Chapter Text
They take turns spotting for each other. As they’ve been doing this for years, it’s more habit than anything, and mostly, it means the spotter talks and the other gets to lift and listen.
Chan insists Minho lift first, which is their usual order, but this time it seems deliberately planned. Minho knows what Chan has in mind. It's not subtle. They both have words for the other given what has happened recently. Minho figures that letting Chan go first means that he has the opportunity to speak his piece, and try to appease the anger and disgruntlement Minho has felt since the night Jeongin had gone out with Chan and Felix for dinner.
He understands that instinct is natural, and Felix isn’t to blame for his reaction, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven yet. Minho is furious about how Jeongin had been left behind, left to find his own way home while pregnant, and then left to fret about what was going on.
Minho didn’t expect an immediate reply from Jeongin when he texted about the movie night after Chan filled him in on what happened. He doesn’t know why he feels that Jeongin’s reply was meek, or timid, especially given that it was a text, but it seemed that way. The response lacked Jeongin’s usual playful sass in response to a direct order given by a friend. Minho had answered swiftly, letting Jeongin know he was still awake, just reading before bed. When Jeongin asked if he could visit, even given the late hour, Minho hadn’t turned him away. He’d put on his rabbit slippers, shuffled to the door and waited for him to arrive.
When he pulled the door open, Jeongin fell into his arms, bringing with him a waft of over-proofed bread. “Chan called,” Minho said. “I know what happened. You okay, baby boy?”
Jeongin had pressed himself closer, hooking his chin over Minho’s shoulder and holding him tightly around the waist. “I will be. I just didn’t want to be alone.”
Minho had kept his breathing even. No matter how furious he’d been at Chan for what had happened, his anger wasn’t going to help Jeongin. He’d let his scent of fresh pine needles and cool mountain river water flow over Jeongin. “Wanna sleep over like we used to? You can put your cold feet on my shins and I won’t even complain.”
Jeongin nodded his head, his jaw sawing against Minho’s shoulder. “Please. I don’t want to talk about it. I just feel so lonely.”
It spoke to how desperate Jeongin must have been at that moment, that he was willing to speak even that much of how he felt. It was one of the ways in which Minho felt they both matched; their reticence when it came to opening up about their emotions. “You’re not alone, Iyen-ah. Let’s go to bed, alright?”
Once tucked in, Jeongin had pressed against Minho’s chest, their legs entwined and Minho’s shins chilled by Jeongin’s icy toes. For some time, Jeongin just breathed, the soft exhales skating over Minho’s chest, where his head lay. One of Minho’s hands moved over Jeongin’s hair, while the other was claimed by Jeongin, who had woven his longer fingers between Minho’s. It felt calm and comforting, and Minho had pressed his lips to the top of Jeongin’s head. “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”
Jeongin gripped his hand tightly. “I know, hyung. Thank you.”
Minho reminds himself that Jeongin is doing better now, and that no matter what happens, he will make sure that continues. He can listen to Chan now without letting the anger rise, and can be reasonable about the conversation. He’ll use any residual anger to fuel his muscles as he lifts.
“So, uh, yeah, Felix and I went to see the therapist,” Chan starts, not looking at Minho directly. It is never wise to look an angry alpha in the eyes, and Chan knew where he stood since Minho met with him that morning. Minho had been vocal, but not verbal, since they walked into the gym. “What happened was what we’d thought. Felix instincts thinking he was being replaced, and getting upset, protective and possessive.”
Minho flicks a glance over Chan. Chan maintains his dignity, while also looking ashamed. If he were a wolf, he’d be tucking his tail between his legs, but not yet offering his throat. It’s a start. Minho grunts to acknowledge he’s listening.
“We discussed the reaction, and the therapist had some suggestions. She recommended that Felix and Jeongin not be left alone, at least not just yet.” Chan laughs a little. Minho knows it’s not because Chan thinks it’s funny, but because he’s anxious about how Minho will react. “She also said that I shouldn’t be alone with Jeongin either, because Felix will find his scent on me and that will upset him as well. Which means that neither of us can be there to support him like we wanted, and like he needs.”
Minho doesn’t like the sound of that, and the rumble in his chest is evidence of his displeasure. The growl coats his voice,muttering, “Go on.”
“Yeah, um, right, so we talked it over with Jeongin, so he knows what’s going on. We apologised! Of course we apologised! We’re so sorry for this. It wasn’t what we wanted at all. You know that, but things happen, and we can’t always know how things will turn out, and we just do what we can to make the best of it, yeah?” Chan waits, but not for too long, as he doesn’t expect a proper response. “Anyway, we thought Jeongin might be willing to think about maybe accepting the help of another alpha instead?”
