[fic] when the blood flows, i'll be there
fic: when the blood flows, i'll be there
fandom: noona-verse
characters: Dawn & Woohyun
summary: a year after their lives change, Dawn threatens to kick Woohyun's ass - or: Dawn/Woohyun BROTP alert
a/n: this week has been a pretty rough week tbh - so I re-read Shoot to Kill because I needed the pick me up. And I was reminded of how grateful I am to penny_lane_42 and all of you for this fandom and all your adorable selves (and faces). So I thought I'd write something small as a gift - and this is what happened. We've never really seen Woohyun's reactions to the events in the noona-verse, and it was past time we did. (Also yes, I will finish Origins and start writing about other adventures soon... I promise.)
For now: here's this.
ilu Lauren, 'till the end
[till the end of the world]Woohyun doesn't count anymore, count the steps, count in his sleep, count off their names before sidling into the waiting taxi or off the plane, count the seconds before a door opens down the hallway, count the hours between one stop and the next. Because it isn't about numbers anymore, it's just a very special sense of knowing.
He could almost swear that there is a heaviness to the air when something isn't right. Like the earth itself sending out signals that they aren't on the right track.
And after everything they've learned recently in this strange small town, and how much more he can taste on the horizon - like fire in the distance and it's only a moment of time before they are swept in it, he wouldn't be surprised if this was truly the case. That he needed to get them all there in time.
In time for Sunggyu to fall in love.
In time for Hoya to evolve.
In time for Sungyeol to grow up.
In time for Dongwoo to amaze himself.
In time for Myungsoo to find himself.
In time for Sungjong to prove himself.
In time for him to ... what?
The nights are long and it makes the days longer. And yeah - he's getting used to running next door with a fire extinguisher because Fei keeps lighting herself on fire. And yeah - he'll never get used to Hoya's bruises, or the bags under Myungsoo's eyes, or the way Sungjong sometimes disappears for days and comes back looking five years older than when he left. Because there's no such thing as 'getting used' to their lives being turned upside down, or vampires sleeping on his couch, or any of it really.
He thinks maybe it'd be easier if he felt as though he had a place in all of this.
Sungyeol with his limbs and hair everywhere has never been more at ease than he is at a war council. And Dongwoo...
Well...
They all have their place and they all have assignments. And that takes some getting used to, too. Or it doesn't. Or it was always this way.
Worrying.
That's his place now. Or was. Or maybe always will be.
Not counting the bruises or the sleepless nights or the terror. Because you can't count fear. There's no quantifiable way to measure it. Because you can't count bruises that just get covered with other bruises.
So he counts the meals they eat. He counts bento boxes. He counts homework assignments. He counts days on the calendar leading up to another day another year another apocalypse.
Dawn comes to find him one night. Not long after all this mess started.
(He doesn't resent her at all. He could, he thinks. But then he hears Sunggyu singing in the shower when he thinks all the others are asleep and can't help but love her, too. Love her almost as desperately as his best friend does because she's so right and she fits - even if their whole world had to change in order to keep her.)
(That's not true, anyway. They've learned enough in the past year to know she didn't change their world - it was already there, right under their noses. He just was the least prepared for it.)
He's in the Summers' kitchen trying to concoct something for them to eat when the others get back from patrol. It's a normal night, really. Nothing really pressing coming up. Training, patrolling. Tomorrow is a full moon, but they've all had so much practice with that, it doesn't seem to matter as much as it did in the beginning. Woohyun thinks that may be a sign ... probably of an apocalypse the way things work around here.
"Hey," Dawn leans against the counter and snags a bit of cheese from the pile he just grated. Earlier that year, Anya sat him and Fei down and taught them the endless art of tacos. She made them go to every (personally approved) taco stand in Sunnydale (which was far more than Woohyun could believe at the time) and since then, they had learned that it was one of the easiest meals to throw together after any demon-fighting circumstance. (And was high in protein!)
"Hey back," Woohyun says with a wink, turning back to the meat browning on the stove.
"How are you?"
"Wha-?" The spatula slips a bit in his hand. "I'm fine, why?"
Dawn shrugs. "You just seem kinda blue lately is all. Must be really hard."
Woohyun continues stirring in silence, though the meat doesn't really need it.
"Must be really hard adjusting to all of this. I mean - it was hard for me and I never knew anything different, really."
"Everyone is doing well."
"Well no one has died yet."
Woohyun turns to look at her, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Someone will, you know. Die." Her eyes are boring into him and Woohyun thinks of a conversation he overheard between Myungsoo and Suji about Dawn being the scariest person they've ever met. Maybe even more terrifying than Sungjong. He laughed then. But now he knows exactly what they mean. She may not be very intimidating most of the time, but she doesn't hesitate with the truth. The unflinching truth can be much more alarming than a thousand Slayers. "Someone always dies. That's the way this works. And you can't stop it. And you'll probably blame yourself."
