minjoon, a kiss as a yes
Namjoon wakes up, naked and bruised, on the floor of the fortified shed he built for his transformations. Everything hurts, especially his joints and his neck under the iron collar he wears, chained to the wall, and his mouth, still full of too-big teeth cutting his tenderest skin as they slowly shrink and settle back into place.
The worst part of a bad morning is the door swinging slowly open. Jimin is silhouetted in a yellow-white sunrise and Namjoon can't see the expression on his face, but the set of his shoulders is furious.
He's been outside the door all night. Namjoon knows—the wolf could smell him—but he asks, "How long have you been there?" Just for something to say.
"I followed you last night." Jimin sounds less angry than tired. He steps into the shed and the light adjusts around him, and he looks exhausted, too, red-eyed and blotchy. Maybe Namjoon was seeing his own angry demons in Jimin's shadow. "I thought you were cheating on me."
They haven't had the exclusivity conversation yet—Namjoon is principled enough not to tie Jimin to his cursed life but too cowardly to let him go—and he feels a nonsensical, hopeless flutter of want at the idea that Jimin would call it cheating.
"I have to do this every month," Namjoon says, gesturing to the cabin around him, the gouges the wolf left in the walls and the raw scrapes down the pads of Namjoon's fingers. "I— it's— I couldn't…" There's nothing to say. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Jimin asks.
Namjoon stares around the wrecked room. His jaw hangs open, breath raspy around his misshapen teeth. He doesn't even know where to start.
"You're sorry for lying to me," Jimin says in a little chant that beckons Namjoon to repeat it. Jimin is a kindergarten teacher and bosses adults around in that kid-voice when he thinks they deserve it. One of Namjoon's many secret shames is how hot he finds that.
"I'm sorry for lying to you," Namjoon repeats dutifully. He's becoming aware of his limbs, of his own horrible hurt nakedness, and he shifts himself up to a more human seat.
Jimin nods. "We can talk about the rest after I sleep. Is this the key to… all that?" He avoids looking at Namjoon's rigging of locks and chains, and gestures to the lockbox on the wall.
Namjoon nods.
"What's the code?" Jimin asks.
Namjoon is burning. "I don't remember yet."
Jimin's eyebrows jump, and he glares like he's trying to look through Namjoon and into his heart.
"I'll remember when my mind comes all the way back," Namjoon says. "Then it's safe to get out." Sometimes it takes hours, sitting on the hard floor feeling mostly like himself, cold and forlorn, waiting for his teeth to fit and his memories to filter back.
Jimin's eyebrows rise and fall again, slower, and he gets a bottle of water from Namjoon's stack by the door. He takes a step closer.
"You should stay back," Namjoon says quickly.
Jimin makes a little sound of disgust and crosses the shed, popping the cap of the bottle open and handing it forward.
Namjoon takes it, watching his own hand reach out, grasp the bottle, draw it back. He's holding his breath.
But nothing happens, of course, except that now he has water. His throat is dry and raw after a long night, and he drinks desperately and sloppily, splashing it all over himself. He loses track of Jimin and jolts back to awareness when the threadbare towel from the bag comes softly to his chest.
Jimin clicks his tongue as he wipes sweat and dirt and blood from Namjoon's chest. "Oh, hyung," he whispers, so close Namjoon can feel it.
"Please be careful," Namjoon says. "I don't want to hurt you."
Jimin meets his gaze. "Then no more lies."
That's not what Namjoon meant, but Jimin is close and beautiful and being so, so gentle, so Namjoon just nods and closes his eyes. He forgets the ache of his teeth in his jaw when Jimin's lips press into his, just once, before he nudges Namjoon to drink again.