Pressing down on the pregnant woman’s stomach in front of him, Seokjin expertly exerted just enough pressure to shift the baby around inside of her, hoping to get a more comprehensive feel of exactly how the baby was positioned.

“Well,” he said, offering the young mother a reassuring grin, “you should be happy to know that your little boy is exactly where he needs to be this close to your due date.” He pressed once more just to be sure, certainly not wanting to make a mistake, and then finally let off.

She gave a sigh of relief. “Pointed down?”

Seokjin removed his gloves, tossed them in the nearby bin, and told her, “His head is absolutely facing down, feet up, and that’s exactly where we want him. When you come to see me next week to deliver this baby, I expect I’ll go as smooth as can be. I don’t foresee any complications at this point, and I know that makes the both of us very happy.”

Across the small examination room one of Seokjin’s nurses gave an encouraging look and offered, “You couldn’t be in better hands. Doctor Kim has delivered three babies already this year, all of them healthy, and there’s no reason to think your baby will be anything but that either.”

Seokjin had trained towards a career in oncology. He’d expected to be an oncologist and nothing else. But working at the clinic had turned him more into a general practitioner, than anything else, and that meant he was getting plenty of experience handling pregnancies and deliveries.

For the more delicate or complex types of pregnancies, and those with complications, Seokjin had been forced to send a couple of mothers towards better equipped hospitals. But his nurse was right. At his own clinic he’d delivered three babies, all boys so far, and two of them were named after him.

Deliveries, more than anything else, made Seokjin nervous. It never failed. But the honor and the joy of holding a newborn in his arms and then passing it off to its mother, was incomparable.

Seokjin patted her on the arm. “Don’t worry. Spend the next week relaxing, getting that nursery of yours finished, and tell your husband that I checked his blood pressure last week and he needs to stay calm too, it’s too high and I will hound him about it if his numbers don’t come down soon.”

The woman, who was barely into her twenties, blushed and said, “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

She was a homemaker. Seokjin knew that, but she designed and sold handmade jewelry that Seokjin thought was beautiful. Her husband was a delivery driver, often away from home, with a shellfish allergy and blood pressure that reflected both his older age and his diet. This baby was their first and Seokjin was more than happy to see them through the experience. Being in the neighborhood for so long he’d started to become familiar with a lot of the patients who came to the clinic, and he even had his favorites.

“You’ll do just fine,” he assured her, gesturing to her stomach. “And that little guy is lucky to have a mom like you.”

While she redressed herself, Seokjin heard his nurse say, “So we’ve got you down for a delivery date next Wednesday. Doctor Kim will induce you in the morning, likely just before ten, and you’ll have your little guy by nightfall. That is, of course, unless he decides to come a little earlier than his due date.”

“Come see me if you have any questions, concerns, or if your water breaks,” Seokjin interjected. “Come see me for any reason. Being a first-time mom is a stressful thing, and there is no way you can over react or over think something.”

When the nurse escorted her out of the room, Seokjin signed off on his last chart of the day and glanced towards the clock. At nine pm he was officially done with his workday. There were a couple of medical journals he wanted to review, and dinner sounded great, but he didn’t have any more patients to see that night.

At least that was what he thought until Nana slipped her head through the door with a short knock and gave him an apologetic look.

“What?” he asked with a grimace.

“I know,” she eased out, “that you’re supposed to be done now … but …”

“A last-minute walk-in?”

For the most part, word had gotten around that they stopped taking walk-ins around eight. It was the only way they could manage the cutoff at the end of the day and not ruin someone’s night. But a last second walk-in either meant it was someone who hadn’t been the clinic before, or someone who was in desperate need of help.

“What’s the condition?” Seokjin asked, moving to her side.

“Male, twenties, complaining of pain in his abdomen.”

Pain in the abdomen. Seokjin didn’t like the sound of that.

Most people, but nature, disliked going to the doctor. There were various reasons, some of them valid fears, but generally speaking, people avoided the doctor even when they were in pain. Even significant pain.

A man coming in with abdominal pain could be anything from simple flatulence and indigestion, to anything more serious like a hernia, gallstones or an appendicitis.

Nana added, “Jonghyun’s already gone for the night, and Yunho’s still in with his last patient--he might be a while, too. What do you want me to do?”

“Send him in,” Seokjin said without much fuss. Paperwork and medical journals could wait. A man in pain was his priority.

