Work Text:
Min Yoongi wouldn't exactly say he was eccentric, per se. Casting a spell over his Wi-Fi connection for the third time this week may seem, to some, like overkill. But, the spell description promises ‘long lasting effects of increased connectivity, speed, and bandwidth,’ and really, who is Yoongi to say no to that?
“You’re crazy,” Namjoon says, his awful cardigan reminiscent of an octopus flapping haphazardly around down by his feet. He’s enchanted it, of course, and the damn thing happens to be just as clumsy as he is. Yoongi had once threatened that under no uncertain terms was Namjoon to practice any cardigan-based enchantments on his property, for fear of managing to vanish the entire house away to an alternate dimension. That was once, Namjoon had grumbled, sighing in exasperation. Once was quite enough for Jin, Yoongi had reminded him, and Namjoon had been forced to agree, reluctantly.
This time, though, it’s Yoongi bearing the brunt of the coven’s contempt over his rather individual choices regarding how he uses his enchantments. There’s seven of them, and they’re sitting round Yoongi’s living room, discussing the happenings of the past week, as they always do. As covens always do, apparently, at six o’clock every Tuesday evening. That’s what Seokjin says, anyway, and as the eldest, nobody questions his judgement. Yoongi does wonder sometimes where it says in the coven leader’s handbook that the weekly meetings must be supplemented with cake and coffee, but thus far, nobody has complained. Well, except for the time Jimin accidentally brought in an enchanted cupcake that tried to kill them all. We don’t talk about that, he reminds them, distressed. How was I to know the old lady was a grand witch?
This week, the cake disappears rather more quickly than usual, and by quarter past the hour, there are only crumbs and half empty coffee cups to testify to its having existed in the first place. Taehyung grins, pleased. He’d made it, this time.
“Order, order,” demands Hoseok, his familiar, Mang, curling serpentine round his shoulders, fixing the others with a diamond-cut glare. She hisses, her deep voice surprising Jimin, who nearly drops the plate he’s attempting to lick clean.
“Back to businessss,” she says, and really, Yoongi will never get used to the resounding hiss that fills the room after she speaks, like they’re in an echolation chamber, or something like that. The attention in the room turns to him, again.
“Did it work?” asks Jeongguk, wispy strands of hair curling at the nape of his neck. He’s trying to grow it out, is supremely jealous of Taehyung’s old-fashioned locks, reminiscent of the Joseon era, long and straight and magnificent in all their enchanted glory.
Yoongi shrugs, a little awkwardly, and rearranges one black denim clad leg over the other, clasping his silver-adorned fingers over his knee. “I mean, I’m streaming with less buffering, I think, but I don’t really think it’s made that much of a difference.”
Namjoon sighs, scratching at the back of his neck, and his cardigan brushes up and down his calves soothingly. “Of course, it won’t,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world to understand. “Enchantments aren’t designed to affect broadband, or telephone service, or Wi-Fi connection.” He glares pointedly in Yoongi’s direction. “All our enchantments do is affect the physical. Wi-Fi isn’t a physical thing.”
The eldest member looks up from where he’s feeding his familiar, a tiny sugar-glider, some milk. “We could always-“
Hoseok interrupts Jin with a glare, and an eye roll. “No, hyung. No black magic. Not for the sake of Wi-Fi, anyway.”
Jin shrugs, returning to his task. “T’was but a suggestion, Hoseokie. Don’t get your robes in a twist.”
Hoseok glares, affronted, and adjusts his flowing garments. "You wear robes, too," he says, petulantly, and Mang sticks out her tongue. Seokjin responds in kind.
Namjoon sighs into his coffee, and Taehyung punches Jimin's arm, giggling.
"Right," says Yoongi. "Anyone else made any mistakes this week?"
The meeting continues, and their bickering escalates until Jeongguk has to be forcibly removed from the room along with his familiar for inciting unnecessary violence over biscuits, and at that point, Hoseok and Jin decide unanimously it’s time to call it a day.
When the door closes behind the last of them, save for Namjoon, who insists on using the chimney for disapparation ever since he read it in Harry Potter and worked out an equivalent charm, Yoongi sighs with relief, closing his eyes and letting his head loll against the sofa cushions.
He cracks open an eye at the tiniest mewl, and smiles, slightly.
“Come on, Calico,” he says, softly, and his familiar; a pretty, tri-coloured cat with striking blue eyes clambers up onto the sofa, and settles in his lap. He gives her ears a scratch with deft fingers, and watches as she coils up, wrapping her tail around his wrist, content in his presence.
Because really, although Yoongi has a penchant for casting spells over his broadband connection, he’s just like any other witch.
Or, so he likes to say.
