Contrary to popular belief in his apparent peace loving nature (or, at least, the one everyone chooses to see him with), Jinyoung isn't entirely opposed to the sensation of being in battle.

He hates most of it, sure, hates the risk and the fear, both of losing himself and the others, but there's a solace he finds in the eye of the storm, a home he makes for himself in the chaos that puts him head and shoulders above everyone else in battle (figuratively, of course.)

He revels in being the only one in the mess of bodies and gunpowder and flying fists with any sense at all, the only one in control, the one completely and utterly in power at the moment.

So predictably, it's times he loses this control that he hates the most.

They're staving off the final wave on the way to the dropship near the top of the mountain hiding the base they'd infiltrated, courtesy of an accidental mini avalanche Jackson had set off in the midst of abseiling down to help Youngjae. While more than half of them are safe, Mark already pulling Bambam into the ship while Jackson and Youngjae had gotten in seconds before, Jinyoung's furthest from the ship, a few feet away from Yugyeom on the rock wall, harness chafing into his thighs.

"Up, up, both of you," Jaebum's urging, as Jinyoung picks a sniper camouflaged in the rock face off with a clean shot- the last one, hopefully. They're almost at the top where the dropship is, and Jaebum pulls himself lithely over the uneven edge of the cliff, before reaching down to help them.

It's then Jinyoung catches the one black dot mingling amongst the others on the enemy heli platform hewn into the rocks below, aiming a gun with a scope, red laser flashing out across the rock wall. Jinyoung feels a jolt of panic- he hadn't seen him before, too focused on getting rid of the snipers to notice, and he reloads, fumbling a little from the nerves, fingers quick with the ammunition but not quick enough, because-...

A crack echoes through the gorge- there's a jingle and creak of the harness, and Jaebum shouts out in panic. Jinyoung flinches, expecting the sharp pain in his lower body, but it's replaced by a jostle of warm flesh and fabric, and he recoils in shock at the sharp inhale of breath near his ear.

"Yugyeom!" Jaebum's pulling on both their harnesses. "Jinyoung, help me!"

Jinyoung's breath catches in his chest at the pained exhale he hears, the strain of the limbs against his. He stumbles to the top, hands scrabbling at the rough rock surface, muscles burning as he hoists himself up quick and rolls over, and both of them pull on last rope, effectively pulling Yugyeom up with them.

"Get to the ship. Now. They're probably sending their own copters after us," Jaebum's voice is terse, roughly tugging Yugyeom's arm over his shoulder, steadying the stumbling boy. "Gyeom, move, come on, we need to move."

Yugyeom gasps out as they take their first step, hand gripping his side so hard his knuckles are white- his face is pale, perspiration trickling down in rivulets, and Jinyoung's biting the inside of his mouth so hard it might bleed, his only thought to get them on the ship as soon as possible and out of this place.

Jaebum's pulling hard enough to take them both, though- and Jinyoung regains the sense to help from Yugyeom's other side, careful not to touch him, breath quivering in his lungs.

Mark and Jackson are already there, leaning over, each grabbing either side of Yugyeom to hoist him up, and once Jaebum's sure Jinyoung's on as well he rolls the door shut with a slam, and the ship lifts to leave.

It's protocol- they're all strapping in to stay safe in case of choppy pursuit, and Jinyoung leans over from his seat to help Yugyeom with the buckles, before steadying him with a hand.

"Hold on, just a few minutes," Jinyoung's repeating again and again over the roar of the engine and the wind, and Yugyeom nods tightly once- or that could just be the ship jostling all of them, including him.

"What happened?" Bambam shouts across the narrow space, voice almost drowned by the engine, leaning forward so far the safety straps are cutting into his narrow shoulders. There's sweat and grime on his face, further distorting his features under the dim emergency lights, and for some reason that makes the wide-eyed look in his eyes more pronounced.

"He took a direct shot climbing up," Jinyoung can see Jaebum say to Bambam from beside him, and there's a rush of guilt and relief at once that their leader didn't elaborate.

"The vest should've taken the blow right?" Youngjae says at once, still staring at Yugyeom. "He should be okay, right?"

"We don't know, it looked like some sort of modified sniper," Jinyoung's more focused on the laboured breaths he can see Yugyeom taking, the pain evident in his eyes. "It might have been able to puncture the vest."