When Nana showed him in Seokjin couldn’t help frowning. His potential patient was wearing an oversized coat despite the August weather, a pair of dark sunglasses even though they were indoors and the sun had already gone down, and a baseball cap pulled low.

He reeked of suspicion, and instantly made Seokjin uneasy.

“Do you want me to stay?” Nana asked, looking apprehensive as well. Typically, the clinic didn’t have the staff for a second nurse or warm body in general to remain in the room during examinations. At least outside of anything that was a delicate nature or unless requested by the patient. “I can stay.”

“You’re off,” Seokjin told her gently. He would not be cowed in his own clinic. “Go head and head out, Nana. Thank you for today.”

Nana gave the shrouded patient a long, deliberate look, then ducked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

“Nana told me you’ve got pain in your abdomen?” Seokjin asked, ducking a little to try and see the man’s face. “I hate to tell you, but you’re going to have to take some of your layers off so I can assess you properly.”

“It’s okay,” the man said finally, pulling off his cap and then sunglasses. “I just need to make sure I wasn’t recognized.”

Seokjin startled. “Namjoon.”

It was an impossible sight, Namjoon himself standing before Seokjin, a small hesitant and sort of awkward smile on his face.

“You remember my name. Awesome.”

Eyebrows pulling together, Seokjin remembered, “Of course I remember you name.” Then he lowered his voice and demanded, “What are you doing here? It’s too dangerous for you to be here.”

The smile on Namjoon’s face widened. “You’re concerned for me.”

Seokjin wanted to smack him. “Of course I’m concerned for you!”

Slowly, indicating he was still hurting from his injury, Namjoon stripped out of his oversized jacket. “I heard this was a clinic that was willing to take anyone off the street, regardless what they could pay, and treat them. I’ve got an old injury I was thinking you could look at.”

Seokjin guided Namjoon to the nearby examination table and chided, “I mean it, it’s too dangerous for you to be here. I know Infinite is having this place watched. There’s no way they aren’t.”

“That’s why I wore a disguise,” Namjoon said happily enough.

As Namjoon fidgeted on the table, Seokjin took a good, long look at the other man.

Previously, when Namjoon had been threatening to bleed out all over his clinic, he’d been disoriented and pale. Seokjin had been able to recognize his attractiveness then, but paid no mind to it. Now was different. Now Namjoon had his color back, was full of life and personality, and was absolutely enigmatic.

And that smile. That smile was a killer. The kind of smile that Namjoon had was the kind that made Seokjin’s knees go weak.

“It’s good to see you up and moving around,” Seokjin offered, if not a little diplomatically. Then he slowly let himself smile and added genuinely, “I was worried about you.” He was more worried than he probably should have been from a strictly doctor/patient standpoint. He didn’t know why, either. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”

Because of who Namjoon was, because of his association with Bangtan, and how Seokjin couldn’t help feeling like he’d dragged Jungkook into a terrible lifestyle, Seokjin should have been predisposed to dislike Namjoon.

But if there was something easy about disliking Jimin, who was rough and crass, then there was something equally easy about liking Namjoon who grinned at him, spoke softly, and put so much of his attention towards Seokjin that he felt special.

“Okay, lift up your shirt.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened. “Already? I think we should go on a date, first.”

Seokjin rolled his own eyes. “I doubt you came all the way down here just to flirt badly with me. You are injured, I should know because I treated you, so please lift your shirt so I can tell exactly how much stress you’ve been putting on the wound by not letting it heal in peace.”

“Am I flirting that badly?” Namjoon asked, but he lifted his shirt over his head anyway.

Seokjin felt his face go warm. It felt terribly unprofessional to accuse Namjoon of flirting with him, especially when he probably wasn’t even doing it in the first place. It appeared to Seokjin that Namjoon had the kind of easy going personality that was excessively charismatic, and maybe easily confused with flirtatious.

Because who in their right mind would want to flirt with Seokjin? Especially since he was at the end of his shift, probably pallid with dark smudges under his eyes, and maybe not even smelling the best he could.

Forcing himself to focus on Namjoon’s injury once more, Seokjin got his first real look at it. He most certainly told himself to focus on the wound and not how Namjoon’s chest was perfectly defined, packed with muscles, tan, and downright gorgeous. With Namjoon’s height and relatively wide shoulders, he was absolutely the pinnacle of masculine beauty that Seokjin preferred.

“I thought you were stupid for leaving the clinic so soon after being shot,” Seokjin told him in a disparaged way.