Minho’s jaw clenched shut with a snap, his lips barring a growl from being voiced. He places the weights back on the rest bar as the air fills with the chilling scent of an incoming avalanche and he glares up at Chan, who is still refusing to look back, his head tucked down and meek.
“We thought you or Changbin would be best, but if Jeongin feels more comfortable with Hyunjin, we knew he’d help. Might strain things with Jisung, but he’d do it.”
Minho snorts. Jisung and Hyunjin sorting out their relationship is a sign of the coming apocalypse, as near as he can figure. As much as he cares for them both, the two of them had started off fighting, and then started flirting, and now couldn’t seem to figure out that their fighting is flirting. As for Changbin, he is a good alpha, and Minho doesn’t really have a reason to object to him helping, but that isn’t what he feels is best for Jeongin. “Tell me you’re letting Jeongin make this choice for himself.”
Chan glances at him and his expression looks pained. “Yeah. Of course we are. He’s the only one whose choice matters in this. Well, so long as whoever he picks agrees. Like, if he wanted Changbin, and he said no…”
A growl accompanies Minho’s words, spoken without thought, “He picked Changbin?”
“No, no…he, no he didn’t,” Chan stammers, a sloppy reaction as if he hadn’t expected the extremity of Minho’s response. “He wants you.”
Oh.
Minho isn’t prepared to examine the way his chest seems hollowed out at those words, breathless and winded. He inhales slowly and swallows. “He does?”
Chan nods, finally looking Minho in the eyes. “Yeah, he said you were his choice. Assuming you agree, that’s what he wants.”
“Yes. I’d do anything for him,” Minho agrees without pause. His voice is rough. He doesn’t like the way that Chan’s eyes pierce through him. Minho needs to clarify. “You know I’d do anything for any of you.”
Chan nods. “Right. Of course.”
Minho sits up and rises from the bench. He slaps Chan’s ass. “Your turn.” He waits while Chan gets into place and spots him as he starts lifting. “It makes sense,” Minho says, feeling the urge to fill the silence between them and to rationalise Jeongin’s choice. “We live in the same apartment building. Makes it easier for us than it would be for Binnie or Hyune.”
“Right,” Chan repeats through gritted teeth as he works through a rep.
“I don’t know much of what he’ll need. Though I guess they wouldn’t either. Well, Changbin might. His sister had a pup recently, right?” Minho receives only an answering grunt. “I guess I’ll do some research, and talk to Jeongin, too. He’ll be able to tell me what he needs, and I just need to be ready for it.”
Chan finishes up his reps before sliding the weights into the resting bar and sits up. He grabs the towel over his shoulder and wipes his forehead before laying the towel over his neck. “Yeah. You might have to pry the information out of Jeongin sometimes. Felix didn’t always make it easy for me to know what he needed. You can guess, and sometimes that’ll work, but others, you just need to keep asking. Food? Cuddles? A nap? Maybe just the comfort of having someone nearby. Sometimes it can be a scent, or scenting. Felix started wearing my hoodies all the time. I mean, you know he likes stealing my clothes already, but…”
Minho watches as Chan’s face becomes mournful as he speaks. “You don’t have to tell me all the details. Just, if you’ve got any resources? Like, websites or books or something, pass them my way? Jeongin and I can figure it out for ourselves.” He pushes his fingers through his sweaty hair. As much as the situation isn’t fair to Jeongin, it isn’t exactly easy for Chan or Felix either. Minho can empathise with how Chan might feel threatened by having a potential rival alpha in the mix. “You don’t have to talk about it. I know it still hurts. You dreamed of this together, having a pup, and this isn’t the way you dreamt it would happen. But, as you said, we don’t always get to choose how things come about. We just need to make the best of it, hyung.”
Chan smiles, though it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes, and his dimples are absent. “Yeah. I did. This isn’t at all how Felix and I thought it would happen, but at least the dream’s still alive.”
Jeongin sits on the couch, curled up in blankets. Soonie has decided his lap is his new bed, and has curled up like a freshly cooked shrimp, his head hidden behind paws and a tail. From the kitchen, mugs are noisily being pulled from the cupboard and the kettle rising to a boil. “Did you want honey, Iyen-ah?”
“Just a little, please.” Jeongin still doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but since he can’t have the cup of coffee he really wants, and the taste of tea is more like dead leaves than enjoyable, the honey will make it passable. “You sure there isn’t anything I can do to help?”
Minho’s laughter puts a smile on Jeongin’s face. “No. You’re not allowed in my kitchen. You’ll break something, brat.”
Jeongin whines, just to hear Minho laugh some more. “I don’t always break something.”
