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“Fuck,” Jin muttered, the boy in his arms letting out a pained groan as he ran, his head lolling back as he came closer and closer to the edge of unconsciousness.
The edge of worse, really, Seokjin knew.
He’d found him in a sizeable puddle of blood already, and still it ran down Jin’s arms and soaked his shirt. The wound (wounds?) was too deep to clot as quickly as it desperately needed to, and minutes, months, years of his life were drained away with each drop.
“Almost there,” he assured, though it likely fell on his ears alone. “Keep breathing, kid, we’re almost there.”
The kid let out a weak gurgle and Jin urged himself to run faster. Nothing would feel fast enough, though.
It was times like these he was glad he wasn’t a beta. There was a reason that medicine was a beta-heavy field, one that went beyond stereotypes - betas felt things, knew things, had instincts that absolutely screamed at them when something was wrong with their patients. Given how intensely he’d seen beta coworkers react to medical emergencies, he was glad he was exempt from it, even if it had given them a largely-earned reputation for effective care.
If he were a beta, he was sure the boy in his arms would have caused him to black out. He could smell the distress-desperation- wrongness like a noxious gas even without the heightened senses. It got worse as he had to jostle him to unlock the clinic door; it took a few tries, hands shaking and slick with blood. He forced himself to not feel relief as he stepped into the familiar environment. He might be where he needed to be with everything he might need to save the boy’s life, but if he didn’t act fast, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest.
He hurried to his most heavily-equipped room, setting him down on the flat table before grabbing an armful of sterilized surgery tools.
The boy was looking at him when he came back, eyes unfocused and foggy but seeing, he knew, because they followed Jin’s movements.
Good. Good, that was a good sign. He wasn’t out yet, he hadn’t given up.
“Alpha-ssi, I’m Dr. Kim Seokjin, I’m going to do what I can to help you.” He didn’t ask if he understood, but he did receive a sluggish blink as Jin hooked him up to measure his vitals.
“‘M dying,” he said weakly.
Jin’s heart broke for him. He didn’t ask if he had people to call or pets to take care of or debts to pay - it didn’t matter. He couldn’t lose more time.
“I’m going to try to keep that from happening, alpha-ssi.”
“Jungkook,” the alpha said - wheezed, really, more than anything.
“Jungkook-ssi,” Jin corrected quickly, easily. He cut Jungkook’s shirt up the center, pushing it to the sides. He undid his pants, as well, pushing them down enough to give him room to work. “I can’t apply anesthetic, but you likely won’t feel much anyway.”
He looked around and tried to find something that wouldn’t snap between Jungkook’s sharp teeth. He settled on a stethoscope, holding the rubber neck of it to his lips.
“Bite on this, not your tongue. Try to stay conscious.”
He only waited for Jungkook to bite before he got to work, his entire mind focused on fixing.
Two wounds, he saw. A stab wound that grazed an artery but thankfully hadn’t severed it; that was a definitive first thing to attack. He could fix it - he’d done it before, and his hands had been shaking even more then than they were now. He glanced over the other wound as he prepared his tools. A bullet hole, the bullet still lodged inside. Clipped the liver dangerously close, but he could fix that, too—fix the vein, fix the organ, focus on everything else after that.
A plan. He had a plan. It made him feel better about Jungkook’s chances. It was a race against blood loss, though, and blood was a fast runner.
Jungkook moaned around the stethoscope as Jin began, thankful he’d grabbed whatever he could from storage, including a mesh graft that would hopefully be enough to close the vein enough that it might patch on his own, or he could go in later to strengthen the bond.
“You’re doing well,” he told Jungkook as he tried to grip the bed. “Make it through this and I can give you a blood transfusion and everything—everything will be okay, Jungkook-ssi.”
Jungkook let out a tiny sob and Jin continued.
The liver—difficult but doable, the bullet hadn’t cut through entirely. He glanced at Jungkook; the alpha was pouring sweat, brows pinched, biting down on the stethoscope, much too conscious. He wished he could give him local anesthetic at the very least, but it wouldn’t do much good. Better to not warn him, he decided.
He made as quick work of it as he could, pulling the bullet out with the kid’s muffled screams breaking in the background.
“Good,” he muttered, feeling the need to—encourage, no matter how useless it may be. “Almost—it’s out, Jungkook-ssi, good, it’s out—”
The bullet clinked on the metal tray and he could see Jungkook stare at it bleakly.
“Graft,” he muttered to himself. “And then.”
Not much time had passed between finding Jungkook and saving Jungkook’s life, but at the end of those two and a half hours, Jin had never felt more exhausted. He set Jungkook up with a universal transfusion, sat at his bedside in blood-stained clothes, and just—hoped.
He woke up to the heart monitor starting to race, residency-driven clear-headed panic-mode spotting the source immediately.
Jungkook whimpered as he tried to move and Jin was quick to hold him down by his shoulders.
“Jungkook-ssi. Stay.” It was hardly an alpha order considering Jin was an omega, but by the way he fell immediately pliant onto the bed, it could have fooled anyone.
Jungkook whined, squinting up at him. He was doused in sweat and didn’t feel too warm, but he was still feverish and confused, that much was clear.
“Hey,” he said, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I know you’re hurting. Are you allergic to anything, Jungkook-ssi?”
Jungkook was coherent enough to shake his head, letting his eyes fall closed. Jin got him some fairly strong painkillers and waited for them to kick in before insisting he check on his very thoroughly-stitched up wounds. Not his best work, but it’s work that kept the alpha alive, so he hopes he won’t be too fussed.
“Doc—doctor?” Jungkook asked hoarsely. Jin got him a bottle of water from under the cabinet. “Saved me.”
“We need to monitor for infection, Jungkook-ssi. We’re not quite out of the woods yet.”
Jungkook shook his head a little, blinking up at him, water bottle held tight in his hand. “Saved me.”
Jin didn’t reply. He smoothed Jungkook’s hair off of his sweaty forehead. “You had me worried for a second there, kid. A few minutes. A few hours.”
“Sorry.”
Jin huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll forgive you if you stay alive, Jungkook-ssi.
Jungkook sniffled and Jin felt almost horrified to see his eyes start to water. For all of his bedside manner and surgery charm, this—real emotion that he couldn’t always joke away—was scary.
“I didn’t want to die,” Jungkook said shakily. “W-was so scared. Didn’t want t-t’go.”
Jin’s heart squeezed. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking his hand into his own. “You haven’t gone anywhere.”
Jungkook sniffled, glancing around. “I’m not on the street so I think I’m somewhere.”
“My clinic. A few blocks away from where I found you.” He bit his lip, looking Jungkook over for a second, meeting his still-hazy but aware eyes. “I can’t decide if I want to ask or not.”
“They were selling to underage kids,” Jungkook offered. “I got—I got angry. I don’t usually get so angry.”
“A noble fight that almost got you killed.”
Jungkook nodded, fiddling with the blanket that had been draped over his lap. “Thank you for helping me, sir. You didn’t have to.”
“Ah, well,” Jin waved him off.
He wasn’t ready to admit to himself how strong the siren-call was that drove him to the bleeding boy on the ground; it was certainly not entirely caused by his hippocratic oath.
“I’ll find a way to repay you.”
“I don’t want you to lose sleep over that, Jungkook-ssi,” he told him sternly, “please don’t worry. I run a successful clinic, I can spare a bill or two.”
“Not money,” Jungkook said cryptically. “But—that too.”
Jin snorted, shaking his head. He squeezed Jungkook’s knee before standing. “Do you feel up to an exam? I didn’t have the chance to look the rest of you over last night.”
Jungkook nodded, though he winced and looked down at himself. “Can I clean myself off first? That’s a lot of—a lot.”
There was a lot, for sure. He was covered in dried blood and grime. Come to think of it, Jin was, too; he supposed they were both in need of fresh scrubs. “Of course, Jungkook-ssi. But I’m afraid it will have to be a sponge bath. You need to keep those incisions dry for a while longer.”