"It's fine," Yugyeom says, then, gripping the straps tightly- he's leaning forward, Jinyoung notes, so the bullet must've hit his back. "It's fine, it didn’t go too deep," the plane jerks, and he hisses for a split second, face contorted from the pain. "There won't be any blood samples for them to find," he finally grits out.

"You just got shot kid, you're worrying about blood samples?" Jackson scoffs, but it's a legitimate concern- the Academy's trained them all well, too well, in Jinyoung's opinion.

It takes fifteen minutes for the all clear to flash over their area, and Jinyoung unbuckles rapidly, pulling the straps off, nodding towards the med bay as Mark helps with Yugyeom's straps.

Jinyoung’s heart clenches tightly at the dark splash of blood staining the straps and the back of the seat- the short gasp that Yugyeom lets out when he stands with Mark and Jackson’s help. He and Jaebum have been trained to withstand much worse, sure, but a sniper bullet in the back is enough to more than tickle anyone with a working nervous system.

Bambam pulls open the curtains leading to the sparse cubicle that makes up their dropship med bay, and Mark helps Yugyeom in and onto the inspection table, easing the equipment belt off him.

"Everyone out," Jinyoung snaps, feeling slightly better now that he's regained some control over the situation.

"But-.." Youngjae protests.

"Out," Jaebum orders, tone firm, pushing the two reluctant younger ones from the med bay, as Jackson hovers by the doorway, tiptoeing to see over Mark. "Anything you need, just call us," he turns back to say to Jinyoung, who gives a single tense nod. Then Jaebum closes the curtain, leaving them in a muffled silence.

Yugyeom’s watching Jinyoung out of the corner of his eye, one arm braced against the table to prevent the pressure against his wounded side, even in his injured state. He sounds slightly nervous as he says, "You sound mad."

"Of course I'm mad," Jinyoung snaps, gesturing irritably for Yugyeom to lift his arms. With a gentleness that contrasts sharply with his tone of voice, he coaxes the vest off Yugyeom’s back, lips pressed together at the hiss of pain from Yugyeom as the vest comes off. His eyes narrow at the bullet that’s pulled out with it, having punctured the vest halfway and gotten stuck in the material, and it hits the table with a dull thunk, staining the surface with blood.

"What was that back there?" Jinyoung says darkly, unwilling to look at the bullet as he drops both it and the vest on the counter. "You know you're not supposed to do that.”

It takes him less than a minute to examine the wound after that- the entry point is thankfully manageably small, but still choking blood, staining Yugyeom’s shirt- doesn’t look like any major arteries or organs were ruptured, though, thankfully. He gently peels the red soaked shirt off the younger boy’s skin, pulling it over his head, before easing him down on his stomach, helping his legs to swing onto the medical table.

Yugyeom's surprisingly quiet as Jinyoung snaps on a pair of gloves after rinsing his hands clean of blood- the medic’s half expecting some of the younger boy's usual witty snark, or a scoffing declaration into the table of never saving your again, but he lays on the bench quietly instead, averting Jinyoung's eyes.

It’s a sobering sight.

The medic’s guilt eventually gets the better of him as he starts to clean the wound, and he sighs.

"Are you okay?" Jinyoung asks lamely, an absolutely unprofessional question for someone with any semblance of medical expertise. He rephrases: "How much does it hurt? Scale of one to ten."

"It hurts a little," Yugyeom mumbles. It's different, treating one of the younger kids compared to treating the older ones. Jackson or Jaebum would fight, insisting they were fine and then passing out on their way to the door or in some forsaken place that Jinyoung would have to drag them back from. Mark usually either doesn't get hurt at all or gets hurt so badly Jinyoung has to force himself not to go into a state of panic at how bad the damage is, so tending to the eldest has never had its fond memories either.

Tending to Bambam is like tending to a mini Jackson, except Bambam will shut up and listen obediently after Jinyoung threatens him the fifth or sixth time- after which things are usually pretty smooth sailing, and Jinyoung even gets some of Bambam's disgusting (but still endearing) aegyo, sometimes. Youngjae's the only one who'll come to him first, usually because he has a knack for avoiding conflict on their assignments, but there'll be the occasional gash, a sizable bruise, and of course, his constant sheepish wandering into the med bay to check out meds to help him stay awake for long assignments, and then sleeping pills when those have proved too effective.

