Chapter Text
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What had seemed like a one-time sickness morphs into an illness that keeps Seokjin teetering between the divide of life and death. He’s sick constantly, stomach revolting against him like a fierce beast. It debilitates his already poor health until he can do nothing by himself, too weak to do much more than lie listlessly in his nest, Jimin’s mass pressed next to his the only thing keeping him sufficiently warm.
Hoseok is frantic, caught between finding the cause of Seokjin’s sickness and finding a meal Seokjin can keep down. By the second day of no progress, Hoseok has no choice but to grind white rice into a thick paste and feed Seokjin that way.
“Come on pup, just a little bit more.” Hoseok cajoles pitifully. Seokjin turns his head away, lip already quivering. He’s laid out across Hoseok’s lap, propped up by the alpha’s arm around his neck.
Hoseok pushes a little bit of the sticky paste against Seokjin’s lips with his fingers, insistent. Seokjin cries, as he always does when its mealtime, gut clenching painfully with the thought of putting anything into his sensitive stomach. Everything inside of him is raw and hurting.
“I know, I know. I’m so sorry baby.” Hoseok croaks, successfully getting Seokjin to pry his mouth open to secure the sticky rice past his lips. Seokjin chews slowly and for too long, fighting against the urge to spit it out. The sight of Hoseok’s desperate, teary face hovering over him gives him just enough strength to swallow it down.
It’s a hard-won victory that doesn’t last when, just a few hours later, Hoseok is forced to hold a shaking Seokjin as he vomits weakly. Very little comes up, but it comes up dark and rank.
On the third day, Seokjin comes down with a mild fever that begins to climb around noon and refuses to go down.
“This can be a good thing.” Yoongi assures in a voice lacking confidence. “His body might be fighting whatever’s got him so sick.”
It’s certainly doesn’t feel like a good thing to Seokjin, whose awareness begins to fade in and out into brief moments of sleep where his body is too overcome with exhaustion to continue its own torment.
The pack redoubles their efforts to make sure he pulls through, working tirelessly through the day and taking turns at night to keep track of his quickly waning health. They all practically live in the heat room now, only leaving for short periods before venturing back.
Hoseok is in charge of feeding while Yoongi takes up the cleaning—washing Seokjin down with warm towels while Namjoon replaces the ruined bedding with fresh sheets and cushions.
They don’t allow him too many blankets in case he overheats, but Jimin—who’s arguably the most distraught of them all, refusing to abandon his side for even a moment— takes up the duty in a heartbeat, curling his large body around Seokjin’s frailer one to keep it warm.
“The fever’s gone down some.” Namjoon says some time later, but Seokjin knows it can’t be by much. Taehyung sits by his head, dipping small towels in a bowl of water and placing them on him to keep him from burning out.
“It’s the kimbap.” Hoseok says at some point, the edge of his voice just a touch hysterical. Seokjin has no idea what he means. Despite everyone’s insistence that it could be anything, Hoseok seems haunted by the thought, repeatedly murmuring to himself, “I poisoned him, I poisoned him.”
Seokjin knows better. This has nothing to do with him or the pack or even Jimin. This is solely Seokjin. Deep inside everything is burning, purging itself of all the toxicity of the facility, the putridness that’s been accumulating and marring the inside of him in black tar. The question of Seokjin’s survival hinges on whether or not his body will be able to live without that decay after surviving with it for so long.
This sickness is temporary in that it will either cleanse him, or burn him inside-out in the process. Seokjin has made his peace with it.
He wishes he could tell the pack of this, but with the fire in his belly blistering and his brain melting in the cauldron of his skull, Seokjin can barely keep his eyes open much less form proper sentences.
The morning of the fourth day, Seokjin’s fever lowers enough that Hoseok feels it’s safe enough to get him back into his lap and force a little more food into him. Seokjin allows him this time, blinking stubbornly past the silent tears. The fire raging within him has burned through everything he has and it’s not over. He can feel innately the searing heat within him, readying for one more go, one more wave. Seokjin forces himself to eat because if he doesn’t, he really will die. The hands of death are waiting to come down around his neck.
The rice paste goes down as heavy as lead and his stomach churns in threat; Seokjin ignores the nausea and forces his jaw open each time Hoseok’s fingers come to rest shyly on his lips.
