Chapter Text
Recently promoted Inspector Jeon Jungkook didn’t know what to expect when Chief Kim ordered him to observe the questioning taking place in Interrogation Room 4. Room 4 was the worst of all the interrogation rooms, reserved only for the suspects least likely to break. It included the infamous wobbly chair, the terrible blinking lights, and air conditioning reminiscent of baking to death in the Sahara underneath the burning sun.
Whatever he was expecting as he cracked the door and slid silently inside to peer through the viewing window with a few others, none of it included a small, shaking boy, face scrunched up in pain as an aggressive Inspector Choi wrenched his head backwards with a handful of silver hair. Both hands were cuffed to the links in the table, but even if they weren’t, he would have had no chance to defend himself against the much larger man.
Jungkook took an instinctual step towards the glass, all of his gut telling him to rush inside and stop what was happening. That kind of rough treatment was solely for the most hardened of criminals, and there was no way this boy was one, not with the way tears were already pouring down the sides of his face. The rational side of his mind only just won out as he slumped and instead began to listen.
“I-I d-don’t kn-know!” the boy cried, whimpering as his hair was released, head falling forward. “I don’t know who you’re talking about!”
Something ugly must have shown on Jungkook’s face, because Inspector Chanyeol was giving him a knowing look as he glanced away from watching through the two-way mirror. “He’s not what he looks like,” Chanyeol said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Whatever he is, Choi’s treating him like he’s the devil, or something,” Jungkook muttered, rubbing at the back of his neck and wincing as the boy was swatted on the side of the head.
“Nah, he’s not the devil,” Chanyeol snickered. “He just fucks the devil.”
Jungkook choked on his next breath.
“And believe me, the devil’s worn off on him,” Chanyeol said wryly.
Jungkook turned his attention back to the crying boy, unconvinced.
“We know you were the lookout, Park,” Choi snarled, slamming his hands down on the table and causing the boy to violently recoil in his chair. He wasn’t able to do much with his hands held in place. “Tell us what the plan was, and I’ll ask the prosecutors for leniency.”
“P-plan?” the boy sobbed. “I don’t—I was just taking a walk and—“
“Bullshit!” Choi roared, a vein popping against the skin of his neck.
“Please, I just want to go home!” the boy begged, pulling futilely at the handcuffs.
Jungkook’s brow furrowed in concern as the boy continued to pull, heedless of his skin breaking in the process. It was already too much, but he couldn’t just stand there and watch the kid hurt himself.
“Don’t do it,” Chanyeol warned. “Park Jimin is Class A, bona fide, one hundred percent sociopath. This is a game, Jeon, and he plays people like chess.”
Jungkook just couldn’t believe that.
The boy’s eyes widened as Choi approached him again, frantically pulling at the metal and getting nowhere. Choi squeezed the kid’s small jaw between his thumb and index finger and said something so low that Jungkook couldn’t hear it. Whatever it was, the kid began practically wailing, shivering so hard that his teeth clattered together, sweat dripping from his forehead.
Choi offered him a final disgusted look before stomping to the door, throwing it open and closed with a loud bang. “Little piece of shit,” Choi muttered, angrily running a hand through his hair.
“Don’t you think you were too rough?” Jungkook said immediately, mouth set in a thin line as the kid’s loud sobs continued to resonate throughout the room.
Choi scoffed, looking at Jungkook like he was an idiot. “Are you fucking kidding me, Jeon? Freak probably gets off on it.”
“Hey,” Jungkook said, voice low, “whatever he did, he didn’t deserve that.”
“Oh?” Choi said, mouth twisting in amusement. “Did you know his boyfriend likes to sever heads and preserve them? I hear he’s got quite the collection.”
Jungkook felt his eye twitch. “That’s disgusting, and also not funny.” He glanced at the crying boy, who’d now curled his legs up to fit on the chair, his feet bare and as tiny as the rest of him. Lines of red were spilling from under the cuffs, dripping onto the table. “I’m going to find a first aid kit and treat those.”
“I wasn’t joking,” Choi said, as Jungkook slipped out of the room.
It took him longer than he would have liked, but he didn’t want to ask for help in finding bandages and medicine. He was already insecure in his new position, and he didn’t want to look weak in front of any of the older guys. He found a small kit in the supply room. While there wasn’t much inside of it, he figured that treating scratches wouldn’t be that complicated. Granted, he couldn’t even boil water, so it didn’t take much for something to be complicated.
He slid back into the room with the first aid kit and a can of soda, only Chanyeol remaining to watch over the boy in the room.
“Jeon?” Chanyeol said, as Jungkook wrapped his hand around the knob.
Jungkook paused, turning his head to give Chanyeol his attention.
“Be careful, won’t you?” Chanyeol said lightly.
Jungkook nodded curtly, opening the door. The boy’s head jerked up in surprise, eyes wide and red as he watched Jungkook step inside. An unidentifiable flicker of emotion passed across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had surfaced.