Yugyeom's sort of a mix of all of them- he comes when called, doesn't when he isn't, protests a little but never enough to drive Jinyoung up the wall, and sometimes Jinyoung wonders if he and Bambam enjoy this fussing, enjoy being taken care of like this.

"This is what happens when you take a bullet that wasn't meant for you," Jinyoung lectures, but any edge to his voice is flattened by guilt. He hates this feeling of owing someone, even if that someone is one of the closest friends and teammates he's had in his life so far.

"You've stuck your neck out for us loads of times, anyway," Yugyeom says, words muffled, like he knows, which he probably does, knowing Yugyeom.

"That's not the point!" Jinyoung's voice tremors slightly as he tears open the wrapper of a thick gauze, before gently pressing it down onto the clean wound to stop the bleeding, increasing the pressure at a glacial pace, and Yugyeom barely flinches. "The point is that you could've died!"

"They were going to shoot you," Yugyeom mumbles, half into the table, and Jinyoung scoffs as he checks the bones around Yugyeom’s back- the younger boy inhales sharply as Jinyoung presses on his hip, and the medic stiffens. Best case scenario, it was just a hairline fracture, worst case scenario, the bone was shattered and every nearby organ was at risk.

"Then I could've just taken it," he scowls, antsy from the thought of Yugyeom being incapacitated, even for just a month, because of this. It’s all my fault, if I had just seen that guy earlier, taken him down, none of this would’ve happened. "What if it'd ruptured your intestines, or fractured your spine, and if it'd ripped your harness-..."

"You gave up your bulletproof vest, remember?"

Jinyoung hesitates.

"After Mark-hyung finished with the stealth part of the mission and you and Jaebum hyung happened to pass him during the rerouting- you gave him your vest because he didn't have one."

"It might not even have hit me," Jinyoung says, still smarting slightly as he pulls down the waistband of Yugyeom's pants slightly, grimacing at the extent of the injury- the skin around the open wound’s going to bruise tremendously later, thanks to the spread pressure from the vest when the bullet impacted it, but Jinyoung would have this over no vest any day. If the gun had been a proper sniper, if their normal Kevlar vests hadn’t been enhanced like this one- Jinyoung shudders at the thought of what might’ve happened.

"It would've," Yugyeom's the one sounding dismissive now. "Where it hit- it was on a direct path to your lung. You wouldn't have made it to the dropship."

This is something Jinyoung knows- he should know, for crying out loud. He's a marksman by nature, and he'd calibrated the route and effects of the bullet the moment he saw the way it'd embedded itself in Yugyeom's vest. He wouldn't have stood a chance if that bullet had gotten to him. 

Jinyoung's hands are shaking as he nudges Yugyeom to turn a little on his good side, inspecting the skin for any sign of internal bleeding- they seem to be out of the woods on that, at least, and he lets out a little breath of relief.

"Your hip could’ve suffered a hairline fracture," he says flatly, as some form of recompense. "There’s still the possibility that you might have ruptured something, we'll have to get back to base and get the medics to check. In the meantime we’ll have to stop the bleeding, and I’ll make a poultice to reduce the swelling."

Silence follows as Jinyoung presses a gauze over the wound, broken only by the sound of engine humming through the interior of the ship, and Yugyeom doesn’t look at Jinyoung anymore. 

At times like these, when Jinyoung feels like a great big pile of dirt because of something the maknaes have said or done, he usually just has to conjure that familiar image of Yugyeom and Bambam defacing Taecyeon's favourite boxing gloves with graffiti and successfully blaming it on Jaehyung, or when the maknae had cornered him, Jinyoung, into a trap in the sparring room, literally dangling him from the ceiling and refusing to let him down until he performed the Spiderman kiss with him for a dare, to magically quell all guilt. Now, though, even the thought of Yugyeom deliberately shifting all of Jackson's usual practice weapons to the top shelf, so the older boy would have to be reduced to finding a chair to stand on to get them or asking him for help, can't reduce the burden weighing heavy in his chest.

“Hold this here, keep the pressure on,” Jinyoung mumbles, taking Yugyeom’s hand, cold and heavy in his, to lay it over the gauze. “I’m going to prepare the poultice.”

Jinyoung can feel the burn of Yugyeom’s gaze on his back as he walks over to the counter, sliding open doors to grab some of the oils and herbs he'd personally approved of to be stocked in every dropship. His hands are shaking so badly that when he starts preparing the poultice he almost spills one of the liquids.