Jungkook pulled a face but nodded. “Thanks, doctor.”
Jin took a few deep breaths in the hallway before going off to get him a towel and fresh scrubs; now that he was more than half sure the kid would survive, it was hitting him how intense the past night had been. His entire body was stiff and he winced as he rolled his shoulders. He shoved complaints aside, though. Sore shoulders were better than stabs and gunshots, as Jungkook would surely attest.
“I need to call my hyungs,” Jungkook said that evening, squirming until his wound told him, very sharply, to not.
Jin visibly sagged in relief. “I’m glad you have someone to call, Jungkook-ssi. I was worried I’d have to take you home myself.”
Jungkook smiled a little. “Would you have?”
“You might have needed to sleep on the balcony, but I wouldn’t leave you alone. Do you know any of their numbers? You can use my phone.”
Jungkook nodded, but when Jin handed it to him, he stared at the screen long enough that it locked.
Jin furrowed his brows. “Jungkook-ssi?”
“They’re gonna be mad at me,” he mumbled. “M’not supposed to get in fights.”
“Ah—” Jin smiled a little, unlocking his phone again. “I think they’ll just be happy you’re alive when they find out what happened.”
Jungkook sniffled and nodded. Still, he hesitated, glancing up at Jin. “My hyungs are really nice. Do you like alphas?”
The question was so oddly innocent that Jin laughed before he could stop himself. “Yes, I like alphas, Jungkook-ssi. Please don’t try to set me up with your hyungs.”
Jungkook pouted, but he took a deep breath and dialed a number.
“Hyung—” he said quickly, interrupting his hyung before he could ask who it was.
The person on the other end of the line was silent for a beat before snarling. “Where the fuck have you been, Jungkook, what the fuck were you thinking? We’ve been worried sick looking—”
Tears were quickly welling up in the baby alpha’s eyes; it hurt Jin’s heart to see. “Hyung—”
“Fucking fuck, Jungkook! Where—”
“Hyung—” Jungkook’s eyes spilled over, tears dripping down his cheeks.
Jin had had enough. He snatched the phone from Jungkook’s hand, clearing his throat. “Excuse me, this is Doctor Kim Seokjin. My patient is recovering from extremely serious injuries and you are adding unnecessary stress and hindering his recovery. I will not release him into your care if this continues.”
Jungkook sniffled as he took the phone back. “Hobi-hyung, m’sorry, I got hurt, I didn’t mean to ghost.”
Hobi-hyung was silent for a moment and his quiet tone when he next spoke was much more to Jin’s liking. “We were worried, sweetheart. We thought—we were worried.”
Jungkook was quiet for a beat before he burst into tears, hiding his face in his blanket. He shoved the phone back at Jin and Jin rubbed his leg comfortingly as he spoke. “I want to keep him for observation,” he said evenly, “for another day at the very least. An infection could be worse than the injury itself.”
“He can be observed by our pack doctor—”
“No!” Jungkook quickly objected, pulling the blanket away from his face just enough to unmuffle his voice. “Wanna stay with Doctor Jin!”
Jin smiled a little, squeezing his leg. “He needs to stay with a doctor, that’s for certain.”
“I’ll run it by our pack alpha,” Hoseok said reluctantly.
“Kay. Can—” Jungkook’s voice caught in his throat. “Can someone come hold me, please?”
Jin’s heart broke for him, and Hoseok said the only thing that could put him in Jin’s good graces. “I’ll be there soon, Kook-ah. I’m already on my way.”
Jungkook fiddled with the phone for a moment after ending the call before handing it back to Jin. He sniffled, feeling the hem of the blanket just for something to do. “Hyung’s gonna be disappointed, even if he’s not mad. I didn’t mean to disappoint anybody.”
“Of course not,” Jin reassured. “He’ll understand that, surely. Even if what you did was stupid, it was still brave. You had good intentions, it’s just—bad luck.”
Jin hopped up when he heard a knock on the clinic door and was glad he made it in time. One second more and he was sure it would have been kicked in. The alpha on the other side was much less buff and broad than Jin expected, but the fierce protectiveness in his eyes was enough to make him step back, though he was careful to not curl on himself or to try to appease the angry alpha.
“You’re Hoseok-ssi, I presume?” he said.
The alpha grunted an affirmation, glancing in every direction.
“Jungkook-ssi is this way.” He started to lead Hoseok down the hall, but as soon as they could hear Jungkook’s little sniffles, Hoseok pushed past him, bursting into the room and falling to his knees beside the bed.
Jin blinked in surprise. The way Jungkook had been talking, he’d half-expected the alpha to try to slap him for his stupidity or immediately leap into a scathing lecture. Jungkook didn’t seem shocked; he just grabbed Hoseok’s hand, whispering a watery mantra of ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’
“We were so worried, Jungkook,” Hoseok said lowly, pressing the back of Jungkook’s hand to his lips.
“Didn’t mean to,” he whimpered.
Hoseok huffed a laugh. “I know you didn’t mean to, baby.”
Jin would admit that he was surprised by that, too. The endearment was much more tender than what was usually heard between alphas. It put his heart a little more at ease, though - he was more sure that Jungkook would be properly taken care of if he was so treasured.
He met Hoseok’s gaze as the alpha remembered he was in the room. “May I speak about your treatment, Jungkook-ssi?”
Jungkook wiped his eyes with his free hand and nodded.
“Jungkook went through a traumatic procedure, Hoseok-ssi, and will have an intensive recovery period. I get the feeling that not moving will need to be enforced.” Jungkook let out a watery giggle and Hoseok glanced back at him, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be honest with you, Hoseok-ssi. I wasn’t sure if he would make it. I wasn’t sure until—this morning, honestly.”
Jungkook blinked. “Really?”
Jin gave him a little smile. “You were incredibly strong, Jungkook-ah. You had to be to pull through. I, ah. I had to make decisions in your stead, and I’ll admit that I violated patient autonomy if need be, but it was necessary.”
He laid out the procedures step-by-step, pausing when both of the alphas started to look queasy, but continuing at Jungkook’s assenting nod.
“I apologize for the messy stitches, Jungkook-ah. Not my cleanest work.”
Jungkook laughed a little. “It’ll make a badass scar.”
Hoseok made a strangled, appalled noise. “Say that again and I’ll put you over my knee—”
Jungkook went bright red at the mention of discipline in front of someone else but Jin only laughed. “I’m afraid that won’t be allowed for a while, Hoseok-ssi, no matter how mouthy he gets. I recommend against any physical punishments, actually.” He looked between them sternly. “I recommend against anything physical, for that matter.”
Hoseok went red that time, looking away. “Tell him that.”
Jin grinned. “Jungkook-ssi, I rec—”
Jungkook was grinning too, even as he covered his face. “I heard!”
“Now,” Jin cleared his throat. “As I said on the phone, I’d like to keep Jungkook here for observation. I understand you have a pack doctor—”
“Wanna stay with Jin-hyung!” Jungkook jumped in.
Jin gave him a stern look. “From what I understand, that is not necessarily your decision alone.”
“Our pack alpha will be here soon,” Hoseok told him. He cupped Jungkook’s cheek. “I’ll vouch for it if that’s what you truly want.”
“I do,” Jungkook assured with confidence.
“But is that okay with you, doctor? I—ah, well. Your clinic is—”
Jin grinned. “I can sacrifice a room, Hoseok-ssi. And I can keep him under my personal observation if that would make you more comfortable.”
“It would.” Hoseok sighed as his phone pinged and he quickly checked it, giving them both a half-grim smile. “That’s him. I’ll try to calm him down before he comes in, okay?”
