we dreamin' hard, we came so far @restlessmaknae - Tumblr Blog

May 31

war with heaven

You have lost enough to this Kaiju War. The last thing you need is getting attached to somebody who willingly risks his life on the regular. Han Dongmin doesn’t get the memo.

MAINS. ranger!Taesan & nurse!female reader

TROPES. pacific rim au, comedy supplied by taesan embarrassing himself, a bit of hurt/comfort

WARNINGS. birth names used, canon-typical mentions of violence, loss and death, minor injuries, probably inaccurate medical practices, taesan copes by thinking he’s some kind of hotshot, skinship

WORDS. 8.2k

NOTES. a bit late but happy 3rd anniversary to bonedo ♡ this is a spin-off to leehan’s war of hearts so this contains spoilers to that but can be read separately

Han Dongmin has always been a force of nature – headstrong, determined, relentless – and in a Jaeger he’s truly unstoppable. At least that’s what he likes to think.

In reality, whenever Siren Fury is dispatched, there’s a chance he won’t make it back. Or at least, not as the same person he used to be.

Jaegers are built to be as indestructible as possible since they are humanity’s only hope against the Kaijus that emerge from the Pacific oceans. They are practically humanoid metal robots as tall as buildings to be able to fight back the dinosaur-size extraterrestrial monsters. Nothing of this size and delicacy can move on its own effectively like a toy car. So after trial and error all working models of Jaegers are built like humans: with a neural network running through their limbs and a control panel acting as their brain. The Conn-Pod needs at least two pilots to work because only one person cannot possibly handle all that without lasting brain damage. When attached to the Jaeger with their Drivesuit’s spinal clamp digging into their back, the pilots’ minds basically become one. That’s the only way proper coordination can work. Like the right and left halves of the brain working together.

Or at least that’s what Dongmin was taught at his Academy classes by J-technicians who never actually drifted with another person or saw what the world looked like through the eyes of a Jaeger. Dongmin is a soldier though, he doesn’t actually care how it works as long as it gets the work done. As long as humanity is winning against these monsters.

So it’s not often that he’s sentimental enough to contemplate the fragility of human life, but now he’s in the middle of the ocean waiting for the pick up team in the damaged Conn-Pod of Siren Fury with his unconscious co-pilot in his arms. The Jaeger’s half arm is in pieces scattered in the water with the remains of a Category IV Kaiju after they blew it off. Later, the Marshal tells him that it will take weeks to fix it up and it makes him feel useless because that means weeks of forced standby.

A Ranger is nothing without their co-pilot or their Jaeger after all.

Dongmin used to hate this fact, this dependance. All his life, there was nothing he couldn’t do alone. He learned early on that in his family’s dictionary there was no such thing as ‘can’t’. Not having the ability to do something was a weakness he couldn’t afford. Not if he wanted to make his father proud.

Three generations of navy soldiers, that was the dream they cradled since he was young. Then the Kaijus came and turned the world as they knew it upside down. So he was one of the first ones to sign up for the newly established Jaeger program in Busan, one of the youngest ones too. It’s been six years since, two since he finally found a drift compatible partner and now, the girl who was in his head half the time went quiet.

Nevermind. A few hours later she’s up like she merely took an afternoon nap.

Dongmin crosses his arms in front of his chest at the leg of her hospital bed.

“He bought you flowers?” He asks with a grimace as he’s having a staredown with the bowl of water and flora that certainly wasn’t there when they were both brought in for post-mission check ups.

“Aquatic ones! These won’t just die,” his co-pilot glances at the gift dreamily and Dongmin sighs. If he thought it was annoying when she and that Kaiju researcher guy were both pining he might have had to re-evaluate. This could be so much worse now that they finally confessed their undying love for each other or whatever.

“Such a nerd,” he mutters under his breath, unimpressed.

“It’s romantic!” Even bedridden his military partner has energy to argue with him.

Dongmin rolls his eyes and sneakily picks up the honey butter peanut box from her bedside table to pop some into his mouth.

“Whatever. Just try not to think about kissing him when we’re drifting,” he says dryly and dramatically shudders at the thought just for the effect.

“You’re just jealous,” his co-pilot jabs back at him and snatches the snack back from his hand.

“Of you kissing Kim?” Dongmin makes a face and that earns him the pillow thrown at his head.

He knows it wasn’t what she meant but between rigorous training and fighting alien monsters, annoying her is the closest thing he has to normalcy in his life.

It’s a soft sound, somebody clearing their throat, that’s saving her from getting the pillow thrown back at her, hospitalized or not, because when Dongmin sees the presence of a nurse their age, he haphazardly hides the soft material behind his back as if to hide evidence of the childish fight.

“Sorry, I need to check on her vitals,” you say, pulling a clipboard close to your chest and raising your gaze. Soon enough, soft eyes meet his.