“Frequently enough,” Minho counters as he pours water into the mugs. He brings the mugs over to the couch, leaving Jeongin’s on the side table. “It’s still steeping, and it’s hot.”
Jeongin glances up at him, “Yes Eomma.”
“Yah. If I didn’t say anything, you’d pick it up, try some, burn your tongue, and then drop my favourite mug.”
Jeongin looks over at the side table to inspect the mug. It has kittens all over it, chasing after colourful yarn. He supposes it could be Minho’s favourite. He probably shouldn’t antagonise Minho when he’s agreed to help him, but it is tempting. “Thank you, Minho-hyung.”
Minho arches a brow and tilts his head as if questioning Jeongin’s sudden compliance. “How are you feeling? And don’t answer before you think.”
His hyung is so suspicious. Jeongin chuckles. This could be fun. “I’m fine,” he says, sticking his tongue out at Minho before answering properly. “My chest is a little sore, and my heart’s beating faster. The heartburn’s not been great, but at least I haven’t had any morning sickness.”
“Brat,” and Minho returns the favour, sticking out his tongue in reply. “That all sounds like normal, from what I’ve read. Are you concerned about anything?”
Jeongin slides his feet across the couch cushions, and tucks his toes under Minho’s thigh. Minho doesn’t let slippers stay on if Jeongin has his feet on the couch. Pressed into the couch by Minho’s weight, his feet will stay warm. “I have an ultrasound later this week.”
Minho picks up his tea and takes a sip, then sets the mug down. “I’ll go with you. Just tell me when it is. I’ll send you my calendar too, so you can see when I’m available.” He tucks the blanket lying over Jeongin’s lap back around his leg, as it had been disturbed when he’d stretched his legs. “That will help with scheduling other appointments.”
Jeongin offers him a slightly dubious smile. “It’s okay if you can’t make it. I know it’s late notice. Wednesday at 3. Dr. Park said it would only take about half an hour.”
Minho slides his thumb across his phone to unlock it. It takes longer than Jeongin thinks it should for a calendar event to be added, but his own phone dings with a notification shortly after. Probably Minho sharing his calendar. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Want me to pick you up at school?”
The dance studio isn’t that far from the school Jeongin teaches at. While Minho doesn’t usually drive, preferring to use the transit system, it would make things easier. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it. Sometimes the scents in public transit are overwhelming now.”
Minho pats the top of Jeongin’s feet, just above where they’re snug under his leg. “Would it help if I started wearing scent blockers?”
“No.” The word is quick and vehement, pushed through his lips with unexpected force. Jeongin leans back against the couch and sighs. He doesn’t want that at all. He looks at Minho, feeling the burn of a blush spreading across his cheeks and says in a more sedate voice. “No. Thank you, but no. I, um…like your scent.”
He watches as Minho looks at him, and the tips of his ears steadily become red. “That’s good.” Minho elongates the words, as if unsure what to say. “From my research you’ll probably crave being scented in a couple months or so.”
What is all this research Minho has been doing? Jeongin has done some himself, but he didn’t expect it of Minho as well. At least, not yet. He’d barely spoken to Chan to make a decision about which alpha he’d prefer to support him through the pregnancy. He shouldn’t be surprised, and he isn’t, not really. It is very like Minho to throw himself into something he agrees to do. Sometimes he’ll even say no, and then earnestly do it anyway. He’s never one to prevaricate or procrastinate. He always starts as he means to continue.
It is a trait that Jeongin admires about him; one he wishes he could emulate better. It’s both considerate and compassionate, evidence of Minho’s inner self, of which so few catch a glimpse. Jeongin smiles at him, and a blush of his own steadily warms his cheeks. “Should I scent you in return? Make sure no one tries to steal my favourite hyung?”
Blinking slowly, Minho looks like his brain stalled before he tickles the arch of Jeongin’s foot. “No one’s going to steal me away from you. I’m yours for the next nine months.” Jeongin wonders why those words are quickly followed by a frown upon Minho’s face. The measured time leaves Jeongin feeling a little cold inside, even as he giggles, and pulls his foot away in protest. “I suppose you could though, if it made you feel better. Whatever you need, Iyen-ah.”
The last person who had said something like that to him had broken his heart. He wants to guard himself against such a promise again, but this is Minho, his hyung, dependable, loyal and true. If he speaks the words, it is as good as done. “I think you’ll get tired of it. Running out to pick me up ice cream, or finding me wonton soup at near midnight on a Wednesday.”
“Ah, it could be worse. You could ask for salt and vinegar or ketchup chips. Or lamb chops, like when we all visited Chan and Felix’s families back in Australia,” Minho sighs. “That would be difficult.”