Woohyun lurches away from the counter, but she grabs him by the arm and turns him around.
"And I'm telling you now that if you do that, I will fucking kick your ass myself."
"Why?" Woohyun croaks out, his mind full of images of Dongwoo lifeless on the ground, Sungyeol disappearing in a burst of dust, all of their faces covered in blood and grime. Most of the time he can keep the images out, can think positively, can wallow in the safety and happiness they've surrounded themselves with. Most of the time.
Not now with Dawn's bright eyes splitting him in half, exposing all his fears.
"Because if you let yourself fall, if you break when they need you the most, you really will have failed."
He's blinking at her, completely confused now.
"Look. I've been around superheroes my whole life. Standing right where you are. I'm not special in any way that counts. Which means that I have to clean up the blood when it spills. That's on us. You and me. And if one of them falls out there and one doesn't come back - I need you to have my back. I can't have you falling apart on me. Because that's when they'll need you the most."
"It's all about them?" Woohyun can't help but wrap his words in bitterness.
"No dumbass. It's about all of us. But hero-types? They think they can't fail. They think if they are strong enough, prepared enough, nothing bad can happen. No matter how many times they are proven wrong." Her voice cracks a bit at the end and he's not sure whether he should hug her or what but before he can decide, she straightens her shoulders (and if there's a sheen to her eyes now, he lets her ignore it). "Someone told me once that being on the sidelines means that you see what the others can't. So now I'm telling you: they're gonna fall apart. And we can't."
There's something there, something Woohyun isn't understanding fully. Something in her eyes that tells him she's sat alone in an empty room full of blood and death while the rest of them ran ragged being heroic, unable to face the trauma their lives bring them on a daily basis. He thinks of himself - standing alone in a kitchen making tacos while the others all have so much to do and deal with, he thinks of the wounds he's cleaned and the tears he's mopped up.
He thinks of all that and it's only been one year. Just one.
He thinks of all the times they've sat together in silence, the two of them, waiting for the others to come home. Sitting on their hands, their minds spinning with fear and helplessness. And he sees their future - sitting together night after night in the silence that lingers after a battle cry.
So he reaches out, without hesitation and grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together, "I give you permission to try to kick my ass, deal?"
She laughs and leans her head on his shoulder for a minute, "You and me, right?"
"Right to the end."
fandom: noona-verse
characters: Dawn & Woohyun
summary: a year after their lives change, Dawn threatens to kick Woohyun's ass - or: Dawn/Woohyun BROTP alert
a/n: this week has been a pretty rough week tbh - so I re-read Shoot to Kill because I needed the pick me up. And I was reminded of how grateful I am to penny_lane_42 and all of you for this fandom and all your adorable selves (and faces). So I thought I'd write something small as a gift - and this is what happened. We've never really seen Woohyun's reactions to the events in the noona-verse, and it was past time we did. (Also yes, I will finish Origins and start writing about other adventures soon... I promise.)
For now: here's this.
ilu Lauren, 'till the end
[till the end of the world]Woohyun doesn't count anymore, count the steps, count in his sleep, count off their names before sidling into the waiting taxi or off the plane, count the seconds before a door opens down the hallway, count the hours between one stop and the next. Because it isn't about numbers anymore, it's just a very special sense of knowing.
He could almost swear that there is a heaviness to the air when something isn't right. Like the earth itself sending out signals that they aren't on the right track.
And after everything they've learned recently in this strange small town, and how much more he can taste on the horizon - like fire in the distance and it's only a moment of time before they are swept in it, he wouldn't be surprised if this was truly the case. That he needed to get them all there in time.
In time for Sunggyu to fall in love.
In time for Hoya to evolve.
In time for Sungyeol to grow up.
In time for Dongwoo to amaze himself.
In time for Myungsoo to find himself.
In time for Sungjong to prove himself.
In time for him to ... what?
The nights are long and it makes the days longer. And yeah - he's getting used to running next door with a fire extinguisher because Fei keeps lighting herself on fire. And yeah - he'll never get used to Hoya's bruises, or the bags under Myungsoo's eyes, or the way Sungjong sometimes disappears for days and comes back looking five years older than when he left. Because there's no such thing as 'getting used' to their lives being turned upside down, or vampires sleeping on his couch, or any of it really.
He thinks maybe it'd be easier if he felt as though he had a place in all of this.
Sungyeol with his limbs and hair everywhere has never been more at ease than he is at a war council. And Dongwoo...
Well...
They all have their place and they all have assignments. And that takes some getting used to, too. Or it doesn't. Or it was always this way.
Worrying.
That's his place now. Or was. Or maybe always will be.