Now, this is the part when you should look away shyly, like a blushing, giggling mess. He’s used to that. Girls reacting to his presence like that. And he gets it, Rangers are idolized by the media like stars, they are heroes after all. He has given out autographs and taken selfies with fans who came to congratulate on their victories, so with the way you can’t take your eyes off of him, he thinks that maybe you will ask for one, too.

“Can you–” Ah there it is, just another fan request. He should have brought a pen. “–move aside?”

Wait, what?

“You’re in the way, idiot,” his co-pilot chides and he makes sure to scowl at her before stepping aside, so you can check on the monitor and how much liquid is still in the IV bag.

Embarrassment burns in the pit of his stomach but he doesn’t let it show. He leans against an empty bed, hopefully looking as nonchalant as humanly possible, even as his gaze follows your figure until it disappears down the corridor.

“Is she new?” He blurts out against better judgement but lucky for him his partner is too preoccupied with a text she got most likely from loverboy to notice the weird tone of his voice.

“Who? The nurse? I think so, why?”

Dongmin shrugs like he doesn’t care. Because he doesn’t. It just irks him that you didn’t even spare him a second glance before leaving. He’s not used to being disregarded.

With nothing better to do Dongmin throws himself into Kwoon combat practice. It isn’t like fighting with his co-pilot (not just with words) but she has been advised to not strain herself for at least a while, so he has to suffice with cadets. Not to brag but he can easily take two at a time, three on a good day or if they are really bad. Kwoon is about balance, about connection, it’s more of a dialogue than an actual fight to win but there is no balance if Dongmin is freaking bored with these kids. So he pushes himself more: morning Kwoon sessions, afternoon drift simulations with his co-pilot (if she doesn’t stop thinking about Kim Donghyun’s smile, he will put bleach into her shampoo), strategy discussions with the Marshal and late night gym visits. He watches the numbers climb on the war clock and the J-Techs slowly re-build Siren Fury’s arm while restlessness brews in his stomach.

Then Park Sunghoon visits from the Gangneung Shatterdome and beats his ass on the mat without breaking a sweat. Dongmin grits his teeth as he gets up, leaning more of his weight on the fighting stick.

“What’s with your left side? You rely too much on your right,” the senior Ranger points out calmly while putting the wooden prop away. Dongmin considers lying, saying he just prefers this way, but in the end just sighs.

“Just a bit of a strain, nothing serious,” he shrugs, slowly rolling his left shoulder back, grimacing at the ache seeping into his bones.

“Have it looked at in the infirmary just to be sure,” Sunghoon suggests and grabs his stuff from the floor. Before he leaves, he turns back once with a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. “Then find me for a re-match.”

And Dongmin is nothing if not disciplined. It has been drilled into him through military training since childhood, so there he is, at the infirmary. He hasn’t been back since his co-pilot has been discharged but it’s surprisingly empty. Still, it surprises him that the only person at the nurses’ counter is you.

“Oh, are you alone?” He blurts out and it makes him sound stupid when you glance up from the book you’re reading and pointedly look around.

“Do you see anybody else here?”

“I’m just asking. I didn’t know they allow new nurses to be on duty on their own,” he explains his surprise quite poorly if your unimpressed look is anything to go buy. So professional. You really don’t want his signature, huh?

“We don’t really have the luxury to have proper rotations. I guess you know how that is,” you shrug and turn the book upside down, leaving it open on the desk before standing up. He tries to catch what it’s about but the angle is off to read the title properly. You round the counter and point at the examiner table. He takes a seat with a straight back but his eyes are following you.

You tie your hair back and pull a folder out of a drawer. His check up data most likely. He wonders what they say about him. If that folder catalogues all the injuries he has suffered ever since he joined the Jaeger Academy, if it even contains the result of his psychological evaluation that cleared him stable enough to pilot, if it made him seem like a soldier through and through or just somebody who bled through their teenage years to be here.

You move around with a confidence that newbies don’t have. It makes him want to ask where you came from but you beat him to it.

“So what’s wrong?” You step in front of him after leaving his files on the desk and look up. A hint of jasmine hits him and it has him inhale sharply. With him sitting, you’re pretty much eye level and suddenly he can’t make himself look away. You missed a strand of hair when tying your hair up but you’re too focused to care about it. His fingers itch to brush it back, so he curls them into a fist.

“My left shoulder feels off for a few days now,” he ends up saying. It’s the oversimplified version of the truth but admitting that he overestimated his limits and overworked himself to the point to strain a muscle sounds pathetic. He should have known better.

You don’t say anything, just hum quietly and round the table. When you touch him, thumb pressing lightly into his upper trapezius while the rest of your fingers rest on his shoulder, he tenses up for no reason at all.

“Does this hurt?” You ask, voice coming from much closer.

“No,” Dongmin lies because this much is nothing. He has once showed up to his Academy evaluation with a broken rib and nobody noticed. You hum again, contemplating, then press into the skin near his shoulder blade harder and he nearly blacks out from the sharp pain. “Ah, fuck.”