It’s Hoseok who cries this time when Seokjin manages to swallow down a little more than a quarter of the bowl. He squeezes tight and peppers kisses all over Seokjin’s sweat-matted hair and across his flushed cheeks.
“He’s eating!” He laughs wetly, and the rest of the pack look quietly hopeful, with the exception of Taehyung who bursts equally loudly into relieved tears. Seokjin aches in an entirely new way now – spoiled by the attention and the pack’s desperation to get him to survive this. To have these people work so hard to heal him, there must be something here worth being alive for after all.
During the night of that same fourth day, Seokjin’s fever spikes again. If he blinks he can see it, the picture of his body as it burns internally, all white-hot and frothing. Half-delirious, Seokjin wishes it would burn the outside of him too and take away all his terrible, ugly scars.
Vaguely, he hears someone crying in the hallway outside. Then someone yelling. The stench of agitated alphas runs pungent along all the rooms, Seokjin can see it in the form of an angry cloud smearing red on every wall. It hurts his eyes, burns his nose. Jimin curls as tight as he can around Seokjin’s frail body, incensed by the smell.
Time is hard to keep track of, but things must settle at some point because then the house is silent, filled only by the patiently-waiting shadow of death.
Someone puts cold towels onto his scorching skin. Hoseok’s half-frantic murmurs echo in and out, promising things Seokjin knows no one can promise. Health. Recovery. Revival. They get weaker each time until even that is silenced. Against his neck, the cold nose of Jimin’s snout presses close, the closest thing to comfort Seokjin can get.
He wonders if he smells like death. Can Jimin smell how he cooks alive underneath his skin?
It lasts too long. Seokjin can see it in his mind’s eye, that fire burning burning burning. It’s going to kill him. It’s going to cook his brain until there’s nothing left and then Seokjin will never have to remember all the things he couldn’t bring himself to during Hoseok’s interrogation.
Feet shuffling in an out of the room. Jimin’s fear translated into fury, just as red as the alphas. Seokjin can smell something charring, but underneath that he can smell the pack’s hope dying right along with him. They leave, in solemn resignation or respect, Seokjin will never know. Jimin cries into his neck, almost human.
Seokjin’s stomach rolls, his back snaps into a perfect arch, muscles spasming under boiling skin. He heaves but the fire grows claws and hooks them into his gut, refusing to leave. Death grins at him from behind the flames, beckoning him in. He’s dying.
He’s lying on the floor—no he’s in someone’s arms. Jimin’s face looks down at him but Seokjin can’t make him out, has never seen him before but knows intrinsically that it’s him. I’m dying he wants to say, but his mouth refuses to move. He gives another dry-heave, gagging on the fire, the toxins, death itself.
“Jin—“ Jimin whispers, tongue thick and mouth clumsy with human words. Seokjin tries to work his lips because he wants Jimin to have his last words, the only thing he can give, but instead he lurches to the side and heaves so hard his entire gut seems to come up his throat.
He throws up for what feels like an eternity, nearly choking on it. It comes out black and tar-like, steaming with the last of the flames.
Short, stubby fingers latch onto him and drag him away from the mess. Seokjin blinks and sees the sickness laid out on the floor. The inside of him is cool now, he’s thrown out that which was killing him.
Jimin cries relief into his sweat-slick hair, not the least bit cowed by the sick that’s dripped down Seokjin’s chin. It’s such a welcome feeling, to be held by someone and not feel like he’s blistering inside where no one can see. Seokjin is too tired to do much more than let Jimin cry on him, unable to keep his eyes open and thank him for doing him this one, simple kindness.
For the first time in a long while, Seokjin finally lets himself go to the exhaustion and rests peacefully.
-
Seokjin’s fever dims enough that it doesn’t feel like he’s been put over a fire to cook anymore. He acknowledges it very briefly in the middle of his sleep, before he goes down again. By midnight, his fever has been completely smoldered and he’s fights sleep enough to shake Jimin awake. Jimin snaps awake in an instant, shoving his dark nose against Seokjin’s skin and sniffing carefully. It makes Seokjin wonder whether he had truly heard Jimin call his name or if it had all been a fevered dream.
Whatever Jimin does or doesn’t smell makes him bark for the pack. They’re all out in the hallway, clustered together, waiting for the verdict. It’s the pack alpha who braves the bullet and opens the door to their room first. Seokjin gets a glimpse of his face – steeled and solemn, before it’s replaced with awe.