Jungkook whimpered, pulling his blankets up to his shoulders and closing his eyes. As soon as Hoseok left, Jin closed the door, taking Hoseok’s place at his bedside. “Jungkook-ah, look at me.” Jungkook did so without hesitation. “Are you okay? You look—fearful, darling, is your pack alpha—”
“I love him most of anybody in the whole world,” he said. “H-he’s—He’s—I worried him, I made him scared, I hate that—” Jungkook sniffled, eyes welling up once more. “I have the best pack, Jin-hyung, that’s what makes it hard.”
He was unable to say any more as one of the most handsome, potent, distraught alphas Jin had ever seen burst through the door, stumbling towards Jungkook and only just avoiding scooping him up by Hoseok’s hands around his waist. Jin had to quickly pin Jungkook to the bed, as well; he’d nearly leapt up to meet his pack alpha in the middle.
They settled for wrapping their arms around each other's shoulders, scenting with more vigor than Jin would have recommended. But Jungkook didn’t seem to be in physical pain from it—Jin was sure his emotional pain would skyrocket if he was kept from his alpha much longer.
“What were you thinking?” he gritted out into Jungkook’s neck.
“That they were gonna kill kids.”
“You were damn right, baby. They nearly killed you.”
“‘M not a kid,” Jungkook said quietly, but he didn’t argue more, even teasingly, like Jin expected him to.
“I’m gonna nip you, okay, sweetheart? I—we need to—to figure this out.”
“I wanna stay here,” he said, pulling back to look at him with wide, pleading eyes. “I—please, please.”
The alpha was quiet for a long moment, pursing his lips before signing. “If that’s what’s best. Ready?”
Jungkook nodded quickly, far more willing to accept it than most young alphas, far more wanting to accept it than most anyone. He went lax as the pack alpha bit over his pack bite, relief flooding the room. He laid him on the bed gently, never once letting him go. Jungkook gazed up at him trustingly, humming when he ran a hand through his hair. The alpha paused for a moment when he realized that it was messy with blood in spots, but didn’t let it stop him for long, refusing to take away any comfort.
“I’m Dr. Kim Seokjin,” he said after a moment. “I’d like to keep Jungkook here for observation and recovery.”
The alpha blinked. “You’re an omega,” he blurted.
Jin’s eye twitched.
“Sorry—fuck, I’m sorry,” he said unexpectedly. Jin had received plenty of incredulous an omega?s in his life, and very, very few genuine I’m sorry s.
“It’s alright, alpha-ssi. Is that a problem for you in regards to Jungkook’s treatment?”
“No,” he quickly assured; Jin had no reason to believe he was lying. “The problem is—unfamiliarity.”
“He’s unfamiliar to us,” Hoseok muttered beside him, rubbing the alpha’s back. “Jungkook trusts him.”
“He trusts easily.” He sighed before clearing his throat, holding out his hand. “Kim Namjoon.”
Jin took it, making sure to channel any non-omegan strength he had into gripping his hand, years of an omega?s in his muscles.
“We’re indebted to you, Dr. Kim.”
“Don’t be,” Jin said, offering a small bow as he reclaimed his hand. “I have a responsibility as a doctor, there’s no indenture for that.”
“Still.” Namjoon looked at Jungkook, smiling a little when Jungkook parted his lips. He pressed two fingers to them and let him lap at them for a moment before pressing down on his tongue. The sight was intimate and unusual and warmed Jin’s heart to see. Jungkook was a sweet thing. He deserved to be treated like one. “You have the gratitude of the Bangtan Pack.”
Jin’s brain screeched to a half. “I’m sorry?”
Namjoon frowned a little as Jungkook started to furrow his brows. He smoothed out the line between them with his thumb. “You didn’t know?”
“How could I? Why would I—” he took a deep breath. “You don’t owe me anything, gratitude or not. I saw someone who was hurt, I had to help him, that’s all.”
“Doctor-hyung’s mad,” Jungkook whimpered, a sweet lisp slipping out..
Jin didn’t mean to rush to his side, but the next thing he knew, he was holding Jungkook’s hand, looking at him with sincerity. “Doctor-hyung’s not mad, Jungkook-ah, don’t worry.”
Jungkook nodded, content with the simple answer. He closed his eyes, holding onto Jin’s hand, tilting his head into Namjoon’s touch.
Namjoon smoothed Jungkook’s hair back before looking up at Jin. “Do you—rescind your offer, now that you know?”
“Of course not,” he scoffed, though he did feel significantly more worried than before.
He knew of Bangtan Pack - he was willing to bet the majority of Seoul knew about them. They took care of their territory and the people in it, exercising anonymous aid and vigilante justice in turn. But even the most gold-hearted gangs were still gangs, surrounded by danger and dangerous in themselves. But Jin had a duty to his patient. And, if he were honest with himself, which he made an effort to be, he was attached to Jungkook. He was such a sweetheart, the baby alpha with kind starry eyes and good intentions.
“I didn’t know you were a mated pack,” he blurted without meaning to.
It was Namjoon’s turn to give him a sharp look. “Is that a problem for you, doctor-ssi?”
Bangtan was well-known as an all-alpha pack, one that reeked of dominance and strength. Even when a pack had multiple alphas with differing levels of dominance, they were often combative, needing betas or omegas to help settle the bond. He understood Namjoon’s leap to protect.
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to sound so judgmental. There’s no prejudice on my part, I assure you. I was just—surprised.”
“I will not have my pack’s business aired, Dr. Kim.” Bangtan’s leader was rumored to be cold and calculating and brilliant, with an aura around him that commanded attention, one that deserved respect. Jin could see why.
“I have no intention of doing so.”
Jungkook hummed, still largely spaced out. He turned to face Jin, putting his other hand over their still joined ones. Jin smiled, running his fingers through Jungkook’s hair before he remembered Namjoon was doing the same. He froze for a moment when their fingers brushed.
“I apologize for acting unprofessional, alpha-ssi. I wasn’t tested for this kind of situation in med school, surprisingly.”
“I suppose not,” Namjoon agreed with a sigh. He glanced at their hands. “How long will it take for him to recover?”
“Fully? A month and a half, maybe two. Quicker than you might think, slower than Jungkookie will be pleased with, I’m sure. I’d like to keep him here for a week, or at least close to it.”
Namjoon nodded. “I’ll tell you now that we won’t want to leave his side. I ask that you allow us to stay with him for the duration.”
Jin’s eyes widened. “This is not a large room, Namjoon-ssi, and there are what—five of you?”
Namjoon laughed a little. “Six. Not all of us one time, but—we won’t want to leave his side. I want one of us with him at all times.
Jin pursed his lips.
“I’ll ensure that we won’t get in the way of your normal operations. And I promise we won’t snoop in your cabinets or anything.”
Jin nearly rolled his eyes. “If it excites Jungkook too much, I’ll disallow it.”
“But for now?”
“For now.”
-
Jin had regrets, and those regrets were in the form of loud, protective alphas who seemed intent on making Jungkook tear his stitches, whether they meant to or not.
“Absolutely not,” he said, stepping between fucking Park Jimin and the hallway.
Jimin, he knew, was lethal. He knew he’d killed before, knew he’d likely kill again; a charming assassin who fought for his pack with the ferocity of a starving alley cat. Jin also knew Jimin was a pouty brat who was incredibly used to using those cute beaky lips to get his way.
“Doctor-nim!” Jimin whined, pouting beak in full force right out the gate. “I’ll be good this time, I swear!”
“No,” Jin dismissed. He glanced over Jimin’s shoulder. “Yoongi-ssi, go ahead.”
Yoongi hummed, brushing past Jimin easily and ignoring his affronted squawk.
Jimin let out a loud whine when he heard Jungkook’s delighted “Yoongi-hyung!” from behind the door.
“Jungkook-ah!” Jimin called out. He was clearly hoping that Jungkook would beg for him and Jin would give in because Jungkook was a dear, but Jungkook was a smart dear and didn’t even try when he heard Jin clear his throat.