“Yeah, thought so.” That’s your only comment to his outburst before your hands leave him to rummage through a cabinet. “Take off your top.”

You say it like it’s nothing with your back to him, so you miss how fast his ears redden.

“What?” Dongmin’s voice jumps half an octave, dumbfounded, nearly getting a whiplash from how fast he turns to you, not making any moves to follow instructions. An exasperated sigh escapes you and turning back to look at him, you put a hand on your hip.

“Do you always ask so many questions? Be glad I didn’t ask you to pull down your pants,” you raise an eyebrow almost challengingly which has him gaping like a fish. He had no idea being a nurse at the Shatterdome includes such duty.

“You do that too?”

You cross your arms in front of you and deadpan:

“Yes, if some idiot needs a rabies vaccine.”

“Which idiot?” Dongmin is quick to inquire but you just give him a look, so he shuts up. But he would bet that it was Myung Jaehyun. That J-technician is a self-hazard.

“Come on. Shirt off. I need to apply ointment on your back,” you explain and he clears his throat to collect himself.

Right. Get it together, Han Dongmin, don’t act like you haven’t been in the infirmary before.

Dongmin would like to think he’s unaffected. Like totally. Why wouldn’t he be? But the fact that you were unaffected the entire time you had him half-naked on that uncomfortable examination table, fingers gently rubbing something that smelled strongly of peppermint into his skin bothers him more than it should have. Half the girls in the Shatterdome would have liked to be in your place just to ogle, so why do you act like it was nothing?

And yes, he knows that it doesn’t make sense. He’s usually annoyed by the amount of unwanted attention he’s getting. He’s usually busy making sure to keep people at an arm’s length. But now he’s staring up at the grey ceiling from his bunk bed, turning the dog tag of Siren Fury that hangs in his neck between his fingers and can’t sleep. He thinks of your eyes, neutral and never lingering longer than they should, and he couldn’t help but wonder: are you like that, professional and distant, with everybody or do you have something against him personally?

Dongmin kicks the blanket off himself and hauls himself out of bed. He grabs a jacket and his shoes and slips out of the room without waking his roommate. PPDC’s favourite or not, he doesn’t get the luxury of having his own room. Instead he’s roomed with a politician’s son. The Marshal said it’s because they’re the same age and moved to the Shatterdome around the same time but Dongmin has a feeling that it has something to do with how they both have powerful fathers. Commander Han and National Assembly member Lee might not be friends but they are both avid campaigners for the Jaeger Program funding over those useless Anti-Kaiju walls. Chanyoung is a good enough roommate though, he’s quiet but friendly, he knows when not to bother Dongmin.

On nights when Chanyoung can’t sleep, he goes for a swim. On nights when Dongmin can’t, his feet take him to the Kwoon combat room. However, this time around it’s not empty despite the late hour. The boy on the mat is tall and lanky, hasn’t built much muscle yet. He’s practicing hits with the wooden stick but he puts more effort into channeling strength than precision. He doesn’t even notice Dongmin watching from the open door, not until he pushes himself away from the frame and approaches the mat. The younger boy clearly startles and bows with widened eyes, his swift apology cut off by the Ranger:

“Straighten up properly. You put too much of your upper body into the swings. Like this you will tire yourself out before getting any hits,” Dongmin says matter-of-factly as he kicks off his boots and grabs a stick for himself.

When he turns around, the cadet still stands in that awkward position of just having stood up straight after a polite bow like he can’t quite believe he’s seeing an actual Ranger from up close. Dongmin gets it, he used to be starstruck too when he first met senior Rangers but he sure as hell did a much better job at hiding his fascination. This kid is practically vibrating out of his skin and effectively ignoring his previous advice.

Dongmin sighs and lands a soft hit on the boy’s lower back that effectively has him fix his spine.

“I said, straighten up,” he repeats like he’s bored already and nods towards the stick hanging uselessly from the cadet’s hand. “Try to get a point.”

The boy does not manage to get any hits.

Dongmin didn’t actually expect him to. If he managed anyways that would have meant that Dongmin was in a much worse form than he would have liked to admit it despite his healing injury. So the real achievement he wanted to see wasn’t any points but the cadet improving his stance and attacks. And to his credit, the boy tried his best and he has potential. He’s determined and doesn’t give up, not even after the dozenth hit Dongmin gets in lazily without actually straining himself to attack.

“What’s your name, cadet?” He asks when the boy is sprayed out on the floor with sweat dripping down his forehead and neck soaking the collar of his uniform. Dongmin offers him a hand.

“Kim Woonhak, sir,” the cadet rushes to answer while still trying to catch his breath once upright. Dongmin’s mouth pulls into a grimace at the formality that makes him feel much older than he actually is.

“Just hyung is enough,” he corrects and he swears he sees Woonhak’s eyes sparkle.

“Yes, sir– Hyung!”

Dongmin cracks a smile and adjusts his grip on the stick.