Namjoon had entered the room fully expecting a corpse to greet him. Instead Seokjin gifts him a weak smile, looking him in the eye for the first time.
Seokjin’s glad he does – it’s the first time he ever sees a pack alpha fall into tears.
-
It doesn’t take long afterward for the fever to break and for Seokjin’s stomach to settle, though that doesn’t immediately cure Seokjin. Four days of little food have him weak with limbs too heavy to move and an exhaustion so fierce it’s hard to keep awake.
After four days of the pack house figuratively holding its breath to see the outcome of Seokjin’s sickness, the relative stillness is broken that fifth day.
Hoseok and Taehyung carefully cart both him and Jimin out of the heat room in the morning, sitting them down on a thin sheet in the narrow hallway. They give special care to Seokjin, making sure he is well tucked within the confines of a borrowed jacket. Seokjin and Jimin have gone through so much of their blankets and furs, very few are left.
Hoseok and Taehyung are a blur to his recovering senses, working quickly to once again dismantle Seokjin and Jimin’s nest. Jimin makes a soft, sad noise as they do. Seokjin is more interested in the strips of cloth the wolves wear to cover the lower halves of their faces, pondering about the peculiar choice as his head lolls with fatigue.
“Hey, hey. Don’t sleep just yet pup, okay?” Hoseok says as he passes by, carrying the vomit-soaked dredges of their former nest. Seokjin nods up at him obediently, a little guilty when he spots the dark shadows under the other’s eyes. He looks as exhausted as Seokjin feels.
“Keep him awake for me, okay?” Hoseok asks Jimin who nods seriously, more obedient than he’s ever been.
With a quiet but genuine thanks, the boys continue working. The pack had stayed in the room with them for so long, their bedding makes up most of the mess. Seokjin and Jimin sit through it, outsiders still because of their inability to move. It isn’t until Taehyung sweeps by, carrying a red bucket full of foul chemical smells that they start to put up a fuss.
Namjoon offers them an alternative, “We’re going to make a great bonfire. Want to see it?”
A bonfire. Seokjin hasn’t seen one in so long, but after nearly cooking alive he isn’t sure he wants to. Sensing his uncertainty, Jimin presses himself against Seokjin’s side, hesitating.
“Come, it’s no good to be stuck inside for too long.” Namjoon says, face still a little blotchy from his earlier cry. “Let’s just make sure you don’t freeze out there.”
The pack house is kept warm and for that reason the pack wear thin clothing, wary of overheating. It takes Namjoon seconds to strip and seconds more to shift, thick glossy black fur where there had been skin before. Seokjin is fascinated, having almost forgotten the sheer awe Namjoon elicits as a wolf.
He looks down at his own hands, remembering suddenly that he too has his fur hidden away in the meat of his body. He’s been playing at humanness for only a few days, but it feels like much longer.
Namjoon reverts back to human almost immediately after his shift, fur coat detaching from his body. Jimin waits it out pressed against Seokjin side, tense and uncomfortable, but the usual hostility at the sight of another wolf is missing. Perhaps the time he’s spent with pack has minimized the need for constant violence.
Once Namjoon is clothed again, he offers the newly shed pelt skin to Seokjin. “Shifting might be too difficult right now and with no extra blankets to go around, I hope this will make do.” The alpha extends his coat with a friendly smile.
There’s certain connotations to this, Seokjin remembers vaguely. An alpha offering a personal pelt to an omega, something almost akin to a claim. He’d been a pup still when learning about this particular custom, too young to fully understand it but eager enough to cling to it. Even now, after an indeterminate amount of time away from that world, he still remembers it.
He’s unsure if Namjoon means this in that way, isn’t sure how he’d go about it if he did. Could he mate with someone? Bond with someone?
Jimin takes the initiative, moving forward in Seokjin’s place to sniff the proffered pelt, as if judging it. It is only on his allowance then, that Namjoon is allowed closer to help Seokjin put it on.
It puts them in close proximity, in a way Seokjin hasn’t experienced with any of the other alphas. Weakened as he is, he can only lie limp as Namjoon crouches, replacing the wall’s support with the support of his strength. This close Namjoon’s scent comes in the form of pictures to Seokjin’s scent-blind mind, visions of dew grass and rain-drenched leaves. The forest in the fall. Moonlight beams in the night.