“Hi, Jimin-hyung,” he called back mildly.
“You rile him up too much,” Jin said. He guided Jimin away from the door, down to his office. “He nearly fell over trying to keep Namjoon-ssi from tripping earlier, I won’t allow him to have any more excitement today.”
“I’ll be good,” Jimin pouted, though he collapsed dramatically on the spare desk chair without trying to run off to his mate.
“You can go in when he’s closer to sleep,” Jin conceded. “It shouldn’t be too long of a wait.”
Jimin pouted even more dramatically, framing his pretty face with pretty hands and leaning on the desk. “You did paperwork yesterday, Seokjin-ssi, how is there this much more already?”
“Such is the life,” Jin sighed. “Patient files have to be updated each day, pharmaceutical scripts need to be logged, taxes are due—”
“I can help with that,” Jimin said, perking up. “That’s not confidential, right?”
Jin eyed him suspiciously. “Well, no. But I’m not going to ask someone who doesn’t get paid for it to do taxes for me.”
“You didn’t ask at all,” Jimin said with a shrug. “May I?”
“So polite, Jimin-ssi.” Jin pursed his lips, giving the sizeable stack of tax papers a distasteful glance. “Are you sure you want to attempt?”
“I’m sure I want to do.”
Jin didn’t expect their silence to be quite so comfortable. He didn’t even notice the hours passing until Yoongi knocked on the door frame. “Is everything alright in here?”
Jimin didn’t look up as he shushed Yoongi.
Jin glanced at him, amused. “Is Jungkookie asleep?”
“Mm. I thought this one would be waiting at the door.”
“Hyung!” Jimin whined. “I’m concentrating!”
“On what?” Yoongi snorted.
“Taxes,” Jin said. Yoongi’s brows shot up and Jin stifled a laugh. “I couldn’t stop him, I’m afraid. Please don’t tell me he’s horrible at math—”
Jimin snapped to glare at him, clearly appalled.
“No, but he has been known to embezzle in the past.”
“I’m not embezzling, hyung!”
Yoongi grinned, coming in to squeeze the nape of his neck. “I know, Chim. Why don’t you take a break and rest with the bunny.”
“The bunny?” Jin asked with an amused smile.
“Doesn’t he look the part?”
“He does, I suppose. He’s as sweet as one, at least.”
“Clearly you were never bitten by a childhood rabbit,” Yoongi said wryly.
“Clearly,” Jin grinned. “Thank you for your help, Jimin-ssi. Go see your bunny.”
“I’ll keep working later, okay, Seokjin-hyung?”
“If you wish.” Jin waited til Jimin was almost out the door before clearing his throat. “And don’t think I didn’t hear you say hyung.”
Jimin froze, going red. “Sorry—”
Jin waved him off with a grin. “Call me hyung, Jimin-ssi. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing enough of each other to warrant it.”
Jimin made a strangled noise of assent before running off.
Yoongi took Jimin’s place at the desk, sighing deeply and looking around.
“What year are you, Yoongi-ssi?”
“Ninety-three.”
“You too, then.”
“Hyung,” Yoongi said, giving him a little smile.
-
Jin sent Jungkook home the next afternoon with a schedule of bandage changes and medications and a promise to make a home visit in three days. He didn’t expect how quiet his life would get after Jungkook’s (and Bangtan’s with him) departure. Jin had practically lived in the clinic for the past week, keeping a careful watch over Jungkook’s recovery and over his sometimes-unruly packmates who refused to leave him alone for a single moment. Even when they were quiet - usually when Yoongi was on Jungkook-watch - they still provided a soothing ambience, a pleasant proof of life.
When Jin wasn’t occupied with rounds and visits, he could admit he missed it. He didn’t necessarily miss the exhausting adrenaline that came with saving his life, doctor or not, but he did miss the company. Especially when he stayed after-hours with paperwork. As distracting as he had been, Jimin had been wonderful desk company. And he had done the clinic’s taxes with unrelenting determination and accuracy.
As fond as he became of the boys, he wasn’t able to shake the knowledge of who they were, especially when it was time to make his way to the pack den.
He was sure that he was on a very, very, very short list of people who knew where the Bangtan Pack lived, and the selective knowledge made him a little uneasy to hold. He had to coax himself down from thinking he would be entering a villain’s lair as he rode the train a few stops away, not wanting to look too shocked when he was let into a nice little domestic home instead of a hideaway cave.
However, when he reached the address he was given and very skeptically rang the silent doorbell, Hoseok opened the door to a fucking warehouse.
“Are you joking?” Jin blurted, looking over the outside of the building before sticking his head in. It wasn’t a front, it seemed; it was an honest-to-god warehouse, with tall brick walls and steel beams and cozy sofas strewn throughout. Jin gaped as he stepped in, sliding off his shoes as he stared up at fairy lights on the ceiling. “What is this?”
Hoseok squinted at him, giving him a pouty glare. “Our den, Doctor.”
“Hoseok-ah,” Jin said, giving him an exasperated look. “Is this a movie? Are we in a manhwa?”
“What’s wrong with our den?” he asked.
“It’s a walking stereotype, that’s what it is—”
He could see Hoseok’s lips start to betray him, quivering a little around the edges. “It’s a safehouse,” he admitted. “We have a few, but this is Jungkook’s favorite. We’ll move back to our main den once he’s recovered, but—easier to fight people off in this one.”
“Has he had to do much fighting?” Jin asked, trying to hide the worry in his voice.
“No!” Hoseok hurried, touching Jin’s back to lead him further in. “No, no fighting. We’ve had to fight him a few times—”
Jin snorted. “So no different than at the clinic.”
“A little different,” Hoseok grinned. “He didn’t want to embarrass himself by whining in front of you. Now he feels like he can beg for cock like a banshee—”
Jin felt his ears go tomato red and fought the urge to cover them. He cleared his throat, looking away. “Where—where is Jungkookie?”
“Is that hyung?” Jungkook yelled from a different room.
Jin heard someone, Namjoon, he thought, scramble to keep him from running out. Sure enough, Namjoon was holding him carefully around the waist with one arm, giving his nape a warning scruff with the other. Jungkook didn’t seem too affected by it, not when he saw Seokjin.
He beamed, a bright, beautiful thing that made Jin’s heart swoon fondly. He very carefully did not think about it.
“Hyung!” Jungkook called enthusiastically. “I missed you!”
“People don’t usually say that to their doctors, Kook-ah, I’m honored.”
Jungkook giggled, wrinkling his bunny nose. “Other hyungs are boring. You’re the most fun.”
“I think we both know that’s not true,” Jin grinned. He glanced between Namjoon and Hoseok. “Can we sit?”
Namjoon nodded, gesturing to go ahead.
“How has my rascal been?” Jin asked them.
“I dunno—” Jungkook said before yelling, “Jimin! How’ve you been?”
“What?” Jimin called back. “Good? Why?”
“He’s been good,” Jungkook told him.
“You’re insufferable. Did you all know he’s insufferable?”
“Unfortunately,” Namjoon said, though there was no mistaking the undying devotion in the pack alpha’s eyes when he looked at his youngest. “He’s grown on us, though.”
“Ah, I can understand why,” Jin said fondly.
“Nuh-uh,” Jungkook pouted. “I haven’t even sat on your—”
“Pup,” Namjoon warned, and Jungkook fell silent.
Jin took a steadying breath before smiling, willing his pink cheeks away. “Really, though, Jungkook-ah. How have you been? Any pain, difficulty sleeping, trouble using the bathroom—”
“Hyung!”
“It’s important to know, Jungkook-ah! I’ve told you before, it was close to your liver.”
Jungkook pouted but answered obediently. “No trouble. Sometimes I try to roll over in my sleep but I wake up as soon as it starts to hurt. And, I mean—it does hurt, but it’s never more than a dull throb unless I touch it.”
