Archive of Our Own ^beta

Look at us! Have we ever been sick in all the three-sixty-five days of the year? Don’t you dare get sick again. You’ll get it from me then, got it?

Jae-Han lied.

Of course he did. Who doesn’t get sick at least once a year? The only person in the station he’s never seen sniffling and bleary-eyed at least once in his life is Captain Bum-Joo, and that man is barely an actual person either way.

The police work field is rough, most times, and demanding. Crime doesn’t care if you’re sick, and by proxy, the higher-ups don’t either. 

Jae-Han remembers the times Jung-Jae’s gotten sick with sadistic clarity — probably because those time periods were some of the best of his life. Any time one of the guys feel under-the-weather, the rest take it as their personal challenge to make their life as difficult as possible.

Of course, Soo-Hyun is the exception — or at least, she would’ve been, if she chose to be sick on a different day. When the Congressman visits, there is no choice involved.

Now, Jae-Han was exaggerating when he said that to Soo-Hyun. She knows it, too, obviously, because everyone gets sick at some point.

But—

Here’s the thing. He’s long since figured out that he is the sole exception to every normal thing when it comes to Soo-Hyun. Anything related to him is blown up and framed in a special chamber of her heart reserved for him, Jae-Han, her idol and admiration.

And he gets sick too. Admittedly, it’s rare — even Jung-Jae’s only seen it a handful of times. And of course, since it’s rare, the universe cannot be arsed to extend to him the kindness of a mild bout. When he’s hit, he’s hit hard .

With his luck, it gets him right on a decently busy week with no off days, a gangster-busting case, and coincidentally on the same working hours as Soo-Hyun.

It’s terrible — his father had clucked his tongue at the temperature reading on the thermometer and given him a sympathetic look, which always means bad things. He can’t stop shivering, can’t keep his head up for more than a couple minutes, can’t even see straight—

Bad. Very, very bad. 

Bad enough that he seriously considers risking his respectable salary and taking a sick leave, until the universe deals its last blow in Jung-Jae’s call, telling him to hurry his ass up to the station because Bum-Joo was in a mood.

“Great.” He tells himself while getting ready, shoving both of his walkie-talkies into his jacket. “Absolutely wonderful.”

Spoiler: it’s just as bad as he’d thought.

He spends the entire journey to the station with his eyes half-open, head tilted back, praying to any deities above that there would be no active pursuit today. It might actually kill him.

Of course, most of the oldies at the station notice immediately — Jae-Han’s earned himself a bit of a reputation, and that apparently does not include walking into work with unfocused eyes that he generally only presents when half-asleep. 

Some provide unhelpful sympathy—

“Bum-Joo’s gonna leave for a meeting soon, you’ll be fine.”

“I’ve got a spot if you need to kick the bucket!”  

—and others, like Jung-Jae, offer even more unhelpful teasing.

“Who’s got you blushing like that, Jae-Hannie?”

“Aw, poor little Miss Lee’s feeling under the weather?”

Jae-Han rolls his eyes. “You guys are really good friends, you know that?” He says.

Wait, what?

That’s not what he meant to say. And definitely not with that much sincerity.

“Thanks, man. Love you too.” Hae-Kyun replies, hiding his own surprise with a joking tone.

Jae-Han scowls. “I meant ,” there. Now his voice is doing the correct things. “I hate all of you. Stupid fever.”

He settles in his chair with a loud grunt, the slight movement making his bones ache something terrible. Hak-Seon laughs at him and ignores his (admittedly weak) curse.

Jae-Han drops his head down on the table, just for a moment of rest—

—only to startle up suddenly when Bum-Joo screeches at him to stop falling asleep, you pathetic excuse of a detective, and get to work!

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. 

Jae-Han stares at the empty spot where the Captain had been standing and scolding him. His mind feels like its been stuffed with cotton candy; everything is moving too fast.

Jung-Jae’s voice sounds like it’s coming from under water. “Get yourself together, man, a little cold isn’t gonna stop you.”

Belatedly, Jae-Han sits up straighter in his chair. Of course, how could he forget! How can he let himself slack off when there are people out there that need his help? Criminals running free?

