The snarky response is pretty much what Yoongi expected. The kid's got strong legs, his moves are sharp, stage presence on a whole different level than over half the guys on Hoseok's crew, but his cockiness is as big as his talent. And when you're still just a no-name in the underground scene, one of so many young faces trying to make it, carrying an ego like that is only going to get you so far. And more often than not, it's going to get your ass beat. Yoongi has seen Jungkook's hotheadedness flare up over the dumbest shit--including this moment right here. Why Jungkook even thinks this is an argument is beyond him.

Yoongi merely blinks at the profanity, just as unimpressed with the other's behavior. He's had enough fuck you's tossed his way over the years that the words hold little effect, just like the boy's pissy attitude leaves little room for sympathy. "It wasn't a question," Yoongi deadpans, scanning over the way Jungkook's shirt sticks to his chest like a second skin, sweat pooling in his bare collarbones, beading his hairline. Maybe his gaze lingers a bit too long on the image of Jungkook panting and slouching underneath him, looking a mess. Or he's checking for actual signs of exhaustion or injury, neither of which seem to exist. "I'm not waiting, either."