Seven: All About Balanced Diets

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Not that I'd ever admit it, but I started feeling safer around Jungkook after this.

Yes, we were still arguing like kindergarten kids, but for the first time since he moved in, home started to actually feel like a shelter again. There was an unspoken understanding between us, that, even if we were constantly bickering, Jungkook wasn't getting irritated over my ticks anymore.

It was a little bit weird, because feeling at peace in one room with a practical stranger wasn't my top strength, but I guess I was doing alright with Jungkook.

If he wasn't naked that is.

"Whea chu goim ooay?" Jungkook asked incoherently, running around the kitchen while brushing his teeth.

I stared at him puzzled, not having understood a word, promptly regretting it when my eyes got stuck on his terribly well defined abs and sturdy chest.

"Hewwo?? I assed chu sommin?" He said a little disgruntled, leaving me in further confusion.

I tore my eyes away from his tattooed, muscular arms, "I don't understand a word, dumbfuck." I sighed, trying to tell my inner thot to fuck off.

He grumbled something, not stopping his ministrations of fussing through the kitchen, making me roll my eyes.

"What are you doing anyways?"

Jungkook removed the toothbrush in order to carefully articulate, "Sucking cock, obviously,"

I stuck my tongue out at him, making him cackle before he went back to brushing his teeth, mildly fascinated when he pulled out my ages-old blender.

"Woah, I completely forgot about that thing." I ogled the ugly green machine skeptically, "How'd you know it was there?"

"Chu din evn unack it." He realized with a frown.

"Jungkook."

He took out the toothbrush again, just to repeat his words incredibly slow, as if talking to a child, "You. Didn't. Even. Un. Pack. It."

"Well, duh, doesnt take a genius to see that. What's your point?"

He held up his hand, pointing at a stool next to the kitchen counter with a very important look in his eyes, tooth paste-drool mix running down the corner of his mouth.

I just stared at him blankly, until he sighed frustrated and took it upon himself to drag me onto the stool, "shit." He said seriously.

"Excuse you?"

He took out the toothbrush, "I said 'sit'."

"I'm not a dog, fuckwipe-"

He turned around, waving behind him as if waving off a fly. I heard the water tap being turned on, some unpleasant gurgling sounds emerging from the bathroom and soon was Magic Mike back in the kitchen, clearing his throat.

"Mind telling me what you're planning to do?"

"Well, sweetheart, what does one do with a blender?" He asked sweetly.

"Okay, yes, I see that. Why now all of a sudden?"

"Because your diet consists of fries, instant ramen and coffee with a fuck load of sugar." Was his prompt answer.

Okay, now I felt offended, "I love ramen!"

"Ramen and fries won't make your skin look less like-" he gestured towards my face, "-this."

"Why do you care about my pimples?" I leaned forwards, pointing at one right above my eyebrow, "I don't have a problem with this little guy, do you?"

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