Namjoon laughed a little. “I was passed out at that point. I didn’t exactly have a choice. But I hear you let me have your bed while I recovered, so thank you.”

The heat flooding onto Seokjin’s face wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“You’ve been physically active,” Seokjin observed, snapping a pair of white gloves on his hands before probing the wound gently. “This would be healing faster if you were taking it easy. In fact, I think it’s a miracle it hasn’t gotten infected at this point. Have you been running around getting into trouble?”

Namjoon offered, “I haven’t been getting into any more gunfights. I’m not doing that again anytime soon.”

Seokjin sighed. “That would be good.” He took the opportunity to clean the wound thoroughly and apply better, more sanitary bandages to the area. Hopefully that would help with Namjoon’s clothing constantly aggravating the skin. “Especially since you have my brother gallivanting around with you.”

Namjoon winced as Seokjin pressed a little too hard on the wound.

“My baby brother.”

“Your eighteen-year-old brother,” Namjoon argued back. “And we both know there’s nothing baby about him.”

“Maybe not to you,” Seokjin said, head cocked. “But he’ll always be my baby brother to me. And I don’t appreciate you dragging him into all kinds of danger.”

Namjoon said, “The others warned me that if I came here, you’d probably lecture me within an inch of my life. So I came prepared.”

“Oh?”

From his coat jacket Namjoon retrieved a small, red wrapper and handed it to Seokjin. “Your brother said this was your favorite.”

Jungkook had been talking to Namjoon about him? How and why?

Namjoon handed him the small object and air caught in Seokjin’s throat.

He barely got out, “You brought me a chocopie?”

Namjoon looked absurdly proud of himself. “Jungkook said that when you two were little, you’d give them to each other on your birthdays. So I know it’s the tradition you have with your brother, but I hope just this once you’ll let me share it with you instead.”

Seokjin looked down at the sweet treat in his hand. It had been ages since he’d had the cookie, but he remembered clearly being younger and sharing them with Jungkook, the two of them buying them for each other.

“Thank you,” Seokjin said, feeling his eyes burn a little. It was ridiculous that a tiny little treat was making him feel so emotional, but there was something about Namjoon caring enough to give it to him, that mattered the most. “I appreciate it.”

“Your brother said you don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he also said you might not be so angry with me if I got that for you. I think I was successful?”

Seokjin pocketed the treat. “Free pass.”

Namjoon nearly preened.

“For now,” Seokjin added, but he was smiling, and when Namjoon grinned back, Seokjin realized how difficult it would be to get and remain mad at someone like Namjoon.

Then, a little more serious, Namjoon reached out to touch Seokjin’s bruised wrist gently. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry that someone thought they could hurt you like this and get away with it … and that it’ll be a while before I can do something about this.”

“I don’t want you to do anything about it,” Seokjin countered immediately. “I don’t want you to start things back up, not when they’re beginning to calm down. This? This is nothing. It’ll fade over time. But I won’t be able to forgive you if you try to retaliate in some way and anything like this happens to my brother.”

Namjoon’s gaze locked on Seokjin’s and he said, “I mean it when I say your brother is eighteen now. He’s not a minor. He’d not a child. I respect that you love him, that you don’t want him hurt, and that you’ll do what it takes to keep him from harm. But he’s a man now. He makes his own choices and lives with the consequences. I would never bring a child into this lifestyle, but again, that’s not what your brother is.”

“And you want me to be okay with that?”

Namjoon lowered his shirt as Seokjin stepped back to take off his gloves, done with the examination.

“No,” Namjoon said, surprising Seokjin. “I doubt you’ll ever be okay with any of this. But I want you to know a few things. They’re important things.”

“Like?”

“Like,” Namjoon said, “Bangtan is family. We watch out for each other, protect each other, and have each other’s backs. We don’t leave anyone behind, we don’t sacrifice anyone, and no matter how long or short a person had been with us, they’re equal if we accept them. Jungkook is accepted, and that means I personally take responsibility for his safety. I won’t put him in harm’s way if I can. I won’t throw him into a proverbial lion’s den. I’ll always act in his best interest, I won’t ask things of him I wouldn’t be willing to do myself, and if he says no, it means no. I won’t take advantage of your brother, Jin. I won’t hurt him.”

“Jin?”

Namjoon looked a little confused. “That’s your name, isn’t it? Would you prefer Doctor Kim?”