“I’ll try not to crave those things,” Jeongin solemnly swears, a smirk adorns his lips. “Though, I can’t make any promises.”
“No, of course not,” Minho’s tone is bland. “How could you possibly know now what the pup might want.”
Jeongin, figuring it will be safe again, tucks his toes back under Minho’s thigh, and then wiggles them for good measure, nails pressing to fabric. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve said it yet, and I meant to. I mean to. It’s not a small thing what we’re asking of you.”
“Drink your tea, baby boy,” Minho chides him, and changes the subject. “You said the various scents on public transport are bothering you?”
Obediently, Jeongin sips his tea, finding it just the right hint of sweetness, covering the dead leaf taste he usually avoids. He holds the mug carefully in both hands, his long fingers curling over kittens and yarn. “It’s not that bad if it’s not busy.”
Minho looks down his nose at Jeongin. “Yet you travel to and from school during rush hour, so it is bad then.”
Jeongin has a feeling he knows where this is going. Minho owns a car he rarely drives. The dance studio is close to his school, just a neighbourhood further away. Close enough for Minho to be able to say it is just a little out of his way. He narrows his eyes, suspecting he is about to be the recipient of Minho’s generosity once again. “It’s not that bad.”
“I’ll drive you to school and pick you up when I can. You’ve got my calendar now. I do have some later classes, but we can work something out if we need to.”
“I have a transit pass. You don’t need to do that for me.”
“I’m here to make your life easier. That’s what I agreed to, so you’ll get a drive whenever I can manage it.”
Jeongin grits his teeth. He is stubborn, obstinate, and persistent, but if anyone in their group of friends could outlast him, it is Minho. He sighs, a small pout on his lower lip. “Fine.”
Minho uses his elbow to nudge Jeongin’s calf, careful not to cause Jeongin to spill his tea. “This works when you are honest with me about what you need and what I can do to help you. No matter what it is. Let me decide what I can do and what I’m willing to do. We’ll figure it out from there.”
Jeongin takes a deep breath before sipping from his tea. He’s gone from feeling bereft after that dinner with Chan and Felix to feeling surrounded by care now. It is a huge shift. He knows that Minho will be diligent in his attentiveness, but he hadn’t imagined how encompassing that care could be. He worries the alpha inside Minho will put everything aside to take care of him, just because he’s agreed to help. “Can you promise me that if there’s something you don’t want to do, that you’ll tell me?”
As if he senses how much this means, Minho doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes, when they met Jeongin’s, are warm and blink again, in that slow thoughtful way he has. “I promise, Iyen-ah. We both have limits, hmm? So we’ll be careful about that, and talk about things.”
Jeongin nods. “I’ll tell you what I need and what I want, and I’ll let you know if it is a need or a want, and you’ll tell me if I’m asking too much. It’s not just the two of us. Everyone else can pitch in too, right?”
“Hmm.” Minho drinks from his own cup, and while it doesn’t quite seem as if he is agreeing with Jeongin, it isn’t as if he is disagreeing either. “Do you have the list of nutritional needs and dietary guidelines yet?”
“Oh!” Jeongin moves swiftly, tipping his mug, which is close to empty, and quickly caught by Minho who glares at him and mutters something about his favourite mug again. Jeongin curls in on himself. “Sorry hyung. Dr. Park emailed the details, so I was just getting my phone so I could forward it over to you. I forgot about the mug. I’m sorry.”
Minho sighs and pats his knee with a smile that seems indulgent. Jeongin still feels apologetic, but this is also the benefit of being the youngest. All the hyungs let him off the hook so easily. “And you ask why I don’t let you in the kitchen.”
With a yawn, Jeongin stretches his hands above his head, his heels digging into the couch cushion and his toes arch under Minho’s thigh. He pulls his phone from his pocket and forwards over the email, and accepts Minho’s calendar invite. “I should head home. We’ve both got class early tomorrow.”
Minho sets his favourite mug beside his own, and rises from the couch. He pulls off his hoodie and offers it to Jeongin. “It gets cold in the hallways at this time of the year, and you’re walking around in a t-shirt. Pick you up tomorrow at half past six.”
Without complaint, Jeongin tugs on the hoodie while walking towards the door. He inhales as the fabric passes over his face, absorbing the crisp mountain air, petrichor and fallen leaves. It's more comforting than he expects. He wonders how long he can borrow this before Minho realises.
Kicking off his fox slippers, Jeongin slips his feet into his shoes to make the trek back to his own apartment, pleased he'll be enveloped in Minho's warmth and scent all the way.
“See you then. Sleep well, hyung.”
