Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“It’s good to see you all together again.” Dr. Park beams at them, her smile radiant. Her white lab jacket is crisp and clean, though its pocket remains marred at the corner by a stains of ink from the collection of pens she carries therein. 

Every time Jeongin has seen the doctor, she’s been professional and kind. He’s already determined that should he ever have children of his own, he’ll ask if she has space for another patient. While unsure that being a parent will be in his future, he’s still glad he chose to help Felix and Chan. If nothing else, the experience has taught him a lot of exactly what sort of partner he wants in his life. He’s still unsettled at the prospect of talking to Minho, and in the end, maybe Minho won’t be the person who ends up being his partner, but whoever next comes into his life will have the burden of trying to measure up to his favourite hyung.

“It’s been a hard few months, but I feel healed, and better prepared to be a parent now than ever before. I didn’t know how much I could benefit from therapy.” Felix reaches over to take Chan’s hand. “While I regret how we couldn’t be present for Jeongin to start with, being able to focus on myself, and our relationship, and we’ve never been stronger.”

Chan’s look of adoration at Felix while he squeezes his hand makes Jeongin’s heart pang. It’s not that Jeongin is jealous. He longs to have what Chan and Felix have, but he’d never want to take it away from them. Having spoken with his parents and being home in Busan helped him to realise that he’s always known what a loving relationship looked like, and thinking back on his past, he’s frustrated that he let himself settle for anything less. He needed higher standards, and now he has them. Though, he doesn’t know how he’ll ever accept anything lower than what he’d shared with Minho.

It wasn’t physical, or romantic. It felt like friendship on the cusp of being more. After talking to Minho, that’s the approach he’ll take. Stop looking for people who he’s initially attracted to, or at least, engage them with friendship in mind first and see if he enjoys their company enough to want something more.

As much as it hurts to think of next steps after talking to Minho, he has to be realistic.

He’s drawn from his thoughts as Chan says his name, “Jeongin-ah’s been doing all the hard work, really. Staying healthy, eating a good diet, taking his vitamins. I haven’t heard him complain once.”

Blushing, Jeongin shakes his head. “It’s not just me. Everyone’s really helped out to make things easier for me. Driving me all over the place, making or bringing me food, ensuring I get to all my appointments, picking up things for me.”

Felix agrees with enthusiasm, “Minho-hyung’s really been there for you.”

Jeongin fights to keep the smile on his face, and while he thinks he’s convincing enough for the doctor, Chan’s looking at him far too intently.

“It takes a village,” Dr. Park intercedes, “it’s good to know you’ll have lots of helping hands after Jeongin-ssi gives birth as well.”

“My sister is flying in to make a nuisance of herself for the first couple weeks.” Chan rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face belies his reaction, and he’s left rubbing his chest after Felix thwaps him.

“She’ll be a great help, even if all she does is help make me laugh.”

Chan sighs. “By making me miserable.”

Jeongin laughs, well aware of the mischief Hannah is capable of, and the spunky attitude she has. “It’ll be good to see Hannah-yah. I haven’t seen her in years.”

Dr. Park claps her hands loudly enough to capture everyone’s attention again. “While due dates aren’t set in stone, babies arrive at their own timing, we are looking to be about two weeks out at this point. Not much should change, though you may experience some Braxton Hicks contractions. They’ll be mild and irregular, felt more like tightness in your stomach area. As a first time pregnancy, it can be hard to know when the contractions are real, but they should be regularly timed, and feel stronger, and they’ll start towards the top of your uterus and move down to the lower segment. Often, with Braxton Hicks contractions, getting up and moving around can help them go away.

“You may notice a shift in where the pup is carried, or less movement than you previously had. The pup is going to want to position itself in preparation to be born, and there’s less space to move about in. Back pain may also be an issue for you as the body prepares for birth. It’s important to still get regular exercise, so remember to walk around when you can. Try to get proper rest and eat foods that are more easily digested. Issues with heartburn tend to flare up now too.”

“So many things to look forward to these last few weeks,” Jeongin bemoans dramatically with a grin.

“Keep up with your Kegel exercises as well. You’ll be glad you do.” Dr. Park looks over her glasses at Jeongin and waits for him to nod. “Any questions?”

Chan looks between Felix and Jeongin before he answers, “I think we’re all set. We can call if anything comes up though, right?”

“Or send an email. We’ll have you book an appointment in three weeks, but I suspect we won’t need it.”

Dr. Park stands and walks towards her office door, though she doesn’t open it quite yet. “Make sure you have a bag packed with things you’ll need or want at the hospital and keep it with you. When you have regular contractions every 5 minutes which last about a minute each, or your water breaks, that’s when you’ll want to head to the hospital. We already filed your birth plan with the hospital closest to your apartment, but make sure you keep a printed copy on you if you travel, just in case.”

“I will Doctor, thank you.”

Dr. Park opens the door and Jeongin is the first to walk out of the office, followed by Chan and Felix. 

The three of them make their way back to Chan’s car, and Felix opens the passenger's side door and helps Jeongin get comfortable. He grunts as he slides into the bucket seat. “She wasn’t kidding about the back aches, though I think getting back out of the car is going to be harder.”

“Sorry Innie,” Felix apologises, “We should have brought the SUV instead of the sedan. It’d be easier for you to get in and out of.”

“I’m not sure it matters all that much, hyung.” Jeongin buckles himself in as Felix closes the door and then gets into the back seat while Chan starts the car.

Chan’s voice is nonchalant as he drives away from the doctor’s office and into the city’s traffic. “How are things with you and Minho-yah?”

Damnit. Jeongin knew Chan had caught when he’d stopped himself from flinching. “I haven’t actually seen him in about two weeks now.”

“I thought not,” Felix pipes up, “I couldn’t catch any hint of him near you, and for months, it’s like you’ve been doused in mountain air and wild flowers.”