“Again.”

When the next Kaiju emerges from the ocean near Brisbane, two Australian Jaegers are dispatched since they are the closest but it doesn’t change the fact that Dongmin feels useless watching the fight through the monitors hung up in the Shatterdome’s halls. What ifs plague his mind about the defenseless Southern coastline of the country and even though he knows that Kim’s idea saved them from being dragged into the water and being torn apart, rebuilding Siren Fury takes more time than he expected. Jaehyun also told him they might not be able to build a plasma charger in the new arm because funding is low and the component parts are crazy expensive. Most of the money goes into the new Mark-6 Jaeger they are building, hopefully launching next year with brand new pilots. At times like this the PPDC’s priorities boil the Ranger’s blood. Is it really better to have two half-built Jaegers than one proper one?

Later that night, after Jake and Leo defeats the Category III Kaiju, he visits the hangar bay smelling of grease and metal to check on Siren Fury. She stands tall and proud, all sleek steel and battleworn scars. Her left arm is open, wires and rods peeking out showing its half-finished state. Dongmin walks over the elevated walkway to get a closer look but halts as soon as he notices a figure already there. At first he thinks it might be his co-pilot driven by the same restlessness he feels but when he gets closer he recognizes you.

For once you don’t wear your usual nurse uniform and don’t have your hair tightly tied back either. Instead you have sweats and an SNU Med t-shirt on, hair falling into your face. It’s the first time he has seen you look so… casual.

Dongmin has half a mind to slip away like he hasn’t even been there but then his shoes made a squealing sound against the grated metal flooring and you look up straight at him. Whatever excuse he was about to say then freezes on the tip of his tongue when he sees your red-rimmed eyes in the hangar’s dim night light. Oh.

You look away quickly, sniffling as you wipe your face clear of evidence and Dongmin just stands there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with the situation. Should he leave you alone and pretend he saw nothing or offer some kind of comfort even though he’s shit at it? One would think having a girl co-pilot helps navigating situations like this but the Ranger girl has always had Kim Donghyun by her side and Dongmin never had to be the shoulder to cry on. Not to mention, you and him aren’t even close, so it probably would be weird if he suddenly initiated anything… right?

“How is it?” You speak up quietly before he could make up his mind. You don’t look at him, just keep staring ahead but it feels like a permission to stay. Like maybe you would actually appreciate some company.

“What?” Dongmin asks as he lowers himself into a sitting position against the railing in a decent arm’s length distance from you.

“Going out there and fighting in this,” you point at his Jaeger and while your words are emotionless, there’s a strain in your voice that most likely has something to do with why today’s Kaiju attack triggered something in you.

So Dongmin takes your question seriously, gives it a moment to think it over properly, instead of just blurting out the first thing that comes to his mind. Everybody has seen Jaegers on TV, some has seen them in real life but only a handful have ever been in a dispatched one. Dongmin is one of the few but he isn’t sure how to describe the feeling to somebody who has never ever sat in a simulator.

“Like you’re on the top of the world,” he says as he stares at the helmet of the blue-washed Siren Fury, at the Korean flag proudly painted on its side. His voice is tethering on the edge of sounding awed. “Piloting a Jaeger isn’t like piloting a plane. It’s not a separate entity. Once you’re attached, it becomes the extension of your own body. Practically, you, your co-pilot and the Jaeger become one after the drift. It’s hard to explain but suddenly you are more.”

Dongmin’s gaze drops to the robot’s legs. Somewhere on its mechanical ankles there are marks of two scratchy names. Him and his co-pilot carved their names into the steel with a knife after their first successful mission. The J-Tech must have noticed but nobody has ever said a thing.

“Isn’t it scary?” You ask quietly and he isn’t sure what you mean. The drift, the control over something so big or the fight against Kaijus? His answer is the same nevertheless:

“Only if you let it,” he says because he has long gotten used to all that. He has come to terms with the fact that he will probably die young in a Jaeger. He just wants to take as many Kaijus with him as he can. He can’t afford to let fear dictate his life. Nobody should, so he tries to crack a joke: “Otherwise it’s just a hyper realistic video game.”

When a hint of a smile graces your features, he considers it a win even if you don’t say anything.

For the first time, silence settles comfortably between the two of you. You don’t cry anymore and he lets the railing dig into his back more as he relaxes his shoulders. Siren Fury glows under the moonlight shining through the glass dome.

“I think being stuck on land having nothing to do is scarier,” Dongmin admits, quieter than before, his fingers mindlessly following the engraving in the dog tag that hangs from his neck between his pulled up legs.

Who is he if he is not out there fighting? It’s a question he has been turning in his head all day but he would like to think there was nothing in his voice that warranted you to look at him with all doe eyes. He clears his throat as he looks away.

“Why leave Seoul? It’s relatively safe there,” he stumbles to fill the void. It’s only fair if it’s his turn to ask, he justifies, and it seems like a neutral enough question. The assumption is also mostly a guess based on your shirt, but you don’t correct him.