Seokjin notices the alpha keeps his eyes lowered, unable to look him in the face. It’s curious. Seokjin on the other hand watches raptly, eyes roving over every minute change in Namjoon’s expression. He’s never been so close to a head alpha before. He wonders if they all flush darkly at the cheeks and ears when holding an omega.
An alpha’s wolf pelt is massive and once Seokjin is aptly covered, Namjoon retreats a little, just enough to give them space and unknowingly takes the imagery of his scent with him. To make up for the loss Seokjin instead curls his nails into the coat, that moonlight colored feeling soaked into the very fur.
Jimin snuffles at the dark fur, sharing that same sentiment. Seokjin smiles, eyeing the sweet curves that makes up the head alpha’s face so different from what Seokjin expected. Whatever meaning this pelt-giving means, whether friendly or more, it makes Namjoon’s face soften into a smile as sweet as sugar.
He leans in carefully, tucking the fluff of his coat under Seokjin’s chin with careful fingers and without meaning to, accidently brushes the skin of Seokjin’s throat. The image of the silver leash flashes into existence for a second, before Namjoon’s accidental touch destroys it.
“There we go. Warm?” Namjoon smiles, cheeks dimpling.
Freed from the mental chokehold, Seokjin finds that speaking comes much easier. Burrowing deeper into the fur of his new pack alpha, he gives a teary smile and nods.
“Thank you.”
-
The couch cushions are sacrificed as seats, placed on their snow-packed porch so that Seokjin and Jimin can have front row seats to the bonfire. He takes Jimin first, hefting the large wolf over his shoulders with a grunt of exertion, holding both sets of paws in each hand. It’s quite a sight and show of strength; even as a starved omega wolf, Jimin can rival Namjoon’s height standing on two feet.
It certainly seems to impress the wolf, who despite his nervousness, waves his tail frantically as Namjoon carries him away from Seokjin’s vision. Seokjin watches as he goes, heartbeat increasing once Jimin completely disappears from view. If he focuses he can hear them but without Jimin in his sight, the sudden fear that he’s gone hits and Seokjin starts breathing quickly.
He isn’t even aware he’s begun to whine, the sound so off because of his human vocals he hadn’t even recognized it was his own voice. It’s enough of a cry to get Namjoon bounding back for him, nearly slipping on the wood flooring on his socks as he hurries to answer Seokjin’s call.
“It’s okay, it’s okay! I’m coming back to get you too.”
Seokjin can’t stop the odd pitch of his voice as Namjoon leads him down the hallway, through the living room, and out past the threshold of the front door, only stopping once he spots Jimin, sitting on a cushion.
It’s freezing outside and as Namjoon carefully plops him onto the cushion right next to Jimin’s. The distance is a little too much; Jimin huffs and whines, pawing on Seokjin’s cushion until Namjoon relents and helps Jimin onto it. It’s a tight squeeze, but a favorable one. Jimin fits himself over the curve of Seokjin’s back, heavy head resting on the crown of Seokjin’s, and calls it home.
In the sea of white blanketed snow, Yoongi’s bundled up figure moves. He looks almost comical, rounded out by the many layers he’s wearing instead of simply falling back onto the warmth his fur easily provides him.
Seokjin understands why when Hoseok and Taehyung pass with the heaps of tarnished blankets and old furs. Hoseok raises an eyebrow as to why they’re out there, but at Namjoon’s assurance he makes no fuss. The amount of snow has risen so that stone steps Seokjin once climbed with an unconscious Jimin on his back are hidden. Instead, Taehyung and Hoseok trudge through the snow to reach Yoongi, both of them barefooted.
The mountain of fabric is dropped into a small circular pit that been dug out and cleared of snow. Yoongi pours liquid over the pile until it’s fully drenched and drops a match in; the entire mound goes up in flames.
Jimin barks excitedly and tucked halfway underneath him, Seokjin’s entire body rattles with his calls. Taehyung catches his excitement and hoots, jumping in the air and waving frantically.
The entire pack erupts into soft laughter. Yoongi pours more of the liquid and the flames lick it up, growing higher in response.
It’s beautiful. A bright burst of color in a place so devoid of it. His gut pulses, raw and tender but healing.
