“Yah, wake up. The sun’s been out for hours now. Why are you still in bed?” Yoongi’s voice is loud and not y at all.

“You know,” Jungkook says, pulling the covers the man had yanked off back over his head. “when my dad made you my personal guard I thought our relationship would be different.”

“Different,” Yoongi repeats, pulling the covers down once more, “how?”

This time the man’s voice is y as hell, and if Jungkook’s face is red, he’s damn well blaming it on the heat of sleep and the smoldering stare of the man sitting before him.

‘I-I, uhm, you… I don’t know.” He sits up and pushes the man away.

Jungkook wants to slap (okay maybe kiss) the smug smirk off the man’s face. He knows the guard knows exactly what he means. He huffs in frustration as he swings his legs out of bed. He hears Yoongi snicker, and he turns, gracing the man with his deadliest glare. A feeling of defeat settles in Jungkook’s gut when the man laughs louder, harder, completely unaffected.

“Get dressed and meet me downstairs. Training starts in an hour,” Yoongi says as he walks to the door, and Jungkook pouts in reply.

The guard irritates him and excites him, but the man is master of disguise, a virtual steel wall of emotional-less reactions to any and all of Jungkook’s not so subtle advances.

He can’t read the man at all. He has no idea where he stands or if Yoongi sees him as anything other than the bratty prince that he has to babysit.

“Nae, hyung,” he says with a sigh as he stands to his feet.

“Someday it will be, you know.” Jungkook’s eyes snap up at Yoongi’s voice. He was sure the man had left the bedroom.