Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jihoon stares up at the apartment complex, duffel slung over his shoulder, back resolutely turned to the club behind him. It's a Thursday night so there aren't any shows beyond maybe a strip-tease or two and any random public sex acts that break out. According to Seungcheol, the club mostly functions as a bar with a dance-floor throughout the week; the really crazy shit doesn't happen until the weekend.

He doesn't intend to spend any time in the club while the crazy shit is going on, though. Jihoon knows his limits and one of them is definitely being around a bunch of horny alphas and stray bodily fluids. He's not exactly a prude or anything (he doesn't judge any of Seungcheol's pack for being sex workers, although some of the kinks that Cheol has told him about made him laugh in disbelief) but he knows himself well enough to know that he's a little bit too buttoned up to have fun with a crowd like that.

He enters the apartment building, using the keycard that Seungcheol left with him that last time he was in Daegu. They had worked and fucked and gone out for dinner and Jihoon had blissfully pretended that that was all there was to life, that Seungcheol was his long distance boyfriend. So what if he had a family already? It's not like any of them were monogamous.

And then Cheol had pressed the keycard into his hands as they lay in bed, sweaty and blissed out. He'd kissed Jihoon's nose, cuddled him close, told him how excited he was that Jihoon was coming to Seoul to visit his family.

"We furnished the second floor apartment," he'd said, Jihoon bundled up in his arms. Jihoon, numb, had watched the bobbing of his throat and wondered how he could spin it to the police if he just lunged forward and bit down as hard as he could to make Seungcheol shut the fuck up.

"Wonwoo and Chan are on the first floor and Jun and Minghao are on the fourth. You can use the card to open the lobby door, the elevator, and the apartment door. I think you'll like it." Then, shyly, "We hired an interior decorator. I showed them some pictures of your place here. So you would feel at home."

Jihoon had groaned at that, shoved him away. "Too much," he'd protested, rolling away. "You're doing too much and making it weird." He'd tossed the keycard onto the bedside table, stared at it as Seungcheol cooed and protested and spooned up behind him, his thick cock pressing back inside for a second round.

He turns the card over and over in his palm as he walks through the empty lobby, trying to focus less on how Seungcheol felt inside of him and more on how much he doesn't want to be here. As the elevator chimes open, he tries not to think about how Cheol groans every time he strains to control the urge to knot. As the doors slide open into his temporary home, the shitty little voice in his head that always seems to find him in his weakest moments reminds him that Seungcheol has a mate that he can knot whenever he wants to…

Jihoon sighs and drops his duffel and backpack just inside of the door. Cool.

The apartment is nice, in a weird alternate reality kind of way. It does look like his own oft-neglected apartment in Daegu; the same inoffensive and barely used style of furniture, the singular pair of slippers beside the door, and a balcony that opens out into a city that he rarely adventures into. The bathroom is probably stocked with his preferred brand of shampoo and soap, just as the basket on the kitchen counter is bursting with his favorite snacks. It all screams of Seungcheol, a doting Alpha. It's too much.

There's a pretty vase on a dining table too big for one person to enjoy eating at alone, filled with fresh cut flowers that fill the apartment with an inoffensive perfume. Wildflowers, honeysuckle, orchids. Jihoon knows enough from Seungcheol's fond ramblings that these match the scents of several of the pack members, and it makes his stomach clench. It's too familiar. Too presumptive. He briefly entertains the thought of shoving the entire thing down the garbage disposal, vase and all.

Why is he here?

To finally make good on a promise he's been making for years to come and visit? To bear witness to Seungcheol's perfect family and his perfect mate and his perfect life?

To tell him he's done, he can't do this anymore and he's leaving the label, to ruin his friendship with the only person he's ever actually let himself love?

"Fuck," Jihoon groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. He needs to shower, to scrape the ick of travel off of his skin and stand under the spray of no doubt perfectly hot water until he can will his legs to carry him across the perfect street.

It's tempting to remain under the spray of borderline too hot water until it scalds his skin off, but Jihoon has always been a shower out of necessity kind of person and instinct takes over. He scrubs shampoo (his brand) through his hair, uses the provided new loofah to lather his body with shower gel (his brand), and washes the day off of his face with, yes, the bottle of his preferred brand of face wash, perched mockingly on one of the shower shelves.

How the hell does Seungcheol know him this well, anyway? He contemplates it as he dries off, wraps a towel around his hair. He brought clean boxer briefs and sweatpants into the bathroom and he pulls those on, opens the cabinet to find his skincare brands and his favorite body lotion scent and then slams it so hard that for a moment he's sure the mirror is going to break.

It's an empty protest. He has to open it right back up to apply moisturizer to his rapidly drying face. But he doesn't like doing it, and that probably counts for something, right?

He wanders through the apartment in his sweatpants, takes in all of the rooms. There is the bedroom, of course, with a massive king sized bed covered in pillows. There is an office, with a nice sized desk in front of a gigantic picture window that looks out on Itaewon. There is a private gym full of weights and machines. Jihoon stares at the gleaming, brand new equipment, furious that Seungcheol has anticipated him so well, furious that he has allowed himself to be so anticipated.

He grabs his phone, unlocks it with a thumbprint. He has various notifications, none of them important. Email alerts, a thumbs up emoji from Bumzu in response to his text about arriving safely, the double eyeballs emoji from Taeyong in response to the same message.

Jihoon hesitates a minute, then opens his texts from Seungcheol. Made it safe, going to apt now. And Seungcheol's reply - great, we're having dinner on the roof after Chan's shift ends. come over around 7!

He scrolls back, unable to stop himself from unrolling their messaging history. It takes a little longer every time, but he finds the one he's looking for, stares at it blankly.

and while you're here we can look for a building, past time we moved the studio up to Seoul

The lump in his throat grows until it threatens to choke him and he feels a prickle of panic spreading over his skin. Jihoon cuts his phone off and throws it a little too hard onto the couch, as if he can banish the facts of the conversation through sheer force alone. How dare he? How dare Seungcheol take the last little vulnerable piece of him and then drop moving to Seoul? That's not how it's supposed to go. That's not part of the -

There's someone knocking on the door. Short, sharp, shaking Jihoon from his self-induced spiral. No, no, he's not ready for this yet. He's not ready for the onslaught of enthusiastic pack members to invade this space that's been so thoughtfully, frustratingly manicured for him. He's not ready to feign excitement, to pretend like he's happy to be here.

Is it Seungcheol, standing in the hallway? As broad and as gorgeous as he is in Daegu, but here in Seoul Jihoon can only carve away one-twelfth of him? Is it one of the other numerous pack members he's described in loving detail, showing up in some elaborate sex costume, expecting him to be able to play along?

Oh god, is it Jeonghan?

Jihoon contemplates just ignoring it, but he's already let Seungcheol know he's here. He grits his teeth, fingers hanging off the door handle, and kicks his open duffel bag out of the way. The electric lock beeps as the door cracks open and in an instant, all of the tension melts away from Jihoon's shoulders. Not everyone in this pack is a stranger to him. There are two others here that he's known as long as Seungcheol. Two others that - years ago - Cheol had introduced as friends, kind of more, I don't know, it's kind of a casual thing.

"You're HERE!" Jun exclaims, bursting into the apartment with his arms thrown wide, sleeves of a gauzy robe billowing out in a slightly threatening display. He sweeps through the doorway, wrapping his arms around Jihoon in a suffocating hug. "And you're not wearing a shirt!"

Jihoon chokes out a laugh amidst a flood of relief, leaning up on his toes to look over Jun's shoulder. Minghao is standing behind him, beautiful and severe, with an easy smile on his face.

These two had been part of the little group of friends that he'd been a part of in college. His mind shies away from the word "pack" but that's how he'd thought of them, himself and Cheol and Jun and Minghao. He'd trusted them all with the tender parts of himself, all of his insecurities and quirks. There had just been that final little bit, that last secret and intimate part of himself that he'd held back.

And now look. The three of them were part of a happy family and he was what? Just an outsider. Just a visitor.

Still, he's happy to see them and he returns Jun's embrace until it gets to be a little smothering. Minghao says something soft in Mandarin that Jihoon doesn't quite catch and Jun's arms spring open, robe fluttering around him like a flower blooming.

"You aren't wearing scent blockers," he says, his eyes twinkling as he pads past Jihoon into the kitchen.

"Ah, shit." Jihoon claps a hand over his scent glands as if that will hide the smell of wild cherries. "Sorry."

"Don't be silly, we don't mind," Minghao says, pausing to rub his cheek against the top of Jihoon's damp head. "And I promise we won't tease you for smelling like cherries."

"Oh thanks," Jihoon grouses, following them into the kitchen. "That's so kind of you, remind me to send a bottle of wine up later."

"Fruit is better," Jun trills, emerging from the frankly ridiculously large fridge with an armful of snacks. "Here, eat something before we go over. If Mingyu senses that you're hungry when we get there, he's going to spend all night trying to feed you and forget to feed himself."

Jihoon hates the pang of sourness that rises up in him at that, resents himself for it. It should be sweet that they care so much. It should be a lot of things, and resentment is decidedly not one. Under Jun's watchful eyes, he selects a konjac pouch and a snack bag of crunchy edamame.

"So," Minghao says, settling on the stool next to Jihoon. There is a breakfast bar that separates the kitchen from the living room and they arrange themselves around it, Jihoon and Minghao sitting on one side, Jun standing on the other, his long fingers reaching across the counter to stroke the backs of Jihoon's knuckles. "Do you want to ask any questions before you get thrown to the wolves?"

He hates how hollow his laugh sounds. Of course he has questions, he has a thousand questions. Do they know that he started fucking Seungcheol? Does the pack think he's trying to steal their head Alpha? Do they all think he's here to sign up for the pack life? Does Jeonghan hate him?

Jun is staring at him with his wide, inscrutable eyes. Minghao is looking at his own nails in silence, examining the fine details of the little paintings crowning each finger. Oh god, Jihoon say something. You've been quiet too long. Say something, say something, say something…

"What's for dinner?"

He feels like caving in on himself. Minghao regards him in silence, in the way he always does that makes it feel like he's picking apart every single atom that makes you a person. Jun drums his fingers against the counter, head tilted to the side. Jihoon feels like a frog, about to be pierced by a crane's bill.

"You seem tense, darling," Jun says, softly, cautiously. "Do you want some drugs? I don't have any on me, but Joshua has many."

The bubble of tension bursts and Jihoon lets out a giddy laugh, dropping head head down on the counter as his shoulders shake. Minghao gives him a fond pat on the shoulder and they all dissolve into giggles for several minutes. Jihoon feels himself unwind, just a little, relaxing in the presence of two people he really likes, really trusts, even if it's been far too long since they all saw each other.