“After this, we’re going to get better blankets and pillows. Then, we’ll make a real nest for you.” Namjoon promises, eyes glinting so that Seokjin almost mistakes it for a fire too. Unthinkingly, the alpha reaches out and slips his hand against Jimin’s fur. Seokjin freezes, but Jimin is so entertained by Taehyung’s silly attempts at dancing he doesn’t seem to mind.
It’s change. Little in some ways, but monumental in others.
-
“We’ll be back soon.” Namjoon announces, watching every member’s face carefully. They’re all gathered by the doorway, suiting up for the cold outside. Jeongguk made good on his promise and sent out a shipment of supplies that’ll give them enough to subsist on for another two weeks. On that first initial call after they’d taken in Seokjin and Jimin, Jeongguk hadn’t asked any questions about their prolonged stay and while Namjoon had been beyond grateful for it, he knows they’re running on borrowed time. They’ve been here for a little over two weeks now and much longer than originally planned for.
They were here only because of formal complaints filed by the reservation pack. Taehyung had spoken a little about it – saying that his family pack heard foreign wolves howling in the night, saw tire imprints where vehicles weren’t allowed, and often times smelled terrible odors that had no source. Now they were suffering from a plague they never had dealt with before. Taehyung swore up and down it was the fault of something supernatural, and while Namjoon had never disagreed verbally, he knew that couldn’t be it. This many unfortunate happenings had to have a root cause and they needed to find it quickly.
Namjoon’s team is there to investigate and determine whether or not there is enough reason to warrant to full investigation with a more experienced team and provide emergency aid and housing to anyone they might come across before contacting Central.
Namjoon hadn’t expected anything to come out of this mission – now he’s very directly gone against protocol by failing to report their finding of Seokjin and Jimin, two omegas mutilated by silver and with obvious signs of maltreatment. Just the injuries on them alone is more than enough evidence to open up a formal case and yet Namjoon has decided to keep silent. He knows there’s more happening in the reservation and though it might seem unethical, he can’t give up the omegas, their only clue, just yet.
Whether it be Jeongguk or anyone else from Central, someone’s eventually going to want to know why they’re wasting company dollars with no evidence backing their case. Namjoon’s hoping to uncover a little more about this mystery before that happens.
But Namjoon’s got enough to worry about as is so he pushes those thoughts away to be poured over later in favor of taking stock of his team. Seokjin’s near-miss with death had shaken them all to the core.
Namjoon keeps a close eye of Hoseok in particular, taking notice of his sluggish movements and the dark shadows lining underneath his eyes.
“You sure you feel up for the trip?” Namjoon asks privately as Hoseok fumbles with the shoelaces on his boots.
Hoseok glances up at him, but if he’s offended at all by Namjoon’s concern he doesn’t show it. “I’m good, yeah,” He shakes the backpack hanging off his back, “Besides, I gotta deliver these samples too.”
Namjoon nods in respect of his answer though privately, he wishes Hoseok had stayed behind to rest. He’d been the most affected during the last few days, plagued by the thought that he’d been the one to inadvertently push Seokjin to the edge of death.
From the little he remembers back when they’d first been introduced to the team, Hoseok’s the same age as him, has a similarly clean background, and was fresh out of college when he’d been recruited. To think his first experience in the field was going to be force-feeding a sick and dying omega, fighting to keep him alive even when it seemed like even Seokjin himself didn’t want to fight anymore.
Namjoon doesn’t know how he did it. In some ways, Hoseok’s more a pack alpha than he is.
“Really, I’ll be fine.” Hoseok assures at his side, looking at him expectantly. He’s suited and ready to trek the couple of miles to their drop-site. Exhausted and still a little off with the emotional toll the last few days have pulled from them, but better. Hope is a good look on him.
“Alright then,” Namjoon says, addressing the other two. “We’ll be heading over to receive our shipment from Central. We shouldn’t take too long, but with the weather and all the snow the blizzard left us, it might take us a bit to return.”
Yoongi and Taehyung look equally haggard, standing a little further inside in their pajamas and big, fluffy socks. Despite the indoor heating and their biologically higher temperatures, the lack of blankets around the house is starting to take a toll.
