It had started as a treatment for AIDS. A cure, in fact. The symbiotic microorganisms not only increased immunoresponse, they actually triggered cell repair throughout the body. Terminal cancer? Not a problem! Congestive heart disease? Yup, works on that too! Getting sideswiped by some in an orange Range Rover? As long as the body's fresh enough, haul 'em in! It was everything but the fountain of youth, though some extreme proponents believed the microbes could be genetically modified to stop the natural aging process too.  

There were side effects, of course. It had been legal in California since last year, but celebrities and trophy wives weren’t exactly flocking to undergo the procedure for cosmetic reasons quite yet. The paler skin and white hair were a dead giveaway, of being... undead. Differently alive. A mothering zombie.

It was almost a joke. Namjoon didn't feel like a zombie. He was still him, still felt like the same person he was a month ago. He wasn’t prone to mindlessly shambling with his arms out. If anything, his brain was a little bit quicker than it used to be, if slightly more prone to distraction. He didn’t remember the crash though. He’d just woken up feeling a little hungry, and was surprised to see the anxious, tight expression on Yoongi’s face. He had only just realized he wasn’t in his own bed when Seokjin had come in to give him the medical rundown.

“…Namjoon,” Seokjin’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Nam! Joon! Kim!”

With a start, he realized he had a mouthful of cotton shirt, and was teething on the shoulder beneath. "Ah! Sorry, Seokjin. Again," Namjoon said. “I was zoning out…” He gave his next-door neighbor a sheepish grin.

That was one of the other side effects: he did tend to gnaw on people when he wasn’t paying attention. Most of the time it wasn’t a big deal. His friends had made an effort to not let it be weird since his resurrection, and just pushed him off like a disobedient puppy. It did, however, make social events into potential minefields. He had been nervous to go back work last week, wishing Yoongi was there to make sure he didn’t accidentally bite the provost or something. It’s not that it really affected his job—he was pretty sure both teaching and research would keep him completely engaged and non-bitey—but he wanted to be extra careful, at least until people got used to him. Maybe he could relax when he got tenure.

Seokjin ruffled Namjoon’s hair affectionately. “Don’t worry about it, you know it doesn’t bother me. I just need that arm to flip the burgers. Do me a favor, though?” Namjoon nodded, feeling guilty since he ended up chewing on Seokjin a disproportionate amount. It wasn’t a conscious thing, but they hung out a lot and Seokjin’s shoulders were usually just right there by his mouth. “Go stand by Taehyun. They were giving me all morning just because I happened to mention wanting to redo the kitchen. So if you happen to bite them…,” said Seokjin, throwing a smirk in his partner’s direction.

“Yeah… nope, I’ll let you take care of any biting in Tae’s direction,” said Namjoon with a broad smile. “I’m going to go see if Yoongi’s managed to find whatever top-shelf booze you tried to hide this time.”

—

Yoongi finished cutting lime wedges and squeezed one into his gin and tonic. Seokjin usually kept some decent gin around for Yoongi, even if he pretended not to. It was his go-to drink, especially in the summer. Today Yoongi had been pleased to find not only his usual Hendrick’s, but a bottle of small-batch-locally-sourced-artisanally-crafted gin. A little spicy, a little less herbal, perfect with burgers and sunshine. He made a point of scoffing at all that pretentious- , except if someone else was paying. Seokjin probably knew that too, after all, neither he nor Taehyun really liked gin and their roommate Jeongguk was barely old enough to drink.

Taking a sip, Yoongi scanned the backyard. Seokjin and Namjoon were chatting by the grill. Taehyun and Momo seemed to doing something ridiculously acrobatic with the rest of the college kids cheering them on. Under the grape arbor, Amber was sitting with Nancy, who also taught at UCSB with Namjoon, and her husband Bryan. Yoongi was glad Namjoon had some solid friends at the university. This week, Namjoon’s first back to work since the accident, had been tough for both of them. Namjoon said everyone had been friendly, or at least polite, and he was glad to get back to teaching.

But for Yoongi it was different. Namjoon hadn’t gotten that call from the hospital. Namjoon didn’t have to make a life-or-death decision in a matter of minutes. Yoongi couldn’t help but worry each time Namjoon left for work, remembering the day of the accident. He even asked Namjoon to take their car to work instead of his bike, just for a while, forgetting Namjoon’s bike was crushed by the Range Rover too.

Before, they hadn’t talked about what they wanted in the event of death. Why would they? They’d only just moved in together. Yoongi was sure the topic would have come up down the road, but no one talks about end-of-life decisions when you’re young.

In the moments after Namjoon was pronounced dead, Yoongi made the decision for him. He called Seokjin at work, glad to actually know someone who worked at one of those clinics, and managed to convey the essentials: Namjoon’s body needed to be picked up immediately for infusion. When Seokjin asked about a living will or directive, Yoongi stopped trying to keep it professional, “If Namjoon wakes up and decided he would rather not have been turned into a zombie, he can always go get himself hit by another car, goddammit.”

