Fickle Flame | OT7

Rules of Engagement

"Taehyung!" Namjoon calls, stumbling into the room. "What the fuck?" he exclaims softly, taking in the scene before him.

Satisfied with the wounds healing, Taehyung finally leans back and rubs the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping away the tantalizing and tempting taste of Shayne's blood that was mixed with the black blood that was already staining his chin. "Nichols," he huffs. "He reopened Jimin's bite. I wasn't— I wasn't sure if it would work...saliva. But, it seems to be okay, the were-venom must be out of her system, allowing it to heal from the enzymes."

Shayne's eyelids flutter as she tries to focus on the man leaning over her; her savior. "Th-thank you," she rasps, finally able to form words without the accompanying metallic tang of blood surging up with them.

Taehyung scoffs, shoving away from Shayne and lumbering to his feet. "Don't thank me, sweetheart. I didn't do that for you."

Something slithers around Shayne's heart, latching on with cold fingers. It might be disappointment, but it's hard to decipher with so many other emotions and feelings surging through her.

"We should give her an injection of Flux," Namjoon comments from where he stands next to Taehyung. His calculating eyes flicker over the mess of Seokjin's bed for a moment before he turns and gestures to the floor. "Robinson is already aware of the insurgence, the compound is on lockdown until further notice. Yoongi has three in the holding cells, we'll figure out what to do with them in the morning."

"I'll go get the Flux. Are you going to stay here or should I call one of the others?" Taehyung asks as he steps over to one of Seokjin's cabinets and riffles through the contents until he pulls out a pair of pants to slip over his naked form.

Namjoon stands there in silence, his eyes locked back on Shayne's prone form. "I'll stay," he finally says. He moves to perch on the edge of the bed, making sure to avoid the large, wet pool of blood soaking it. Shayne stares into Namjoon's eyes, watching the flare of emotions she can't pinpoint before they go blank. "Just a small dose," Namjoon adds when Taehyung has opened the door and taken a half-step into the hall.

"Noted." Taehyung nods. "I'll send Seokjin this way so he can get his bed sorted. Um, what about the body?"

"Have Hoseok come and collect it. We'll burn it."

"On it." The door clicks closed behind Taehyung, the sound making Shayne flinch.

"Does that sound bother you?" Namjoon asks softly.

Shayne's tongue feels thick as she pokes it out to swipe it over her dry lips. There is an acrid tang coating her lips that makes her stomach heave. "The clicking," she whispers. "I heard clicking."

Namjoon hums, leaning down and grabbing something off the floor. He holds up a small metallic rectangle-shaped object so Shayne can see. "He used it to set a fire in the dining hall." He flicks his thumb over the top of the object and it opens, a single flicker of flame dances in the suspended space between the separated parts before he flicks his thumb again, and the top drops back down, smothering the fire. "A lighter."

"Stolen flame," she mutters in response.

That makes Namjoon quirk an eyebrow but he doesn't press for an explanation. She's clearly barely holding onto consciousness and has lost far too much blood in the last few days.

"You just can't catch a break, can you?" Namjoon coos softly, brushing a few blood-matted strands of hair from Shayne's face. "I'm sorry you're having to endure all of these things. It's never been like this with a ticket before. We're usually not so careless. I promised you, in the beginning, you could be happy here and I don't think I've been doing a very good job of upholding that promise."