Jungkook reached into his belt to pull out his handcuff keys, and he felt bad for the way the boy flinched at his movement, like he was going to do something bad.
“I’m Inspector Jeon,” he said, feeling awkward as he fiddled with the small silver keys. “I’m going to unlock your hands, one at a time, and treat your injuries.”
“M-my…?” the boy stuttered, looking at Jungkook fearfully.
“You hurt yourself,” Jungkook said. “You didn’t notice?” He found that hard to believe. The blood was smeared under his wrists.
“Oh,” the boy said softly, shifting so that the collar of his loose white t-shirt gaped open slightly. “I guess…I didn’t feel it because e-everything else h-hurts more.”
“Everything else?” Jungkook said, immediately on alert. “Where else are you hurt?”
The boy shrugged. “That last m-man wasn’t n-nice to me,” he whispered.
“Okay,” Jungkook said, sighing. “Okay, I’ll treat your wrists first, and then we’ll deal with the rest.” He set the kit and soda down on the table. As he reached for the boy’s left wrist, the boy leaned as far away from him as he could.
“Please don’t hurt me,” he said, eyes tearing up once again.
“I’m not—“ Jungkook sighed, trying to make his voice softer. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to stop you from bleeding all over the table. It’s unsanitary.”
The boy looked at him for a moment, as though searching for something, before he finally nodded jerkily. “O-okay…”
Jungkook reached out slowly to unlock one of the boy’s cuffed hands, wincing at the full view of the bloody abrasions. “Ouch.”
The boy watched him closely as Jungkook opened the first aid kit and pulled out a tube of ointment, dabbing it messily over his wrist. He then pulled a roll of bandages, wrapping them haphazardly around the damaged area. “You’ve…never done this before, have you?” the boy questioned.
“I put the cuffs on the bad guys. Someone else usually deals with the other stuff,” Jungkook said. He set the roll down and pushed the soda towards Jimin. “Drink some of this before I do the other one.”
The boy hesitated, eyes narrowing for a brief moment before he wrapped his free hand around the can. “Thank you,” he said softly. “Umm…I’m Jimin. I guess…someone out there already told you that, though.”
“Hi Jimin, I’m Inspector Jeon,” Jungkook said.
“You sound so stiff,” Jimin giggled. “It’s not like I’m a scary criminal, or something.”
“Right…” Jungkook said uncertainly.
“Inspector Jeon?” Jimin said suddenly, biting down on his bottom lip and looking up at Jungkook through his lashes. “It’s really, really hot in here.” Jimin brought the can to his neck, pressing the cold surface to his skin and letting out a little moan.
Jungkook swallowed, averting his eyes and suddenly feeling the heat himself.
“Yeah, well, you’re not on vacation,” Jungkook said.
“Inspector,” Jimin whined, setting the can down on the table. “It…it’s really making it h-hurt…” he trailed off, resting a hand over his abdomen, fingers curling into his shirt.
Jungkook immediately stepped closer, filled with an unusual amount of concern. “What hurts?” Choi may have broken the kid’s ribs, or something, and he didn’t need a punctured lung on his hands.
“I c-can’t really explain,” Jimin said, eyes dropping to the table. “I-it…just…hurts,” he said, voice breaking.
“Okay, okay,” Jungkook panicked. “Let me see,” he said, reaching for the hem of Jimin’s shirt. He gently raised the fabric, leaning down to catch sight of any major damage. His brow furrowed when all he exposed was perfect golden skin, interrupted only by a purple handprint sitting at his tiny waist. “Where—“
Warm, wet lips pressed against own, teeth biting at his bottom lip and drawing blood.
Jungkook threw himself backwards, heart racing, to the sound of warm, pretty laughter. Jimin’s eyes were scrunched together as he smiled, licking his lips as his body shook, now with amusement. “They don’t train them like they used to,” Jimin said, eyes flicking to the mirror. “But they didn’t used to look like you, either.”
“Y-you—“ Jungkook spluttered, wiping the blood away from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Jimin nonchalantly popped the tab of the soda can with his index finger and thumb, taking a large sip. “Inspector, you know your fly is open?”
Jungkook’s eyes immediately shot downward, only to hear that pealing laughter again.
“Just kidding,” Jimin giggled.
“What the fuck,” Jungkook said.
“You know, at first I thought you were just playing good cop,” Jimin said, pressing the can to his chest again. “But then, I realized that you were being genuine. I like that in a man. So I decided to be genuine, too.”
“You motherfucker,” Jungkook said, stunned. He got played so easily. By a kid.
“Ew,” Jimin said, wrinkling his small nose. “I guess you would have preferred I keep playing the part? Men love that, don’t they? The cute, innocent, woe-is-me act? Some weird, virginal, purity thing? Well. I can keep it up if you want me to.”
“I don’t want anything but to shoot you,” Jungkook said, stomping over and forcing Jimin’s hand back to the table, roughly cuffing it again.