Rationally, he knew Namjoon was actually safer now. He would probably never get a cold again, and bruises would fade in hours. Namjoon had to get fresh infusions of the microorganisms every few years for maintenance, and would need the same if he ever had major trauma again, but otherwise Namjoon would probably live to a hundred or more. But fear isn’t rational. He had spent the last month able to touch Namjoon almost any time, day or night, able to reassure himself nothing was wrong, and now he couldn’t.

Still, they were doing OK. Namjoon offered to text him after every class, even though that’s not the kind of couple they were, not who they were before, Yoongi accepts.

—

Namjoon found Yoongi in the kitchen, sipping his drink, the ice almost completely melted. He paused just inside the open doorway and just looked at Yoongi. His boyfriend still looked almost the same as the first time they met, thrown together at one of Hoseok’s dorm parties, but Namjoon knew where to spot the differences. He liked seeing the passage of time in Yoongi’s slimmer face, in the fine lines just starting to appear at the corners of his eyes, especially now as he stood looking out the window.

They hadn’t been together back then. Not really friends either, just acquaintances that got sometimes pulled together by the eccentric orbits of various friend groups. Namjoon flirted. Yoongi flirted. But it never happened when the magical confluence of events that would line up a time when they were both single, looking for something, and not buried in work. It had almost happened after finals Yoongi’s senior year, but… nothing. Yoongi graduated, moved down to LA with Hoseok, and tried to make it in the indie music scene.  

“Hey,” Namjoon said softly.

“Hey.”

Namjoon crossed over to Yoongi and slid his arm around his waist, pulling him in tight for a second. Namjoon took a small step back and stood just next to Yoongi, looking out the window still.

They’d both ended up back here, Namjoon after grad school in Washington, and Yoongi after realizing he worked a lot better from his home studio, out of LA traffic and bull, and ran into each other soon after. Namjoon hadn’t waited this time. He’d asked Yoongi out, set up a date for that Friday. Dinner on the pier, a walk along the shore looking out at the pretty twinkling lights of the offshore oil rigs everyone hated, a heated kiss on Yoongi’s doorstep. It was so easy to fall in love.

They compared themselves happily to acquaintances’ difficult love lives. Nichole broke up with Steve and immediately moved in with that guy from work, and they told each other, “Aren’t we so glad not to have that kind of drama?” Namjoon offered Yoongi his pick of rooms to make a new home studio in Namjoon’s house, as long as they sound proofed it so they wouldn’t disturb the neighbors, and Yoongi moved in. Yoongi even found he liked some of the neighbors and somehow Taehyun ended up hanging out with him afternoons when they weren’t working on their Ph.D.

And then Namjoon had been biking to work on a lovely day in June and some in an SUV hadn’t seen him. He didn’t feel like a zombie. He didn’t really even feel different, but everything had changed while he’d been dead. Yoongi had to make a decision that he should never have had to make, and now they weren’t the couple who had everything always go their way anymore.

After a minute, Yoongi nodded at the empty glasses set out on the counter and said, “You want a hef? There’s a fresh lemon around here somewhere. There’s also some kolsch that Amber brought.”

“I think I’m better off with the kolsch; it’s harder to spill out of a bottle and I would like to go a while before apologizing to Seokjin again,” said Namjoon with a little sigh.

“Got bitey?” Yoongi’s tone was light, but there was a surprising gleam in his eye.

“Yep.” Namjoon faked a big grin, showing all his teeth. Yoongi gave him a long look, before finally saying, “My, what large teeth you have.”

“Really?” Namjoon cocked his head and said perfunctorily, “The better to bite you with.” Changing his tone to a challenge, he continued, “But I’m not a wolf in a fairytale. I’m a zombie, and it wouldn’t take much for little red riding hood to out run me.”  

Yoongi glanced down at his mouth again. Looked away, looked back. He said quietly, “I think I need you to bite me.”

—

They don’t quite run next door, but their departure from the barbecue without even eating was noticed. They left barely-touched drinks on Seokjin’s counter top. Namjoon tried to kick their door shut behind them and it stayed open a crack. It didn’t matter. They had nice neighbors—probably no one will break in and steal the TV.

Namjoon had Yoongi pressed against the wall. “Are you sure? I don’t remember you being really into biting before.”

Yoongi lets out a huff, “Yes, I really want you to bite me.”

But Namjoon persisted, “I don’t want you to just be doing this because I’m… because this is something I do.”

“Namjoon. I’ve had to watch you teething on practically everyone we know. I’m not still with you in spite of you being a zombie. I want you, exactly as you are. Mouth, neck, now.”

—

Later, much later, Namjoon was glad the bathroom has frosted glass in the windows. He could see Yoongi’s reflection in mirror through the open door. Much as he liked his neighbors, this sight is one he wanted to keep to himself. Yoongi’s smooth fair skin glowed in the light, setting off his dark hair, and uncaring. Yoongi’s nose was scrunched up, eyes just narrow slits and he’s brushing like he resented this task, just like always. Namjoon was permitted to see this little battle of wills everyday, and loved it.