"WHAT IN EVER-LOVING HELLS ARE YOU DOI— GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!"

"Wha— OUCH HYUNG FOR ZEUS'S SAKE—"

"Oh lord help me KIM NAMJOON GET OFF HIM!"

It really and truly amazed you how you hadn't lost your mind yet as you skidded off the counter and in between your seemingly feral little brother and a understandably traumatized Taehyung.

So... you loved your brother. You really did— he'd been your rock for almost all your life, your constant support, and even though you two weren't biologically related, he was the closest family you had, really. You loved your parents, but you'd always been the most connected to Namjoon— you two stood by each other until the end.

But for crying out loud, this was getting slightly ridiculous.

Namjoon was usually very level-headed, had a calming presence and assured aura that instantly put you, at least, at ease. His dyed whitish-silver hair was usually swept up into a neat quiff over his head and then draped down immaculately over his eyes— he'd always been somewhat of a perfectionist, from his perfectly pressed clothes to even the amount of eyeliner he put on (okay, that was a joke, but he DID put some on once in high school, and it was one of the most hilarious moments of your life).

BUT ANWAY— POINT WAS, your brother Kim Namjoon had no business looking like he did at the moment— and that is to say, a perfect mess. He looked like he'd fallen asleep in his half-buttoned dress shirt, his hair was sticking out in multiple directions, making him finally look the part of Einstein (he already had his brain, so you suppose it completed the effect), and his face was red and he was panting as if he'd sprinted up twelve flights of stairs.

You hadn't even had time to react before your little brother's fingers were twisted harshly against the back of Taehyung's throat, throwing him back and then fisting the front of the astonished, red-haired demigod's shirt with a snarl etched on his face.

"Gods, Taehyung, you are so lucky right now," Namjoon growled lowly, almost so quietly you couldn't hear him, but you weren't deaf just quite yet, although with all the yelling going on you thought you were beginning to get there, "if this was any other circumstance, you'd be punted all the way to the Underworld right now, you hear?"

...I must have misheard.

Taehyung's weird way of talking is getting to my brain.

You knew Taehyung could fight back from this— he was a f*cking demigod, for crying out loud. You'd seen him open a ten-pound crate lid with a flick of his wrist and send it flying.

But he did nothing but stare at Namjoon, frozen, eyes flickering to you and ambivalence coursing through him.

"Joon, that's ENOUGH!" you finally felt your vocal cords unstick from the dry walls of your throat and you kicked your brother in the shin, relishing in his squeak of pain when you hauled him back, loosing his hold on Taehyung. "What in the world is wrong with you?"