“Just be quick about it, a lot can happen in a few hours.” Yoongi mumbles, face pink from the cold outside even though the inside of the house is well-heated. Namjoon nods, surprised when he scents the anxious note in Yoongi’s scent but even more surprised the sudden urge to provide comfort to his fellow alpha.
“Everything will be fine. Seokjin and Jimin won’t be up for another couple of hours so you guys can go back to sleep.” Hoseok says, pulling back the bulk of his sweater to peek at his wristwatch. “If we’re lucky, we might even get back before they’re up.”
Taehyung nods with both eyelids closed, body slumped against the wall and half-way asleep already. Namjoon can’t help the grin that stretches out on his face, enamored by his sleep-puffy face, and without thinking, reaches out to cuff the younger underneath his chin. Taehyung’s eyes pop open in surprise at the gesture and Namjoon, realizing what he’s done, retracts his hand quickly.
Namjoon’s face quickly heats in embarrassment when everyone stares at him. Contact comfort is the scripture of friendly wolf behavior, but it’s intimate. For pack mates. Between stranger alphas it can mean the opposite and Namjoon sweats in place for a hot minute, wondering if his thoughtless gesture has inadvertently belittled the team’s ambassador and gotten them kicked out of the reservation pack’s territory for good.
Then Taehyung giggles and returns the gesture.
The tension breaks seamlessly with Taehyung’s breathy laugh and suddenly, Yoongi is leaning in, a little more conservative with his affection as he reaches out and squeezes his fingers against Namjoon’s.
Just that small bit of comfort knocks the breath out of Namjoon, who hadn’t really realized just how touch-starved he’d gotten living with strangers – though after what they’ve been through together, the word strangers doesn’t feel like the appropriate way to describe the others anymore.
Not one to be left out, Hoseok gathers all of them for a quick hug. It should feel uncomfortable, engaging in friendly behavior with a bunch of other alphas, but instead it feels as though a very tightly wound muscle has finally relaxed.
Yoongi breaks away first, shyly averting his gaze. His face has darkened into a proper blush and his scent is clear of any lingering sourness, at ease. Taehyung waves them off happily.
As soon as Namjoon slides open the front door, the two immediately race back through the living room and down the hall to their rooms, cowed by the freezing gust of wind that rushes inside. Hoseok grimaces as he steps out into the frigid early morning breeze and Namjoon mimics the sentiment a second later when he steps out after him.
The blizzard hadn’t been too severe, but it brought more than enough snow to make walking through it a hassle. They don’t even need to use the steps (which lay buried underneath a pile of snow anyway) and just hop off, circling around the house to head north with Namjoon leading the way, having the better nose to sniff out the scent markers they left a week ago.
They travel in relative silence, only pausing in their hike to renew their scent markers. The breeze is wicked, picking up speed the farther from the house they get. Halfway there, Namjoon finally has to motion for a break.
“Thank god,” Hoseok huffs, falling back onto his butt in the snow. He’s red-faced and sweating underneath the hood, even with the freezing temperature, which makes Namjoon feel a little bit better about being so horribly out of breath himself.
“I don’t remember this trail being so difficult before.” Hoseok wonders, taking off his backpack to rifle through it for a flask of water. He takes a large swig before handing it over to Namjoon, who’d been in the process of getting his fingers tangled in the many latches of his backpack. Sparing his fingers the trouble, Namjoon takes it gratefully.
“It sucks,” Namjoon agrees after he’s taken a big swallow. “At least we’ll have new blankets. And new food.”
Hoseok’s mouth twists at the mention of food and before Namjoon has to the chance to figure out why, Hoseok says quietly, “I hope Seokjin likes whatever they send us.”
Namjoon winces, remembering the heart-wrenching sight of Hoseok holding up a limp Seokjin as he threw up all over himself.
“I think he will.” Namjoon assures, because it’s what they both need to hear. “Whatever stomach bug he had, I think it’s gone. For good.”
Hoseok nods, eyes looking back in the direction of the pack house. “I hope so.”
-
When they finally arrive at the drop-off site, there’s already a large van there awaiting them. Two people immediately step out, covered head to toe in scarves and thick, puffy snow jackets.
“Damn this cold!” One of them greets and by the sound of his voice, Namjoon recognizes him as Daehyun. By smell, he notes the other is a member Namjoon hasn’t met yet.