“My younger brother joined the Busan Academy as a cadet. He’s all I have,” you answer simply, like it explains everything and maybe it does. The you followed him here part goes unsaid but it’s clear enough. Dongmin wonders what else you left behind in Seoul other than university.

He also wants to ask what happened with the rest of your family but the intensity you’re staring at the Jaegers towering over you is an answer too, he supposes. Wrong time, wrong place and a Kaiju. Everybody seems to have a story like this these days.

“Are you not… proud of him?” He asks instead. Tentatively because it sounds like you don’t approve of your brother’s decision to join the military, to work for keeping the country safe while you’re also on the frontline even if in a different role. Shatterdomes are built right by the water which makes them the closest targets when a Kaiju attack comes. Everybody risks their life by being there, not just the cadets who might pilot a Jaeger one day.

“I am,” you’re quick to protest but your voice breaks when you continue. “But I don’t want to lose him. Why does it have to be him who plays the hero?”

Dongmin clenches his jaw at the clear concern in your voice and stares out at the sea through the giant windows.

He grew up in a household built on discipline, diligence and loyalty. It has never been a question to him if he will put his life on the line for his country, it was a given. He still remembers the warmth of his father’s palm squeezing his shoulder when he officially became a Ranger and the smile on his mother’s face as she told her friends that her son had defeated Kaijus. He cannot disappoint them.

“Somebody has to do it,” he says.

He has gotten used to it: people expecting him to be that somebody. He was the best of best, they said, if somebody could do it, it would be him. It has always filled him with pride, the trust they put into his abilities and the way they justified the hard work he has put into getting there. But listening to you talking about your brother with such unabashed care, he can’t help but want that. Somebody to care enough to worry about him too. It’s stupid because he’s better off without it and yet, now it keeps plaguing his thoughts.

Thoughts you break easily when you shift until you face him, you knee almost bumping into his side.

“You’re his role model, you know? That’s why he applied here,” you tell him and while it doesn’t sound like you’re blaming him, he feels a pang of guilt anyways. He doesn’t let it hurt though.

“Want an autograph?” He raises his eyebrows and flashes a charming smile at you. At the girl who has every reason to hate him because her brother might die one day because of his influence.

You snort at his silly question regardless and he finds that he doesn’t even mind it, at least you’re smiling. That’s good enough.

Dongmin hisses when the wound stings under running water. The bleeding has stopped already and now he just feels stupid trying to clean up broken glass with his hands. He brings his hurting hand up to his face to inspect the injury. Luckily it’s nothing serious, barely more than a paper cut. He normally ignores such things, because while sure, they’re mildly annoying for a few days when in contact with something, soon enough they’re gone without a trace. But now for some reason his feet take him to the infirmary’s floor, his brain already racking up explanations like how even such a small wound could get infected or affect his job if not taken care of professionally. You don’t ask for any of his excuses when you see him, just have him sit down and treat his cut with careful hands. It takes less than five minutes and he’s out of the infirmary with a plaster on his finger.

The thing is, normally Dongmin doesn’t get injured or sick often. At least not seriously enough to ask for help. No wonder even his co-pilot looks at him weird when after a Kwoon combat session, he’s off to the nurse station to have a freshly reddened bruise looked at. He leaves with a cooling cream in hand. You didn’t even ask him to take his shirt off!

One time he goes as far as pretending to have fever after his skin heats up from blow drying his hair but you just put a cool hand against his forehead and brush his fringe out of his face before dropping a sour candy wrapper into his hands. He’s not sure whether this is more humiliating or when only Mrs Hwang is in and he bolts after she tells him that it’s your day off.

So now he’s at the hangar bay, sitting on a stool too small for his long legs, while Jaehyun is working on his Jaeger’s hand. Dongmin is there to supposedly help, wearing a motion capture glove and bending his fingers every once in a while when the J-Tech guy tells him to, but he mostly just complains about the dissatisfactory health care service he has received lately as in not being able to talk with you properly because you always send him away once he’s treated.

“Dude, if you want her attention so badly, maybe talk to her instead of giving her more work,” Jaehyun advises while checking on the hand sensor settings on his tablet and making some modifications to the sensitivity levels.

“I don’t want–” Dongmin is quick to argue but he bites his tongue when his friend sends him a knowing look. He sighs begrudgingly. “I’m not that desperate.”

He has a reputation to uphold after all. He’s the Jaeger Academy’s best for a reason. The Pan Pacific Defence Corps’s favourite role model to parade for young cadets. Commander Han’s eldest son. He’s not some lovesick male lead from a tv drama.

And yet, somehow, half an hour later he’s back in the infirmary wing because he touched something on the workstation he shouldn’t have and now he has a fresh burn mark on his palm. For once, he feels more embarrassed than sneaky when he walks through the double doors and you look up from your desk. You don’t even seem surprised anymore to see him there.