"It's all right to be nervous," Minghao says once the laughter has quieted down. He rests a reassuring hand on the small of Jihoon's back, pressing just hard enough that Jihoon thinks he could take it as an invitation if he were so inclined. And maybe he is. Or could be. He's been so hung up on Seungcheol for so long and Minghao and Jun were so obviously in love that he'd never really considered them as potential partners.

But you're going to be ruining your whole relationship with Seungcheol this week anyhow, the ugly voice in his brain mocks. Might as well fuck your other friends and make it extra weird.

"It's just a lot," he says, shifting away slightly. Minghao, ever attentive, moves his hand away immediately. "I haven't met most of them, and you know I'm not good with crowds."

"I know," Hao says, sharing an inscrutable look with Jun. Jihoon doesn't attempt to decode it. He learned a long time ago that trying to understand the nonverbal communication between those two is a study in frustration and will only give him a headache. "But we'll be there, and Seungcheol will be there. And you know Jeonghan."

The name hits like a bomb in Jihoon's mind, no matter that Minghao said it in the same level tone as the rest of the sentence, no matter that he's absolutely correct. Jeonghan is the reason he's nervous; he's been to enough stupid parties and industry events that he can handle a crowd of people for a few hours. But how well will he handle it when one of those people has been his own private boogeyman for years?

"Wonwoo too," he offers, hoping to deflect the conversation away from Jeonghan. He's already dreading dealing with it, he doesn't need Jun and Minghao trying to talk him out of his own shitty feelings. At least he feels at home in his feelings.

"That's right!" Jun says brightly, clapping his hands together. "Our little family is growing."

Minghao holds his gaze for a moment and Jihoon catches the swell in their scent. It makes his chest ache; he's never around mated couples. His rare social engagements are almost always with single friends, and the only reminders of Seungcheol's entanglement, when they're alone, is the ping of his phone and the faint, ragged mating scar on his shoulder. He wonders what it's like, having someone that responds to you in such an intimate, personal way.

"Don't worry about it," Minghao says softly, bumping their shoulders together. "We're experts at bailing when everyone gets too loud. If you get overwhelmed, just give me a secret signal and we'll drag you back here. No one will argue."

Jihoon grins, eyes creasing. "What kind of a secret signal?"

Jun clucks his tongue, brows drawn together, expression pensive. "Well you could wink, but that may be misconstrued with this group. Perhaps you should take him by the shoulders and shake him very violently!"

"Oh my god," Minghao says softly, and Jihoon dissolves once again into a fit of laughter. Despite his initial misgivings, he's so glad they came down to meet him. Despite being literally famous for their more insane inclinations, he feels safe with Jun and Minghao. They exist both inside and outside of the pack, part of a family but with a life of their own. To be known and loved by them is to be invited to something very secret and very precious.

"Alright," he continues, standing and offering Jihoon his hand. His grip is firm and his fingers are long; it's easy to forget that this androgynous willowy creature is every inch an Alpha, and if Jihoon's scent reveals the pulse in the pit of his stomach, no one mentions it.

"Lets go ahead and go over. If we're late, Mingyu will whine. And you-"

He runs his eyes over Jihoon's bare torso, pausing at the way the waistband of his sweatpants sits on his hips. "Everyone will be on their best behavior, but you should probably still change. We're all only human after all…"

+++

Jeonghan is trying his best, he really is. It's difficult to wrangle his whole wonderful, frustrating family at the best of times, but it's especially annoying when they're all excited.

Mingyu has been cooking all day, happily preparing all of his favorites in an effort to impress. Seungkwan started doing his makeup three hours ago, and Jeonghan, who knows exactly how long it takes his princess Omega to get ready, suspects that some of the others have snuck into his room to be prepped and pampered at his fully stocked vanity table.

Soonyoung in particular has been vacillating wildly between nervous to meet a new person (especially one so important to Seungcheol) and vibrating with such uncontainable excitement that Jeonghan is pretty sure he could just dunk them into a vat of cream for half an hour and come back to fully churned butter.

Chan emerges from the stairs, a large space heater wrapped up in his burly arms. He's all decked out in his best leather - skintight pants, a vest that laces up the sides and lays open across his bare chest, a pair of gleaming work boots, and the fingerless gloves that Wonwoo made him for his birthday. All black, all lovingly oiled and cared for so that it is practically buttery against his skin.

He deposits the space heater and turns to go bring another one up. It's surprisingly chilly tonight and although the fire pit is already blazing and the grill has been lit for half an hour now, Jeonghan wants to make sure that the roof is warm and welcoming. It has to be. It has to be.

"Stop," he says. Chan obediently halts in his tracks. He's such a good boy. "Come here, let me look at you."

"What's up, hyung?" the little beta asks, trotting over. He catches Jeonghan's sour expression and laughs, drawing out his syllables "Sorry, moooooommy."

"Much better," Jeonghan coos, taking Chan's chin between his fingers and turning his face from side to side. Seungkwan has definitely been at him; his cheeks are rouged, his lashes are curled and darkened, and his smiling lips are glossy and pink. "You look pretty."

"Thank you," Chan says. "Do you still want me to call you 'mommy' when Jihoon is here?"

Jeonghan purses his lips, flicks aside the vest to check Chan's nipples. Wonwoo took him to get them pierced just after they got together, around seven months ago, so they're very nearly fully healed. He reaches out, flicks one of the heavy silver rings, nipples already hard in the cold air. Chan yelps, squirms in embarrassed delight.

"No, you can call me hyung when Jihoonie is here," Jeonghan allows. "Now go get the rest of the heaters and make Soonyoung help you."

Chan salutes, bounding off towards the stairs happily. Jeonghan watches him go, wrapping his thick cardigan a little tighter around his slender body. Maybe they should have had dinner downstairs, but the scent of so many bonded individuals can be overwhelming, he knows this, and at his very core Jeonghan wants Jihoon to be comfortable in his home.

Well, almost. In his deepest, most innermost core there's something else. Something that Jeonghan doesn't like, something that wants Jihoon to see how happy everyone is here, how happy Seungcheol is. But wrapped tightly around that ugly something is the very real desire for his mate's best friend to feel welcome. To feel loved, here.

He huffs. Opposing feelings coexisting simultaneously is exhausting. He's starting to feel like he's living one of Joshua's self-help audio books. A deep voice shakes him from his thoughts, and he gives a little jump.

"Hey," Wonwoo says, sidling up beside him. "Did you see that cute Beta just now? Someone should wife him."

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, leaning into Wonwoo's side. "You're so pathetic over him. I almost liked it better when you were pretending you weren't desperate to be a part of this."

Wonwoo laughs, linking his arm through Jeonghan's and leading him over to one of the long padded bench seats that surround the fire pit. "Oh yeah? You miss screaming at me, emotionally abusing me?"

"Yes!" Jeonghan sighs, taking up an iron poker and prodding at the fire. It jumps and crackles, sending a welcome wave of heat over the roof. "Who am I supposed to torture now? Joshua? He likes it too much!"

Wonwoo laughs his deep, rumbling laugh again. They sit together for a few minutes, Jeonghan's head on his shoulder, talking about idle things. The dazzling array of food that Mingyu has prepared. How Hansol has hidden in his room the entire day and is refusing to come out, lest he bump into his hero, producer Woozi. How nervous Seungcheol seems, yet also buzzing with excitement. Something in that topic apparently turns Jeonghan's scent again, and Wonwoo notices.

"How long has it been since you saw Jihoon?"

"God, I don't know," Jeonghan sighs. "We were practically children. He didn't come to the wedding." That's still sour too, deep down inside him. Jihoon had been sick on the weekend of the wedding; Cheol and Jun and Minghao had confirmed it and Jeonghan knew that Hao at least would never lie to him, especially about something like that. But some ugly little part of him is certain that Jihoon made himself sick on purpose. Some ugly little part of him has always known how Jihoon felt about Seungcheol.

"Mmm, I remember." Wonwoo's scent is hard to distinguish up on the roof. How to tell what's Alpha stink and what's the actual fire? Impossible to tell. But Jeonghan thinks he catches a flare of wood smoke, a comforting waft of petrichor. He snuggles a little closer.

"Do you think he hates me?" he asks, plaintive in a way that he can only be with Wonwoo. "I don't want him to hate me…"

"I don't think so," Wonwoo says, and there is an inflection on the end of his sentence that feels like that millisecond of floating before you plunge off of a cliff.

"But?" Jeonghan presses, jabbing the Alpha with a sharp elbow. Wonwoo yelps and laughs, rubbing his ribcage.

"Ow! No buts!" He nuzzles the top of Jeonghan's head, turns his face to rub the scent glands in his jaw along Jeonghan's scalp. "I just think maybe if I were someone who was not part of the family, but loved someone in the family, I would be very nervous about meeting everyone. Especially if the someone I loved had a very beautiful and terrifying mate."

"Oh stop," Jeonghan grouses, secretly pleased by Wonwoo's description. "I'm hardly terrifying. In fact, I'm extremely friendly and warm - if you drop that heater, Kwon Soonyoung, I'll string you up by your feet and dangle you over the edge of this roof, do you hear me?"

Soonyoung and Chan, newly emerged from the stairwell, both freeze guiltily. One of Soonyoung's feet, previously poised to kick Chan directly in the backside, slowly lowers to the ground. They look thoroughly chided. "Sorry, Jeonghannie!" they call, carrying the heater with ostentatious care to its appointed place on the roof.

They've been to Seungkwan's little salon as well. Even from here, Jeonghan can see the artfully applied flush on their cheeks, chin, and nose, the glossy peachy tint to their pouty lips, the pretty pink sparkle high on their cheekbones and swept across their eyes. They look lovely, innocent and ripe, and a pang of deep jealousy spears Jeonghan.

"The friendliest," Wonwoo murmurs beside him. "So warm we barely need heaters." Jeonghan elbows him again and he laughs helplessly, doubling over in pain.

"Shut up," Jeonghan hisses, feeling prickly and raw from a moment's vulnerability. He leans back against Wonwoo and watches as things come together in his favorite place in the world. The sun is setting earlier and earlier every day, and the string lights that criss-cross the roof flicker to life soon enough. The fire blazes and the space heaters, plugged in to absolutely not-code-approved extension cords take the chill out of the air almost entirely.

Mingyu tears himself away from the grill long enough to head downstairs, and returns in short order with more plates than any man should be able to carry. Joshua follows behind him, so pretty in a warm fluffy coat, carrying a familiar little zipped pouch that suggests botanically-enhanced gummy candies will be on offer for anyone that may want them. Seokmin follows with Seungkwan on his arm, who looks resplendent in a dark blue puffy coat, his eyelids painted the same glittery white as fresh fallen snow.

Seungcheol comes up, eventually, phone in hand. Jeonghan winks at him and in return gets the kind of grin that, even after so many years, still makes his chest tighten. He fights away the pettiness that threatens to emerge, determined to have an enjoyable night. He has to.