Lieutenant Park would be severely disappointed. Jae-Han has the extraordinary perk of getting help from a professional officer in a different century, and even then he cannot work properly?

Well. Hae-Young’s not one to judge him for this, but still. It’s his duty as a police officer to treasure the public’s trust in the justice system, and that means he has to work as hard as possible.

Jae-Han sighs, blinks a few times, and brings the papers on his current case closer. It’s gonna be a long day.

“Jae-Han sunbaenim?”

Jae-Han is exhausted by the time Soo-Hyun comes in the afternoon. His eyes burn from staring at bright, shiny papers and squinting at dark photographs all day; a persistent headache has developed, and it throbs as painfully as his aching joints and parched throat.

He’s almost sure his fever is worse. None of his thoughts make any sense — everything is short-circuiting, dying off halfway. The train is running so far off the tracks it’s not even a derailment anymore.

Soo-Hyun’s eyes sparkle with concern. He loves her.

He feels so terribly bad for being hard on her for being sick, suddenly, that it envelops his entire being. Fuck, why is he such a horrible person? Why can’t he be normal, for once, and be nice to the one girl he cares about?

Is it just his fate, then, to drive away everyone who trusts him? Jae-Han’s killed two of them already — Soo-Hyun might not be far off, if Lieutenant Park’s loaded silences are anything to base off.

Soo-Hyun doesn’t deserve his cold, uncaring attitude. He just wants her to be able to protect herself; he’s seen what the world does to those that cannot. 

Soo-Hyun deserves the entire world.

If she’s a homicide detective and is coddled just because of her gender, she’ll never be able to learn, never be able to thrive against the monsters that appear in the shadows, that will not hesitate to get her at her lowest point with glinting knives.

Knives. 

They’re sharp. 

It hurts when it's stabbed into skin — it can kill if it's stabbed in the wrong place. Jae-Han’s been on the ‘wrong’ part many, many times. It’s not fun. Hey, axes are pretty sharp too. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t y—

“—ou alright, sunbaenim?”

He blinks.

Soo-Hyun is five inches from his face.

Jae-Han does not startle, like he would if he had any sanity left. Instead, he peers into her eyes, and their lips are suddenly barely a hair’s breadth apart. She looks mildly terrified, but mostly concerned.

He doesn’t do anything too stupid — he doesn’t kiss her. What Jae-Han does do isn't much better.

“You have pretty eyes.” It comes out slurred, like he’s drunk. He frowns. Jae-Han isn’t drunk. Is he? “Am I?”

Soo-Hyun jerks her head backwards. She looks wide-eyed, shocked, like someone’s just turned her world upside down. The station is filled with wolf-whistles and rude, blatantly unhelpful cheers.

“Are you what, sunbae?” Her voice shakes. She seems to have ignored his first statement entirely.

What did he say, again? Why does she still call him sunbaenim? Jung-Jae’s her oppa . Some of the others are too. 

Why is he still the formal one? They spend more than twenty hours a day in the same square foot.

“Why do you still call me sunbaenim? It’s oppa from now, got it?” Jae-Han sounds much harsher than he intends to. He frowns again. “I’m sorry. But you can’t call Jung-Jae oppa and then turn around and call me sunbae . It’s not right.”

Jung-Jae snorts so loudly that it sends a sharp jolt of pain through Jae-Han’s head. Goddamnit, that little—

“What’s wrong with it?” Soo-Hyun’s soft exterior seems to have melted a bit. She looks fierce and bold and mischievous . “You’re both good friends to me.”

Jae-Han hates that so much.

Why is he on the same level as Jung-Jae ? That animal. 

“Hey!”

Ah, he said that out loud.

“Okay, but Jung-Jae’s your friend. I’m yours .”

The station erupts in laughter. Soo-Hyun appears to have mentally crashed, because she stares at him with empty eyes and no response.

Jae-Han doesn’t know which way is up. Why is he seeing everything double?

Jung-Jae looks slightly concerned, and very exasperated. “Yah, Han-ah, that’s enough for now. Let’s get you home.”

Two days later

“What did you mean by that, Jae-Han oppa?”

“Nothing. I stuttered and mispronounced ‘close friend’.”

“Sure you did, Jae-Han.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jung-Jae.”