“You know, for a Ranger, you’re kind of careless,” is the first thing you tell him after he shows you his newest injury.

“Excuse me?” The snarky reaction escapes Dongmin as defensiveness takes over. The callout feels unfair, because no matter what anybody says, he is one hell of a Ranger. He has medals the president awarded him for god’s sake.

You look him in the eye, unwavering, and press a pad of disinfectant against his wound as if to prove a point. Dongmin hisses and deflates like a balloon.

“Oh, that. Right,” he mumbles, casting his eyes down like a child that knows they were in the wrong.

You hold his hand gently while applying the disinfectant properly and spread a thin layer of cream over the burn. He already misses the subtle touch when you let go to get the gauze and wrap it around his palm. When your fingers linger a bit more than necessary after securing the bandage with a plaster, he might have just imagined that.

“You should be more careful,” you tell him belatedly, half scolding, half worried, while sitting down in front of the age-old computer to log his newest visit into his files. Dongmin has to turn his head away to hide his smile.

After that things slowly start to change.

You don’t ignore him anymore when he looks your way in the canteen. The first time he sits down at your table, the girls nearby stare and whisper and giggle not-so-subtly. But at least he gets to talk to you about how his burn is healing and that he managed to beat Park Sunghoon at Kwoon combat the last time they sparred. When you notice he doesn’t eat the eggplant on his plate, you steal it from his tray and give him a piece of chicken instead. He can’t stop smiling behind his can of soda.

During one of his now semi-regular practices with Woonhak, who is slowly growing on him despite his best efforts, you show up and he gets distracted enough for the cadet to easily land a hit straight on his chest. Only when Woonhak waves to you with wide smiles does he understand why you don’t seem surprised at all to see the two of them there. When you and Woonhak get ready to leave, he kind of expects you to tell him to go easy on your brother next time now that you’ve seen him get in several hits but instead, you mouth a thank you towards him. Dongmin watches you ruffle Woonhak’s hair dotingly which makes the younger boy whine with something squishingly soft forming in his chest.

One time he catches you in the gym on the treadmills and challenges you to a race. Unexpectedly you agree and get him the vending machine soda he asks for when he wins without complaining about his unfair advantage. Both of you are sweaty while you’re sitting there with your legs aching, slurping on your drinks, but when Dongmin is glancing your way, you’re smiling.

And then there are the late night meetings in the Jaeger hangar. Sometimes you’re just lying on your back on the catwalk and searching for stars on the pitch black sky through the glass dome. Sometimes you talk about everything and nothing. He gets to know you there slowly.

You like the hangar because your father was a mechanic and the district smell of oil, burning metal and fresh paint reminds you of his garage. Your voice breaks when you tell him that your father was working on the Anti-Kaiju wall that was destroyed by the Category III bringing catastrophe to the Southern shore years ago. He asks about your university days and tells you about the Jaeger Academy and how it wasn’t that different from growing up in a military family. You’re the first one to ask him about what he would do if one day the monsters stopped coming. He doesn’t have an answer, not then, but later, lying in his bed alone, staring at the starless ceiling, he hopes you’re there in a future like that.

"Category IV Kaiju alert! J-Tech, prepare Siren Fury for dispatch! Rangers report to Conn-Pod immediately! I repeat: Category IV Kaiju–”

The sirens are blaring throughout the Shatterdome, waking everybody up at 4AM. Dongmin laces up his boots haphazardly and swings the door open. Down the corridor he sees his co-pilot leave Kim Donghyun’s room.

“Are you ready?” She asks while she’s zipping up her jacket.

“So ready. Let’s kick some Kaiju ass,” Dongmin grins. Finally the restlessness he has felt in the last few weeks has a space to go as they are making their way to the Conn-Pod.

Chanyoung is already at LOCCENT, tracking the Kaiju’s movements on one monitor and checking the Jaeger’s energy levels on the other with other comm officers. When Dongmin puts on the Drivesuit, he hears him in his in-ear.

“I hope you slept well, it’s a really ugly beast.”

“Don’t worry, we will send it right back where it came from,” he says, ever so confident, wincing quietly when the spinal cord is attached. Some say it’s bad luck to celebrate early but Dongmin thinks it boosts morale. Not to mention no Kaiju could take them down before, isn’t that proof enough that it’s warranted? His roommate just wishes him luck, then starts the countdown.

“Initiating drift in 3, 2, 1…”

Dongmin closes his eyes and lets memories flood him. It’s a mix of old and new, his and his co-pilot’s. A Kaiju that has left him shaking, a beach town in ruins, late night practices until his body was sore and useless and still not good enough, Kim Donghyun smiling under the sunset, ice cream smeared on his lips, and your voice echoing in his ears, the sour candy he got from you tasting sweet on his tongue.

“Drift successful, connection stable. Rangers, confirm!” Somebody yells just and he opens his eyes, feeling the familiar presence of a companion in the back of his mind. He turns his head towards his partner who smiles and he already knows what she wants to say even before she opens her mouth.