“That’s good. How often do you touch it?”
“Not a lot—”
“Every time he gets bored,” Hoseok cut in. “I swear, he doesn’t even think about it.”
“It—well!” Jungkook said, red-cheeked and unable to defend himself.
Namjoon sighed. “He likes a little pain,” he told Jin. Jungkook squawked, hiding his face in Namjoon’s side. “Bun, you can stop me if you want.”
Jungkook shook his head. “Just ‘barrassed.”
Namjoon rubbed his back consolingly. “He needs to be settled often, usually with a little pain. Spanking, usually, but we haven’t been able to find a way to do so that’s not too risky.” He tugged one of Jungkook’s ear piercings lightly. “We’d tie his hands behind his back to stop him if it wouldn’t drive him crazy.”
“Well,” Jin said, unable to hide his little smile. He didn’t usually invite such detailed descriptions of his patients’ pack dynamics unless necessary, but he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy knowing these little things about Jungkook. It was good to know he was taken care of, he supposed. He adored the sweet alpha who had been in his care - who was still in his care, he reminded himself, clearing his throat. “Let’s see if we can get a better estimate of when you can take him over your lap.”
“Hyung!” Jungkook whined, kicking his feet. Still, he angled himself more towards Jin, shucking off his t-shirt. Jin scooted closer, giving the wounds a quick surface examination.
“They’re healing well,” he narrated as he looked them over, snapping rubber gloves on from his bag before inspecting closer. “No sign of infection, thankfully. And the stitches aren’t quite as bad as I remembered them being.”
“I told you I liked them,” Jungkook said quietly. “I promise I haven’t bothered them too much, Jin-hyung. And I don’t really mean to.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Jin soothed, squeezing his knee. “But you’ll try harder for hyung, won’t you?”
Jungkook nodded quickly. “I want to heal well for doctor-hyung.”
“And what about us?” Hoseok asked. Jungkook blushed, but Hoseok waved him off before he could try to argue. “I’m teasing, baby. As long as you heal well, that’s what I care about.”
“Then I’ll heal well for doctor-hyung,” he doubled down.
“You’re welcome to stay for dinner, Seokjin-ssi,” Namjoon said - a powerful invitation coming from any pack leader, much less Bangtan’s.
“Ah, I have to get home,” Jin apologized with a bow. “Thank you, Namjoon-ssi. I’ll see you in—another three days’ time, if that’s alright? We can push it to four if that would work better.”
“Three is fine, hyung,” Hoseok smiled. “At least one of us will be here.”
“It’s not like I can’t be by myself,” Jungkook huffed.
“Considering you poke at your stab wound without thinking about it, Jungkook-ah—” Jin said pointedly, pinching Jungkook’s blushing cheek. “Your hyungs just want to care for you, and keeping you company is one way to do so. Behave, okay?”
“Okay,” he sighed. “Three days?”
“Three days.”
Jin bid his goodbyes with polite bows before going on his way. After three days of quiet monotony at the clinic, even that short, not-that-raucous visit made him feel oddly recharged.
-
The quiet monotony did not last long the second time, as it turned out. As Jin closed the clinic one night later, flicking off the lights and double-checking the locks, his heart leapt to his throat when he heard whispering just behind the entry doors.
“What if no one’s here?” someone said lowly.
“Then we go to Dr. Gwan.”
“I don’t wanna see Dr. Gwan—”
“Then let’s see if hyung is still here.”
“If he’s not—”
Jin opened the door, though he made sure to keep his dramatics low, unwilling to risk whatever weapons the two might be carrying on them just for the surprise.
“Oh, hi, hyung!” Jimin said pleasantly, plush lower lip bleeding.
“Wow, I’m always glad to see you, Jin-hyung, hi—” Taehyung smiled, one brow red and swollen, a clear sign of an inevitable black eye.
There were a few other visible scrapes and bruises, but Jin felt nearly nauseous with gratitude that they weren’t showing up with death’s doorstep behind them like their baby alpha. There was a strong scent of pleased about them, too. He was assuming whoever brawled with them probably looked a lot worse.
Jin sighed and held the door open, rolling his eyes at their overly polite bows as they entered.
“It’s stupid that I feel like I should thank you for not being stabbed,” he told them as he locked the door behind them, gesturing to the first exam room down the hall. “What happened? Wait—do I want to know?”
“It’s nothing crazy!” Jimin promised.
“It’s really not,” Taehyung said. “Like, by anyone’s measure, not just Jiminie’s.”
“Getting beaten up at all is inherently ‘crazy,’ you know. People don’t ordinarily have black eyes and split lips on the regular.”
“Aw, hyung!” Jimin cooed, putting a hand over his heart. “Are you saying you’re extraordinary?”
“You’re extraordinarily something,” Jin said, tapping his knee. “Let hyung clean you up.”
Jimin snapped to look at Taehyung. Jin thought it meant he wanted Taehyung to go first and was taken aback when he looked to the other and Taehyung was staring straight at him, dark eyes a little foggy. “Taehyung-ssi?”
Taehyung licked his lips. “That’s—”
Jin raised his brows when he didn’t continue.
“That’s the first thing Joon-hyung ever said to him,” Jimin said quietly.
Jin huffed a lightly-teasing laugh. “‘Let hyung clean you up?’ And here I was thinking he might be a closet romantic.”
“It didn’t have to be romantic to make me fall in love with him,” Taehyung told him softly.
Jim smiled a little, getting a supply kit from the cabinet. “No?”
Taehyung shook his head, though he winced at the movement. “It was kind of romantic, though.”
“Want to talk about it?” Jin asked. Unprofessional, sure, especially when Taehyung didn’t seem like he needed a distraction from his minor injuries. But he could admit his relationship with the Bangtan pack at large was not entirely professional at this point.
Taehyung shrugged. “I was a sex worker and a client beat me up ‘cause he thought I was an omega at first. Joon—” he giggled, glancing at Jimin. “He took care of it, then Jimin came to find me and thought Joon was the one who’d hurt me, so Jimin started attacking him, and—”
Jimin laughed. “I got a good few in before you stopped me, remember?”
“He had two black eyes. This one is nothing.”
“And even after I kicked his ass—”
“Almost,” Taehyung interjected.
“Even after I kicked his ass,” Jimin insisted, “he knelt in front of Taehyung with a fucking handkerchief and a cheek bleeding from my rings and said ‘let hyung clean you up.’”
“Chivalrous bastard,” Taehyung agreed with a grin. “I love him.”
“I can’t say that’s the romance of my own dreams,” Jin said, dabbing at Taehyung’s brow gently, a smile on his lips. “But that is very romantic.”
“Isn’t it?” Jimin sighed, leaning on Taehyung’s arm. “That’s kinda what we were doing now. Without the romance part.”
“Beating up johns?” Jin asked. If they were surprised at his casual acceptance, they didn’t show it.
Taehyung hummed an affirmative. “Just the ones who deserve it.”
“It was five on two this time or we wouldn’t have had a single scratch on us.”
Jin gave Taehyung a sharp look. “Five on two, Jimin-ssi?”
Taehyung hissed. “Hit with the formality.”
“I’ve a mind to tattle to your alpha!” Jin scolded. “I don’t care if you’re good fighters—I don’t even know if you are good fighters—those aren’t great odds.”
“We couldn’t wait,” Jimin frowned, straightening out his expression when his lip stung. “They were harassing a worker. If we called for help and had to wait, it might have escalated.”
Jin sighed, moving from Tae to Jimin, lifting his chin up with two fingers. “Alphas. Reckless things, aren’t you?”
Jimin fought off a smile while Jin sterilized the cut on his lip. “But we’re cute, aren’t we?”
Jin snorted.
“We got all dressed up to go clubbing—”
Jin blinked, looking them both over. “You two have very different aesthetics.”
“And don’t they look so charming together?” Jimin led.