“Too formal,” Seokjin protested. He didn’t even like it when his patients called him that. He wanted them to feel comfortable with him like he was a friend. Only other doctors called him something more official. “But my name is Seokjin. Jungkook only calls me Jin because it’s a throwback to when we were children. He shortened my name to make it easier for him, and he’s never let it go.”

“Do you want me to call you Seokjin?” Namjoon asked, head tilting. “Or can I call you Jin, too?”

There was such heavy intimacy in the words he spoke, Seokjin couldn’t even begin to answer.

“Jin,” Namjoon decided for him. “Since all of Bangtan says you refuse to call me anything but Namjoon, I’ll call you Jin.”

“It’s not the same,” Seokjin said a little hoarsely. “But okay.”

Namjoon’s teeth showed as he smiled, and Seokjin probably would have been okay with Namjoon calling him anything at that point.

Slowly, Namjoon slid to his feet. He caught Seokjin’s hand, his fingers curling delicately around the bruises at his wrist, and said in an even tone, “I can’t protect your brother from the world. I can’t predict the future, and I can’t swear to you that nothing will happen to him with us. I can only tell you that he’s doing something with Bangtan that he believes in, and the rest of us will watch out for him.”

Seokjin laughed our dryly, “Oh, he believes in Bangtan. I don’t doubt that. I just don’t think what he believes in is worth the risk to his life.”

“Let me prove it to you.”

Seokjin looked suddenly to Namjoon. “I’m sorry, what?”

Namjoon was still holding his wrist. That was the only thing permeating Seokjin’s mind. He could feel Namjoon’s big, sturdy fingers so delicate and gentle at the thin skin of his wrist, his thumb rubbing over the bruises.

“I want to prove to you that Bangtan is not like Infinite. I want to show you and tell you so that you understand we would never do this, bruise someone innocent, just because we can.”

“Now?” Seokjin asked, wondering if he was properly comprehending the words.

“I think I’m the last person you’re seeing today,” Namjoon pointed out.

“Paperwork,” Seokjin said a bit helplessly.

“That sounds boring,” Namjoon declared. “Let’s go get some food instead. My treat.”

If he’d had even a fraction of his senses, and not been wholly distracted by how Namjoon’s thumb was still at the skin on the inside of his wrist, he probably would have said no. Reason and caution would have won out.

But Namjoon was ridiculously charming and earnest and downright desirable.

And Seokjin liked being the object of his attention. He couldn’t deny that. He liked how Namjoon looked at him, talked to him, and treated him. He liked it maybe too much.

“I am hungry,” he said finally.

“Come with me then,” Namjoon said, only letting go of Seokjin’s arm so he could take off his white doctor’s coat.

“Hopefully not on a motorcycle,” Seokjin said, feeling like a mother. “Those things aren’t safe.”

Namjoon pulled open the door. “I’ve got a car,” he assured. “But you try prying Jimin away from the bike of his and you’re liable to lose fingers. Plus, he says it’s easier to get around on a bike than anything else.”

“Easier to follow me around,” Seokjin corrected.

“I wondered when we were going to talk about that,” Namjoon laughed.

Seokjin loved the sound of it.

With Namjoon dressed back in his disguise, Seokjin slipped out of the clinic, leaving Yunho to lock up, feeling more adventurous than he had in years.

They drove for what seemed like a long time, to the far stretches of Seoul, and deep into Bangtan territory. It only made sense, of course. It wasn’t as if they could stay in or anywhere near the streets Infinite ran.

Instead they ended up in a tiny little noodle house that smelled like heaven to Seokjin’s hungry stomach, and was packed to the brim with a group of elderly ladies playing an undeterminable card game, half a dozen high school students on their phones, and thirty or so more people laugh and talking and seeming as if there wasn’t a single care in the world worth considering.

“Namjoon,” Seokjin said a bit awkwardly as they came through the front door. “There’s no room.”

Once more, with just a tiny bit of hesitancy, Namjoon took Seokjin’s wrist in his own hand, thumb at his pulse point. “Trust me. I know the owner. Oh, and hey, you’ve got to call me Rap Mon here.” He gave Seokjin a look of apology. “It’s to protect me, and the rest of Bangtan, and probably even everyone in here.”

“Rap Mon.” Seokjin tried the name once more. It still sounded ridiculous, but it was a small thing for Namjoon to ask. “Okay.”

A sudden boisterous laugh cut through the air, above all other voices, and without warning they were being attacked.