Jeongin blushes. They hadn’t been scenting that long. Certainly not for months, had they? When he thinks back, he remembers the first time Minho had offered to scent him, just before their dinner with Chan and  Felix. That would have been October. While that one time hadn’t repeated swiftly, it had broken a barrier that became easier to stumble across as the months progressed, until scenting became a familiar response to each other’s presence. To the point where trading clothing was an unspoken habit. “He’s been busy with work.”

“Busier than he was than when he was preparing for the winter showcase?” Chan’s eyes are still watching the road as the car moves down the city streets. “Did something happen? Is there anything we can do to help?”

“We didn’t fight, if that’s what you’re implying.” Jeongin tries to keep himself still, refusing to curl up around the pup, and looks out the window so his expression can’t be read.

Tiny hands land upon his shoulders and start massaging the muscles. Felix has always been good at helping others relax. “You know you’re allowed to fight with your friends, right? No matter how close people are, they can still manage to offend or hurt one another. It’s better to fight than to keep it all in.”

“But we didn’t fight, hyung.” Jeongin leans forward and the hands slip from his shoulders. Already he regrets moving, as Felix’s fingers are capable of easing even the tightest knots. He slips back into his seat. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry, I just don’t know how to talk about it and didn’t really want to.”

Felix’s hands land lightly upon his shoulders again, smoothing out the fabric of Jeongin’s jacket before he begins massaging again. “You don’t have to tell us what’s going on. Just remember you can always call on us if you need anything.”

Chan is quick to agree as he pulls into the driveway of the apartment building. “We’ll always be there for you. Just come find us, yeah?”

Jeongin tilts his head up and sniffs. He slowly blinks and takes a deep steadying breath. “I know. You’ve always been there for me, and I appreciate it.”

Felix lets go of Jeongin’s shoulders and gets out of the car. He opens the passenger’s side door and leans over to offer his hands. “We love you, Jeongin-ah.”

Free from his seatbelt, Jeongin takes his hands and carefully gets out of the car. “I love you too, hyung. Both of you.”

As Felix pulls him in for a hug, Jeongin hears a car door close behind him, and the scent of sun warmed sand and ocean breeze gets closer, intertwining with Felix’s fudge brownie as a pair of strong arms encircle them both.

Held between them, Jeongin is comforted and conflicted. Their relationship is everything he wants for himself. The affection they share. The way they see and perceive each other. The way they partake of their struggles and their achievements. He wants that, and more than that, he wants this with Minho. He knows neither stubbornness, nor his own determination will let him claim Minho’s heart, but not being brave enough to ask for it will surely lose it.

“I’ll talk to Minho hyung tonight,” he vows softly, “we just had a misunderstanding, and I’m going to clear that up.”

Felix smiles at him, and though Chan is the one who smells of summer, Jeongin feels as if the sun is shining upon him.

Chan rubs his cheeks against Jeongin’s before he pulls away. “Proud of you, Innie. Always.”

Jeongin blinks and refuses to look at either of them. “I’m going inside before you make me cry. It’s not fair, taking advantage of the temperamental moodiness of a pregnant omega.”

While scrolling through his list of recommended shows, Minho keeps his phone at hand, not wanting to miss the notification while his phone’s on silent. The food order he placed twenty minutes ago should be arriving soon, and he’ll likely have to buzz in the delivery person. No point in getting comfortable, or deciding on a show until then. Which would explain why he’s scrolling endlessly, except he’s not really paying attention to the shows, the screenshots, or their short blurbs

Instead, his thoughts focus on how it’s Wednesday. For the third time in a row now, his Wednesday routine has been altered, and he doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

Even the cats seem to know something’s not right. Dori’s stalking the door, as if waiting for someone to arrive. Doongie’s giving him disgruntled glances, as if blaming him for the lack of Jeongin in the apartment. Soonie is sitting on his lap, nudging his hand with his nose and purring as if trying to console him.

None of it is working. Dori’s attendance at the door won’t summon Jeongin. Doongie’s baleful glances won’t make him feel guilty. Soonie’s purr doesn’t provide solace. Finding a show to watch won’t distract him from his belief that he’s not where he’s meant to be, that this isn’t how things were meant to work out, or the insistent thought that he should be with Jeongin.

Maybe he’s not meant to be in a relationship with Jeongin. Perhaps they’re not meant to fall in love, to figure out how all their imperfections slot together, to stumble and fight and reconcile until they know each other in all the ways one person can know another.

That doesn’t mean they aren’t friends though. While Jeongin may have placed this distance between them, doesn’t Minho, as the older one, as the hyung, have some responsibility to bridge that distance?

When the first knock comes, it surprises Minho, but it’s not usual for a delivery person to sneak into the building with a tenant. A small delay before the next knock, and Minho has dropped his phone on the table and is making his way to the door, almost tripping over Dori, who has unusually remained near the door, rather than running away to avoid strangers.

As Minho reaches for the door, there’s two quick knocks, double time of the pause between the first two, and Minho’s fingers fumble around the knob.

That’s their knock: one, two, a pause, and then two knocks in double time. 

Jeongin’s on the other side of that door. Is something wrong? What happened? His heart is racing as his fingers grip the knob and turn it to open the door.

Minho doesn’t care about how he’s not showered since he got home from practice. How there’s sweat stains on his shirt at the collar or by his armpits. It doesn’t matter that his hair is disheveled, tossed this way and that after hours of dancing. That his eyes, usually puffy from lack of quality sleep have further sunken, making him look gaunt.

None of that matters as his gaze takes in Jeongin. His hands are clasped over his pregnant belly, his fingers rubbing at the space where Minho knows Jeongin’s rosary ring would be if he were still able to wear it. As his eyes scan over Jeongin, he notices the hunch of his shoulders, the way in which Jeongin’s eyes are lowered, refusing to look at him. He sees how Jeongin’s surrounded himself in comfort, the way the hoodie Seungmin had forcefully demanded from him distended over Jeongin’s belly, with the hood shadowing Jeongin’s features, making his face look even sharper with shadows. He’s wearing oversized shorts which hang past his knees, and his stockings disappear into a pair of slides which look new and bigger than the slippers Jeongin usually wears. His feet must be swelling again, but he doesn’t appear to be in pain.