Idle conversation crops up, someone turns on the music, and a plate of crispy marinated mushrooms starts to make its way from seat to seat. Just as Jeonghan waves it away the stairwell door opens again and Minghao emerges, dressed in a matching tracksuit set, with someone behind him.

Be nice," Minghao mouths, and Jeonghan sets his jaw. He has every intention of being nice. Hao steps to the side and there he is - there he is. A thousand things to Jeonghan, and one thing to Seungcheol. One thing that pulls him away over and over and-

"You're here!" Jeonghan announces, standing up so quickly that Wonwoo topples over sideways. He crosses the roof quickly, Seokmin leaping out of his way, and holds his hands out to Jihoon. They're taken after a moment's hesitation, and Jeonghan fights every his every impulse to not overanalyze it.

"Here I am," Jihoon replies, his expression warm but neutral. "Sorry it's taken me so long…"

"No, no," Jeonghan says, squeezing his hands tightly and pulling him in for a gentle, cautious hug. "You're here now. It's good, I'm glad."

It has been years, and Jihoon does look different. He still has the innate softness of so many Omegas, in the shape of his face and the fullness of his lips. But he's stronger, broader, his chest felt plush but firm when they hugged. Jeonghan tries to catalogue as much as he can in an instant, until the scent of pine and cardamom appears at his shoulder and he turns to allow Seungcheol into the space.

"How was the flight?" Seungcheol asks, looping an arm around Jihoon's shoulders and pulling him close. Their conversation is easy, familiar, and Jeonghan decides to blame the chilly air for the immediate prickle of pink in their cheeks. A long arm snakes around his waist and Jun ducks his head to press a kiss to Jeonghan's cheek, a silent comfort, and then leads him back towards the fire pit where the rest of the family is vibrating with barely restrained anticipation.

Jeonghan warned them all against overwhelming Jihoon as soon as he arrives and to their credit they don't all start talking at once. Mingyu lays out the food, helps everyone get their plates together, fusses over drinks for everyone. Seungkwan and Seokmin cuddle up like a little couple, Seungkwan's head on Seokmin's shoulder. Usually Hansol is on the other side of Seungkwan, focused on the pack's little princess, but Jeonghan isn't sure he's going to make it to the dinner. He'd genuinely looked like he was going to throw up when Seungcheol announced that Jihoon was visiting.

Jihoon sits in the midst of it all like a little pearl, smooth and lovely and cool. He accepts a plate, smiles when Jun leans over to whisper something into his ear. Jeonghan wants to talk to him, to draw him in to the shifting tides of conversation that flow so easily among the pack members, but for the first time in his life he doesn't know what to say.

+++

Three steps from the door, Jihoon feels like his heart is going to thud out of his chest, down the staircase, and tumble out into the kitchen downstairs. He feels uneasy, twitchy, the same kind of anxiety that bubbles up when he's alone with an Alpha he doesn't trust. But this time it's over an Omega. The Omega. That Omega.

It takes an eternity to drag his foot up over each step, enough time to thoroughly berate himself. Why does he feel like this? It's not like he lost something that he never had to begin with. He waited too long for a chance with Seungcheol, and Seungcheol moved on. It's no one's fault. Certainly not Jeonghan's.

Another step, and the story flips. Jeonghan did take him away. His best friend. His first love. Took him away and pushed him into a huge pack and Jeonghan can give him what he wants, what any Alpha needs, he's a real Omega-

A broad, warm hand finds his shoulder and squeezes gently, Jun's hair brushing Jihoon's cheek as he leans forward. "No one here is going to eat you alive, my dear. Not without an extensive discussion on consent first."

Jihoon's laugh is more hollow than he likes, but then the door open and the muffled bubble of conversation cuts off almost immediately. He's grateful for the angular and slender shield of Minghao, grateful that it gives him a beat to calm his nerves and draw a breath. There's a wave of muted, mingled scents and it occurs to him that everyone is most likely wearing scent blockers for his comfort.

"You're here," says the voice that Jihoon has heard so many times, distorted on the other end of Seungcheol's phone as he sat next to him in the studio, willing for him to just put it away. Jihoon's breath catches in his throat and he smiles, hoping that any falter will be dismissed as travel fatigue. From a three hour flight. Sure.

Jihoon forces himself to stop overthinking and takes Jeonghan's offered hands, cataloging everything before him in a matter of seconds. Jeonghan is beautiful, tall, willowy. He dominates the space between members of his pack, he's charismatic and magnetic. Everything that has eluded Jihoon over the course of his life, everything he's never been. He tries to answer and just ends up repeating what Jeonghan says, mumbling an apology, and then he's pulled into a hug.

I hate this, he tells himself, unsure if it's true or not, unsure if he just wants to hate it. Jeonghan's robe smells like Seungcheol, his hair smells like Seungcheol, and then everything smells like Seungcheol because he's right there throwing an arm around Jihoon and pulling him towards the fire pit like a knight in shining armor.

They leave Jun, Jeonghan and Minghao behind as the rest of the pack envelops them. It all feels very gentle, very measured, and Jihoon realizes they're taking turns. Holding back. Not overwhelming him. It's incredibly sweet and he feels his defenses soften a little. He doesn't quite catch every name, but there are a lot of hands to shake. Several of the most gorgeous people he's ever seen, a couple of familiar faces, a little Beta in a leather outfit that threatens frostbite if the weather gets any colder. Seungkwan, who he met once a long time ago and is easily remembered now as his face is on the side of the building, and a gigantic Alpha with flushed cheeks that smells like barbecue.

"How was your flight?" the Alpha asks, glancing back over his shoulder. Jihoon is pretty sure this is Mingyu, tall and brown and so handsome that it's almost annoying to look at him. At first he's a little thrown by the way he looks away, but then he registers the sizzle of meat on the grill and realizes that Mingyu must be minding dinner and took a break to come say hi.

"It was fine," he answers. "Probably could have just driven, honestly, but I like flying first class." Mingyu looks back again and Jihoon takes pity on him, crossing the rooftop to stand next to the grill so they can talk while the big Alpha cooks. Mingyu follows happily, curly black hair falling into his eyes.

"I've only done it once," Mingyu confesses as he flips the meat over. It has a delicious looking char on it and Jihoon realizes that he's starving. "But I want to travel more. I would love to go to other continents."

"Oh yeah?" Jihoon says, amused. Personally, he hates to travel and only ever does it when he has to, and even then he spends the entire time in his hotel room unless it's to do expressly what he came for. Traveling for fun seems like a nightmare to him, but hell, it's a conversation topic. "What are your top three destinations?"

Mingyu hums to himself as he piles the cooked pork belly on a platter and replaces them with several large steaks. Jihoon eyes the pork thoughtfully but before he can reach for a piece, Mingyu grabs one with the tongs and cuts it with a pair of meat shears. He holds it close to his mouth, blowing gently until he judges it safe to eat, then offers it to Jihoon.

It's so casual, like they've known each other for years, and it really does feel so companionable, so plainly friendly that Jihoon only hesitates for a second before opening his mouth and accepting the bite. Mingyu beams at him and Jihoon can't help but smile back, bemused by the obvious pleasure Mingyu took in that simple act.

"I think probably Italy," Mingyu says. "Milan. And then New York City. And Casablanca."

"Because of the movie?" Jihoon asks, and Mingyu nods eagerly.

"It's Seungkwan's favorite," he says, flipping the steaks. Jihoon makes an approving noise at the sear and Mingyu's cheeks turn a deep shade of red. "We watch it with him when he's recovering from his heat."

"We?" Jihoon asks, mostly for something else to say. Anything to keep Mingyu talking so that the doesn't have to address the deep pit of longing that opened up in his stomach at the thought of snuggling up with someone and watching his favorite movie after he'd been thoroughly, lovingly bred.

"Me and Soonyoung usually," Mingyu says. "And Hansol, of course, he's Seungkwan's boyfriend." He frowns, scans the crowd. "I guess he didn't come upstairs, though. He's scared of you, so we figured it was a 50/50 shot."

The name registers quickly and Jihoon snorts, pushing his hands into his pockets. His face is warm and flushed by the heat from the grill, but his fingertips tingle when a cool breeze rolls through. "Boyfriend," he repeats, chewing on the word before spitting it out. "How quickly did he go from boyfriend to pack member?"

Mingyu laughs, moving the steaks to a cooler side of the grill and reaching for a bowl of long green peppers dressed in doenjang. The skin of the peppers blister and Jihoon's stomach growls.

"Not very long…a few months? He wanted to join before Seungkwannie's heat. Family rules, you know, gotta be in the pack to be at a heat. We were all pretty in love with him by that point. We move quickly."

Jihoon nods. He remembers. Remembers Seungcheol talking so excitedly about their new pack member, their baby Alpha. How much the members liked him, how quickly they had grown to adore him and their secret text threads about courting gifts, joining gifts, loving-him-so-much gifts. Desperate to have Cheol stop talking about the pack, Jihoon had mumbled something about sending him a computer and some gear, before slipping his own headphones back over his ears.

"So I hear," he replies, accepting another piece of cut-and-offered pork belly. "How long did it take you to join?"

Mingyu laughs, handing the tongs to another man - Wonwoo, Jihoon's brain ticks over - and carrying the charred plate of peppers to one of the long tables in the middle of the ring of chairs and heaters. "Two weeks."

Jihoon coughs, taking a seat on an empty bench and trying to ignore the way that every head immediately swivels towards him. "Are you serious?"

"Oh yeah," someone else answers, possibly the most handsome man Jihoon has ever seen in his life. He tilts his head, taking in the sharp slope of an elegant nose, a bright smile, and the easy recline of a confident Alpha. "He doesn't hold the record, though. That goes to Soonyoungie-hyung. Less than 48 hours."

Jihoon runs his eyes up and down the throng of people, looking for a face that he knows from countless selfies, framed photos in Seungcheol's office, a banner on the side of the building and in one notable instance, an incredibly pornographic video that Jihoon had accidentally opened when looking for an audio file in Seungcheol's personal email.

In the weeks leading up to this visit, Seungcheol had warned Jihoon about some of the pack's…proclivities. Most of the conversations ended when Soonyoung came up; either Seungcheol was at a loss over how to describe the feral non-binary Omega, or the conversation began to edge into such lurid detail that Jihoon, ears turning red, had quickly found some emergency that needed his attention in another studio. From what he could tell Soonyoung was not so much a human being, but more like…if all of the virus-laded pop-ups on a shady porn site had been cursed with the ability to think, feel, and speak.

What he finds now, wrapped in a striped fleece blanket and peering warily at him with narrow eyes from across the table, is not at all what Jihoon had expected.