“I finished setting the table. Do you need help with anything else?” Jeongin asks from the other room while Minho continues to work on dinner.
It is a simple meal he prepares tonight, nothing like the beef wellington Minho had made Yongbok for his birthday last month. All the side dishes are already set out. He finishes cutting up all the ingredients, and cooks the thinly sliced beef, seasoned with doenjang and adds water to simmer with radish and potatoes. He’ll let that simmer until they arrive, when he’ll add in the zucchini, tofu and green onion to finish off the jjigae.
“Can you come into the kitchen?” Minho calls out. He isn’t sure if Jeongin will agree with him, but he feels it’s worth discussing. He’s given some thought as to how he could ensure tonight goes well. It’s the first time Jeongin will see Chan and Yongbok again since they've started therapy. Chan said it’s going well, and their willingness to join them for dinner is hopeful, but Minho thinks there is one last thing they could do.
As Jeongin walks into the room, Minho sets down the knife, turns the burner down to a simmer and then walks forward until he’s close enough to catch the omega’s scent. It seems to reflect Jeongin’s uncertain expression, the yeasty smell of rising bread, almost ready for the oven, and beneath it, Minho catches notes of sunlit sand, an ocean breeze and warm gooey chocolate. Echoes of Chan and Yongbok. Jeongin’s expression turns curious. “Hyung?”
“I was thinking that if your scent is what has Yongbok reacting, it might be an idea for me to scent you before they arrive?” Minho offers his thought, not getting any closer to Jeongin and letting him make his own decision on this. His heart is thumping a little, chest tight.
It is a weekday, which means Jeongin will likely still carry his scent when he goes to work the following day. Minho isn’t sure if that's something he wants to try to explain, or even if he’ll face any questions about it. Scenting is a private matter, but children are notorious for asking all sorts of impertinent questions. He cracks his knuckles while he waits for an answer. He didn't realise he'd be so nervous, offering this.
“I think you’re a genius, hyung.” Jeongin’s smile grows, becomes confident, and Minho grins with relief, opening his arms and inviting Jeongin closer.
As Jeongin leans in, Minho’s arms enclose him, pulling them chest to chest, tucking Jeongin against his scent gland and closes his eyes. Minho concentrates, letting his own scent fill the kitchen, the comfort of a campfire on a cold evening, surrounded by pine trees. He feels Jeongin relax against him, a sigh feathering over Minho's chest.
Once done, Minho’s hands move over Jeongin’s back, tracing his spine. “How are you feeling?”
He no longer needs to tell Jeongin to think before he answers. Jeongin takes his time to assess, pensive rather than a quick pronouncement. “A little nervous. Better now than before. I really want this to work. I miss seeing them both.”
Minho nods before perching his chin on the top of Jeongin’s head. “They’ve missed you too, baby boy. We’ll all be on our best behaviour tonight.”
Jeongin chuckles in response, and rests in Minho’s arms until Minho can only smell himself. It's cosy and he wants to stay here, but he can't, so Minho loosens the embrace and then moves away.
Once released, Jeongin approaches the counter, surveys the ingredients, and walks over to the stove, lifting the lid to the pot so he smells the dinner in progress. “This smells good, hyung.”
“Did you want to start the rice?” Minho is cautious about what he’ll let Jeongin help with in the kitchen. Jeongin isn’t well versed in cooking, and tends to be clumsy, but he figures anyone can manage a rice cooker. He is looking to keep Jeongin busy; occupied hands leave little time to overthink what might happen once Chan and Yongbok arrive. “If you do, make extra. I’ll send you home with some kimchi fried rice after dinner.”
Cheerfully moving to the cupboard, Jeongin pulls out the rice so he can measure and rinse it. Minho counts the number of times Jeongin rinses the rise, but he had been well trained at this point, rinsing six times as Minho has insisted on in the past to ensure the water runs clear.
It is as the rice is being placed in the rice cooker that Chan and Yongbok arrive. Minho opens the door to let them in, and quietly advises them that he’d scented Jeongin. He doesn’t want them to panic if Jeongin doesn’t carry their scents as they might expect given the last time they saw him.
Chan clasps Minho on the shoulder. “Thank you for the warning.”
Yongbok looks uneasy, “I hope that helps. I think it will.” Holding out a container to Minho, he continues, “I made some cookies.” Once relieved of the container, he reaches out and takes Chan’s hand, half-hiding behind his mate as they move into the apartment.
“Jeongin should be done putting on the rice now. I’ve got to finish up the stew, but it should take only five minutes. The table’s set, so make yourselves comfortable.” Minho looks over to the kitchen, where Jeongin is lingering, apparently transfixed by the countdown on the rice cooker. “Iyen-ah. Go sit down for a bit. Dinner won’t be much longer.”
