When Jackson--now renamed Specimen #852--wakes up, there’s pandemonium.

In retrospect, maybe they should have drugged him more peacefully. Jaebum reflects on all his mistakes as Jackson holds him hostage, butter knife to his throat.

Jinyoung looks far too amused, while Yugyeom’s eyes are moist with stress. Kumpimook attempts to train his laser gun on Jackson’s face, but even from where he stands, Jaebum can tell that his aim would be off. He’d be more likely stun Jaebum than Jackson. Mark is still eating his lunch--he’s brought it over to watch the free show.

“Put me back!” Jackson yells in accented Korean, and Jaebum can feel him shaking. “I don’t know any secrets. I’m just a citizen!”

Jinyoung sighs and rummages in his lab coat, which Jaebum knows is full of dangerous and disgusting things. They all watch in mute horror as Jinyoung slowly withdraws his hand from his coat, face a mask of impassivity and unbridled evil. He produces an earthling peanut chew and then proceeds to munch on it.

“Pass me a juice box, Mark,” he says, smiling. Mark silently throws one over, the sound of it smacking Jinyoung’s palm resounding in the silent chamber. Jaebum rolls his eyes.

“Ya, this a serious situation,” Jaebum scolds. “The specimen could hurt itself trying to escape.” He pats Jackson’s quivering butter-knife hand, trying to convey feelings of calmness and stability.

Jackson looks at him incredulously, shaking his butter knife. “Who the hell is in danger here?” he yells. “I could cut you right now! I maybe will!”

Jaebum thinks it’s cute that Jackson is thinking of him, but he still corrects him. “I’m a combat unit specialist,” he explains slowly. “The only thing that can penetrate my skin is heated and sharpened steel.” He takes Jackson’s hand and mimes slicing his own neck. “Go ahead,” Jaebum encourages kindly. “You can see for yourself.”

At this moment, Youngjae chooses to round the corner behind Jackson, apparently just waking up. “Oh my god!” Youngjae yells in English. “Jack-a-son!”

“Shut up!” Jackson yells back, looking close to hysterics. “Don’t come any closer!”

“852 is on the loose,” Mark intones, still chewing on some greens. “There were alarms, how didn’t you know?”

“852?” Youngjae asks, looking at Jackson. There’s a giant 852 printed on his back--granted, it is there because of the specimen’s own choices in fashion. “Jack-ason, your number?” Youngjae looks very lost. “Why hug Jaebum?” Youngjae starts to look scandalized. “Is it an earthling mating ritual?” Youngjae shrieks in Korean.

“Shut up!” Jackson says again, and he looks like he’s about to cry. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, or why the Korean government is keeping me here, but I know nothing!” His face is red, and there’s a layer of sweat on his forehead. “If you kill me, my mother would never recover!”

“No one’s going to kill you,” Jinyoung says, pausing to on his juice box. “We’re just going to run some tests on you, and the worst thing that could happen is that you could end up marrying Jaebum.”

Jaebum frowns.

“Anyway, I’m bored of this,” Jinyoung says. “Interrupted my beauty sleep and everything. Not worth it.” He rummages in his lab coat again, and before Jaebum has the chance to blink, he whips out a stun gun and shoots Jackson. Jaebum turns and hauls Jackson’s dead weight up before he falls.

“This was fun,” Mark says, expression vague. “I think I’m going to take a nap.”

Yugyeom wipes his eyes. “I feel really sorry for 852,” he mutters. “Maybe we shouldn’t have strapped him in the dark room. Earthlings obviously prefer sunlight.” Jaebum secretly agrees, and he pats Jackson’s limp form in apology.

Jaebum decides to take the long trek to his bedroom, hugging 852’s firm body to himself. He figures it might appreciate a more soothing environment, and that it couldn’t kill him even if it tried. Jinyoung mimes obscene acts with his hands, and BamBam copies him, expression completely innocent. Jaebum can’t find the emotional strength needed to respond.

He reminds himself to refer to 852 by its numerical designation as he brushes its hair from its forehead, wiping the remnants of its fear-sweat away. He balances it on his lap carefully, trying to find the most comfortable way to hold it. Jinyoung takes Mark into his arms and imitates Jaebum with an exaggerated leer, rubbing Mark’s face and chest with his free hand. Mark, unsurprisingly, looks completely at ease.