“Charming, sure,” Jin said. He could tell by their matching pleased grins that he hadn’t sounded as dismissive as he meant to. “Brave things. Not all alphas, but you two.”
Jimin’s eyes went crescent-mooned as he smiled up at him. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Jin agreed. “Neither of you need stitches, though—” he grabbed two cold compresses, cracking them and handing them over, ignoring Taehyung’s quiet I wanted to do that. “You’ll want to ice them now and before bed, and likely in the morning, as well.”
“Yes, hyung,” they chorused, much more amicably than Jin expected.
“Have you eaten?”
“No,” Jimin said, eager for an offer.
“Oh, so you were going to go clubbing on an empty stomach—” Jin accused with raised brows, hands on his hips.
Jimin blanched. “I—”
“I’m teasing, mostly,” he grinned, giving both of their knees a tap. “Have a late dinner with hyung. There’s an udon stall down the street that I like.”
“Hyung’s treat?” Taehyung asked.
Jin sighed heavily. “Hyung’s treat.”
“He’s joking,” Jimin laughed, shoving Taehyung’s shoulder. “Our treat, hyung. Thank you for looking after us.”
“Ah, you’re a pleasure to look at.” Jin found unending fulfillment in the immediate blush that swept over their cheeks.
“Really though,” he said over a bowl of noodles, looking between them sternly. “If you feel able, please tell your pack alpha what happened. I would rather him not accidentally find out and have you make me an accomplice.”
Jimin pouted petulantly but agreed nonetheless. “We will. He would have made us go to Dr. Gwan, though.”
“You’ve talked of your pack doctor kindly before, Jimin-ah,” he scolded.
Taehyung shrugged. “He’s no Dr. Kim. You’re much more fun.”
“Aish,” Jin huffed, though he couldn’t deny he was flattered. “I’m sure he’s almost as handsome.”
“He’s old and grumpy.”
“Are you saying I won’t be handsome when I’m old?” he gasped. “And there’s a high chance I’m even more handsome when I’m grumpy!”
“Sure,” Jimin snorted, kicking at him under the table. “Thank you for your help, hyung.”
“It wasn’t much help,” Jin said, half-pointedly. “In fact, I did nothing but wipe up some blood and disinfect a few cuts. In my professional opinion, it didn’t seem too necessary to get a professional opinion.
Taehyung squirmed, glancing at Jimin.
Jimin cleared his throat. “Well, I mean—”
“It was necessary to see you,” Taehyung said when Jimin didn’t continue.
Jin pretended he didn’t blush, and pretended harder that they didn’t see him do so. “Yes, well.” He cleared his throat, pushing his bowl away. “Let hyung walk you home.”
Jimin and Taehyung gave each other an overly-amused side-eye and Jin did his damndest to not scowl. We’ll walk you home, hyung.”
“I can take care of myself, you know?” he said. Though Jin thought their intentions were kind, he still felt the need to check. “I’ve made it this far without alpha escorts and I’ll make it farther still.”
“It’s not because you’re an omega, hyung,” Jimin said emphatically. “It’s because—”
“We want you to get home safely,” Taehyung took over. “And it’s comforting to see you get there with our own eyes.”
“We used to walk Yoongi-hyung home all the time before we moved in together!”
Jin snorted at the image; a frowny cat caught between two dramatic scoundrels. “I’m sure he appreciated it.”
“He did,” Taehyung nodded. “He loved the attention. Don’t tell him we said so but he’s the softest hyung.”
“You have a ranking, hm?” he asked as they left.
“Oh, for sure,” Jimin said, taking one side as Taehyung took the other. “Namjoonie-hyung’s second. Then Jungkookie, even though he’s not a hyung. Then Hobi-hyung, then you.”
Jin’s brows shot up. “Pardon?”
“There’s a chance you’re higher on the soft scale but we’ve only known you for two weeks,” Taehyung said. “We’ll keep you updated as we investigate further.”
Jin gaped at them. “You—aish. Come on, walk hyung home.”
Jin didn’t miss the way he carried their scent in with him, though he doubted that had been their primary intention when they linked arms with him. He found he didn’t mind, though - both of their scents were pleasant and light, even if they screamed alpha. He didn’t try to air the smell out with open windows or scented candles, but didn’t try to preserve them by skipping his shower. He just let it be. Unbothered.
(He tried to not think of how bothered he often was with scents - alpha scents in particular. Even the smell of his past few partners had been stubbornly forced out with fans and washed pillows after each visit. He’d thought external scents in his space in general bothered him, but now - he wasn’t so sure. He tried to not think about it, but he did find himself wondering as he drifted off.)
-
“Hello again,” Jin greeted Taehyung two nights later, giving him a slight bow as he was let into the safehouse den.
“I knew it!” Jungkook said from the couch, sending them both an accusatory pout. He looked like a baby shark who hadn’t grown sharp teeth. Jin gave his head an only-slightly-infantilizing pat.
“Knew what?” he asked.
“That hyungs saw you!”
“How do you know, hm? Perhaps I’m saying hi from last time—”
“I know your scent, doctor-hyung,” Jungkook said stubbornly. “I knew they’d seen you.”
“Well,” Jin said, pushing down the nonsensical purr he felt hearing that his scent was memorable enough to be recognized by Jungkook. “I’m here now. How’s my favorite patient?”
“Fine, thank you, and you?”
Jin snorted, sitting beside him. “Lift your shirt, please.” He cleared his throat when Jungkook decided to shuck it off entirely. “Any unusual pain, numbness, moods, behaviors?”
“No lying,” Taehyung warned from behind him.
Jin snapped to look at him, looking back to Jungkook just as quickly with a no-nonsense expression. “What is there to lie about, Jungkook-ssi?”
“Hyung!” Jungkook whined at Taehyung, flushing brightly. “It’s not like that! I haven’t lied—”
“Have you understated anything, Jungkook-ssi?”
“No!” Tears pricked at Jungkook’s eyes but Jin was undeterred, fixing him with an even harder look. “I—Taehyung-hyung, you made Seokjinnie-hyung mad at me!”
Taehyung did look slightly contrite. “He hasn’t lied. Yet.”
“Hyung!”
“Is this your last home visit?” Taehyung asked.
Jin raised his brows. “Well—either this or the next, considering how quickly he’s healing—”
“But if Jungkook says he’s not healing?”
Jin blinked before letting out a heavy sigh, giving Jungkook a stern look. “Were you thinking about lying to keep me here?”
Jungkook didn’t even try to deny it, staring at his hands in his lap.
“That would have made me very upset, Jungkook-ah.” He could have sworn he heard Jungkook whimper. “As your doctor, you must be forthright and honest with me. Do you understand? I trust you to tell the truth.”
Jungkook sniffled, glancing up at him with big, watery eyes. “I wasn’t really gonna lie, hyung. I-I just—”
“You don’t have to be hurting to see hyung,” he told him.
Jungkook blinked. “I don’t?”
“No.” Jin stared at him for a moment, unsure of what he should offer - to call, or text, or show up at the clinic after hours and spooking him on his own doorstep? He let it rest and patted Jungkook’s knee, smiling when the alpha looked up at him with a starry-eyed expression. “You’re healing well, Jungkook-ah. My little fighter wolf.”
Taehyung laughed from behind him, a dark, velvety thing that hardly matched the sight of Jungkook’s bright red cheeks.
“He is!” Jin huffed, glaring back at him. “Hyung didn’t know if he’d last the night and here he is, strong and healthy and—” handsome, he almost said. Taehyung somehow heard it.
“And?”
Jin glared back at him again. “This is why you’re my third favorite patient.”
Taehyung squawked and Jin ignored him for the rest of the visit.
-
Whatever Jin was expecting, it wasn’t to see Jung Hoseok a week later, waiting in one of the exam rooms in the middle of the day, properly scheduled with processed paperwork and everything.