This Soonyoung is, for lack of a better word, kind of adorable. Jihoon supposes it's different on stage and in promotional pics and shit; that's a whole different person that's getting held up to the world. He knows perfectly well the difference between a public persona and a private one. Hell, he wears a spaceman helmet whenever he has to appear in public just to keep Person Jihoon and Producer Woozi separate.

He didn't expect such an extreme difference in Soonyoung, though. They look kind of sleepy, kind of wary, a lot curious. Jihoon is reminded of a small cat sizing up an intruder into its territory. The cat knows that it is safe, surrounded by its family and hiding places, but it still watches, its still careful. Seungcheol had warned him that Soonyoung was a little shy, and that he shouldn't take it personally. Jihoon, not being particularly social himself, had nodded understandingly.

Now he sees what Seungcheol meant. The conversation around the table is lively, bouncing back and forth and changing topic so many times that he loses track in several spots and bends his head over his dinner until he hears something that sounds kind of familiar. They're all very kind, they all ask him questions. They all want to know what this other version of Seungcheol is like. Daegu Seungcheol. What's Seungcheol like to work with? How many producing awards does he have now? When is he going to release a new album? Who does he want to work with?

And he answers them all, some of the replies earning him laughter, most getting an appreciative murmur. He's a pain, but he's good at what he does. Ten. Soon, maybe, he wants to take some time off of producing for other people. The last question he does hesitate on, wondering if he should tell the truth or make something up. Maybe they would like it if he told the truth. Maybe they would approve.

He doesn't like how much he wants them to approve.

"Seungkwan," he says, casually scooping some rice into his mouth. From three seats down, Seungkwan squawks like a startled bird and his full, pretty cheeks flush bright pink.

"Me?" he demands, leaning forward, hands on the table. It's a bit of dramatics from arguably the biggest showman in the family, and a tiny smile touches Jihoon's lips. There had been such a burst of pleased surprise in the scent of everyone around the table that he felt like he'd been wrapped up in a plush blanket made of their favor.

"I heard you sing," he says. "Seungcheol played me some clips of the talent show you guys did a month or so ago. You have an incredible voice."

"Our Seungkwan is very gifted," Jeonghan says, leaning across the table and twining his fingers with Seungkwan's. He turns to look at Jihoon and even though he know it probably isn't, it's hard for him not to read the gesture as proprietary.

Seungkwan is beaming, as are half a dozen other pack members, the conversation is drawn away from Jihoon and turns to excited whispers about recording, songs, and of course, costumes. Jihoon look across the table once again to see that Soonyoung is no longer staring at him, and is now grinning and shoveling kimchi fried rice into their mouth. A sharp elbow gently nudges Jihoon's waist and he turns into the comforting toasty scent of Minghao.

"You're doing fine," he murmurs, lips close to Jihoon's ear. He nods slowly, returning to his own plate of food and trying not to overthink every glance that Jeonghan is sending his way. He's nice. It's nice. Everything is nice.

Too nice?

Jihoon wasn't really sure what he had been expecting from this first night, this first encounter More nudity, probably, but even the singular bare chest in the pack (belonging to Chan, he has learned, the youngest member and a sweet little Beta) has been wrapped up in a puffy coat as the sun dips below the horizon. Several of the members are wearing makeup, varying from a subtle streak of blush to full on rhinestones, which catch a glint from the string lights and spark a longing in the pit of Jihoon's stomach that he doesn't have the stamina to interrogate just now. Everyone is kind, everyone is loud. Everyone is funny and everyone, even Joshua whom Seungcheol has describes as 'Jeonghan's pet', is annoyingly normal.

He thought Seungcheol might hover over him, but he's not. He's relaxed - more relaxed then when it's just the two of them? Does he seem happier than when his bare legs tangle with Jihoon's in bed together, spent and laughing and resisting the urge to check their work emails? Jihoon swallows the anxiety, eyes drifting down the table to once again settle on Jeonghan.

Jeonghan. Beautiful, tall, ethereal Jeonghan. Jihoon hates it, hates the way he can't help but compare himself, categorizing everything Jeonghan Is and Jihoon Isn't. Everything Seungcheol Wants and everything that Jihoon Isn't. Everything that this huge pack full of charming beautiful people is, and everything that Jihoon Isn't.

He bites the inside of his cheek, wincing and dropping his gaze just in time to see that Mingyu has leaned across the t able to add more meat to his plate. He smiles softly, waving it away with a soft aiyaah aiyaah, and when he looks up again Jihoon sees that Jeonghan is watching them. He's smiling, a smile that feels so far away, as if the table and the handful of people between them was a deep, wide channel of storm-tossed water. Jihoon returns the smile, and knows that his own is likewise an ocean away.

By the time dinner is over, Minghao has managed to coax an embarrassing story of misspent youth from Jihoon. As uncomfortable as he is with so many sets of eyes on him, he regales the gathered pack with a story about Seungcheol getting his ears pierced for the first time. How drunk he was, too grown to be so nervous, clutching Jihoon's hand and making him swear that he wouldn't leave him alone in this less-than-reputable piercing stall they had found in a Myeong-dong night market. Laughter erupts from the roof when Jihoon reveals that Cheol had clutched and begged and screwed his eyes shut so tightly that he hadn't realized the entire ordeal had been over for several minutes, and Jihoon was already handing the woman a fistful of crumpled bills.

Amidst the laughter someone slaps him on the back, someone crows at Seungcheol, and the ruckus is punctuated with hands slapping the table. Jihoon grins, sitting back in his seat, bones flooded with the relief of not feeling like Seungcheol's secret shameful family in Daegu. This is…maybe…this isn't so bad. He is armed with stories about Seungcheol that no one else in his own pack knows. That his mate doesn't know. It bolsters him, straightens his back and squares his shoulders.

Story-time apparently signals the end of dinner, and one by one the chairs at the table are left empty. Joshua, who hasn't said much all night but seems lovely, offers Jihoon a neon colored gummy candy from a tin he produces from his pocket. Jihoon politely declines and is met with a charming smile as Seokmin appears, sweeping Joshua away with an arm around his waist. It goes on like that, members pairing up and dispersing as they say their goodnights, telling Jihoon how happy they are that he's here, how glad they are that he came to visit. He nods and smiles to each one; to Seungkwan he offers reassurance that he really did mean what he said about working together. To Jeonghan and Seungcheol he gives polite thanks for their hospitality, promising to come back in the morning. To Jun and Minghao he shrugs off their fussing, swearing that he can find his own way back to the apartment building (directly across the street) after his food settles.

Soon enough he finds himself alone on the rooftop, with the occasional re-emergence of someone to retrieve a forgotten phone or a dirty dish that escaped the pile taken downstairs. There is a moment where Jihoon thinks he could fall asleep up here, laying on a bench in the biting cold and staring up at the stars, wondering if he's been too hasty in judging these people that have been so kind to him.

But in the silence, a rare thing in this building it would seem, Jihoon realizes he still has company up here. Sitting deep in a chair on the other side of the table, peering out at him from a striped blanket. There is a shock of spiky white-blonde hair poking out and Jihoon knows from both that, and the orange and black fleece, exactly who that is.

"Soonyoung, right?"

The pile nods.

"Cool," Jihoon says, slumping down in own seat. So he's alone with Kwon Soonyoung. The fearsome feral Omega of the DARL+ING pack. Seungcheol told him once that they were left in a basket on the pack's doorstep, with the remains of their previous owner still in their teeth. Jihoon's a good eighty percent sure that's not true.

He knows that the club has some kind of streaming service. They do some cam work, they put up the occasional filmed performance for members to watch over, and over, and over. Some of the performers are celebrities in their own right. Jihoon knows Seungcheol is proud of them, knows that eleven people occupy space in his heart.

(An even dozen, if he counts himself. He doesn't know if he does.)

The point is, he's seen what Soonyoung is famous for. Jihoon has a thousand questions about how you could even enjoy doing stuff like that? But a lifetime of friendship with Seungcheol (and Jun, and Minghao) has taught him that no matter how repellent he might find the idea of something, there's always a freak that owns that kink.

Sitting across from him now is the King of the freaks.

"Sup," says their lordship.

Jihoon grins. "Cheol lead me to believe you were one of the loud ones."

The pile snorts, shifting. "Yeah? What else he say about me?"

"Well," Jihoon tilts his head to the side, mentally mapping out how to play this. He's much more comfortable now that there's only one person to pay attention to. He doesn't do well with a mob.

He gets to his feet and shuffles into the next chair, one chair closer to Soonyoung.

"He said that you're banned from Lotte World for climbing the side of The Conquistador and tying your shirt to the front of the ship."

Soonyoung grins, showing a row of what definitely can't be sharp teeth. They apparently like what they hear, standing up and moving, still swaddled, one chair closer to Jihoon. "What else?"

"He said that you hold the record in Itaewon for longest handstand."

Another shark grin. "Yeah. Wanna know what I was doing at the time?"

Jihoon maintains a neutral expression. "No thank you."

"Too bad," Soonyoung sharks. "Hyung warn you about anything else?"

"Yeah," Jihoon says. Soonyoung leans in. "He said not to ever accept a drink from you if it doesn't have a clear label."

Soonyoung throws themselves back in their chair, hands emerging from the blanket to be thrust up towards the stars. "That was one fucking time!"

Jihoon, despite this being one of the stranger interactions he's ever had, laughs. This is supposed to be the weirdest member. The one with the longest list of acts on their DARL+ING website bio. Soonyoung has a Wikipedia page dedicated to their stage exploits. But like everyone else Jihoon's met tonight, Soonyoung is frighteningly normal. Charming. Shy.

Cute.

He stands again, scooting one chair closer. Soonyoung does the same, sliding on to the far seat of a bench, the only remaining obstacle between them.

"That's not true, by the way," they grouse. Jihoon arches an eyebrow.

"It wasn't The Conquistador. I tried to do a pony show on the carousel. I got as far as unbuttoning my shirt before they stopped me!"

Jihoon laughs again, a loud pitchy squeak that is shocked out of him by the admission. Soonyoung grins, showing every tooth in their head, and one little crack makes an appearance in the walls around Jihoon's heart.

"There are kids there!" he squeaks, pulling his coat closer around his shoulders. Soonyoung waves a hand, ushering him to come and sit closer.

"Nah, nah. It was close to closing time, they were all gone. Seokminnie was with me, he got banned too. He's really mad about it, taking Seungkwan on theme park dates was his go-to move."

The rock that so often makes an appearance in Jihoon's stomach shifts from side to side. It's the same casual ease with which Seungcheol discusses the pack; they're all so in love with each other, so in tune with each other. There's not a trace of jealousy when mentioning the romantic entanglements of others, it just seem so common place. So…boring.

"Uh oh, vibe got weird," Soonyoung whispers, creeping back off the bench and towards the chair again. Jihoon waves his hands, ah-ahing and gesturing for Soonyoung to come back.