“Youngjae, make dinner,” Jaebum commands, expertly ignoring Jinyoung’s teasing. Youngjae groans.

When Jaebum finally settles on holding 852 in a princess carry--more to distribute weight than anything, despite whatever Jinyoung might think--he sets off, gait light and heart strangely quickening. 852’s head falls naturally on his shoulder, and Jaebum studies its dark lashes and dewy profile with great interest.

“You feel small,” Jaebum tells it. “You’re not much shorter than me, but you feel small. Is it an Earthling trait?” 852 only breathes silently. “Jinyoung says you’re quite muscular for the average East Asian earthling, but you’re weaker than me,” Jaebum proclaims. “Since I’m stronger than any living Earthling.”

852 snorts in its sleep. Jaebum can imagine the sass it might spout if it were awake and at ease, and it makes him smile.

--

“Youngjae this is disgusting,” Jaebum states, ladeling the mush of Earthling food supplies Youngjae had stewed together. “Why would you put in all of the black powder? You should have tasted it first.”

“I did!” Youngjae protests. “It was spicy, and I like it. This tastes good.”

BamBam is eating his portion without expression, apparently unfazed by the unappealing green-black tint of the soup. Jinyoung persists in eating the peanut chews he had taken from an Earthling convenience store, and Mark is studying some blueprints.

“Are we ready for takeoff?” Jaebum asks.

Mark hums. “The ship has finished self-refueling. We can set off tonight.”

“It’s strange,” Jaebum says, eyeing his soup distrustfully. “We were supposed to be ready yesterday. The ship’s getting old.”

“I wonder how the specimen’s doing,” Jinyoung interjects cheerfully. “Probably rolling around in your bed. Does it get your less self all hot and bothered, dear leader?” Youngjae laughs, and BamBam looks at Jaebum with far too much curiosity. Yugyeom sits at the end of the table, pretending to be engrossed in his unappetizing meal.

“Jinyoung, don’t test me,” Jaebum says without inflection. “We have to be ready to go into hyperspace, and there’s a lot of research needed before we can regroup with 2PM.”

“Earth is such a boring and humid place,” Jinyoung replies. “I can’t imagine why we’d want to conquer it. But anyway, it’s obvious that the specimen and its ilk are not durable. 2PM would be able to capture that planet in a week, by my estimates.”

Jaebum snorts. “You’ve been wrong before.”

This is the moment when Jackson chooses to set off every alarm in the ship.

“It’s 852,” Yugyeom says unnecessarily. His eyes widen. “What is it doing?”

Jaebum springs to action, running out of the kitchen with red lights swarming in his vision. He heads for the only exit on the ship, the blaring of alarms most prevalent there.

He rounds the corner, and the sight that greets him is enough to make him shout in frustration. Jackson has Jaebum’s saber-gun, and he’s desperately hitting the ship’s clear door, making what looks like a decent dent in its plasma.

The ship responds with an almighty noise, recovering what it had lost in a single second. Jackson screams: “!”

Jaebum sprints to him. He grabs Jackson by his neck and forces him to the floor, putting his knee to his spine and pinning one of Jackson’s arms behind his back. The saber-gun skids across the hallway, and Jaebum winces. It’s his best weapon, and it’s most likely now littered with scratch marks.

“,” Jackson curses, almost to himself. “I knew it wouldn’t work.”

“Your Korean is not bad at all,” Jaebum says.

“You’re not even Korean, are you?” Jackson responds, and he’s glaring at Jaebum over his shoulder.

“No.” Jaebum hauls Jackson up, and then throws him against the wall. In the span of a millisecond, he pins both of Jackson’s hands up above his head with a single hand. Maybe it’s gratuitous, but Jaebum’s body seems to be moving of its own volition. Jackson stares at him with a wide-eyed gaze, mouth open.

“You’re not even human,” he gasps. “Of course. This place is ing weird.”

“Don’t attack the door again,” Jaebum says, face barely a centimeter from Jackson’s. “I’ll have to… hurt you.” Jackson’s eyes flicker, examining every aspect of Jaebum’s countenance. Jaebum can smell his distress.

“Good job, leader!” Jinyoung claps, strolling down the hall. “You can let it go now, it’s not going anywhere.”