“Daehyun-hyung!” Namjoon shouts, laughing as the human just about barrels into him. He’s a little shorter than Namjoon, but bigger, and he uses the extra strength it gives him to hug around Namjoon’s stomach and lift him a few inches off the ground.
“Namjoon!” The human laughs good-naturedly, putting back on his feet. At his side, Hoseok looks just the slightest bit scandalized, but mostly amused. Namjoon can’t help the grin – Daehyun is a good friend and a human; it’s always easier to initiate affection with them because there isn’t an issue of overstepping boundaries and worrying whether it’ll cause a fight.
“Hello, Daehyun-sshi.” Hoseok nods politely, a little awkward. Daehyun reaches out to pull in him into a hug too, ever the affectionate one. Hoseok looks startled for a second before he’s returning the gesture, beaming happily at being included.
“Daehyun-ah, don’t be rude.” The woman admonishes playfully, coming forward.
“Oh right,” Daehyun grins, motioning to her. “Hoseok, Namjoon – this is Hyunzee. She’ll be taking over your drop-offs during my absence.”
Hyunzee bows her head in greeting. Hoseok and Namjoon reciprocate. She’s a human too, unsurprising considering most office workers are. She is a little older looking than all of them, approaching somewhere around mid-thirties. Experienced then, if she’s in this line of work.
“Wait, absence?” Namjoon inquires.
“I didn’t tell you huh,” Daehyun says sheepishly, “Adoption papers finally went through. Hyunseo and I will be taking some time off to help our little Sanghee acclimate to our home.”
Namjoon and Hoseok give their honest congratulations and Daehyun, bashful with so much attention, waves them off and immediately sets about unloading their supplies: blankets and warmer clothing, food and fresh water to replenish what they’ve used.
“We received Yoongi-sshi’s request for medical supplies, so he’s a first aid kit and a surgical pack, the latter for emergencies.” Hyunzee says, handing the items over. Those go into Hoseok’s backpack, as Namjoon’s is already filled to the brim with everything else they’re carrying back.
“Speaking of,” Hoseok starts, scent a little sour with nervousness. He brings out the two samples of Seokjin’s vomit he’d collected a few days back, “One of our own got pretty sick after ingesting some basic food ingredients. Was vomiting all week.” Hoseok said, staring at the dried substance inside the vial, “We were worried.”
Hyunzee accepts the vials carefully, inspecting the inside with a keen eye. Namjoon watches, swallowing down his nervousness. The vomit has dried against the bottom of the glass, tinted darkly. They’d almost thought it was the sign of internal bleeding with how dark and disgusting it was, before Yoongi ruled the possibility of that out.
“It’s nothing too serious, but if you could give that to my buddy in the labs, it’d be a great help. I’m a bit of a worrywart.” For all that Hoseok’s scent calls out his lie, his expression and voice never waver. Namjoon draws up next to him, inexplicably proud.
“Of course.” Hyunzee accepts and with one last glance at the vials, tucks them into the pocket of her coat.
“Thank you again for coming all the way out here.” Namjoon bows, already itching to head back home—to the pack house, that is. Hoseok mimics the gesture next to him.
Hyunzee and Daehyun laugh and assure them it’s no problem. “It’s part of the job, after all. You guys are out here facing the real challenges.” Daehyun quips.
Before long, Namjoon and Hoseok have said the last of their goodbyes and are hurrying back down the trail, bolstered with a newfound energy. Despite each of them holding boxes of supplies that doesn’t stop them from trying to race back down the hill.
Near the bottom, Namjoon trips and sends his boxes rolling down the rest of the hill.
Hoseok laughs so loud, if they were near any mountains he’d definitely cause avalanches. It’s probably the first genuine laugh of the week and Namjoon joins in, releasing a bark of laughter that’s borderline ugly but happily unrestrained. Their laughter could melt ice.
“You’re so clumsy.” Hoseok admonishes after they find their bearings, but he puts down the supplies he was carrying to help haul Namjoon back up to his feet.
At the end of the hike, the pack house starts comes into view – its nothing but a black smudge in a field of white, but Namjoon swears something in its simplicity moves his heart.
They race the last mile to the front door, giggling like pups. Hoseok wins, unsurprisingly, but he cuffs under Namjoon’s chin affectionately and it feels better than winning some stupid race.
Things are going to get better, Namjoon thinks and, for once, truly believes it.
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