"Sorry, sorry. No, it's fine. Seriously, come back. Sorry-"

Soonyoung narrows their eyes, sliding back onto the bench and gesturing for Jihoon to come and join them, holding up one side of the blanket like an enormous bat-wing. "Not used to being around a pack?"

Jihoon shakes his head, accepting the offer and settling on the bench. The temperature has dropped noticeably since dinner ended, and it's starting to make his teeth hurt.

"No. Not ever, really. Just…you know. Two parents for me."

He settles gingerly against Soonyoung's side, accepting the wiry arm around his shoulders with more ease than he'd expected from himself. He doesn't usually like to be touched, and certainly isn't a cuddler. But then again, most of the people he's around all day are Alphas and Betas. Jihoon is so rarely around another Omega, and he's surprised by how comfortable he feels, surrounded by the cloyingly sweet honeysuckle scent of Soonyoung, leaking out beneath a faded scent blocker at the end of the day.

"Cheol says you don't go out much," Soonyoung says. Their eyes are open wide, black and curious in the lowering light.

"Nah, I work pretty much all the time."

"Me too," Soonyoung says. "If I'm not fucking, I'm practicing fucking. It's very demanding getting your back blown out on stage."

A startled laugh escapes Jihoon's lips and he doubles over laughing, halfway falling out of the blanket. He can hear Soonyoung giggling behind him. A hand slaps his back happily.

"You laugh like a crow!" Soonyoung exclaims.

"I don't," Jihoon protests, in between cackles.

"No, I like it." Soonyoung reaches out, wraps him back up in the blanket. Jihoon, perhaps exhausted from always being so guarded, just allows this little intimacy. Who knows, maybe he actually kind of enjoys it.

"That is a wild thing to say to someone you just met," Jihoon murmurs, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

"What?" Soonyoung sounds wounded, innocent. "That I like the way you laugh?"

"That you practice getting your back blown out," Jihoon says, snickering a little as he rises to the bait. He decides that actually, he kind of likes Soonyoung, and maybe that can be okay. Maybe he doesn't have to be miserable this entire trip.

"Oh, yeah," Soonyoung shrugs. "Jeonghannie said we weren't supposed to talk about that kind of stuff to you because you're not a pervert like us, but I have to live my truth, you know? I don't want to lie about who I am."

"Jeonghan told you not to talk about things with me?"

Soonyoung immediately looks guilty and shakes their head. "No, not like that! Not in, like, a mean way! He just didn't want us to freak you out!"

The war inside of Jihoon is immediate and terrible. He was doing good - he was doing SO good - and now he feels himself retreating again, back into the shell of his self-doubt, the intrusive thoughts, the voice in his head that told him over and over that this visit was such a stupid decision. Why did he let Seungcheol talk him into this?

As he feels the just-barely opened doors close around him once more, Soonyoung shoves their entire shoulder through the gap and pries them open. Or at least, that's how it feels. What they actually do his take his face in both hands, slender fingers digging into his soft cheeks, eyes wide and doe-like.

"He's just a little…afraid of you."

"Hesh afwaid oph ee?" Jihoon answers, cheeks pushed together, eyes wide. Soonyoung laughs, releasing him and sitting back.

"Yeah. You should put that on your resume. Sorry I grabbed you, by the way. Should have asked. I forget."

Jihoon rubs a hand over his eyes, still not really processing what he's just heard. Yoon Jeonghan is afraid of him? The most terrifying Omega in all of Itaewon, bringing Alphas to their knees as they pay for the privilege? Or whatever it said in that stupid magazine interview that Seungcheol so excitedly showed off months ago?

"That doesn't make sense."

Soonyoung frowns, bleached eyebrows drawing down together. "Yeah it does. I have to ask before touching new people. Do you not know what consent is?"

Jihoon snorts, tugging his side of the blanket closer around his shoulders. "No. No, the Jeonghan thing. Why would he be afraid of me? He's like, perfect. He's gorgeous, and he has this club, and he's on the cover of magazines, and he has this pack."

And he has Seungcheol.

"Mm," Soonyoung says, nodding along with each point. "He does, yeah, but you have a thing with Seungcheol, you know? You guys are best friends and you're fucking now and you have the music."

Oh. Jihoon had never really thought of it like that, but it does make a weird kind of sense. And it explains how weirdly proprietary Jeonghan had gotten over Seungkwan earlier. Jeonghan's not on the outside of much, but he's never really been part of the musical side of Seungcheol's life.

That revelation is a bit much to process right now, though, so he grasps for some new topic to switch to. He doesn't know much about Soonyoung apart from their job (which he does not want to talk about) and the fact that pretty much everyone he knows has characterized them as fully insane.

They don't seem insane, though, sitting up here next to Jihoon in the cold. Their cheeks are rosy and their eyes are bright and friendly, and Jihoon has to fight the urge to reach up and squish their cheeks together the way they'd done to him just a minute earlier. He curses himself for being terrible at holding a conversation, but Soonyoung, apparently oblivious to Jihoon's inner turmoil, speaks again.

"If you were an animal, what kind of animal do you think you would be?"

"What?" Jihoon laughs again, a startled huff that puffs white smoke into the cold night air. It's an absurd question, but somehow he senses that it matters a lot to Soonyoung. They don't answer, instead staring at Jihoon in intense anticipation.

Jihoon clears his throat. "I, uh. I've never thought about it. I'm not very social. And I'm not good at making friends…or like, people in general. I don't know, a shark?"

Soonyoung's face falls and they groan, sliding down the bench until they're completely enveloped in blanket. Before Jihoon can protest they erupt to life once again, sitting upright so quickly that they almost topple to the floor.

"A shark? No, dude! You're clearly a cat. How are you not seeing that?"

Jihoon frowns, twisting on the bench so that he can cross his legs beneath him, facing Soonyoung. "How am I a cat? What kind of cat?"

Soonyoung tilts their head to the side, the glow of the heater reflecting in their eyes. "Okay, I agree, you're kind of…prickly. Aloof, maybe. But c'mon, I offered you a warm blanket and you scooted right over. You have a cat face. And I bet you go nuts for a laser pointer."

Maybe it's that he's tired from traveling, maybe that it's been a long weird day and his defenses are low, but that's maybe the funniest thing Jihoon has ever heard. He dissolves into a peal of, admittedly, crow-like laughter and doesn't stop until there are tears in his eyes. Soonyoung seems delighted by this, bumping their shoulders together and grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah," Soonyoung says, satisfied. "A little white cat, for sure."

There isn't much breath left in his lungs after laughing, but that snatches away whatever Jihoon might have left. There's an inherent femininity in the comparison, a way in which it makes Jihoon feel small and pretty without feeling demeaned or vulnerable. He snatches the feeling up and shoves it in the box labeled Jihoon's Repression Chest, deciding that he's done quite enough introspection for one day thank you very much.

"What about you?" he asks, and learns very quickly that Soonyoung knows exactly what they are. They leap to their feet, snatching the orange and black striped blanket it up and throwing it around their shoulders like a cape. They hold their hands up in front of them, fingers bent into claws, and sharp little Omega fangs bared.

They snarl, and Jihoon nods.

"Ohhhhh," he says, lips pursed very seriously. "Shark."

Soonyoung shrieks, diving forward and tackling Jihoon, wrapping the blanket around the two of them as if trying to smother him in the very essence of their tiger-ness.

They roll off the bench onto the floor, both giggling, and Jihoon wraps his arms around Soonyoung's tiny waist, holding the strange Omega close. They're wiry, squirmy, but as soon as Jihoon presses a hand between their shoulder-blades they calm down, settling their head on his shoulder and sighing happily.

"I knew we were going to get along," Soonyoung declares.

"Oh yeah? Is that why you were so suspicious at first?"

"I was just testing you," Soonyoung says loftily.

"And I passed?" Jihoon fights the urge to dig his fingers into Soonyoung's ribs. It's kind of crazy to him how easily he's fallen into physical closeness with Soonyoung. Maybe he should have been hanging out with other Omegas this whole time.

"Yeah, you passed." Soonyoung snuggles closer for a moment, hugging him tight, and then struggles upright, fighting their blanket the entire way. They hold out a hand, which Jihoon accepts. The floor is cold concrete and his back is very nearly numb.

"We should go inside," he murmurs, tugging Soonyoung towards the door. "It's freezing out here."

"Yeah," Soonyoung agrees, tossing the blanket over their shoulder and stumbling along behind Jihoon. They pause to shut off power to the last few heaters still on the roof, before swinging open the door downstairs.

"Hey," they say suddenly, peering down at Jihoon with wide, imploring eyes. "I'm on your side."

Jihoon frowns, his stomach threatening to twist into knots once more. His side? His side in what? The upcoming war, Yoon vs Lee? Should he have come armed?

"My side?"

"Yeah. I know Jeonghannie can be prickly, and he's weird over you. Nervous weird, like I said. But if he crosses a line, I'll stand up for you. You're cool."

"Oh," Jihoon responds, lost for words. He had been dreading this trip, really, but the disappointment he could imagine in Seungcheol's face if he had cancelled was enough to force him onto the plane. He hadn't known what to expect, had come up with dozens of nightmare scenarios during the short trip, but at no point did he think he would find this. An ally.

"Can you fight?"

Soonyoung gives a short sharp laugh, raising their tiger-claw hands again and letting out a comical snarl. Jihoon barks out a cackle, shoving them gently towards the stairwell and closing the door behind them.

+++

It's late by the time Jihoon makes it back across the street and into his temporary home. Soonyoung had insisted on hugging him half a dozen times and by the time he'd extracted himself from that, he'd been waylaid by Mingyu.

The big Alpha was charmingly aware of his size and moved more delicately than Jihoon had thought possible. He'd hovered in the kitchen doorway, big brown eyes fixed on Jihoon's face as if trying to overwhelm him with the sheer force of his handsomeness. And good god, he was handsome; Jihoon had met a lot of attractive people working in the music industry, but Mingyu was head and shoulders above all of them. Literally.

He'd insisted on Jihoon waiting while he packed up a bunch of leftovers. "These will be good for breakfast," he said, packing four big takeout containers into a mesh market bag and thrusting it at Jihoon. "So you don't have to worry about coming over here for food. If you're not feeling up to it, I mean. You can come if you want, we'd love to see you."

Jihoon had thanked him and Mingyu had preened and flexed his massive arms and Jihoon had left, his ears ringing with the endearing sound of Mingyu's slightly lisping voice.

He tucks the food away in the fridge without turning on any lights, content to move around in the dark like he does in his own apartment back in Daegu. There is enough ambient light coming in from the street that he can see the outlines of the furniture, and he wanders through the apartment, touching things. A chair, a side table, a stack of books. It all feels so lonely, and so far away.