Yugyeom appears behind Jinyoung, aiming his accusing gaze at Jaebum. It all serves to make Jaebum feel as if he’s kicked a cute animal and is being judged for it. He lets Jackson go, and his face goes pink on its own. The rest of his crew shuffles down the hall. BamBam points at him, silently laughing.

Jackson--or rather, 852--rubs his wrists, studiously glaring at the plasma door. Jaebum notices that he--it--is sweating profusely and red, and it makes an uncertain guilt bubble up in the pit of his stomach.

“We’re not going to harm you,” Jaebum sighs. “Just don’t do anything stupid and pointless again, and I won’t have to incapacitate you.” Jinyoung snickers. He can hear Youngjae whispering loudly in Mark’s ear: “if it does something stupid and pointless again, hyung can fulfill all his fantasies.”

“Ya! Youngjae!” Jaebum’s ire boils over; he feels uncharacteristically clumsy and unsure of himself. “The toilets are filthy! Go take care of it!”

“You can’t keep me here,” 852 suddenly says. Jaebum turns, and he finds himself staring straight at 852’s fiercely stubborn expression. “If you want to keep me here, you’ll have to lock me up.”

Jinyoung chuckles. “We’re taking off into hyperspace in about ten minutes. If you want to escape, you’ll have to do it now--the ship is going into defensive mode. You couldn’t pierce the exit with a diamond.”

852’s face slackens in obvious disappointment, and Jaebum wants to comfort it. He takes one of its sweaty palms and holds it in his dry ones. “If it makes you feel better, you don’t have to stay in the dark room.” Jaebum tries to hold eye contact, but 852’s gaze is downcast and its mouth is small in an unhappy frown. Jaebum rubs the back of its hand. “My bedroom is large and accommodating.”

“Hyung!” Yugyeom screeches, slapping his hands over his eyes. “What are you trying to do?”

“The mating call of the eunuch,” Mark says wryly.

“I’m not actually a eunuch,” Jaebum retorts. “I’m married to my work.”

“So you admit that you’re hitting on it!” Jinyoung claps his hands, speaking in their native JYP tongue. 852 looks on in a confused daze. “I knew it!”

Jaebum ignores them all. He puts a stable hand on 852’s shoulders and gently leads it away as his crew catcalls and boos him in the background.

(Jaebum tells himself that he is definitely not hitting on the specimen. He is just trying to make it feel at home. He firmly believes in going above and beyond starship hospitality regulations.)

“Hyung, you ert!” Yugyeom yells. “I used to respect you!”

“Our Jaebum has finally become a man,” Jinyoung sniffs, and Jaebum feels a chill go up his spine. “Just let him be.”

He hears BamBam, Youngjae, and Mark laughing uncontrollably behind him. They’re all idiots, he thinks. He strides away a little faster.

852’s shoulders are warm under his arm, and Jaebum involuntarily blushes. Their faces are close enough so that he can perceive the texture of its skin, and he commits its profile to his memory. As they walk, Jaebum doesn’t bother trying to look away, the sight of 852 unexpectedly fascinating.

It whips its head to face him. Jaebum jerks away.

“I’m not an it,” 852 says, staring at him. Jaebum wonders how it can do that--just stare at him--without blinking or feeling shy. Jaebum’s pulse goes racehorse-fast, and he stops walking.

“My name is Jackson,” Jackson insists. He looks a little bit lost. “I’d prefer it if you all just called me Jackson.”

“The serum is obviously working,” Jaebum comments. “Your language capabilities have improved by a factor of five by JYP government standards.”

“You injected me with something?” Jackson asks. He looks sad and a bit accepting. “What’s going to happen to me? Will I stay here forever?” Jaebum wants to hold him until he stops looking like that, so he does.

852--Jackson--immediately returns the hug, arms forming a constricting circle around Jaebum’s midsection. Jaebum surreptitiously smells Jackson’s hair, breathing against his ear. Jackson shivers.

“You’ll like it here,” Jaebum murmurs. “BamBam is an excellent chef, and Jinyoung dotes on everybody, despite how he seems. We have a talent show night every Earthling Friday, and Youngjae’s voice is better than you can imagine.” Jackson snuffles on his shoulder, and Jaebum rubs his back soothingly. “Mark is quiet, but he’s not dangerous. Yugyeom is the most harmless of us all. And I…” Jaebum hesitates. “I want to take care of you.”

Jackson stays quiet, so Jaebum holds him tighter.