Not counting the bruises or the sleepless nights or the terror. Because you can't count fear. There's no quantifiable way to measure it. Because you can't count bruises that just get covered with other bruises.
So he counts the meals they eat. He counts bento boxes. He counts homework assignments. He counts days on the calendar leading up to another day another year another apocalypse.
Dawn comes to find him one night. Not long after all this mess started.
(He doesn't resent her at all. He could, he thinks. But then he hears Sunggyu singing in the shower when he thinks all the others are asleep and can't help but love her, too. Love her almost as desperately as his best friend does because she's so right and she fits - even if their whole world had to change in order to keep her.)
(That's not true, anyway. They've learned enough in the past year to know she didn't change their world - it was already there, right under their noses. He just was the least prepared for it.)
He's in the Summers' kitchen trying to concoct something for them to eat when the others get back from patrol. It's a normal night, really. Nothing really pressing coming up. Training, patrolling. Tomorrow is a full moon, but they've all had so much practice with that, it doesn't seem to matter as much as it did in the beginning. Woohyun thinks that may be a sign ... probably of an apocalypse the way things work around here.
"Hey," Dawn leans against the counter and snags a bit of cheese from the pile he just grated. Earlier that year, Anya sat him and Fei down and taught them the endless art of tacos. She made them go to every (personally approved) taco stand in Sunnydale (which was far more than Woohyun could believe at the time) and since then, they had learned that it was one of the easiest meals to throw together after any demon-fighting circumstance. (And was high in protein!)
"Hey back," Woohyun says with a wink, turning back to the meat browning on the stove.
"How are you?"
"Wha-?" The spatula slips a bit in his hand. "I'm fine, why?"
Dawn shrugs. "You just seem kinda blue lately is all. Must be really hard."
Woohyun continues stirring in silence, though the meat doesn't really need it.
"Must be really hard adjusting to all of this. I mean - it was hard for me and I never knew anything different, really."
"Everyone is doing well."
"Well no one has died yet."
Woohyun turns to look at her, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Someone will, you know. Die." Her eyes are boring into him and Woohyun thinks of a conversation he overheard between Myungsoo and Suji about Dawn being the scariest person they've ever met. Maybe even more terrifying than Sungjong. He laughed then. But now he knows exactly what they mean. She may not be very intimidating most of the time, but she doesn't hesitate with the truth. The unflinching truth can be much more alarming than a thousand Slayers. "Someone always dies. That's the way this works. And you can't stop it. And you'll probably blame yourself."
Woohyun lurches away from the counter, but she grabs him by the arm and turns him around.
"And I'm telling you now that if you do that, I will fucking kick your ass myself."
"Why?" Woohyun croaks out, his mind full of images of Dongwoo lifeless on the ground, Sungyeol disappearing in a burst of dust, all of their faces covered in blood and grime. Most of the time he can keep the images out, can think positively, can wallow in the safety and happiness they've surrounded themselves with. Most of the time.
Not now with Dawn's bright eyes splitting him in half, exposing all his fears.
"Because if you let yourself fall, if you break when they need you the most, you really will have failed."
He's blinking at her, completely confused now.
"Look. I've been around superheroes my whole life. Standing right where you are. I'm not special in any way that counts. Which means that I have to clean up the blood when it spills. That's on us. You and me. And if one of them falls out there and one doesn't come back - I need you to have my back. I can't have you falling apart on me. Because that's when they'll need you the most."
"It's all about them?" Woohyun can't help but wrap his words in bitterness.
"No dumbass. It's about all of us. But hero-types? They think they can't fail. They think if they are strong enough, prepared enough, nothing bad can happen. No matter how many times they are proven wrong." Her voice cracks a bit at the end and he's not sure whether he should hug her or what but before he can decide, she straightens her shoulders (and if there's a sheen to her eyes now, he lets her ignore it). "Someone told me once that being on the sidelines means that you see what the others can't. So now I'm telling you: they're gonna fall apart. And we can't."
There's something there, something Woohyun isn't understanding fully. Something in her eyes that tells him she's sat alone in an empty room full of blood and death while the rest of them ran ragged being heroic, unable to face the trauma their lives bring them on a daily basis. He thinks of himself - standing alone in a kitchen making tacos while the others all have so much to do and deal with, he thinks of the wounds he's cleaned and the tears he's mopped up.
He thinks of all that and it's only been one year. Just one.
He thinks of all the times they've sat together in silence, the two of them, waiting for the others to come home. Sitting on their hands, their minds spinning with fear and helplessness. And he sees their future - sitting together night after night in the silence that lingers after a battle cry.
So he reaches out, without hesitation and grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together, "I give you permission to try to kick my ass, deal?"
She laughs and leans her head on his shoulder for a minute, "You and me, right?"
"Right to the end."