He'd gotten used to that with his apartment back home, but ever since he started fucking Seungcheol, that's all changed. Now his house feels lived in. The couch cushions are broken in. Someone else's hair is in his shower, someone else's scent is on his towels. Cheol doesn't stay in hotels when he comes to Daegu anymore, and even when he's not there, Jihoon doesn't sleep in his studio as much because his studio (for the first time ever) smells less like Seungcheol than his apartment does.

This apartment doesn't smell like Seungcheol. There are traces of the others; scents that smell slightly familiar now, but not so much that he could place the particular person. Several of them must have been in here setting it up, picking out furniture for him, deciding what towels should go on what hooks. How to organize the fridge. The feeling of being cared for in absentia makes Jihoon feel a way that he doesn't have the energy to try and understand.

The kitchen still smells like Jun and Minghao, where they stood and talked just hours ago. It's been years since they really spent any time together, but being able to look across the dinner table and see them - see familiar faces - had felt like an anchor.

Jihoon sighs, and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

- - -

[new conversation]

[you] hey are you guys still awake?

[xu minghao] Come on up. I'll leave the door unlocked and make sure Jun is dressed.

- - -

Jihoon stares down at the phone, the only bright light in the room making his eyes hurt, and tries not to overthink how quickly the reply came. He pockets his phone once more, grabbing his backpack from beside the door and double checking that he has what he needs. Charger, toiletries bag, toothbrush, pajamas. Okay.

He leaves the empty apartment that doesn't smell enough like anything at all, walking directly out into the elevator and punching the top-most button. The trip doesn't take long; his temporary home is right below the penthouse. And below him, the empty floor and then who...Wonwoo and Chan? How do they keep track of so many? So many scents, so many wants, so many individuals that seem like their every need is met?

He huffs, clutching his bag to his chest and leaning back against the elevator wall as it chimes open. Minghao is waiting for him, dressed in a sleek black robe and matching pajamas, idly scrolling through his phone and trying his best to look just a little too nonchalant.

"Hi," he says, finally looking up, head tilted to the side, peering over the rim of thin glasses. "Enjoy dinner?"

Jihoon steps out of the elevator before the doors close on him, hopping over the tiny gap as if it threatens to split open and swallow him whole. That's kind of how he's felt the entire night.

"Don't you think it's a bit much to have an elevator that goes right into your apartment?" he asks. Minghao shrugs one shoulder, slipping his phone into the pocket of his robe.

"The correct term is penthouse," he replies, avoiding the question as easily as Jihoon avoided his own. They both grin, and Minghao ushers him in.

"Don't worry if you don't know where to look," he continues, gesturing around the open lounge with one swishy robed arm. "Our collection can be a little jarring the first time."

Jarring is certainly a word for it. The lounge is huge, stretching from the painfully modern kitchen on one side of the room to the massive floor to ceiling window lining the other. There are half a dozen couches, loveseats, and pieces of furniture Jihoon isn't cultured enough to name, dotted between lush plants and seemingly endless statues of…

"Huh," Jihoon says, tilting his head to the side as he takes in what could be an artfully abstract flower, blossoming and opening up to the sky, the delicate folds of the petals rippling outwards. He has a feeling that's not what it is. Minghao makes a sound that would be considered a snort if he were wearing less expensive pajamas.

"I had that commissioned for Junnie for our tenth anniversary. Getting it shipped from Venice was…complicated."

Jihoon nods, as if this is a totally normal conversation to have. "Cool. Is it…uh…"

"His pussy, yes," Minghao replies, and Jihoon realizes very quickly that almost every piece of art currently surrounding him is a creative re-imagining of Jun's body. "It's his favorite subject."

For a moment Jihoon doesn't know what to say, but then Minghao catches his eye and offers a conspiratorial smirk, and they both burst out into quiet laughter. Jihoon feels so much of the tension melt away, and Minghao's strong hand on his shoulder doesn't hurt either.

"Please don't ever take us too seriously, hyung" he says, in his soft reassuring voice. "I would hate that."

Jihoon nods, his attention snatched away before they can continue the conversation. There's a burst of noise from the hallway he assumed leads to bedrooms and bathrooms, and Jun finally emerges. He's wearing a pair of patched and faded sweatpants, no shirt, and the most elaborately embroidered satin robe Jihoon has ever seen. Not that he's seen a lot of satin robes. He really just started today. Shiny metallic peacock feathers rain down over the shoulders and arms, laid over each other to form the body of the robe, the eye of each one decorated with a sequin the size of a golf ball. There are a handful of bite marks cascading over his chest, with the very edge of mating bites visible on each shoulder.

They look like mating marks that Seungcheol wears. One for a pack, one for a mate. Jihoon's mood sours a little.

"Lǎogōng," he whines, patting his stomach as he bustles into the room. "Look how bloated I am! Gyu made too much meat again, and I had to eat it a-oh!"

His eyes widen as he notices their guest, and he tugs the wings of the robe closed over his chest. "Jihoon-ah! Is everything alright?"

"Hey, y-yeah," Jihoon stammers, suddenly feeling very silly for interrupting this den of domesticity. What the hell was he thinking? These two are his friends, yeah, but he doesn't know them well enough to intrude on their evening. They're a mated pair, for fuck's sake, and who is he? What does he have to offer? A deep sense of discomfort with intimacy and a complicated relationship with someone else's mate? What a catch!

"Sorry, he sighs, hefting his backpack and half-turning towards the elevator. "This was, this was a-"

Minghao clears his throat, moving fluidly and inserting himself between Jihoon and the elevator. "We were about to go to bed. Would you like to join us?"

Jihoon is sure that only seconds past, but what he feels in that moment could fill a lifetime. It's been an emotional rollercoaster since he stepped off the plane, not knowing what to expect from one second to another. The highs of once again being surrounded by Seungcheol's scent, the lows of finding it lingering on so many other people. The highs of his talk with Soonyoung, of holding court with the pack and not making a fool of himself, and then the rug-pulled-from-under-him feeling of the empty, sterile apartment.

The high of seeing so many people and their laughing, grinning, joking, teasing, casual intimacy. The low of finally being able to name the ache in the chest as wanting.

"Yes please," he says, his voice embarrassingly small. "But I don't…"

Jun nods, swishing over and settling his long, spidery fingers on Jihoon's cheek. "Of course. Pajamas stay on. I may be a notoriously fiendish pervert, but I am much too full to do anything other than cuddle tonight."

Jihoon laughs. It comes out heavy and froggy, thick with the effort of holding back tears. This isn't like him, he's never craved touch like this, never thought he could…never let himself. Never let himself.

"Come on," Minghao says softly, looping an arm around Jihoon's waist and leading him towards the hallway. "Lets get washed up. You can have the middle of the bed, and we'll tell you embarrassing stories of our wicked past."

Jun's arm joins Minghao's, wrapping Jihoon in such extraordinary tenderness and security that a tiny fissure appears in his defenses, just enough to let a single tear roll down his cheek.

"Yes, yes," Jun hums, pressing his cheek against the top of Jihoon's head. "You can tell him about the time I wore those lucite heels, and one got stuck in the-"

"Jun-ah," Minghao scolds.

+++

Chapter Text

Jihoon wakes to the smell of genmaicha tea, cedar, and lemongrass. It's woody and floral, pressed into the satin sheets beneath him, which have tangled around his legs, twisting his sleep shorts around his waist in a way that feels awkward against his skin.

He's in Jun and Minghao's bed, a huge circular thing that faces a floor to ceiling window, looking out from the hills of Itaewon all the way to the river. The heavy curtains are open, bathing him in the kind of early morning sunlight that makes everything feel dreamy and gauzy, like if he were to touch it his fingers would tear right through this tenuous reality.

He had laughed at the bed when he first saw it, ushered into the room with two broad hands at the base of his spine. He wasn't sure how such a thing could be comfortable.

"Oh I promise, it's quite cozy," Jun had assured him, quickly removing something fluorescent pink and jelly-wiggly from the dresser and tossing it into a laundry basket.

He was right, as it turns out. Waking up nestled in the very center, with pillows and heavy blankets pooled around him, Jihoon feels extremely cozy. Safe. Nested.

He sits up, running both hands back through his hair. He's overdue for a cut, it hangs black and shaggy over his eyes, curling in every direction. But a month ago when he was sitting in Seungcheol's lap, in his bed in his apartment in Daegu, Seungcheol had told him with such devastating sincerity that the curls were beautiful. Not handsome. Not cute. Beautiful. He had cancelled his scheduled haircut the next day.

Jihoon stretches, arms over head, looking around the room with the renewed clarity that came with an incredibly good night's sleep. It's more intimate than the rest of the apartment, which is weird to say, considering how much of the penthouse is decorated with straight up pornography. Things in here feel private, revealing so much about the pair that calls it home. There are clothes draped over chairs, a stack of magazines next to the bed in a dozen different languages with a dozen more sections earmarked for further investigation. Packages still in boxes lean against one wall, an empty mug sits on a side table. It's lived in, by real people.

Which seems to be the theme of this trip so far.

"You're so annoying," Jihoon whispers to himself, staring up at the ceiling again. "They're just normal people. Everyone here is just a normal person. No one is out to get you."

He rolls to the side, summoning the motivation to get out of the warm bed. There's a framed photo beside the empty mug, as many faces as possible squished together in an attempt to each claim a space in the frame. Yoon Jeonghan stares out at him from the center, his smile icy.

"Yikes," Jihoon mutters, laying the photo face down and then finally climbing out of the bed.

He sits on the edge of a huge ornate bathtub as he brushes his teeth, splashing water on his face in a pedestal sink that looks like it's sitting on a gigantic marble lion's leg. It plays well with the generic brand hand soap and some sort of reminder stuck to the mirror, written in mandarin on a bright pink post-it.

The clothes that Jihoon wore over last night are all he has to change into, and are woefully inadequate to protect him against the chill in the air. He glances out of one of the huge windows, squinting in the bright sunlight. There's not a cloud in the sky that would threaten his brief vacation, but the last few crystals of a morning frost cling to the glass.

There's a robe sitting on top of the half-worn clothes pile, draped over a chair in the corner. Jihoon thinks for a moment on just how expensive it must be; probably a one-of-a-kind garment spun together out of plush wool from a mythical creature who only sheds during the full moon. Or it could be from Courtplex. Either way, a couple who happily invited him into their bed probably wouldn't mind him borrowing a robe and a pair of slippers.

And they had. Invited him into their bed. Happily, easily. Jihoon bites his lip as he sits on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone and avoiding leaving the room, where he would no doubt have to engage in a conversation.

His night with Jun and Minghao had been…nice. Quiet. Chaste. It felt like they had taken the measure of his mood without needing to interrogate, gently and quietly ushering him into the bedroom to wash up and wind down. Gentle conversation that stayed away from sensitive topics, away from Seungcheol and Jeonghan and the tar pit between the two of them that Jihoon felt like he was sinking into.