Well, technically they were being attacked by hugs and kisses, and their aggressor was an elderly lady, short and stout, and with tons of gray hair piled atop her head.

Totally caught off guard, Seokjin wobbled on his feet as he heard Namjoon demand, “Grandma! You have to let go of him. I don’t think he can breathe!”

Finally she pulled back. Her eyes narrowed in a scary way and she demanded, “This is the first boy you bring to meet me and I’m not supposed to be excited? I’m not supposed to be happy? You ask too much of me, child.”

Namjoon pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Can we get a table, please? And sweet-sour noodles?”

Once more Soekjin was ambushed by a hug from Namjoon’s grandmother, and then she was off, flying at near Mach speed, running a bunch of customers off from a nearby table. Seokjin winced when she swatted at some of them. “I feel bad taking their table.”

Namjoon laughed and tugged Seokjin towards the vacated table. “That’s my grandfather, and trust me, he deserves every bit of hell she gives him. And secretly, I think he likes it. It reminds him that she thinks he’s worth the fuss.”

“So,” Seokjin asked once they were seated and had glasses of water in front of them. “Do you want to wait until the food gets here, or cut through the tension in the air and tell me what you need to say right now.”

“Yessh,” Namjoon said, leaning an elbow up on the table with a look of amazement. “Can’t a guy just enjoy the company of another good looking guy, have a little food, and then get to the part that ?” Namjoon held out his free hand, palm up on the table and stretched out towards Seokjin. “Let me enjoy your company for a while? Just in case you hate me afterwards, or something equally as crappy.”

Namjoon’s grandmother was watching from the partially exposed kitchen, and it wasn’t as if Namjoon was asking such an impossible thing.

So, offering a small smile, Seokjin put his hand in Namjoon’s, let their fingers brush coolly, and stated, “I never pictured you with a grandmother.”

Proudly, Namjoon was quick to say, “She raised me. I was six when I became her responsibility, but she never hesitated. Not even for a second. She and my grandfather mean more to me than anything else in this world.”

Taking some initiative, Seokjin let his grip tighten on Namjoon’s hand and he confessed quietly, “I lost my mother and sister at a young age. But I’m glad you had someone so loving and caring to raise you. You’re lucky.”

“But you didn’t,” Namjoon said, certain in his words.

“I had my dad,” Seokjin corrected. “He wasn’t very loving or caring, but he was there, and that’s something. He could have dumped Jungkook and I with relatives overseas, there were some of offered, including our mother’s sister who lived in Canada at the time. But our father kept us by his side, and he raised us … or at least he employed the nannies who raised us until we were old enough to look after ourselves.”

Namjoon told him, “I bet you ended up raising your brother more than any of those nannies or your father.”

“Why do you say that?” Seokjin wondered.

Two steaming, glorious bowls of red noodles were headed their way as Namjoon snuck in, “It’s in the way your brother looks at you, like you’re the best man he’s ever met in his life, and the kind of person he wants to be when he’s older. It’s not simple idol worship. It’s deeply profound respect and love.”

With the noodles came generous serving of beef, and dozens of side dishes. It was lavish in a way, and as Seokjin turned to thank Namjoon’s for the impressive meal, Namjoon was already digging in.

“You should hurry up,” Namjoon’s grandmother said when she put the last plate down on the table, nudging him in a friendly way. “He’ll eat it all while you’re busy thanking me.”

“You pig,” Seokjin said without any bite when he did indeed spy that Namjoon had stolen just over half the beef and piled it high into the small bowl of rice that was next to his noodles.

Namjoon tapped Seokjin’s bowl. “Eat. Grandma makes the best spicy and sour dish in all of Seoul. But you gotta eat it when it’s so hot it burns your tongue.”

Picking up his chopsticks, Seokjin dug in, savoring the smell, then the taste, and finally how comforting the whole experience was.

Namjoon hadn’t been exaggerating about the quality of the spicy-sour noodles. At least as far as Seokjin had experienced. Like Namjoon he devoured the noodles, then the rice and beef, and then all the vegetables.

By the end Seokjin’s stomach hurt a little, but it was a good hurt.

Setting his chopsticks down, Namjoon told him, “My grandmother raised me because my parents took a stand against being extorted.”

Forehead creasing, Seokjin asked, “I’m not sure I follow.”

“They owned a convenience store about four blocks north. At that time, Shinwa owned the area. But things weren’t good. That gang was fracturing, there was a ton of inner fighting, Shinwa’s thugs were getting out of control, and half the time there was only chaos. I can’t remember a time when Shinwa had actual control of the area.”