It’s not anyone’s fault. It could’ve happened to anyone.

Except it was his fault, his fault for being sloppy while reloading, for not seeing that guy earlier, for not scaling the wall faster. It’s all Jinyoung’s fault.

His lips thin as he dips the natural remedy, wrapped up in a cloth, into a basin of crushed ice and water, before bringing it over to Yugyeom. He takes over holding the gauze in place, making sure just enough pressure’s being placed on it, setting the basin down to start applying the cream.

"Don't move," he mumbles, dipping a spatula into the pot of herbal medicine, applying it to the bruise surrounding the open wound, using his fingers to spread it out in slow, circular movements. "This will help with the patching of broken blood vessels, but the fracture treatment will have to wait till we're back at base."

Yugyeom inhales and exhales slowly, expression peaceful despite the pressure- Jinyoung knows for a fact that his pain tolerance had been raised to excruciating levels long ago, but this just makes Jinyoung treat the wound all the more carefully. He watches, for a moment, the harsh lines of Yugyeom's back, rising and falling with every breath, against the cold table, before grabbing the clothed poultice from the basin, then, eyes set on the wound.

"And thanks," he says quietly, before gently applying the poultice, making sure he isn't pressing too hard. "You're right. The bullet would've killed me."

Yugyeom stills against the table, and Jinyoung doesn't have to look to know that he's looking back, watching Jinyoung's expression. The silence drags on, but neither of them move- Jinyoung shifts the poultice periodically, making sure to cover as much ground as possible, clinical movements disguising how shaken he’s feeling right now.

“You shouldn’t do that.”

Jinyoung fumbles with the poultice, almost dropping it into the basin. “What?”

“You shouldn’t have given your vest up to Mark,” Yugyeom’s not looking at him, but every muscle in his back is still taut, like he’s bracing for something. “He can take care of himself.”

“You’re saying I can’t?” Jinyoung says, half from indignity, half from confusion. Yugyeom glances back at him, then, eyes lidded, watching him with a cautious sort of look.

“You could’ve taken mine,” he says, pointedly not answering Jinyoung’s question. “I would’ve given it to you.”

“No, because I wouldn’t have asked,” Jinyoung huffs. “We’re not talking about this anymore.”

Yugyeom doesn’t argue- which comes as a rather unpleasant surprise, because Jinyoung’s so used to the maknae sniping back at everyone with every given opportunity, even if he knows it’ll mean Jaebum will chase him up and down the training room to make him take it back.

Jinyoung squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, lips thinning, before his shoulders slump, and he places the poultice in the basin. He bends over a little, reaching into the compact linen closet under the medical bench to pull out a clean towel, before draping it over Yugyeom’s back, fingers gentle as he tugs the edge over the black ink numbers carved into the boy’s skin, a twin to the ones he’s seen so many times on Jaebum, and it hurts, almost, seeing Yugyeom relax a little more after that.

“Sorry, I’m just-…angry. With myself,” he mumbles, half to himself, barely audible over the whir of machinery in the plane. “I should’ve seen that guy and taken him down before he could shoot. It was my responsibility, I had the vision, the ammunition- I just didn’t notice him early enough.”

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” Yugyeom says, the words sounding a little prickly and forced, like he thinks saying them as fast as possible will make the prospect of it better. The youngest looks back partially, gaze flicking back and forth in embarrassment. “It’s-…there’s no way you could’ve known. It happens to everyone.”

Jinyoung gives a wry smile. “The reason why we’re all still alive is because stuff that happens to everyone hasn’t happened to us. And it’s my job to keep it that way.”

“Stop doing that,” Yugyeom replies instantly, an edge cutting its way into his voice, which gives Jinyoung some pause. “Stop acting like it’s your fault if things go wrong. It doesn’t help and it’s not true. We’re all responsible for each other, including Jaebum-hyung,” his voice dims to a mumble, then, as though slightly ashamed. “Yeah, Mark-hyung can take care of himself better than you can, because you never think about yourself. And you should.”

The silence stretches on, after that, and when Jinyoung speaks, it’s as if he’s just remembered how to.

“Thank you.”

Yugyeom looks up quickly, exhausted and vulnerable and hopeful, and Jinyoung slowly settles on the stool beside him again.