When he inhales, the bread smell is stale, and there’s no hint of sweetness to it. It doesn’t hold the notes Minho’s come to associate with pain, anxiety or distress for Jeongin. It hints more at shame, or reluctance, perhaps dismay.

Minho steps back and opens the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”

Jeongin nods, and shuffles forward into the apartment.

Minho closes the door. When he turns around, he finds Jeongin standing in his living room, his head turning from chair to sofa, while Dori purrs and walks in circles as he rubs up against Jeongin’s legs.

“Are you alright?”

This time, as Jeongin nods,  the stronger light inside the apartment unveils his features. He looks wan and worn as he bites at his lower lip.

“Have you eaten?”

Jeongin shakes his head, and for the first time that night, Minho’s upset that he’d ordered sushi. He’d wanted it to feed his wounded soul, but he can’t share that with Jeongin. He’ll put it in the fridge when it arrives and eat it tomorrow.

“Have a seat, I’ll make you something.”

“No.”

Since when does Jeongin say no to his cooking? Minho pivots back to look at Jeongin. “You should eat something.”

“I will, but,” Jeongin answers, then pauses. His voice is timid, but steady, as he continues, “we should talk first, hyung.”

Somehow, his legs are steady enough to walk from where he is at the entrance to the kitchen over to the living room. He contemplates sitting in the chair, leaving the couch to Jeongin, but it’s as if Doongie knows what he’s thinking and jumps into the chair, curls himself up in it and then begins licking his front paw. He can’t disturb his cat, so he takes a bracing breath and sits down on the far end of the couch.

Jeongin takes a few more steps of his own and nestles himself into the other end of the couch. His hands slide into the pocket of the hoodie, where the fabric conceals what Minho imagines is Jeongin’s nervous fidgeting.

The silence extends, and the space between them on the couch seems to grow wider as Minho looks at it. There’s so many things he wants to say. He wants to apologise, for being too much, for hovering, for his constant presence in Jeongin’s life. He knows he’s too much, and that others can find that overbearing. He realises his sense of humour is strange, and off beat, and doesn’t always land the joke properly. He’s aware that he doesn’t say what he feels, doesn’t talk about what he wants, and lets his actions speak for him in an imperfect way that most can’t comprehend. But most of all, he wants to apologise for the way he feels has made things awkward between them. It’s not Jeongin’s fault that Minho loves him. It’s something he’ll have to work out for himself, and come to terms with, and grow beyond. He’s not yet managed to determine how he’s going to do that, but he knows he must.

If he were the one who had knocked on Jeongin’s door, then he would be saying all of that, in his own haltingly stilted way. He’d say what little of it he could express and depend on Jeongin to understand the rest. They’ve always understood each other in the past; surely Jeongin would be able to fill in all the remaining details.

But he’s not the one who knocked on a door. He’s not the one who asked to talk. So Minho remains quiet, watching Jeongin as he sits on the other end of an ever lengthening couch. The divide between them continues to feel even more insurmountable.

As he watches, the fabric of the hoodie’s pocket shifts. Jeongin is likely still moving as if reflexively trying to twisting a rosary ring he no longer wears about his finger. Peering closer, Minho spots a hint of silver chain against Jeongin’s shadowed neck. He’s not sure if he should feel hopeful that Jeongin still wears his Christmas present. Does Jeongin see that rosary necklace as something which connects him to Minho, or as something which connects him to God?

Jeongin clearing his throat startles him, and Minho’s blinking slowly as he raises his eyes to look at Jeongin’s face.

Releasing his lower lip from between his teeth, Jeongin takes a deep breath. The fabric of the hoodie stills, and Minho can see the tension in Jeongin’s shoulders as he holds himself still. “Hyung, I’m sorry.”

Minho isn’t certain why he’s apologising. None of this is Jeongin’s fault. He’d say so, but he knows that if he starts talking, he’ll blurt out everything he probably shouldn’t be saying, and not giving Jeongin the space to say what he needs to say. Instead, he just nods his head and waits.

“I was feeling overwhelmed.”

Those are the words Minho expected to hear. As much as he’d tried to hold back the protective and possessive side of his alpha, he knew he’d failed at times. Too eager to ensure Jeongin had good food at every meal, too quick to bundle him up for winter weather. Once Jeongin had accepted that being scented could help him, it had been difficult to not take advantage of doing so at each opportunity.

Minho’s eyes follow Dori as the youngest of his cats jumps up onto the couch. When the grey feline decides to head in Jeongin’s direction, he feels betrayed. Though Jeongin relaxes, the tension melting from his shoulders as a hand slips out of the hoodie’s pocket to pet the cat, Minho wonders where his comfort cat is to be found. Doongie’s still licking his paws while sitting in the chair. Soonie has tucked himself into the top of the cat tree, eyes closed and serenely napping. Betrayed, by all his feline brethren.

“You were doing so much to help. Cooking for me. Getting me to and from all of my appointments. You drove us to work when you almost never used to drive every day.”

Minho can’t watch Jeongin’s face while he’s talking, so he’s looking at Jeongin’s long fingers as they move over Dori’s fur, the cat’s purr a rumbling backdrop to their restrained conversation. “I could do less for you, if that’s what you want.”

Jeongin’s hand stills for a moment, and the hood slides back as he shakes his head, “I appreciated it. All of it, hyung. You took your promise to Chan hyung seriously. No one could have taken better care of me.”

Of course he did. It wasn’t hard to look after Jeongin. It was something he wanted to do. Still wants to do. His heart aches to make him some food, watch him eat and then let him get comfortable on the couch with a blanket so he can fall asleep. “I don’t often make promises, but I always keep them.”

There’s a flicker of a smile on Jeongin’s lips, but his eyes seem sad, and the way he leans his weight back into the couch is like a surrender. “I know hyung. You’re always true to your word. I admire that about you.”