“Hoseok-ssi,” he said after a beat. He wasn’t sure how to proceed, if he was honest. Was Hoseok supposed to be a stranger to him outside his own home or before midnight in the clinic? The crime packs of Seoul were notoriously secretive, surely they didn’t book under their real names.
But Hoseok smiled a little, even if he had guarded eyes. “Hi, doctor-hyung.”
Jin let his shoulders relax. “What brings you in today? No stab wounds, I hope—” his eyes went wide, glancing over Hoseok’s body suspiciously. “I hope?”
Hoseok grinned, shaking his head. “No, I—” he sighed. “I’ve been having trouble with my leg lately. An old injury acting up.” He gave him a wry little smile. “My old bones aren’t what they used to be, I’m sure you understand.”
“Mah!” Jin huffed. “The nerve. I should kick you out. Tell me about your leg?”
“It was broken a few years back and didn’t heal quite right. It, uh,” he laughed a little, “it hurts when it rains?”
“And it’s typhoon season,” Jin sympathized. “Well—let me check you over. If I may?”
“Thank you,” Hoseok said on his way out, giving Jin’s hand a squeeze.
“It’s my pleasure,” Jin waved him off. “And my literal job, pleasure or not.”
“Either way,” Hoseok laughed. He straightened up, giving Jin a subtly assessing look. “What would you say if I asked you to dinner?”
Jin blinked. “I—I don’t know. Ask me.”
“Will you have dinner with us, Seokjin-hyung?”
“Ah, I have plans with my brother, sorry.”
Hoseok’s jaw dropped a little. “What? Why’d you tell me to ask?”
“Because I didn’t know what I’d say!” Jin said, but he was having trouble keeping his grin in check. “Ask me another day, Hoseok-ah. Okay?”
“Okay,” Hoseok said, though he sent him a dramatic pout. “I feel like I just got rejected for a school dance—”
“I would have for sure said no to that,” Jin laughed. “You said you used to dance professionally, I’d be put through so much shame that I’d never be able to raise my head again.”
“I wouldn’t be able to raise my head knowing my face would be compared to yours—”
“Don’t make me tell you how pretty your face is, Hoseok-ssi. I’m your doctor and on the clock, it’s extremely unprofessional.”
Hoseok laughed. “I’ll ask a different day, then?”
“Please do,” Jin nodded. “And tell Jungkook to send me more hearts, I played through all my lives on my lunch break.
-
Unknown: I’m making dinner.
Unknown: Tonight
Unknown: If you’d like to come.
Jin squinted at his phone.
Unknown: As in I would like you to come if you’re available, as would everyone else.
Seokjin: is this yoongi?
Unknown: ? Yes
Jin snorted before adding him to his contacts, shaking his head.
Seokjin: i didn’t have your number
Seokjin: what time?
Yoongi’s reply came in almost frantically quick, and frantically accommodating.
Yoongi: Any time
Yoongi: We usually eat around seven when we’re home but we can do earlier or later, whenever you’re available
Yoongi: If you're available.
Jin got the distinct impression that Yoongi was not usually a repeat texter, nor was he so wordy, or eager to please.
Seokjin: sure. i’ll come around seven. no need to change your plans for me :)
Yoongi: :)
Jin found himself incredibly nervous as he got dressed for the evening. He tried to convince himself that it was just a normal Thursday, that there was no need to dress up at all, that this was an extremely casual platonic dinner party that held absolutely no additional meaning. But.
He couldn’t chase away the knowledge that he felt something. He felt several sometings, considering there were six of them. But he also felt nothing would happen because Namjoon - their pack alpha, their leader, their respected mate - didn’t seem to like him. He didn’t seem to like him as a person, even. He always watched Jin with a skeptical eye, even if he made normal-verging-on-friendly conversation with him whenever their paths happened to meet. It was clear that no matter how kind and welcoming the rest of his supposedly- intimading pack was, he didn’t have the approval of the person whose approval surely mattered the most.
So his little crushes were just little crushes and not real possibilities, and that was fine for him. It was fun for him, even. But it did make the butterflies in his stomach a little embarrassing as he tugged on one of his nicer overcoats.
It was Jungkook who answered the door, and the baby alpha gave him the most tummy-fluttering delighted beam and an enthusiastic “Hyung! You came!”
“I said I would, didn’t I?” Jin laughed.
“Yeah, but—”
“Come in, hyung,” Jimin said from behind Jungkook, poking Jungkook’s back. “You’re blocking the door, baby.”
Jungkook pouted but moved aside, allowing Jin to step out of his shoes. But before he could slip out of his coat, Jungkook started helping him, and the whole thing was so silly that he had to laugh. “Ah, your Jungkookie is so polite, Jimin-ssi!”
“We’ve trained him well,” Jimin grinned.
“Hyungs!” Jungkook whined, though he hung Jin’s coat in the entrance nook for him.
“That’s very kind of you,” Jin soothed, “thank you, Jungkook-ah.”
Taehyung greeted him with a hug as he came into the sitting room, his embrace warm enough that Jin was half-worried he would start scenting him. Taehyung just gave him a boxy, mischievous grin as he pulled back. “Hyung’s been nervous.”
Jin glanced around at Taehyung’s hyungs. Jimin and Hoseok looked normal, he thought, happy. Namjoon gave him his usual polite, suspicious look. The only one missing—
“Yah!” Yoongi said, pink-cheeked, giving Taehyung’s neck a slap. “Brat. Food’s nearly done, hyung.”
Jin hid his barely-concealed grin with a light bow, ignoring Yoongi’s scoff. “Do you want any help?”
“You’re our guest, hyung. I wouldn’t ask you to help even if I needed it.”
“Ah, that just means I’ll have to insist!”
Yoongi shook his head, backing into the kitchen. “I don’t need help, really, hyung. Thank you. Just—just sit. Or something.”
“Sit or something,” Jin repeated. “I can manage that.”
He followed Jungkook when he grabbed his hand, and was willingly tugged over to the plush sofa. Jungkook plopped himself down beside him as soon as Jin sat down, close enough for their legs to brush. That, at least, wasn’t abnormal; Jungkook had been touchy with him from the very beginning. Jin supposed that meeting each other when one was on the brink of death was a bonding experience.
“Ah—I brought wine, I forgot—”
“You didn’t need to do that, hyung. Thank you,” Namjoon said.
“I probably shouldn’t have,” he admitted. “It’s from the middle shelf of a 7/11, so—”
“That’s my favorite kind!” Taehyung said, sitting on Jin’s other side and patting his leg. “It tastes like juice.”
“Thank you for coming, hyung,” Yoongi said quietly, having managed to escape alone to bid him goodbye. He handed him a box of leftovers and Jin nearly swooned. “Can I walk you home?”
“Sure,” Jin said, bumping his arm. “It’s not too far.”
Yoongi hesitated at his door before bowing a little. “Goodnight, hyung.”
“Night, Yoongi-yah. See you soon.”
He couldn’t help but to peek out of his window to see Yoongi walk away. He knew there was no mistaking that bashful, happy, gummy grin that Yoongi sported.
-
Jin wished they were the bad guys.
He’d thought they might be at first, but any suspicion against them had blown away in the wind when he learned about Jungkook’s heart and Jimin’s goodness and Taehyung’s faith and Hoseok’s hope and Yoongi’s smile and Namjoon’s care. He’d tried to convince himself that they were the bad guys even after that, just to make the flutterings of his heart calm down a tiny bit more.
But now, strapped to a chair with one eye swollen shut and blood trickling down his cheek, a fractured-if-not-broken rib aching in his chest - he knew they were the good ones.
“See how tough they are without their little bitch,” some stenchy alpha had said before punching him in the gut just because he could.
Another laughed, leaning forward to peer at him curiously. “We should get a taste when we decide what to do with him. Think he’s still tight after whoring himself out to all of them?”