“That was so cheesy.”

“You’re one to talk,” he rolls his eyes but with no malice and they move their hands at the same time, the Jaeger’s mechanic limb following their movements swiftly.

“Siren Fury is ready for deployment,” he confirms and when the Jumphawks hatch onto the mech’s shoulders to airlift them, he imagines you watching it happen through the big monitor in the hallways. It gives him one more reason to win.

It’s not an easy victory but it feels good. Every landed punch and every plasma hit right on target. After weeks of restlessness, Dongmin finally feels like he’s doing something useful. By the time the Kaiju’s lifeless body collapses into the Japan Sea, he’s sweating, his muscles ache and there’s a beginning of a throbbing headache in his temple. Yet, he feels delirious, the good kind, like he can take on the whole world.

It’s always a bit disorientating when they are back in the Shatterdome and the Conn-Pod is detached from the Jaeger. Suddenly it’s a lot quieter in his mind even though his co-pilot’s thoughts linger for a while like ghost touches.

“Let me guess, you will go for a check-up right away,” she wiggles her brows as she’s getting out of her Drivesuit.

“Shut up and go make out with your boyfriend or something,” Dongmin rolls his eyes instead of reminding her that medical check-ups after an actual drift were important. It would be hypothetical because he used to not care much despite the protocol. It would also be useless because he can already see Donghyun waiting like a puppy behind the Conn-Pod station’s glass doors.

He gives the Kaiju nerd a nod when he walks by him into the LOCCENT and accepts the pats on the back and congratulations from the officers with his usual nonchalance. He doesn’t intend to stay long but before he could escape, the Marshal finds him and tells him about an event they should attend to secure more funding for the Jaeger program. He agrees like a good soldier would because he doesn’t really have a choice anyways, then asks for permission to leave. When granted, he slips away through hidden corridors before anybody else could stop him.

Usually he loves the part when every resident of the Shatterdome gathers to celebrate the new win of humanity. These are the only few times when they get to relax before the next Kaiju appearance. They are allowed to have fun, to drink, to forget that the attacks are getting more and more frequent and the world might be doomed. Dongmin also likes the post-Kaiju fight high, the adrenaline pumping in his veins and the feeling of being invincible. He knows he will crash soon, either with the headache worsening or exhaustion taking over, but for now he feels like he could do anything.

When he opens the door to the infirmary, he catches you pacing from one end to another.

“–would be such a bad idea to–”

You stop when you notice him and another girl jumps off the counter. It’s Minju, Dongmin recognizes her from Donghyun’s lab.

“Uhm, I will go get coffee,” she exclaims abruptly even though there’s clearly a mug half-full of dark liquid on the counter where she just sat. When she passes by Dongmin’s side she shows him thumbs up and offers a “Good job today!” cheerily.

“Thanks,” Dongmin says and waits for you to agree, to comment on his performance, to say anything but when the door is closed behind your friend, you turn your back on him and shuffle back to the computer to pull up his charts. The examination table makes a creaking sound in the silence when Dongmin sits down without having been told. He knows the drill by now.

“How are you feeling?”

When you speak up, it’s in your usual work tone, all professional. He’s a bit disappointed but he refuses to wilt like a flower.

“Good. Just a little headache,” he says and watches you get up to grab a few things.

He knows what comes, he has been in the same situation multiple times just with different nurses. Mrs Hwang who works the alternate shifts is such a mother hen, treating all of them like children. The previous nurse who left before you came was so chatty, always had a new gossip whenever he sat there. He never really craved either of their acknowledgement, but with you he almost feels desperate for it.

“Did you watch us?” He asks when you fasten the blood pressure monitor’s cuff around his arm but you just shush him. He casts his eyes down, sulky, like a scolded child all the while the cuff tightens then loosens and the machine beeps. You jot down his results before stepping closer again. Your fingers are soft on his skin while you slip the medical device off his arm.

You don’t look him in the eye when you eventually answer. “No.”

It has Dongmin reeling. All this time he has thought that everybody was busy following the broadcasts of the Kaiju fights, he thought that you saw him defeat this newest alien monster, that somehow this could maybe appeal to you, but now he’s just confused.

“Why?”

You ignore his question and pick up the penlight instead.

“Follow the light with your eyes,” you tell him and he begrudgingly follows the instructions like a champ. However, when you drop your hand and turn away, he grabs onto your wrist to pull you back. You’re clearly startled as you stumble and have to catch yourself with a hand against his chest to not fall completely onto him.

“Why?” He asks again and there’s something defiant in your eyes when you finally make eye contact with him, your arm flexing under his hold, your fingers curling into his uniform shirt. He has half a mind to let go of you but he’s also relishing in the fact that you haven’t even tried to pull away, that you’re staying close on purpose. He’s basking in your subtle jasmine scent and the warmth of your shaky exhales.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” you whisper into the barely there space between the two of you and it ceases the ugly disappointment burning in the pit of Dongmin’s belly.