He blinks slowly. If Jeonign wanted him to do something different, he would, but that’s not what he was saying. If this had been three weeks ago, he’d have leaned over and pressed a finger into Jeongin’s cheek, forming a dimple for him to get him to smile. He’d have offered a foot rub, or a cup of tea. He’d have done something to get Jeongin to relax and be comfortable again. Instead, all he can do is watch as Dori starts kneading Jeongin’s leg as he continues to purr. 

“But I still overwhelmed you,” Minho says, trying to work through what Jeongin’s asking for. He knows he’s overbearing and when he cares for someone, he doesn’t know how to stop showing how he cares. The need to demonstrate his emotions is like a broken pipe, and he can’t turn off the flow of water.  “If you need me to step back a bit so you can breathe and do things on your own, I can do that for you.”

He’d do anything for Jeongin. He’s not sure how best to tell him that. If the last few months haven’t shown Jeongin the lengths to which he’d go to care for him, then how could any spoken words say more?

“Hyung.” Jeongin’s aggrieved tone pulls Minho’s attention and his thoughts halt as he looks up. Jeongin’s eyes are wide in his face, his features pale, stricken with remorse. “That’s not what I want at all.” Jeongin breaks their gaze and focuses instead on watching his fingers gently pet Dori’s ears.

Minho’s heart is rabbiting in his chest. Just because Jeongin’s enjoyed the way Minho’s cared for him doesn’t mean anything more than that. It might have been something else he’d done. His voice is unsure as he makes his next offer. “I can try to be less protective, less possessive? I’m sorry my alpha is hard to restrain. You being pregnant makes things more difficult for me that way.”

Jeongin’s eyes close and he turns his head away, leaving Minho with only the impression of his clenched jaw. “I don’t want that either. I’m not asking you to change for me, hyung.”

While his alpha is accepting Jeongin’s words and racing across the fields of his heart, tail wagging and joyful, Minho’s heart is sinking. None of this makes sense. If Jeongin appreciates what he’s done, and doesn’t want him to change, but is overwhelmed, what does that all mean? 

“Iyen-ah, I don’t understand.” Minho strives to leave the far edge of the couch. He knows Jeongin is struggling. He wouldn’t have shown up at Minho’s door if he wasn’t ready to make an effort to fix things between them, but Minho feels more lost than before he arrived. He resettles himself closer to Jeongin and places his small hand over Jeongin’s which has stilled mid-pet on Dori’s back. “I’m trying, but I don’t know how to give you what you need.”

Jeongin turns his hand underneath Minho’s to wrap his fingers around the width of Minho’s palm. When he turns his face back to look at him, his eyes look wet, and his lips tremble to form a smile. “You don’t have to try so hard, hyung. You’ve kept your promise to Chan hyung.”

Minho blinks slowly. He blinks again. Jeongin still looks near to tears, and the strength with which Minho’s hand is held suddenly releases as Jeongin shifts and Dori makes a disgruntled sound as he jumps off the couch, allowing Jeongin to move.

He can feel each pulse of his heart, a thrum at his temple, keeping time as Jeongin gets up from the couch. It’s slow progress, a groan and a hand pressed to his lower back as he rises with a hiss.

“I didn’t do this just for Chan,” Minho speaks in a rush, the words tumbling from his mouth. Unbidden, half formed, the words just spill and Minho doesn’t know how to stop. He knows with certainty that if he lets Jeongin leave now, they’ll never have this conversation again. “You know he called me first, to ask me if I’d be alright with helping? Even before you made your choice. I growled at him when he mentioned Changbin and Hyunjin. It might have been worse if it wasn’t a phone call.”

Jeongin stops, but he’s still facing the exit. His hand rubs at his lower back, and Minho yearns to go over and support him, but he stays where he is, patient and waiting.

Jeongin sniffles, and his voice is quiet. His words are broken, but his scent now has a hint of apricot. “What are you saying?”

His heart is beating swiftly, but it’s steady. Minho clenches his hands by his side, preventing himself from stepping forward, denying himself from holding Jeongin. The sweet note to Jeongin’s scent has him hoping. The field his alpha is running through must be full of wildflowers, to explain his answering scent. “I wanted to be the one to take care of you. Me, not anyone else.”

He takes a step closer when he sees Jeongin lift his other hand to wipe at his face. “My alpha danced every time someone mistook me for your mate, the pup for ours. That night at Hyunjin’s exhibit, when Chan explained things to Minji? It was rough.”

Jeongin’s voice is muffled by the sleeve of the hoodie he’s using to scrub at his face. “So your alpha likes me.”

Reaching out his hands, Minho gently holds onto Jeongin’s shoulders and tries to turn him around so he can see his face. Jeongin is reluctant, but sniffles back his tears as he shifts his feet. He’s looking down, which won’t do, so Minho’s hand cups Jeongin’s jaw and coaxes him to lift his head. There’s a trace of tears down his cheeks, which Minho thumbs away.

“I like you,” Minho offers, the words spoken plainly. He swallows roughly as he blinks slowly. There’s a rough growl to his voice, apologetic, as he continues, “I love you. I don’t know when I started feeling this way, but I do.”

Jeongin blushes and he licks his lips nervously. His scent brightens, sweet breads and apricot danishes. Meeting Minho’s eyes, his words are as steadfast and unwavering as his gaze, “I love you too, hyung.”

Minho can feel the heat in his ears, in his cheeks, and he combats the blush with action. His hand sweeps the bangs from Jeongin’s forehead so he can lean forward and press his lips there. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, surrounded by a mountain meadow full of wildflowers with a picnic basket packed full of bakery treats.

“Sit back down.” He gently suggests as he pulls away, “Let hyung make you dinner. Then we’ll talk some more.”

Jeongin nods. As he moves back to sit on the couch, his hand squeezes Minho’s. “Okay.”

When he closes his eyes, Jeongin can still feel the press of Minho’s lips against his forehead. He never thought he would feel such a thing. He never expected to hear those words he’d longed to hear from Minho. He’s not sure how to catalogue the feeling.

Elated, relieved, happy, tired. He could take a nap right here on the couch. Given Minho had urged him to lay down and then covered him with a blanket, that was likely what was intended.