Laying in their bed between old friends, between a mated pair so clearly destined to be together, had felt like a soft weighted blanket. Arms around his waist, warm bodies either side, laughing quietly until eyelids grew too heavy to stay open.

It felt good. Simple. Easier than his nights with Seungcheol, where the intimacy was starting to feel brittle, snatched and held against his chest before it could slip away. But it was the morning now, and that meant he needed to start making appearances. Small talk. Eugh.

Swiping away a new notification (Taeyong, demanding to meet for lunch today), Jihoon hauls himself to his feet and slips into the robe, tying it around his waist and trying to ignore how it drags on the ground behind him as he walks.

"Hello," Minghao looks up from a tablet held in one hand, a steaming cup of something in the other. A pair of rimless glasses perch delicately on his nose. "We thought we'd let you sleep."

"Breakfast!" Jun announces brightly, as Jihoon emerges from the long hallway that leads from the bedroom to the open kitchen. He turns, hands full with a bowl of what smells like congee, and a paper bag stuffed with long sticks of fried dough. He's wearing a matching running suit, bright blue from head to toe, with a matching headband. Jihoon grins.

"Junnie went out early," Minghao says, sitting at the kitchen island in the same silky robe from last night. "There's a bakery down the street that started making youtai after he begged them every day for a month."

Jun clucks his tongue, waving Jihoon over to an empty chair and depositing his breakfast down in front of him. "It sells well! I did them a favor. Jihoon-ah, drink?"

"Yeah, thanks…" Jihoon slides into his seat, breathing in the delicious smell of breakfast and the overwhelming crush of fond hospitality. "Got any coke zero?"

Minghao gently lays his tablet down on the counter and Jun, frowning, hands Jihoon a glass of soy milk.

"How was your night?" Minghao asks, taking one of the youtai and delicately dunking it into his own mug of steaming soy milk. Jihoon tenses a little, expecting an interrogation, but Minghao is absently running his fingers through Jun's hair as the tall Beta sits down beside him. There is no expectation from either of them, simply the gentle easiness that comes from a friendship they had started years ago. A relationship Jihoon has let fall to the side.

Maybe he should give it a try.

"Really well," he replies, following suit and dunking his breakfast. The youtai is crisp and warm all the way through, further heated by the warm milk. He's not usually a breakfast person, preferring to slam half a protein shake on his way to the gym and then finish it after a shower. "Thank you. You guys didn't have to."

Jun waves his hand, helping himself to a spoonful of the single bowl of congee that sits between the three of them. Minghao lowers his head as he does so, rubbing his nose against Jun's temple. Jihoon watches them a moment too long, realizing that he had forgotten Minghao is an Alpha. He forgets that Jun, too, is capable of producing a knot. They both just exude the kind of sensuality and grace that Jihoon associates with the kind of Omega he could never, ever be.

"Nonsense," Jun says, handing Jihoon the spoon and encouraging him to eat. "We felt needed. We love to feel needed. Really, you were doing us a favor."

Minghao laughs quietly, rolling his eyes and removing his glasses. "It was no trouble, and you are welcome here any time."

Jihoon scans his words, his scent, and his body language for any hidden meaning but comes up with only sincerity and kindness - not a trace of lecherous intent. There's a little spark of something in his chest, something that feels like disappointment. Maybe this place is already infecting him.

"So!" Jun claps his hands, standing. "Do you have plans today? Exploring the city? Having an adventure? Getting involved in a problematic tryst with a cute barista and then all of a sudden you aren't welcome at your favorite cafe anymore?"

He blinks as he talks, eyes wide and owlish, and so full of genuine interest and sincerity that Jihoon finds it all a little devastating. What must it be like, to be so open? To not feel so overwhelmingly uncomfortable in your skin, like a giant-person shaped callous on the palm of the world?

"Oh, well. I don't have a favorite cafe in Seoul…" he begins, and Jun clucks his tongue.

"Ah, of course. Just a quiet day, then?"

Minghao catches Jihoon's eye over Jun's shoulder, shrugging fondly. "I'm sure Jihoon-ah has friends in the city he would like to visit."

Jihoon nods, the thought punctuated by another chime from his phone. "I do, yeah. And I should probably, you know. Show my face across the road."

"Mm," Minghao replies, scooping the bowl of congee from the counter and finishing it off. "Probably. Seungcheol might start climbing the outside of the building if you don't give him a little attention. You might not get much time with Jeonghan today, he's in planning mode."

Jihoon knows his scent sours at the mention, knows it from the way his stomach feels, from the way Jun's nose wrinkles before he can control his reaction. He knows the pack has some huge party at the club in a few days time, some winter celebration that will no doubt leave everyone sticky and exhausted. It's not exactly something Jihoon wants to be around, but this was the only week he could pull himself away from the studio. Besides, having this mob of people so intent on being excruciatingly welcoming to him be distracted by this huge event would be a blessing in disguise. Less suffocating.

Maybe Jeonghan would enjoy his party less, knowing that Jihoon was there. In his space. In his mate's mind.

Stop it.

"I don't think Jeonghan will miss any lost time with me," he replies, realizing that he's maybe been silent for a little bit too long, and the two are staring at him with raised eyebrows and flaring nostrils.

Minghao shrugs, turning towards the hallway, his robe billowing out around him like a cape.

"You might be surprised. Bundle up when you go out, hyung. You and Jeonghannie aren't the only frosty things out today."

Jihoon lifts his cup to his lips, swallowing a mouthful of the cooling milk and trying not to bristle too much. Isn't this what friends do? Speak with honesty to each other, with understanding? Why is that something he has to ask himself? Should he get more friends? Friends that he makes time to see, to be honest with, to understand? Friends that he isn't having a semi-toxic pseudo-affair with?

He's known Jun and Minghao since university, since they were the weird couple that shared an apartment with Seungcheol, since they were the weird couple that shared Seungcheol. Jihoon liked them so much, liked the way they talked to each-other, the way they held their intimacy so tenderly even when they were barely in their twenties. He could have been closer with them in the years between, but after Jeonghan came into Seungcheol's life, after that day when Seungcheol came back from vacation glowing with the promise of a first love that wasn't Jihoon…it was easier to shut himself away. To sever connections, and surrender those blooming friendships to Seungcheol's new perfect Omega.

Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe if he leaves Seoul with anything, it will be a repaired relationship with these two strange creatures.

"I know what you're thinking," Jun says softly, laying his spider-fingered hand atop Jihoon's. Jihoon freezes like a prey animal, clenching his remaining youtai a little too hard in his other hand.

"You do?"

Jun nods sagely, his scent so warm, so woody. He turns his head towards the kitchen, eyes trailing up towards a gigantic photograph on the wall. It's ornately framed, sitting above the kitchen cabinets in a way that feels like the entire kitchen was designed around it. It probably was. It's a full body photograph of Jun, outreached to his full impressive length, laying on a bed of black velvet. Imprints from unwound rope criss-cross his bare skin like a spiderweb, imprinting even the sharp lines of his face. He stares out from the photograph, taking in the entire front room of the apartment.

"I should have worn a blindfold. I told Hao-hao. Naked, save a blindfold, is infinitely more erotic!"

Jihoon stares at him, releasing the pulverized remains of the youtai.

"Well," he replies, at a loss for context but brimming with infinite fondness for this authentically, genuinely odd man. "There's always next time."

+++

There's a chill in the air that Jihoon feels woefully under-prepared for, but the sky is cerulean and the streets are dry, so he ventures out regardless. Minghao wouldn't let him leave the building without something thicker than his usual black hoodie, so he's at least wrapped in a warm wool coat that doesn't trail too humiliatingly close to his ankles.

He has a bundle tucked under one arm, containing extra congee from breakfast. Jun pressed it into his hands as he left, telling him that there's more than they can eat and someone, most likely Hansol, will be thankful for it. The intimacy, the familiarity, the ease with which everyone is fitting him into their little family quirks leaves a bitter taste in Jihoon's mouth.

Arriving as late as he did the previous night, Jihoon didn't pay much attention to the outside of the club It's a more impressive, more intimidating facade in the stark morning light, and he stands on the sidewalk for a moment to take it in.

The building is massive, rectangular, and so different from anything one might see if they were to venture deeper into the heart of Seoul. It stands alone on the corner of two busy streets, far back enough from the cars that whip by that a decent crowd could gather as they waited to be granted access. It's tall for a two-story, and from Seungcheol's stories Jihoon knows that there is a substantial basement level as well. It was a block of offices, once upon a time, before Seungcheol's success allowed Jeonghan to achieve his dreams of becoming the Kink Baron of Itaewon.

Jihoon thinks briefly about hurling a plastic container of congee into the side of the building.

He doesn't.

Yet.

From the outside, it doesn't look like a den of sin and debauchery. Sure, the huge canvas posters that hang from roof to sidewalk kind of give it away. Soonyoung and Seokmin are on the left, surrounded by hazy blue clouds that obscure anything not safe for public consumption. Soonyoung grins down at Jihoon, bleach-blonde hair sticking out in every direction, and Jihoon feels some of the unpleasantness recede.

Seungkwan and Mingyu are on the right, pink swirling clouds contrasting with the blue of the other poster. Seungkwan is in full drag get-up, a curling wig framing his face and making him look like one of those western country stars from the sixties. It's circus-like, a sideshow for tourists looking to indulge in something risque before they leave the city.

Jihoon sighs, hefts the bag under his arm, and enters the side door with a keypad-code that Minghao had given him. It beeps and lets him into a long hallway, broken in the middle with a huge archway, opposite a set of elevators. It all feels very clinical, quiet, and eerie. Do people really fuck in a place like this? Strip away their inhibitions and engage in god-knows-what?

He shakes his head, walking down the hallway and poking his head around the edge of the archway. Now it makes sense.

The opening reveals the entire club floor, laid out before him like an ornate theater. The stage is at the opposite end, far away enough that Jihoon can't accurately judge how big it is, but it looks massive. There are stairs that curve up to the stage floor on either side, cordoned off with velvet rope. The matching curtain is closed, drawn heavily to hide whatever might be happening backstage. Preparations for their party, no doubt.

Admittedly, it's more impressive than Jihoon thought. The stage lights gleam, the speakers that stand tall on either side of the stairs look brand new, top of the line. There are chairs and tables that ring the entire room, some on platforms that are likewise tucked away behind the exclusivity of a velvet rope. There are a few platforms and benches as well, the assumed uses of which twist Jihoon's stomach in an odd but not unpleasant way. The center of the room is open - for dancing, maybe, but probably not. Something else just as rhythmic and sweaty.