“I’m fine though,” he insists and swipes his thumb over the inner side of your wrist. It’s supposed to be soothing but when your breath hitches, he can’t help a grin at the reaction he finally got out of you.

“Ranger Han–” You raise your voice and it sounds like he’s in for a reprimand or a warning. He decidedly ignores it.

“Dongmin,” he corrects with a smirk as he tilts his head and continues the caresses on your skin.

For a long moment you just stare at each other as if to see who can take it longer. He can feel his cheeks heat up despite the confident act he puts up and when your gaze drops to his lips, his pulse jumps. There’s a tremble in his fingers when you lean closer and then…

“Noona! Have you seen–” Somebody barrels through the infirmary’s double doors and Dongmin has to hold himself back from dramatically sighing when you step back until your back hits the nurse desk. “Oh, hi, hyung! Oh my god, you were so cool out there!”

Woonhak is all smiles and pure enthusiasm. He’s also totally oblivious to what he has interrupted. Still, he’s your brother, so Dongmin puts on a smile and answers all the questions Woonhak has about this new Kaiju and their strategy against it. He also promises to give him a tour around Siren Fury’s Conn-Pod one day. You drop a piece of sour candy into his hands before he has to leave.

The next time he ends up in the infirmary, it’s not on purpose and totally not his fault.

He was looking for his co-pilot so they could run a drift simulation but she was hanging out with her boyfriend in the labs. Apparently the K-scientists found something breakthrough regarding the anatomy of the Kaijus but Dongmin was busy checking on the different shades of blue vials labelled synthetic Kaiju blood to really pay attention. Nobody around him wore masks or gloves, so he assumed it was safe enough. That little piece of shiny rock on the petri dish wasn’t even blue, so the last thing he expected when he poked it was for his skin to stain a fluorescent color.

Apparently it was a sample from a beach that got exposed to Kaiju Blue, the deadly toxic agent in the aliens’ blood, and since the team was currently working on how to reverse its destructing effect on nature, they already had an antidote on hands for small exposures. Donghyun quickly had him drink something awfully bitter that stopped the pins and needles feeling slowly spreading in his arm.

Still, it caused quite a bit of fright for everybody present, so his co-pilot dragged him to the infirmary just to be sure he would be okay. You keep it professional while she’s in there explaining what happened but as soon as she leaves, you start scolding him.

“You know very well that Kaiju blood contains toxins. What were you thinking?” You tsk, flashing him a severely disappointed look before getting something from the cabinet. Then suddenly turn back to him and point an accusing finger at him. “You’re officially banned from the labs, got it?”

You don’t even wait for an answer, just keep mumbling something about him being so eager to put his life on the line under your breath while pulling out an IV bag. When you turn back to him, you have a cannula in your hands.

“There’s really no need–” He tries to protest but you cut him off with the authority of someone who has bossed men around all her life.

“Sit back down,” you tell him and Dongmin’s bottom hits the mattress even before his mind can process the words.

He has faced a dozen Kaijus. He has faced death. But apparently nothing scares him as much as you do when you’re mad at him. He has never seen you so agitated, frantic and frustrated. So he bears it without complaint as you put him on IV drip even though when you stab the needle into his arm, he’s pretty sure you do it with more force than necessary.

Even after you make sure the fluid is flowing into his bloodstream properly and that the last remnants of blue discoloring disappeared from his fingers, you’re still hovering over him. It makes him feel bad.

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me,” he says, trying to coax you into a more relaxed state.

“Then stop getting hurt!” You shove at his chest but it’s weak because you clearly don’t want to cause him more pain.

Dongmin has the audacity to smile when he catches your hand and pulls you down to sit on the bed. You let him more easily than he expected. You also make no moves to pull your hand away.

“I will try, I promise,” he tries, gentler, rubbing gently your palm.

“You better,” you huff with downturned lips and avoiding his eyes like a sulky cat and Dongmin is awfully endeared. Who knew that he just needed to get exposed to almost deadly chemicals to see this side of you? It makes him want to push his luck.

“What about a get well soon kiss?” He asks playfully and you scowl at him, unimpressed.

“You don’t deserve it.”

He pouts, playing his disappointment up, and you roll your eyes at him. Your hand remains in his though and you don’t move from his infirmary bed, so he’s not complaining.

He can’t tell whether it’s from the IV bag’s contents or the antidote from earlier, but soon his eyelids start getting heavy. Just before he tips over the edge and slips into a dreamless sleep, he feels soft lips against his forehead. He falls asleep with a stupid smile on his face.

Before meeting you, Dongmin used to think that nothing can compare to the feeling of being invincible in a Jaeger. Now, he’s not so sure anymore. You make him feel on top of the world too.

END NOTES. title from the keshi song. header pic from the BEAT High magazine behind cut.

☆ BOYNEXTDOOR masterlist

💌 askbox