Minho keeps an eye on him as Jeongin walks into the living room where Chan and Yongbok have taken over the couch. He waves at them, but doesn’t speak before sitting in the far chair, where Doongie jumps into his lap. Minho listens, not because he tries to hear their discourse, but more to have a sense of the mood in the room while he finishes placing the rest of the ingredients in the pot. He doesn’t want to hover. He trusts that Jeongin can navigate the conversation without his assistance. He also believes that Chan and Yongbok need the opportunity to speak with Jeongin privately, to make amends for what happened, and ensure to each other that the therapy sessions are working. Minho will step in if needed, but he suspects that won't be required.
He adds some hot peppers and some gochugaru to the soup, but he doesn’t add as much as he normally would. While he might want Chan to suffer, just a little, he does want him to enjoy the meal. When the rice cooker beeps, Minho scoops the rice into a larger serving bowl and brings it to the table. He moves the pot with doenjang jjigae to a trivet on the table, with a ladle so everyone can help themselves to additional servings.
Jeongin is still sitting across from the couch, but now he leans forward, smiling as he catches up with his hyungs. Yongbok continues to hold Chan’s hand, but no longer seems to be gripping it as if that is the only thing that is able to keep him calm and contained. Chan answers a question about his recent project, in his usual meandering fashion which tends to put people at ease.
Minho determines the conversation could continue while they are eating, so he doesn’t wait to call them to the table. “Dinner’s ready.”
While it may be Minho’s apartment, Chan insists on serving Jeongin, then Yongbok, followed by Minho, and then himself. “Thank you for the meal, Minho-yah.”
Yongbok and Jeongin also give thanks before they start to eat and Minho looks at Chan, hoping to pick up the conversation where it had left off. “You were talking about your newest project?”
“Ah, yes. Jisung wrote some lyrics the other day. Powerful, heart wrenching, but hopeful. About a relationship that’s push and pull and on and off, and yet, you still want it to work out, but not sure how to make that happen,” Chan comments between bites. “He was hoping I could figure out the instrumentals after he sent me what he was thinking of for the top line.”
Minho glances at Jeongin and smirks. “Think he’s shared it with Hyunjin?”
Yongbok coughs, and covers his mouth trying not to choke through his laughter with his mouthful of stew.
“I don’t think so. At least not yet. Hyunjin’s still painting flowers in blues and greens.”
“The day the two of them figure out what it is they’re doing with each other is the day the rest of us can relax,” Chan sighs.
“It’s not like we can rely on Changbin and Seungmin to provide us with drama,” Minho comments dryly and then turns to Jeongin as Minho hears him sputter through a cough, or coughing through a sputter. It is hard to say. He arches a brow, “Need some water, Iyen-ah?”
Jeongin shakes his head. “No, nope. I’m fine.”
Minho narrows his eyes at him, but Jeongin so quickly puts another large spoonful of food into his mouth, Minho doesn’t have a chance to question him. Even if Jeongin’s ears are turning red.
Throughout dinner, the conversation remains light. They touch on work, projects, and upcoming events like Seungmin’s new movie to be released, and Hyunjin’s art exhibit he is curating his work for at present. Minho’s studio is preparing for a competition, and Jeongin is busy herding his students towards an end of year recital. Yongbok’s agent is still negotiating the fine details of deals with major brands for the winter fashion season, and 3racha will be performing at a small venue for an already sold out show.
When Minho gets up to clear the dishes, Chan joins him and picks up the banchan to bring it to the kitchen. Having seen the grateful look Yongbok passes Chan, Minho figures this is planned. He isn’t sure it’s wise, leaving the two omegas alone, but they’ve been fine sitting across from each other at dinner, talking easily to one another. It isn’t as if he and Chan will be far from them. He does give Chan a look with an arched brow, to which Chan replies with a sideways smile and a shrug. Not the most comforting response his hyung can give him.
Since both he and Chan are in the kitchen, he starts putting away the extras and doing the dishes. The intention is to let Yongbok and Jeongin talk, so he’ll stay out of it. At least the dining area is close to the kitchen, and he can hear the conversation. It’s an illusion of privacy, but he understands why Yongbok doesn’t want to be overheard. He doesn’t much care for apologies himself, though in the time he’s known Yongbok, he hasn’t seemed to have any compunction about saying sorry.
“I wanted to say sorry again, Jeongin,” Yongbok states, his deep voice is soft and full of remorse. “You didn’t deserve what happened at dinner, and I wish I’d been able to better control myself. I am thankful for everything. And it’s not that I’m jealous, or at least, that’s not all it is.”