Quietly, so he was barely heard, Seokjin told him, “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

“I have to,” Namjoon offered. “So you understand, I have to tell you everything.” He cleared his throat and took a long drink of his water. “Anyway, you know personally that it’s standard policy that business owners and anyone running anything pays a protection fee to the gang who runs their streets. My parents did it for a while, a couple of years, but when Shinwa lost control of their thugs, said thugs started trying to get more from my parents and tons of others. My parents said no, eventually, and they got killed for it.”

Seokjin gripped the edge of the table with a white grip. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shinwa didn’t even know about it,” Namjoon continued. “They didn’t order it; those thugs were just doing whatever they wanted by that point. And just after that, Shinwa split. And then there was a power vacuum, which made everything even worse.”

Seokjin had grown up in one of the most affluent areas of Seoul. He’d had nannies and a cleaning service and people who drove him and his father and Jungkook around wherever they needed to be. Seokjin hadn’t even been aware of the gang issue that overrun Seoul’s underbelly until he’d been a teen.

“I grew up here,” Namjoon told him. “I grew up with people getting killed over nothing, being extorted out of every penny they needed, girls getting taken advantage of, kids being forced to do terrible stuff, and even worse than that. So when I was old enough, I decided that enough was enough. Some guys tried to bend my grandmother over for more money than she was making in a month, and that was it. That’s when I formed Bangtan. That’s when I took back the streets.”

Carefully, Seokjin asked, “How long ago?”

“No long,” Namjoon admitted. “Three years ago I recruited Jimin, who wanted something to protect again, and J-Hope came after that. V and Suga just kind of happened, and more and more people wanted to work for us as time passed. They wanted to organize patrols to keep the streets clean, they wanted to start a night watch program to protect the home owners and store owners from anyone who thought they could pull a fast one. And now Bangtan is a gang that’s starting to be recognized for its sincerity and its goals.”

“And,” Seokjin told him skeptically, “you want me to believe that you’ve never had to do anything terrible to get where you are?”

Namjoon grimaced in a sad way. “I’ve done a lot I’m not proud of. I’ve done tons that will haunt me until my dying breath. But I did them all knowing that ends were going to justify the means.”

“More food?” Namjoon’s grandmother demanded, interrupting their conversation. She looked between the two of them, almost as if she was already picturing what she was going to bring them.

“No, granny,” Namjoon stated. “I think we both ate way more than we should have.”

Seokjin nodded and told her honestly, “It was the best food I’ve had since … well, since I can ever remember. It was amazing.”

Namjoon’s grandmother looked over Seokjin’s head to tell Namjoon seriously, “This is the boy. You’ll marry this boy and I won’t hear anything else on the matter.”

Namjoon shook his head, hiding his face between his hands. “I’ll think about it, Granny.”

“Don’t think!” she whacked him over the head with the towel that had been hanging from her apron. “You’re a stupid boy. If you think about it, this one will disappear on you.”

She turned to leave and Namjoon called after her, “I love you too, granny!”

Seokjin laughed openly at them.

“I have a question,” Seokjin said when the woman was out of earshot. “What happened with Infinite? That night you… you were hurt.”

Namjoon hesitated. “I would prefer not to tell you, if you don’t mind.”

“Gang members only business?” Seokjin required.

“Jungkook doesn’t even know,” Namjoon replied. “And Suga only knows the barest minimum. I’ll have to tell them more any day now, because negotiations with Infinite fell through. But suffice to say, I didn’t go that meeting with Infinite’s Sunggyu’s expecting it to end in a firefight.”

Curiously, Seokjin asked him, “What exactly did you say or do to piss Infinite off that much? Did you just fail to meet whatever terms were proposed?”

“Initially,” Namjoon said, almost ashamed. “Then there was some name calling.”

“Some name calling?”

Namjoon chuckled. “Sunggyu called me a spineless coward not worth his time or consideration. In return, I might have insinuated that he was too busy getting on his knees for Nam Woohyun, to think clearly about my offered proposition. The guns came out short after that.”

“Well,” Seokjin said, trying not to think about how easily Namjoon could have been hurt. He could have died. “Could you possibly refrain from insulting the love life of dangerous criminals? I would prefer you whole and healthy, and not bleeding in my clinic.”