He can’t sleep now though. It’s not the sounds of pots and pans, of a knife against a cutting board, or Minho humming as he moves about the kitchen that keeps him awake. All of that is comforting and helps him to relax. It feels like everything has returned to normal. This is what his life is meant to be like. 

Except this is better. Because Minho isn’t cooking for him because it’s their Wednesday evening routine and they live in the same building. Dinner isn’t the gesture a hyung makes for his dongsaeng. It isn’t duty or obligation compelling Minho to prepare food for him.

Minho loves him.

Jeongin isn’t sure why Minho feels that way about him, but he’s not going to let his doubts chip away his joy. He wants to call his parents. He wants to scream it from the rooftop. He wants to message Seungmin and tell him that he too needs to be brave to complete their bargain.

But first, he’s going to eat a meal with Minho, and then they’re going to talk. He knows they have much to discuss. They need to talk about what held them back from telling each other how they felt. They probably need to have a conversation about new boundaries in their relationship.

Most of all, Jeongin’s hoping that afterward, there will be time for kissing. Minho’s lips, soft and warm, held against his forehead for a brief moment was not nearly enough. He’s had a taste and now he wants the whole meal.

“Did you fall asleep on me, baby boy?” Minho asks.

Jeongin’s eyes open to a bowl of kimchi fried rice being placed in front of him, a perfectly fried egg on top. Not runny yolked as is his preference, but fully cooked, as needed for the pup. It’s garnished by sliced green onions and flakes of seaweed.

When he goes to sit up, Minho is already there, helping him to stabilize and shift into a more comfortable seated position. He beams at Minho, who sits beside him on the couch. Leaning over, Jeongin kisses his cheek, startling a noise from Minho, before Jeongin retrieves his dinner. It’s a strange and wonderful thought that he no longer has to conceal his affection. There’s heat to his cheeks, and he has to clear his throat. “Thank you for the food, hyung.”

“Eat your dinner.” There’s a gruffness to Minho’s tone, but his expression is soft, a slight smile upon his lips displaying his front teeth.

They eat quietly, which isn’t often how meals are shared between them. If Minho has as many thoughts swirling around as he does, then spending some time contemplating them all makes sense. They haven’t even turned on a show, so the only sounds are spoons against the sides of their bowls.

Jeongin’s already feeling full when he scoops up the last of the rice in his bowl. He doesn’t hesitate to finish the remaining morsel. Minho made this food for him, with love, knowing it would nourish him and the pup, and served it to him with a soft smile and eyes full of affection. He’d been blinded by his insecurities to not see how Minho felt before, or perhaps Minho had been hiding his own emotions for similar reasons.

Letting his spoon drop into his bowl with a metallic pang, Jeongin leans back into the couch and rests his hands over his truly swollen belly. “Hyung, that was delicious.”

“Are you still hungry?”

Jeongin groans. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

Minho chuckles and eats his last few bites while Jeongin rubs his palms over his stomach. 

For the last few months, Jeongin’s been able to feel the pup move about, flutters of limbs stretching and pushing at his insides. Lately, he’s not felt as much movement, but Dr. Park said he likely wouldn't be this close to giving birth. There wasn’t much room left for the pup to move around in. At this point, when the pup did stretch, it usually resulted in an aching rib, or a jab to his kidneys or bladder. He gently pats his stomach. “I’ll be glad when you decide it’s time to leave me.”

“This next week is the last you’ll be at the school?”

“Mhmm,” Jeongin confirms. “The substitute will arrive tomorrow, and we’ll integrate her into the classes, let the students get used to her, and then I’ll be off. Dr. Park says I could deliver anytime now, but probably not for another couple weeks.”

“Can I rub your feet for you?”

If he could, Jeongin would plunk his feet right into Minho’s lap at the offer, but he’s not quite as mobile as he used to be. He slowly shifts on the couch as he lifts a leg and orients himself so he’s leaning against the arm of the couch and he can place first one leg, then the other, into Minho’s lap.

Minho laughs as his hands remove Jeongin’s slippers and he begins the foot massage. “I suppose that’s a clear enough answer.”

There had been so many clues to how Minho had felt for him. The unrelenting care provided with food and careful touches. The way Minho sought his opinion, encouraged him to speak, and always listened and respected what Jeongin had to say. Jeongin knows that bravery had him knocking on Minho’s door tonight. Just as bravery had Minho speak of his emotions, his love for Jeongin. If only he’d been brave earlier and said what he wanted, rather than casting aside what he had because he’d assumed Minho’s actions were based on a promise. Maybe then they could have been spared these last few weeks. 

Perhaps he should be the brave one now.

Jeongin clears his throat. “I’m sorry hyung. I wish I’d had more courage. That I’d told you how I felt rather than saying what I said. That I didn’t want to play house. I’m grateful that you accepted what I said, and that you left. You’ve always respected me but I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

“Were you scared, Iyen-ah?” Minho’s words are as soothing to his heart as his fingers are to his feet as they continue to press against his soles, working the tension from the muscles.

“I was,” Jeongin admits, hesitating as he collects his thoughts, “for a few reasons. I was frightened that you were treating me this way because of a promise you’d made to Chan hyung. I was scared I was just reading into your actions and finding feelings that weren’t there. The more I thought about it, the less sense it made that you would care for me that way. I’m clumsy. I break things all the time. I can’t cook. I’m not soft spoken or agreeable like omegas are meant to be. I decided that you couldn’t like me, would never love me, and it started to hurt to be around you. The way you care for me is all I’d ever wanted, and I knew it wouldn’t last.”

Minho reaches over and takes Jeongin’s hand. “I wanted to tell you how I felt. I was going to tell you after the pup arrived. I didn’t think telling you while you were pregnant, and still reliant on me, was the right thing to do. If you didn’t share my feelings, then what were you meant to do? You needed the support, and I had made a promise. It hurt me to not tell you, but being there for you was more important than how I felt.”