Minho can hear the shifting of a chair. Likely Jeongin’s, as he figures Yongbok wouldn’t move closer without an invitation. “You don’t have to tell me, hyung. I know you’re sorry, and thankful. I just feared that I was going to end up alone while carrying your pup because we couldn’t bear to be near each other. But we’ve sorted all that out now, right? So it’s okay.”
“I think it might help both of us if I tell you what I feared. I don’t want this to happen again,” Yongbok sighs. “Therapy’s helped me realise that I’ve been feeling like I’ve failed, and that I need to recognize that I have value outside of an omega’s ability to birth a pup. I didn’t realise just how much I’d started to hate myself. I didn’t feel worthy of being loved anymore, and I questioned why Chan was with me. That I'd placed so much value in bearing pups as part of being a good mate, that I no longer felt I could be one without the other. ”
“Oh, hyung, no.” Jeongin sounds utterly devastated. “That must have been so hard for you. I don’t think any of us knew you were feeling that way.” Minho can sense the tears in Jeongin’s eyes. Sweet boy. He has such a tender heart.
Beside him, Chan pauses as he washes the dish and sighs quietly and murmurs, low enough not to carry further than the kitchen, “It’s been rough, on both of us. But I think we’ll be stronger for this.”
Yongbok’s voice is a low rumble, “I know that’s wrong, and not the case. Therapy’s helping us talk about it, and being open with each other, and with ourselves. While this may not be the way we wanted this to happen, I’m healing wounds I never knew I had.”
Minho hears the sniffling of tears, though he doesn’t know if they are Yongbok’s or Jeongin’s until Jeongin speaks, and his voice catches on his words, “Can I give you a hug?”
Minho puts his hand on Chan’s shoulder. “I think we’re all going to be stronger for this.”
They’re in the cinema, taking up the middle of two rows. Chan and Felix sit with Changbin in front, with Minho, Jeongin, Hyunjin and Jisung behind them. Seungmin is doing the red carpet and is in place with the other actors and film crew. Jeongin considers himself lucky that the movie came out so early in the pregnancy. If it had been in the later months, he wouldn’t have been able to sit still for so long with the pressure of the pup on his bladder.
Jeongin’s pout remains in place as he takes his seat beside Minho. He’d been told, in no uncertain terms, that he’s not allowed to have popcorn and a soda. Minho insisted they would just give him indigestion as he steered Jeongin away from the concession stand. Once the house lights go down, Minho pulls out two containers and hands them over to Jeongin. “Fruits and vegetables. And you thought I was going to let you starve through the movie.”
The pout doesn’t lift from Jeongin's lips until he looks into the containers and catches the chocolate coating on the strawberries. He still misses the popcorn, so his tone is still disgruntled, but at least he manages a smile. “Thank you, hyung.”
“You’ll really thank me later when you’re not constipated and dealing with acid reflux,” Minho returns with a smirk.
Hyunjin leans towards Minho, as if trying to loom over him and glares down his nose at him. “Be nice to my Innie. He’s pregnant.”
Minho rolls his eyes and states with a droll and dry tone, “Yes, cause letting him have popcorn and then be unable to sleep because of heartburn, followed by being all plugged up tomorrow is ‘being nice’ to poor Iyen-ah.”
Jeongin leans forward to smile at Hyunjin and waves a chocolate covered strawberry at him, “I have chocolate, hyung.”
Hyunjin grunts and sits back in his seat before he turns to Jisung and steals from his carton of popcorn, to which Jeongin can hear a squawk of protest.
Jeongin giggles and rests his head on Minho’s shoulder. “Hyung, are you going to take away my fruit and make me eat some of the vegetables?”
Minho’s forehead creases and he frowns. “No.” He then proceeds to pick up a carrot stick and raise it to Jeongin’s lips. “Eat your vegetables.”
Jeongin giggles some more, but lets the carrot stick slide between his teeth and eats it, as per Minho’s order.
When they all agreed to come to the premiere of Seungmin’s movie, Jeongin had thought of nothing but movie popcorn, laced with butter, and eating so much of it he’d feel like he might explode. He hadn’t considered the consequences of popcorn while pregnant, aside from bits of the kernel shell sticking in his gums; a minor inconvenience that toothpicks or dental floss are meant to solve. Minho really has read over the dietary list and considered the limitations and seen to his comfort when planning their snacks. He is also kind enough to not eat popcorn in front of him, knowing how much Jeongin enjoys it. Solidarity. They are in this together.
At least, that’s how he is interpreting the events so far. Minho really is the best hyung.