“Careful,” Namjoon warned, drinking the last of his water. “You keep saying these things that lead me to think that you really care about me. I’ll get the wrong idea if you don’t stop.”

“I’m kind of invested in you,” Seokjin said, his heart starting to thunder, though it felt natural and normal for once.

Namjoon tried, “Because medical supplies are expensive?”

“No,” Seokjin said with a grin. “Obviously because my time is precious.”

Namjoon blinked a bit blankly for a second before stating, “I like you too, Seokjin.”

Seokjin’s grin grew. “No taking back it back if you say it and mean it.”

Namjoon crossed his arms and demanded, “Did some say that to you and not mean it?”

“I’m just covering my bases.”

Namjoon stood and offered his customary hand to Seokjin. “I mean it.”

Taking Namjoon’s hand felt like accepting something even more. And he supposed he wasn’t that far off from the truth.

They got ice cream afterwards. But because they were so stuff from a late dinner, they ended up sharing a single sundae. Namjoon made silly faces at Seokjin, determined to keep him smiling, and Seokjin didn’t let go of Namjoon’s hand.

By the time Namjoon drove Seokjin home they were into the AM hours, Seokjin was drunk with happiness and food, and Namjoon was already telling him about the places he wanted to show him in Bangtan’s territory.

“We have to be careful,” Seokjin said quietly when the car came to a stop a block or so away from the clinic. The windows were tinted and they looked like any other car on the street, but already Seokjin was anxious. “About us. About you being here.”

Namjoon frowned. “You don’t want me to come around? Or you don’t want us to tell people we’re dating?”

Seokjin arched an eyebrow. “When did I say I agreed to date you?”

“I only buy ice cream for boys I’m planning on dating,” Namjoon said obstinately.

“The pressure,” Seokjin said in response, “from Infinite is starting to come off the clinic. I didn’t even spot one of their flunkies today. I like you, Namjoon. But I don’t want either of us to be exposed to unnecessary danger, and Infinite has a million eyes and ears here. We’re playing with fire if we do this.”

Namjoon gave him an odd look, then asked, “Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you? Really saw you?”

Seokjin shook his head.

“I thought you were an angel,” Namjoon admitted. “I was laying on that table, the light was on behind your head, and I was delirious with pain. But I saw you, I saw your beautiful face and I heard you swear to me that was going to be okay. You said you’d take care of me, and I could tell you meant it. I thought it was dead and one of god’s angels was welcoming me to the afterlife.”

“That is so greasy,” Seokjin said.

“But it’s the truth. And after Bangtan told me what you did for us, and how you got hurt for us, I couldn’t think about anything but you. I’m maybe a little infatuated. But I’m more certain than ever. I’m willing to fight to have someone like you. I will keep you safe.”

Seokjin huffed a little. “By having Jimin follow me around with his obnoxious motorcycle?”

Namjoon stated, “That was for your protection.”

“And that’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Seokjin argued back. “I’m a fully-grown man. Like my brother, I make my own choices ad I stand by them. I like you, Namjoon. Against all odds, I really like you, and I want to continue to see you. It won’t be easy, and it will be dangerous, but I’m willing to try if you are. But you can’t treat me like I’m helpless. I’m not fragile or breakable, and I don’t need to be protected. You treat your Bangtan boys like they’re your equals, and I need you to do that same to me.”

Namjoon shot back, “They can hold their own in a fight. I rarely have to worry about them if they get cornered by a couple of guys.”

Without warning, and before he lost any courage, Seokjin leaned over and pressed a soft but determined kiss to Namjoon’s lips.

Namjoon’s lips were rough, and his stubble scratched along Seokjin’s much more smooth jaw. But it was sweet, it was nice, and it was Seokjin’s best bargaining chip. He wanted to give Namjoon more--a lot more--but he needed absolute clarity between them.

“I want this,” Seokjin told him, reaching for the door handle as he pulled away. “But I need you to think about what I’ve said to you. I was a survivor before I met you, and no matter what happens between us, I’ll be a survivor afterwards. I’m not looking for a protector, I don’t want anything close to that, and I won’t let someone put themselves in danger because you’re dead set on them treating me like I’m helpless.”

Then he was out of the car and standing on the sidewalk. He didn’t give Namjoon, or his tinted windows a second glance. Instead he put his hands in his pockets and headed off towards the clinic.

He wasn’t sure when Namjoon left--if he left.

Because looking back seemed like giving an inch. And on this, Seokjin couldn’t afford to.