“Ah—ow—“ Jimin complained, pouting his full lips. “I-Inspector, p-please, not so rough…”
Jungkook just glared at him as he unlocked the right cuff and began to treat that wrist.
“Jimin w-was b-bad,” Jimin continued, fluttering his lashes. “But he’ll be good from now on, he promises,” Jimin said, voice sickly-sweet.
“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook said bluntly.
“Ah, it’s okay, I was lying, anyway,” Jimin said, laughing.
Jungkook finished wrapping the wrist and moved to lock it down again, but Jimin resisted that time.
“Can I finish my soda, at least?” Jimin said, eyes projecting desperation. “I wasn’t lying about the being hot part!”
Jungkook sighed, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t want Jimin fainting from heat stroke, either. “Hurry up.”
Jimin smiled brightly and returned to sipping the can. “Hopefully by the time I’m done, Jinnie will be able to spring me. I don’t want to waste any more of your…valuable time.”
“Jinnie?” Jungkook said, slumping into the chair on the opposite side of the table.
“Wow,” Jimin said, eyes wide. “They didn’t even tell you that? Exactly how low are you on the totem pole?”
Jungkook grimaced, remaining silent.
“Jinnie is…well…” Jimin said, brow furrowed in thought, “the best? He’s really handsome, and really mean, and he makes a lot of bad jokes, and, well…you people say he’s done some really scary things. Can’t prove it, though, can you? And so you meanies drag me in here and ruin my perfectly good afternoon.”
“Hmm,” Jungkook grunted, eyes bored.
“I know how you can make it up to me, though, inspector,” Jimin said, smiling suggestively. “The kiss was nice, wasn’t it? Imagine getting the rest, too,” he said, widening his legs and leaning forward over the table.
“No thanks,” Jungkook said.
Jimin pouted. “You’re so boring.”
The door opened, and Chanyeol popped his head inside. Jungkook watched as Jimin’s eyes widened with interest. “Park’s getting released.” Jungkook stood up quickly.
“Great!” Jimin chirped. “Guess I don’t need these, then,” he said, dropping Jungkook’s handcuff keys on the table.
Jungkook stared, patting at his pockets and coming up empty.
“I’m glad I didn’t have to hurt you, Jeon,” Jimin smiled sweetly. “If the other mean one had come back, he wouldn’t have been so lucky. He hit me a lot, and I don’t like that from anyone but Jinnie.”
“Kid, are you seriously threatening an officer of the law while handcuffed to a table in the middle of a police station?” Jungkook said incredulously.
“Kid?” Jimin said, tilting his head. “Exactly how old you think I am, inspector?”
Jungkook hesitated. He was tired of being shown up by this criminal.
“Older than you, inspector,” Jimin said simply. “Maybe you should be more respectful. Jinnie doesn’t like it when people are mean to me.”
Before Jungkook could respond, Chanyeol moved to unlock the remaining cuff. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”
“A gentleman as always, Inspector Park,” Jimin said sweetly. “Tell Baekhyun I said hi.”
Chanyeol visibly stiffened as he led Jimin out through the door.
“What the fuck,” Jungkook sighed, half-sitting on the table.
After a few minutes, Chanyeol returned, leaning against the table next to him. “I think an ‘I told you so’ is in order.”
“Park Jimin is something else,” Jungkook said, shaking his head, phantom lips mouthing at his own.
“You had to experience it yourself to believe it,” Chanyeol nodded. “He’s good. He’s done a shit ton of illegal crap, but Kim Seokjin’s lawyers always get him off. Still, the higher ups keep going after him, because he’s the only one other than Kim who knows everything. Who could bring the whole operation down. You can imagine the surprise of everyone when he didn’t break. He won’t break. Instead, he breaks people.”
“What the fuck,” Jungkook repeated.
Chanyeol shook his head and clapped Jungkook on the shoulder. “At least he likes you. The last person he disliked ended up with a slit throat.”
Jungkook turned his head sharply. “What?!”
Chanyeol shrugged. “I mean, the guy survived, he just doesn’t talk much anymore. Works traffic down in the third district.”
Jungkook fought back the shiver that sent goosebumps pimpling his spine. “What the fuck. How about somebody tells me this shit before I antagonize a serial killer?”
Chanyeol shrugged. “You only have to worry if he tells Kim Seokjin about it. He’s the serial killer.”
“Oh, right, I only have to worry then,” Jungkook said, grinding his teeth together. “I hate you all.”
Chanyeol chuckled. “By the way, the guys want Starbucks, so go fetch, rookie,” he said, stuffing a few bills into Jungkook’s back pocket. “Watch out, lover boy might still be hanging around.”
“You’re way too fucking nonchalant about this,” Jungkook grumbled, grabbing his handcuff keys from the table.
“He likes me,” Chanyeol said. “Choi might want to consider investing in better health insurance.”
“What the fuck,” Jungkook sighed, shaking his head as he stomped through the door.