“Doubt it,” the other laughed. “It’s tighter when it’s dry, tough. But then again, maybe he’ll get wet for us. Will you?” he cooed, cupping Jin’s cheek in his hand before smacking it sharply.
“We’ll prolly just leave him somewhere for them to find, right? We ought to fill him up, make it clear he didn’t die happy.”
“If he’s got six of them, he’ll probably like it.”
“Think they’ll even care that much?” he fisted Jin’s hair, jerking his head to the side. “They didn’t bother to claim him. They can’t like him that much.”
Jin had been numb til then, had blocked out the pain as much as he could, pretended their words were nothing but a nightmare he could wake up from, but then he realized - they wouldn’t be able to track him, not without some sort of connection. his phone had been smashed when he was first grabbed, so that was out. and without a bite, the mental link didn’t exist. Would they even try? Because they were right - he hadn’t been claimed, he hadn’t been courted, he was just - some omega who happened to casually associate with them who could be replaced by anyone else but who wouldn’t be replaced because he wasn’t needed and he was just going to die in this fucking warehouse because of course there were two warehouses in play because all these goddamn gangs seemed to be nothing but stereotypes even when one of them had hearts of gold.
He was going to die, and he was going to die alone.
They’d leave his body on Bangtan’s doorstep. They’d be sad, sure, but in the end, he’d just be a mess to clean up.
A tiny sob broke out without his permission and the alpha in front of him grinned. “Aw, look at that. Think he wanted their bite as much as their knots?”
“I just want to go home,” he sobbed, though that wasn’t entirely true. He wanted to go to the pack’s hideaway and get bookended by Jimin and Taehyung and cuddle with Jungkookie and have everyone close. All of it seemed equally unattainable.
A door opening echoed down the hall. “That’ll be the boss.”
It wasn’t some cruel stranger who charged down the hall, though.
Namjoon had fury in his eyes, a terrifying set to his jaw that made Jin seize with fear for just a moment before his body went lax, sobs coming more freely because Namjoon was there.
He didn’t care that Namjoon knocked the alphas out easier than breathing, didn’t care that one hit the ground so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he was dead. He only cared that Namjoon came close and broke the zipties holding him down and pulled him into a tight hug as soon as he was free.
“Namjoon-ah—” he sobbed, throwing his arms around his shoulders.
“I’ve got you,” he promised hoarsely. “Let’s get you out of here, Jinnie.”
There was no mention of cleaning up his mess, no mention of further revenge. Namjoon just picked him up in a bridal carry easily, hushing him soothingly, tilting his chin obligingly when Jin sought out the comfort of his scent in the crook of his neck.
He only vaguely heard Namjoon call for a ride, but he must have done; tires screeched in front of the warehouse almost as soon as they stepped out the doors.
Jin stirred from his haze of panic-adrenaline-relief when he heard Jungkook shout “Hyung!” and whine when Namjoon snapped at him to get back in the car.
Namjoon was careful as he got in the backseat with him, barely letting him go, never not touching him as he settled in at his side. “Drive safe, Jungkook-ah. Okay, baby?”
“Course—” Jungkook promised.
Jin could see him glance at him worriedly in the rearview mirror every other minute; he blinked sluggishly back at him.
Namjoon pet his hair. His hands were shaking.
Jin furrowed his brows, craning his head to look back at him. “You came for me.”
Namjoon’s hand stilled. The look he gave Jin was full of fire, conviction; it held a promise. “I will always come for you, Seokjin.”
Jin’s eyes fluttered. He decided to process that later. “Oh.”
“We’re taking you home. Dr. Gwon is on his way to look you over.”
Jin furrowed his brows again, whimpering pathetically when it pulled at—a wound, something, god knew what, on his face. “M-my home?”
Namjoon blinked, almost surprised there was another option. “No. The pack home.”
“The real one,” Jungkook added from the front. “Not the safehouse. Want you in our home.”
“Oh,” Jin said. Tears stung at his eyes. “That’s really nice.”
“Jinnie,” Namjoon said, combing through his hair again. “I’m so—”
“Later. Pet me more.” He sniffled. “Please.”
Namjoon nodded, petting his hair again, hands still shaking.
Jin looked back to Jungkook but stilled, catching sight of Namjoon’s pants, ripped at the knee. “You got hurt.”
Namjoon laughed a little. When Jin looked up at him accusatorily, he saw his blushing cheeks. He resisted the urge to reach up and poke at them.
“I didn’t get hurt, uh, just now. I fell off my bike earlier. I came to see you and—and the receptionist said you hadn’t come in.”
Jin shakily tried to push himself up without thinking, stilled by Namjoon’s gentle hand on his shoulder. “Gotta clean you up.”
Jungkook snorted. “We’ve gotta clean you up, hyung.”
“I can wait,” Namjoon agreed.
Jungkook pulled into a garage and parked, hopping out to open the door. “S’my turn to carry hyung—”
Jin didn’t have time to do much more than squawk when Jungkook scooped him up.
“Easy, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon warned.
Jin hugged around Jungkook’s shoulders as he’d done with Namjoon, reveling in the feeling of being surrounded by his baby and the pack alpha. He nosed Jungkook’s jaw, taking a soothing breath in.
“You smelled so bad when I found you,” he mumbled.
Jungkook blinked. “What?”
“Everything—everything called me to you but it was yucky.”
“Yucky,” Namjoon snorted quietly. He walked close, one hand on Jungkook’s back and the other on Jin’s thigh.
“Mm,” Jin nodded, forehead bumping Jungkook’s chin. “Happens—happens close to death. When s’too close. S’a—an old pack thing, tells you when to keep running n’not try to—to save. You were a little baby pup smelling like death—”
“But you saved me, hyung,” Jungkook said. It was clear it had caught him off guard and Jin sighed, patting his cheek.
“Course,” he said. “Course. Don’t doubt hyung, okay?”
“Not ever,” Jungkook promised. “I love hyung.”
It had been only a few months since they met. It should have been too quick. “Hyung loves you, too, Jungkook-ah.” He sighed before looking over Jungkook’s shoulder. “Namjoon-ssi, do you like me?”
Namjoon’s eyes grew wide. “Do I—?”
“Do you like me?” Jin repeated. His eyes grew watery. “I-I didn’t think you liked me but you came for me.”
“Hyung, I—yes. Of course I like you. I like you—so much.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook huffed, glancing back at Namjoon. “He smells worried. Namjoonie-hyung says you’re his,” he tattled.
Jin spluttered as Namjoon chided, “Kook!”
“Don’t worry about us liking you,” Jungkook told him matter-of-factually. “That’s what I mean.”
Jin sniffled a little. Exhaustion was starting to take over. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been with the other gang—at least eight hours, probably more, and they had taken the life out of him. He was exhausted and in pain and safe and put together and it made him a little dizzy. “Alphas like me?”
Namjoon softened so much that it almost made him look like a different person. “Alphas like you, omega.”
Jin chirped a little, satisfied, resting his head on Jungkook’s shoulder as they came through the door. The immediate swarm of pack members was held off by Namjoon but only just; the throat cleared in the background, at least, had them parting respectfully.
Jin sniffled as Dr. Gwon gave a cut on his arm a few stitches. “Sorry I stole your patients.”
Dr. Gwon snorted. “I get paid all the same, Seokjin-ssi, don’t you worry.”
Jin stared at him for a moment. “You get paid?”
-
“Jungkookie gets first dibs,” Jin said out of nowhere. The room fell quiet.
“For—what?” Hoseok asked.
“Kissing me.”
“What about—” Jimin smacked Taehyung before he could continue, but Jin answered easily either way.
“Namjoonie.” He gave the alpha a little fingerwave when he went red. “But dibs on knotting is still up for grabs.”
Contentment, Jin thought, sounded just like this. A raucous scramble to fight, physically or otherwise, for the right to knot him.
In the middle of it all was right where he wanted to be.