“For saying that. Thank you,” Jinyoung carries on in barely a mumble. “I’m not-…I’m not saying I’ll never give up my vest again, but- you’re right, it’s not a medic’s place to put themselves in unnecessary danger.”

The youngest member seems to relax a little at that, then, like a pained breath leaving his lungs to make space for fresh air. Jinyoung knows he avoids affection like the plague, does roundabouts around compliments, turning them into what would look like merely snarky barbs to the untrained eye, and it’s the reason why he doesn’t expect anything in return from that.

It’s also the reason why he’s surprised when he does.

“You should let us take care of you too, hyung,” Yugyeom murmurs quietly, determinedly not meeting his eyes.

Jinyoung’s not quite sure what to say to that, so he doesn’t, remains comfortably in his little circle of silence, and it remains that way for one moment, two, then-…

“Is he alive?” someone calls from outside (Jackson, by the sound of it), and the quiet vaporises instantly. “Because he still owes me like five dollars twenty cents from that time at the convenience shop in Macau when he-…”

“No, hyung, I’m not alive, you’re never going to get your money back,” Yugyeom grumbles, and there’s a grieved, exaggerated gasp from outside, followed by Bambam popping his head in through the curtains.

“Damn, he looks like ,” he comments to Jinyoung.

“You know I can hear you, right,” Yugyeom snipes. “I’m right here.”

“Sometimes I still hear his voice,” Jackson wails from outside, pretending to blow his nose, and Yugyeom starts to laugh, stopping immediately because of the pain.

“You all can come in one by one to pay your respects,” Jinyoung calls out, and Yugyeom looks at him, betrayed, as the medic balances the poultice on top of the gauze and refreshes the ice, snickering.

Predictably, they don’t come in one by one, instead flooding into the tiny cabin. Jackson immediately knocks over about three things at once, and doesn’t seem to notice.

Jaebum walks over to Jinyoung, though, as the rest crowd around Yugyeom and start poking him experimentally, as per tradition.

“How is he?” he mutters, as Jinyoung gets more ice.

“He’ll be okay. Nothing permanent,” the medic sighs, pouring some water in. Behind them, Yugyeom snaps (literally tries to bite) at Youngjae’s finger. “He’ll be back in training within two weeks, three, tops.”

“Okay,” Jaebum says, sounding relieved. He waits for a moment, before adding casually: “What about you?”

Jinyoung pretends not to have understood. “What about me?”

Jaebum waits, watching him knowingly, and Jinyoung frowns, holding the fort for a good ten seconds, before sighing. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?” the leader doesn’t sound like he quite believes him.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung smiles, a little, before turning back instinctively to glare at Jackson when he tries to mess with Yugyeom’s dressing, making the other man cower slightly.

“Besides,” Jinyoung shrugs as he continues, picking the ice bowl up, “even if I’m not,” he grins at the expression of muted, albeit pleasant, surprise on Jaebum’s face. “At least I’ll have you guys here to cover me.”

a/n: ayyyyyy guess who's back 

got7 is!!!!!!!!!! what. who else did you think was back. psh.

ok so i know it's been like almost 3 months since my last update, when my updates were typically a lot faster before (not...that they were really fast to begin with...) T_T it's true that the first year of uni started for me and it's been hellish+gr9 at the same time (though, stanning kpop idols, i shld be used to this) and i've been struggling to keep up with life + overcommitments and heyyyy ficmix! but the major truth is that i got dragged into/kind of dragged myself in desperation into another non-kpop fandom during the time got7 was in america (decline to comment), and am only now recovering from the honeymoon phase of overdose on all related videos and translated interviews T_T i'm sorry for leaving yall hanging without updates during this time, and would just like to confirm that this series will not be dropped!!! \o/

/confetti /silence because no one cares /shame /slinks back to league rpf 

please blame tj for this decision. i do it every day. it's very healthy. also ask her to update her shifter au- something else i do every day.

but in all seriousness, yes! i know some of yall will probably be tired of seeing my updates (oh good grief that who keeps spamming the got7 tags with badly written overdramatic unrealistic spy au is back smh) but it still brings me great joy and tj for some reason is still interested in it so i thought some people might still be as well...? ;A; yups. so thank you for reading this unnecessarily long note, and as usual, comments will be well and truly appreciated and loved! <3 

it's nice to be home hehe.