In front of them, Changbin is trying to distract Hyunjin and Jisung before they start the movie snack war of the century. “Have you all seen the trailers? I never thought our Seungmin would be in an action movie, but he really suits it, doesn’t he?”
“He’s missing out on the OST. You don’t get those with action movies. Drama and romances only,” Minho points out.
Jeongin sticks his tongue out at him. “Action movies still have soundtracks. They just don’t usually have ballads. Seungmin can sing anything!”
Changbin looks pleased at the supportive comment. “See! Innie knows what I’m talking about. He really can sing anything. We had him in the studio to help out with the top line of one of our newer song demos, right Jisung?”
Jisung, having just pinged a piece of popcorn off Hyunjin’s forehead, looks over at Changbin, his own cheeks full. “Huh?”
Changbin gives a resigned sigh. “Chan, he sounded good, right?”
Chan lifts his head from where he and Felix are inclined against each other. “Right. Yeah, he’s great. Glad he had the time for us.”
The previews end, and the theatre gets darker. Jeongin watches as Changbin turns in his seat to fully face forward, and shimmies in excitement, like a bunny with too much energy to sit still. How no one else has caught on to just how fond Changbin sounds, or how easily he praises Seungmin, Jeongin can’t explain, but he is happy for both of them. Seungmin deserves someone like Changbin in his life. Someone who will never make him guess where he stands or how he feels, and will always support him with such enthusiasm.
Jeongin’s glad he ate the carrot sticks before the movie started. The crunch of them would be noisy and distracting now that a hush has descended upon the theatre. The audience is intent on the current scene where Seungmin is instructing the main character on how to infiltrate a base. The leading alpha is just leaving his well protected and hidden location to rush into the building to lend assistance. Jeongin is caught up in the action, avidly watching the fight that ensues as Seungmin is making his way up the staircase that Jeongin hadn’t noticed he was chewing on his finger until Minho’s hand grips his wrist. Minho’s short fingers don’t reach around his wrist completely, yet the hold is firm, but not tight as he pulls down and Jeongin’s finger slips from his mouth, still moist.
“Don’t eat your fingers, baby boy,” Minho’s voice is pitched low and quiet.
Jeongin picks up a strawberry and nibbles on that instead. “Watch the movie, hyung,” he fires back, a quiet volley. Why is Minho looking at him and not the movie anyway? He huffs and finishes eating the fruit. When he reaches for another, his hand meets Minho’s and he glances over and gives him an apologetic look as he pulls his hand back, letting Minho pick a piece first.
From the other side of Minho, he can hear Jisung and Hyunjin bickering in whispers about what the characters on screen should be doing, as if they are all sitting together in Chan and Felix’s living room for their monthly movie night. It doesn’t last long as Changbin turns about to glare at them, his voice forceful, and a little loud. “Yah. Let us all watch the movie.” He sits back in his chair with a huff and Hyunjin and Jisung mutter to themselves, then fall silent.
From Jeongin’s vantage point, they look disgruntled with each other. Whether this is from the argument, or from having been scolded, Jeongin can’t guess. Potentially both. Probably both. It suits them well, that they’ll blame each other for having been taken to task so publicly. Chan had been right the other night about the two of them needing to get their situationship figured out.
It really isn’t his place to comment, or advise. Jeongin isn’t in their position, and his relationships have left him with no experience which lends a valid opinion on how to fix anything. What he does know is that there must be something between the two of them. There must be a spark to have them feel so heated towards each other. It’s there when they fight, and he hopes that the flavour of heat isn’t the same when they hook up, though apparently make up sex is unrivalled. That could be what has them circling each other as they have been this way for the past decade. He wishes they’d find a way to settle into a proper orbit, something stable, regardless of being friends or lovers. He often wonders if they are as tired of living the push and pull of their relationship as he is watching it.
A loud horn blares from the speakers, followed by a screech and the crumple of metal and the skid of cars on asphalt, pulling Jeongin’s attention back to the movie. He is quickly dragged out of his own thoughts, absorbed in the action once more.
When he later goes for another piece of fruit he finds the container empty. He sighs, and nudges Minho to give it back to him. Minho tucks the container away and then wraps an arm around Jeongin’s shoulder, pulling him close. Minho tilts his head down, and his breath tickles against Jeongin’s ear as he speaks, “Lean forward just a bit. I think they’re holding hands under Jisung’s jacket.”
Jeongin curls around Minho to get a better glimpse, and sure enough, both of them have their arms under the jacket laying over Jisung’s lap, a noticeable lump of what is likely held hands pushes up the leather. He grins up at Minho before sliding back against his seat, letting his head settle upon Minho’s shoulder for the rest of the feature.