“My gentle, thoughtful hyung.” Jeongin curls his fingers around Minho’s hand. “Your actions have always spoken louder than your words. I wish I’d seen you more clearly.”

“I wish you’d see yourself more clearly too.” Minho’s gaze is steadfast and earnest when Jeongin looks up from their held hands. “You question how I could care for you. You don’t know why I would, because you don’t see yourself as I do. You’re determined, persistent, and you challenge yourself because you know you can achieve your goals. You’ve shown me that there’s more ways to be strong than just physically. You’ve said you’re not like other omegas, and you aren’t. I don’t want you to regret that, or try to change who you are. I don’t want a servant. I want a partner. I want someone who knows their own mind, who is willing to defend and stand up for themselves.” Minho’s thumb brushes over the back of Jeongin’s hand, and Minho’s smile turns impish. “I want someone who is going to let me cook in the kitchen. I want someone who is willing to defend me, as you did when Sanghee found us in the grocery store. I want someone who laughs at my ridiculous jokes.” Minho pauses. He inhales. “I want you.”

Jeongin knows his cheeks are bright red. His heart is flustered by Minho’s words, but his favourite hyung has never been one to live in half measures. When Minho is committed to something, he goes all in. He doesn’t hold anything back. If Jeongin had needed proof of Minho’s feelings other than the three words he’d provided earlier, he has them now. “Hyung, I want to kiss you.”

“Have you ever known me to deny you of anything you want, baby boy?”

Jeongin sees only one way of wiping the smirk from Minho’s face. His movements aren’t graceful. Jeongin isn’t a swan at the best of times, all long limbs and ugly duckling, but the pup’s weight and the late stage of pregnancy only makes his awkwardness more pronounced. He slides his legs from Minho’s lap and clambers across the couch until he’s sitting beside Minho, their thighs pressed against each other. Tilting his head, he leans forward until their lips meet.

The kiss is hesitant, tentative, then Minho shifts beside him, the soft susurrus of their pants rubbing against each other faint over Jeongin’s gasp as the angle changes and Minho’s lips open over his. Jeongin’s lower lip is drawn between Minho’s teeth, the slight pain of nibbling teeth has Jeongin whimpering as his hand grasps at Minho’s shirt, pulling him closer. Minho presses forward, his tongue slides into Jeongin’s mouth as he consumes the whimper and other faint noises Jeongin makes. 

The spike of mountain air, cool and laden with pine sap and a hint of a meadow full of flowers fills Jeongin’s senses. He’s dizzy and overwhelmed, claimed by the press of Minho’s lips. Surrendering to his desires, Jeongin loosens the fist holding Minho’s shirt and moves his hand to Minho’s collar bone so his thumb can rub against his scent gland. He wants more, to have his thoughts devoured in a scent drunken stupor.

Minho mouths along Jeongin’s jaw to his neck. Jeongin arches into the teeth nipping at his skin, a groan escapes his lips and his own scent rises, sweet and buttery, with the tang of apricot. The teeth at his neck bite, hard enough to bruise, but not yet deep enough to pierce his skin. Jeongin closes his eyes, moaning as feels his slick, wet and slippery between his legs.

Strong hands grip at Jeongin’s shoulders, then move down his back to yank him into Minho’s lap. At the resistance, the obstacle of Jeongin’s pregnancy, Minho growls and pulls away. The iris of his eyes is thin about his wide pupils and he shakes his head and then presses his forehead against Jeongin’s. His hands are tame, sliding up and down Jeongin’s back, though his voice is rough and regretful. “The things I want to do to you, Iyen-ah.”

Harsh breath mingles between them, and Jeongin yearns to close that distance. He’s wanted this for longer than he’d imagined, and he’s tired of denying himself. “I want those things too, hyung. Please.”

Minho breathes deeply, his eyes blink slowly, and he pulls away. “Later. Not now.”

Jeongin swallows his whine and tries not to pout.

With a smirk, Minho taps on Jeongin’s forehead with a couple of fingers. “This is not how I’m going to say hello to Chan and Felix’s little girl.”

Blinking, Jeoingin strives to understand, and then a flush colours his cheeks and he clears his throat. Then his eyes widen and he smacks Minho’s shoulder. “Hyung! You can’t tell me things like this! You know I can’t keep secrets!”

“Oops,” Minho chuckles. “You’ll just have to keep me close so I can make sure you don’t slip up.”

Jeongin sighs. “I’d have kept you close anyway.”

“I’d hope so.” Minho’s expression softens, his eyes full of adoration as his hand traces along Jeoingin’s jawline. “I want to keep kissing you, but I want so much more than that. I want you, Jeongin-ah, and it’s hard to control myself.”

“And yet you do.”

“Hmm. I must,” Minho insists.

“I wish we didn’t need to,” Jeongin laments, “but I agree.”

“Be gentle with me, jagiya. Try not to tempt me,” Minho pleads. “You’ve no idea what I’ve imagined doing with you. To you.”

This is not a conversation Jeongin feels they can have in close proximity. He presses his lips to Minho’s cheek before he retreats back to the other side of the couch. “I expect it’s close to what I’ve imagined.”

Minho arches an eyebrow while carefully grasping his hands together and placing them in his lap.

Jeongin is willing to take up that challenge. “Remember the night I caught you strutting from the bathroom to your bedroom, with naught but a tiny towel around your waist?” He pauses long enough for Minho to nod, enjoying how the tips of Minho’s ears start going red. “I wanted to bite your thighs. I wanted to leave them marked up, bruised red and purple. I wanted to swallow you whole.”

He can hear Minho’s harsh swallow and Jeongin grins as the flush progresses from Minho’s ears down his neck.

“I hope you still have that dress you wore to Hyunjin’s exhibit. I felt rabid seeing you wear that. I wanted to bite your neck, leave you bloody and claimed.” Minho curses under his breath. “My alpha wanted to pin you to the wall and gnaw at your throat. The need to possess you was difficult to deny.”

“Is that so?” Jeongin’s scent flares and he bites his lip at the additional slick now coating his underwear. Minho should certainly be able to smell it now. 

