House Of Cards (BTS EDITION)

“You’re up.” Of all of the things that Taehyung had thought that he would regret hearing he had not thought that it would be this. Logically he should have been scared by a lot more other words, the typical ones and the more obscure. Something along the lines of “you have cancer” was one, “don’t scream and I won’t you hurt you” was another. A rather strong fear of his, and he supposed that it was for a great many others, was hearing the words “we tried our best to save him but sadly, your father is dead, Mr. Kim”. But “you’re up”? Why, it was just two simple words and yet he felt the unmistakable sensation of dread course through him. It had been quite some time since he had felt the sensation, likely around the time that he had taken his force entrance exam. Taehyung could recall sitting at the desk, fresh out of high school with a pen in hand and a series of sheets in front of him; sheets that would determine him being allowed into the force or not. For some older teens that had been his age, it had been college entrance exams they had been sitting; filled with dread. But for him it had been the force entrance exam, because a failure to pass would have ruined his future aspirations. That was why he had been so scared back then. Right now his stomach felt the exact same too. It was in the way that his stomach clenched hard, as if seized hold of tightly by a fist. Working in sync with his stomach his throat and also seemed to have restricted to the width of a straw. Taehyung’s skin had been rather warm from the heating inside the department office floor and yet it was now decidedly chill. Was he going to break out into a sweat? He wasn’t sure but he felt just like he might. A cold clammy sweat that could only be described as terror sweat. Yet Namjoon was looking at him like nothing of great importance had just happened. Why, he might as well have asked if he would log into the database and change an entry for him, judging from the rather calm look on his face. Taehyung studied the files in the crook of his elbow as he shifted to sit against his desk. Namjoon didn’t pull up a chair and act professional. He just leaned back to sit on his desk, the edges digging into the backs of his thighs and the seat of his black trousers brushing against the wood. He placed the files down beside his laptop and then he just folded his arms over his chest and looked down at him. Taehyung rapidly figured out why he had picked to sit on his desk rather than on the other side. The position allowed him to look powerful, in control. He had to look up at him and thus it made him look like he was below him. Right now he felt like he was, felt like he was on his knees rather than seated at his desk. It was the effect of his shadow falling over his laptop and his gaze burning down at him. God, he felt like an ant in front of him right now. A teeny tiny insignificant ant in the shadow of a massive boot heel just waiting to be stomped on. “I’m sorry?” Taehyung asked him, lifting his eyebrows at him in a gesture he hoped looked confused and not condescending. The last thing he wanted to do was look disrespectful towards him. Even if he wasn’t technically his superior he couldn’t piss him off. Not now, after everything. “I told you,” Namjoon said without even blinking. “You’re up.” Taehyung studied his face for a moment and then glanced at his laptop. He had been sorting through a series of intercepted emails in the hopes that he would find an error in any of them. That someone would f**k up and use a word strong enough for them to have reason to get an arrest warrant. A word that wasn’t coverage for something else. Something like “skin” or “goodies” or any other f*****g word lifted from a dictionary. Why not just be honest and say “meth” or “prostitution ring” or plain old cold blooded “murder”? Why did they have to be so goddamn tricky and make his job harder? Yet here he was after five hours of constant scanning and nothing. Taehyung couldn’t possibly get an arrest warrant without physical proof. If he had intercepted emails then he needed to have enough solid information to result in a successful prosecution. No, an email made up of random s**t that could mean anything certainly wouldn’t withstand a trial. But how could their team arrest anyone when there was never any evidence? Sometimes Taehyung felt like he was hitting his head against his screen over and over. It would likely yield better results for their team than their current method. “Taehyung?” “Yuh-yeah, boss?” “How many times have I told you to not call me boss?” Namjoon said. It was easy for him to say that, as if it was just a simple drop in formalities and nothing more. The fact that he could pluck him right out of his office job and decide to dump him into the centre of a massive sting operation showed that he was clearly something a little more than a coworker. He wasn’t entirely certain that dropping the title would change a thing. “What is it? Talk to me, you look a little…” Taehyung dragged his eyes away from his laptop screen to look at him again. He saw slightly furrowed brows, not a sign of anger but possibly one of displeasure. “Taken aback by that news.” “With all due respect, uh, Namjoon, I’ve been working this department here for less than a year,” Taehyung explained, as if he wasn’t aware of this fact. “I’m hardly the most knowledgeable of all of our team so I don’t-” “Who told you you weren’t the most knowledgeable?” he asked, cleverly derailing the point that he was trying to make. Taehyung just mumbled something under his breath as he stared at his desk. Not too far from Namjoon’s files was his coffee mug, the dregs now likely freezing cold and as thick and dark as tar. There was a small lunchbox from a café just down the street open in front of him but he had lost his appetite suddenly. In the light from the window the remainders of the rice looked gelatinous and the kimchi looked sloppy and wet, like vomit. The currently empty department room fell silent save for the sound of the clock and he hated it. He wished that someone else was in the room too, Sungah or even Hoseok. That would make the atmosphere less heavy and suffocating for sure, and right now Taehyung felt like breathing was a difficult task. Namjoon took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. Taehyung just gnawed on his lower lip rather than say another word. Namjoon was his superior right now but only in experience. Namjoon was his boss because he had had the best experience to take charge of their rather select small team. He wasn’t much higher in rank or even greatly higher in age. But his father was a Chief Inspector and Taehyung knew what that meant. It meant that Namjoon was already well above his station in terms of respect and influence. If he told him that he had to do something, Taehyung had to do it. He could vocalise his want to not, could even request a referral but it would never get out of this department. Right now Taehyung had to stay on Namjoon’s good side even if he didn’t want to do this. “We’ve been working together for how long, Taehyung?” “Seven months,” he replied without looking up at him, eyes focused on the slight chip in the rim of his coffee mug instead. “Seven months…” Yes, it had been roughly seven months since he had been taken from his usual desk job, sorting out database records and typical violations to be placed in the narcotics and illegal substances department. Taehyung himself still wasn’t entirely sure how he had gone from rather low level enforcement to the current high level he was at. This was more than updating databases and keeping files in order. Taehyung had more or less overhauled the entire system that they had had before he had been put in place. Too many paper files full of useless s**t, not enough instant and accessible material on hand. Maybe that was why Namjoon had plucked him out of the team, but there was one major problem. Taehyung had no practical experience in the field. He had partaken in small street and car patrols when he had been a rookie. Two years down the line he was no longer considered one, but Taehyung still felt like a rookie. The kind of officer that had never made an arrest was the kind that did not get sent into the largest gang in the country as an undercover spy.