“There’s a myriad of ways I desire you, Iyen-ah. Most of them aren’t gentle,” Minho admits shamefully. His head turns away, as if unable to hold Jeongin’s gaze.

“Hyung. Minho hyung,” Jeongin pleads, waiting for Minho to look at him. When their eyes meet, his voice goes soft and he extends his hand towards him. “I’m not made of porcelain. I’m not going to break. I don’t want you to always be gentle with me, not in that way.”

Minho lets their hands touch for a moment before rising from the couch to stalk towards the window, which he opens slightly. The fresh air is cool this late in the evening, and disrupts the heaviness of sweet bread and mountain forest. “I want to devour you, baby boy.”

“And I want you to,” Jeongin entreats, “I trust you. I know you’d never knowingly hurt me.”

From across the room, Minho’s hands clench into fists, knuckles white, and he stills, as if having to hold himself under tight control. As if a modicum of movement would propel him back to the couch to Jeongin’s side to begin again what they had started. “You probably shouldn’t. Trust me, that is.”

Jeongin shakes his head. “I should. All I want, all my omega wants, is to be yours. Your alpha knows that.”

He watches as Minho closes his eyes and turns to face the open window. At a guess, Minho’s trying to clear his head by escaping their scents which have filled the room so he can think and consult his alpha. Patiently, Jeongin remains on the couch. He knows he can wait. They love each other, and he trusts in the friendship they’ve had throughout the years, and the bond they’ve nurtured over the past few months. A bond he’ll spend the rest of his life nurturing and protecting.

Minho’s fists relax, and his head bows before he turns and walks back to the couch. Sitting down, he takes Jeongin’s hand again and interlocks their fingers.

“How did my dongsaeng get to be so wise?”

Shaking his head, Jeongin smiles, his eyes narrow and his dimples prominent. “It’s not wisdom. I see you, Minho hyung. I know you, and I trust myself, my omega, and the way we both want you. We trust you.”

“Think we can lie in the same bed, and kiss, and not do anything else but sleep tonight?” Minho asks, his thumb circling the back of Jeongin’s hand.

“I think we can find a way to make it work.” Jeongin sighs. “But, you’ll still have me be the little spoon, won’t you?”

Minho laughs as he rises from the couch and offers his hands to help Jeongin stand. “Baby boy, you'll always be my little spoon.” He giggles, all warm and choppy and with bunny teeth. “Besides, that’s the only way it would be comfortable, for either of us right now.”

“Yah!” Jeongin blurts out, mid laughter.

Minho can’t remember the last time he felt like this. He’s not sure he’s ever felt like this before. Happy, content and relaxed.

Relationships in the past had been a space of contention. Demands he didn’t feel adequate of filling, or expectations that he fell short of reaching. He didn’t have to worry about that with Jeongin.

They’d talked at length about their past partners. He knew what had and hadn’t worked for Jeongin. Their friendship is a solid foundation. They’re building on that. It feels new and exciting.

It hadn’t even bothered him the other day when Kim Seungmin had stopped by to visit Jeongin and spent most of the time teasing Minho for being blind for months.

Minho can feel smug about it now, having caught Seungmin in a blatant lie. Even if it had been the way Jeongin kept trying to divert his attention, or change the subject anytime Minho had asked about the project Seungmin was working on with Changbin in the studio that had tipped him off.

Jeongin’s ability to keep a secret really is appalling. He’ll definitely have to keep watch over Jeongin to ensure there’s no accidental gender reveal before the pup is born.

Minho’s surprised he hadn’t caught on to their relationship earlier. Looking back, there were times the two would arrive at events together, even though they lived on different sides of the city. Changbin is also more giggly when Seungmin’s around. The number of times Minho has excused Changbin’s cuteness aggression towards Seungmin as a a result of Changbin taking a hit to the head while boxing and never thinking of the cause. Kim Seungmin is not cute.

Jeongin on the other hand? With his squinty eyed smiles and deep dimples. His large hands and the way he protests skinship while they’re in public. The way he speaks in satoori while on the phone with his parents. His nose scrunches when he finds something distasteful. Jeongin is the epitome of cute.

Which makes it all the harder for Minho when he has to leave the apartment and head to work. That and knowing the pup could decide any day now that it was time to be born.

This morning, Jeongin had stolen all the remaining blankets and bundled himself up in them by the time Minho had finished his shower. Jeongin had barely woken when Minho went to bid him goodbye and let him know there was food waiting for him in the fridge when he left.

The slumbering murmured thank you from Jeongin had left Minho’s heart feeling warm all morning. His good mood was not at all tarnished by Redy and Jina poking fun at him for his love struck expression once he’d arrived at the studio.

For the past week and a half, Jeongin’s been resting and restless, waiting to give birth while Minho’s still going to work regularly, keeping his phone on hand rather than in his locker. He doesn’t want to miss the call.  His heart had raced every time his phone made a sound. He was encouraged to set Jeongin’s number to a different ringtone in an attempt to quell his willingness to launch into action every time someone texted or called him.

Which explains why he’s now ignoring his lunch break and rushing down the hallway after his class, frantic as he searches for Bada. If he’d known that Yongbok would be texting him to let him know that they were taking Jeongin to the hospital, he’d have looked at his phone during his intermediate hip hop class!

While he can’t find Bada, Vata stops him long enough to learn of what’s happened, and assures him that he’ll get Minho’s afternoon classes covered, and tells him to go. When Minho’s about to leave the studio, still wearing his dance outfit, Vata chases after him, turns him around and sends him to wash up and put on his street clothes before he heads to the hospital.

After arriving at the hospital, Minho checks his phone to find that Yongbok has replied to his text letting them know he’s on his way. Yongbok has also helpfully provided the details of where they are in the hospital, so Minho’s able to bypass the reception desk at the main entrance and make his way to the obstetrics floor and find the proper room.

Chan walks forward to meet him as he approaches the room. He’s dressed in scrubs, a mask is pulled away from his face, hanging off his left ear, and his hair covered by a dull blue cap.

Though Minho wants to rush into the room, the apologetic look upon Chan’s face has him worried. He almost teeters on his feet as he halts so abruptly. His heart is beating wildly, and not only with the exertion of the run to get up to the room. “Hyung, is something wrong?”

Chan blinks and then shakes his head, “No, nothing’s wrong Minho-yah. Sorry. I just wanted to help you get scrubbed in and let you know that Jeongin might try to talk you out of being there.”

Minho is relieved to hear everything’s alright, but it’s distressing to hear that Jeongin may want him to leave. “What do you mean he doesn’t want me there?”

Chan turns to lead him into the scrub room, where Minho can wash up and get dressed in a gown before they enter the delivery room. “He’s already uncomfortable, and it’s starting to hurt. He knows it will be difficult for you to see him in pain.”

Having taken off his clothes, putting on the scrubs, Minho frowns as he washes his hands, all the way from his fingertips to his elbows. The scent of the soap is unpleasant, but he knows it needs to be harsh to be sterile. “We specifically made arrangements to be at this hospital because they would allow for us to be with him during the delivery. If he doesn’t want me there, he’ll have to tell me so himself.”

It was uncommon for delivery rooms to have friends or family attend a birth, even more rare for alpha partners to be present. Yongbok had wanted to be there as it was his child being born and Chan had agreed. In Australia, it’s common to have a partner or family members in the delivery room, so they’d all worked together with Dr. Park to ensure the facility where they hoped Jeongin would give birth would accommodate them.

“I know, but you know how Jeongin doesn’t like anyone to see him suffer,” Chan assures him. “I just want you to be prepared to ease his concerns and be ready to convince him to let you stay.”

Minho nods as he dries his hands and puts on the sterile gloves before he moves into the delivery room. Yongbok is standing beside Jeongin, using one hand to wipe Jeongin’s forehead while holding his hand with the other. 

Jeongin’s face looks pinched, but he’s still able to summon a smile when he sees Minho. “Hyung.”

Minho hurries to his side and takes his other hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner, Iyen-ah.”

A pained breath hisses from between his lips before Jeongin can reply, “Dr. Park things I’ll still have an hour or two before the pup is ready to arrive.”

“That soon?” Minho does the math and doesn’t like what conclusion he arrives at. “That means you were having contractions even before I left this morning!”

“You could have worked the whole day and been back by the time I needed to go to the hospital. I called Felix hyung after you left. He and Chan hyung have been with me all day.” Jeongin explains, his fingers tightening around Minho’s as he grits his teeth when he’s done talking.

“Contractions?”

Jeongin nods jerkily as he breathes through the pain.

Minho’s brow furrows as he concentrates, letting a trickle of mountain air, dew on wildflowers, surround them. “Chan hyung said you might feel differently now about who stays in the room with you. Do you want me here?”

Jeongin’s grip on his hand becomes painful. Minho refuses to flinch or gasp at the pain. Instead, his other hand covers Jeongin’s and pats gently in reassurance. “I’ll do whatever you want, baby boy. Just tell me what you need.”

It isn’t until the contraction passes that Jeongin’s able to reply. Yongbok is passing a cool cloth over Jeongin’s forehead again. The pinched look eases from his features and the grip on Minho’s hand relents. “Felix hyung, can you give us a moment?”

Yongbok looks curious, but he steps away and presses himself into Chan’s side across the room.

Minho leans in closer, until their noses touch. “I’d like to stay here with you, Iyen-ah, but I’ll leave if that’s what you want.”

Jeongin bites his lower lip and then blushes. His voice is soft, barely audible. “You know I want children of my own some day.”

One slow blink follows another. They’ve not even had the opportunity to do more than kiss, but it sounds like Jeongin is already thinking of a possible future where they have a family. A flush rises in Minho’s cheeks and the heat of his ears tells him they’re red as well. “I do.”

“I don’t want you to see how much pain I’ll go through today and then not want me to have another child later,” Jeongin admits. He rubs the tip of his nose against Minho’s and his eyes look into Minho’s and then away, only to return to meet his gaze again.

It’s early to talk about this. They’ve been together for less than two weeks, but at the same time, Minho feels as if they’ve been working towards this for months, if not longer. The idea of building a family with Jeongin doesn’t scare him. He smiles softly and he giggles, high pitched and joyful. His alpha is howling with delight, prancing in his mountain meadow, tail high and wagging. “This pain is natural. I don’t enjoy seeing you go through it, but I understand.” Minho places a kiss on the tip of Jeongin’s nose. “When you’re ready, I’d be honoured to…help?”

The delight in Jeongin’s eyes as Minho’s blush thrives and extends down his neck to his chest has Minho rolling his eyes and huffing. “You know what I mean.”

Jeongin laughs. “Yes hyung, I know what you mean.”

Hours later, Minho is exhausted. They’ve been assigned a room, where Jeongin lays in the bed, his eyes barely open. His features are wan, but his smile is the brightest Minho has ever seen.

In a chair near the bed, Yongbok hums as he holds a bottle to his daughter’s mouth. The babe fusses as she struggles to drink the milk, but soon she settles as she latches on and is able to quench her thirst. Chan’s fingers move through Yongbok’s hair as he looks down at his mate and child with awe.

“Have you decided on a name, hyung?” Jeongin’s voice is tired and slurred.

Though he doesn’t specify which hyung he’s speaking to, Chan’s the one to answer, “Haein Charlotte. We thought she should have both a Korean and an English name.”

Yongbok looks over at Jeongin. “We’ve already worked out the hanja. Hae for Gentle, and In for Tiger, just like you.”

Minho takes Jeongin’s hand and squeezes it while watching his expression. Jeongin is blinking back tears and he swallows harshly. His voice is rough with emotion. “Hyung, that’s too much.”

“No,” Chan objects, “it’s just right. Haein wouldn’t be here without you, and her name should honour that.”

Jeongin closes his eyes, “It is a pretty name.”

Minho leans over and kisses Jeongin’s forehead. “Get some rest, baby boy.”