The wall on the right side of the room is taken up almost entirely by a bar, backed with an elegant mirror and row upon row of multicolored bottles. The seats that line the bar are covered in gleaming purple vinyl, matching the stage curtain perfectly.

Jihoon bites the inside of his cheek. He feels under-dressed, under-prepared. Why did he do this. Why did he come here? Even just to visit, this isn't the place for him. He's too shy, too awkward. Too…too broken.

ding

He flinches, hearing the elevator doors slide open behind him. Too late to make a break for it, it seems. A scent fills his nostrils immediately, the scent that ordinarily he would push his face into his pillows to try and chase, but right now it's the last thing he wants surrounding him.

"It's pretty cool, huh," Seungcheol's low voice echoes a little in the vastness of the empty room. He comes up behind Jihoon, warmth radiating from his body, but Jihoon turns and pushes the congee into his hands instead.

"Breakfast," he says, turning his back on the club and instead focusing on Seungcheol, so stupid and so handsome in his threadbare hoodie and sweatpants. His slippers are stupid. His gorgeous face is stupid.

"Thanks," Seungcheol replies, tilting his head to the side. His nostrils flare. "You uh, you don't have to wear blockers here. If you don't want to. No one else does."

Jihoon shrugs, wishing that he had plastered the little round stickers all over his face. In a cab. On the way back to the airport. This felt so easy last night, why now is he crawling out of his skin?

The elevator doors, evidently running out of patience, close silently behind Seungcheol. He leans against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. "Are you okay? Did you sleep alright?"

"Yeah," Jihoon replies. He wants to say more, to tell Seungcheol that he slept in Jun and Minghao's bed last night, and he's wearing Minghao's coat. Will he be jealous? Will he tear the scent blockers from Jihoon's neck with his teeth and throw him down on the floor, grinding into him until the only thing he smells like is pine, cardamom, and ugly satisfaction?

But Jihoon stays silent. He's feeling good about these one-word answers.

Seungcheol watches him, nostrils flaring again in a futile attempt to gauge his mood. Jihoon doesn't meet his eyes, but without Seungcheol's blockers, he can smell his confusion. His sorrow.

"Last night was fun," Seungcheol says. Jihoon knows what he's actually saying. You smiled last night, you laughed. You were charming and everyone liked you. Why now, in the light of day, is it so hard for you to act like a normal person?

"Yeah," Jihoon repeats, generous enough this time to add a nod. God, this is torture. He should just get it over with. Tell Seungcheol that coming here was a mistake, that he's thinking about leaving the label, that Jeonghan wins.

That's when Seungcheol's scent changes. It warms into sincerity, affection, and overwhelming fondness. Jihoon braces, he knows what's coming.

"I'm really glad you're here. I'm so glad you're finally meeting everyone. But it's a lot, I know, and if you can't…"

He always does this. He always does this. Seungcheol the good guy. The Good Alpha. So understanding, so gentle. Jihoon sighs, his brittle resolve crumbling in on itself. His trail of destruction can wait. Besides, he is looking forward to seeing Soonyoung again.

"No," he says, crossing the hallway and slumping forward against Seungcheol's chest. "No, it's fine. I'm sorry. I'm just feeling kind of prickly. I'm glad I'm here."

Seungcheol gives a happy little rumble from deep in his chest, rubbing his chin against the crown of Jihoon's head. Jihoon returns the gesture, pressing his nose against Seungcheol's scent gland and breathing deeply.

After all, if he's going to spend the morning in Yoon Jeonghan's crowning achievement, he may as well do it smelling like pine and cardamom.

When the elevator reaches the second story it opens, predictably, into total chaos. Jihoon is greeted by another hallway, but this one couldn't be more different from the one downstairs. This floor of the building is where the pack lives. Their home. Their den, of sorts. There's a glass door to the left, propped open by what looks like a bag of sports equipment, and someone is yelling.

"Absolutely not! Not the day before you have to host!"

Seungcheol signs, running his fingers through his shaggy hair. "Sorry. Things are a little…everyone's really excited about the party. And you."

Despite himself, Jihoon grins a little at the thought. He tucks his hands into the deep pockets of Minghao's coat and follows Seungcheol towards the kitchen, which seems to be the central beating heart of what looks like a total clusterfuck.

There's a lot to take in before he's noticed, but Jihoon does his best.

It takes him a moment to recognize Seungkwan, absolutely fuming beside a long dining table. Gone are the lashes and jewels from the poster outside, traded instead for a blue windbreaker and a pair of matching shorts. Shimmering pink platforms have made way for well-worn sneakers, and instead of brandishing a microphone or crop in one hand, he's holding a badminton racket.

The person beside him, likewise wearing the latest in sweat-wicking technology, is Seokmin. There are a few others dotted around the room but Jihoon can't spare the moment's attention he would need to pin a name to a face. It's hard to look at anything aside from Jeonghan.

He stands behind a floating kitchen counter, long black hair pushed back from his face in a pink My Melody headband. He's wearing a long floral robe over what Jihoon recognizes as one of their label t-shirts, slightly torn at the collar and definitely having seen better days. He is matching Seungkwan's energy, clearly furious, holding up a wooden spoon like it's a flaming sword.

His other hand, Jihoon realized with a growing inability to look at anything else, is anchored firmly in the hair at the side of Mingyu's head. He's on his knees (the top of his head almost reaching Jeonghan's chest, Jihoon realizes with pussy-clenching-clarity) in the middle of the kitchen, eyes wide and wet, staring up at Jeonghan and apparently oblivious to everything else happening. He's shirtless, and his baggy gray sweatpants are doing exactly what baggy gray sweatpants are designed to do.

Seungkwan, oblivious to the intrusion of an outsider, continues his tirade.

"It is not that cold and if you want me in top condition for tomorrow, I need to go before we lose our time slot!"

Jihoon has never heard the words time slot hurled with such lethality, such fatal accuracy. He knows Seungkwan, or Deja Boo, is a famous Emcee in these parts but to see him now, Jihoon wonders if the microphone and the stage are even needed at all. He's filling the room with his bluster, so much so that no one else seems to notice he's standing in the doorway.

"I said what I said," Jeonghan replies in a tone so acidic that it sends a shiver down his spine. What Seungcheol said was true; no one in here is wearing blockers, and the scent of the most dominant person in the room is laying over everything like heavy morning fog. It's impossible to escape the sharpness of citrus.

"If you get sick, who is going to host tomorrow? Soonyoung? You know they get anxious if they're on stage without a cock in their mouth!"

The laugh that shoots out of Jihoon can't be stopped, to his great horror, and he slaps a hand over his mouth as every pair of eyes swivels to land on him. Each scent flares, washing over him in waves of citrus, crisp eucalyptus, rich bourbon and the many, many traces of everyone else that lives on this floor. It makes him lightheaded, enough so that he takes an uneasy step backwards and finds his shoulders pressed back against Seungcheol's broad chest. Another shift in scents, another dynamic shift. How do they keep up with all of this?

"What's going on in here?" Seungcheol asks, his hand flat against the small of Jihoon's back. It touches only a second, but it's long enough to be infuriating. Not here.

Jeonghan sighs, lowering his deadly wooden spoon and releasing Mingyu, spindly fingers drifting down to cup his cheek instead. Jihoon can't process that scene just yet. Seungkwan launches into his defense before anyone else can speak, pouting mouth moving at the speed of light.

Jihoon doesn't catch much of it. Something about a badminton court, a recreation center. A pre-show ritual and a life-or-death need for cardio. Jeonghan says it's too cold for that, Seungkwan says he's not a child anymore, and every Alpha in the room stays wisely silent. Jihoon doesn't care. Nothing else in the room feels as important as the look on Mingyu's face. There's a worshipful-ness in his eyes, a peacefulness, a level of palpable security that radiates from him and how he's looking at Jeonghan. He's so big, Jihoon felt vanishingly small when he met him the previous night, but right now he looks like he could be swept away by the lightest breeze.

"I'm so sorry, Jihoon-ah," Jeonghan's voice breaks through, as the thought of Jeonghan so often splinters Jihoon's daydreaming. He shakes himself back to the present, shrugging and pushing his hands back down into the pockets of Minghao's coat.

"No, it's okay. You're in the middle of…this. I can come over later."

Jeonghan tilts his head to the side, searching for context, as if he's forgotten that there's a gigantic gorgeous Alpha on his knees beside him. As if Alphas throwing themselves at his feet is such a common occurrence that it's become mundane. Jihoon wants to run back down the hallway and jump into the elevator shaft.

"Oh!" Jeonghan's eyes widen and he glances at Seungcheol, then back to Jihoon, and then down to Mingyu. "Oh, my god. I'm so sorry. I was just. Mingyu made such a lovely breakfast for everyone, and I…"

Jihoon waves a hand, slightly emboldened by the fact that Seungcheol is still standing close behind him, and hasn't yet drifted closer to his mate. "No, it's okay. Honestly, getting him down there like that is probably easier than finding a stepladder every time."

For a brief harrowing moment of silence, Jihoon thinks he's crossed a line. That last night was a fluke, and these people don't actually want to hear from him, don't want him intruding and commenting on their picture-perfect kinky paradise. Half a second is all his anxiety needs, flooding his brain with the chemicals that flash like warning lights and scream like an alarm.

Thankfully, blissfully, Seungkwan dissolves into laughter and Seokmin soon follows. The bubble of tension bursts in a flood of giggling, even Jeonghan. Chan, whom Jihoon hadn't even noticed sitting at a long table on the other side of the room, slumps over with an honest to god Hah Hah Hah laugh.

Seungcheol grins, his hand on Jihoon's back once more as he passes him into the kitchen, scooping up a steaming mug from the counter. "I want to say it's not always like this, but that's not true."

He kisses Seungkwan on the cheek, scenting forehead to temple, and the casual pack-specific intimacy breaks over Jihoon like a cold shower. "Kwan-ah, use the gym downstairs today. Please. We need you at your best."

The way that Seungkwan immediately gives in feels calculated, as does the way he winks at Jihoon when he swans out of the room with Seokmin -still laughing- in tow. Mingyu stumbles to his feet, cheeks crimson, leaning down to nuzzle against Jeonghan. He mumbles something about wanting to check the stage lights, excusing himself and leaving through a door that definitely won't take him back to the elevator.

"Well," Jeonghan clears his throat, very suddenly focused on pulling his headband from his hair and running his fingers through it until it's glossy and flattering. "At least you're getting to see us in our most raw form."

"Everyone's wearing too many clothes for that," Chan speaks up, scooping up his plate from the table and ducking into the hallway before something can be thrown at him. It takes point five seconds for Jihoon to realize he's alone in the room with Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

"Yeah, no," he stammers, shifting from one foot to the other. "It's fine. Breakfast must have been great. You guys must be really popular at restaurants."

Jeonghan smirks, retrieving his own mug of what smells like hot tea, wrapping both hands around it and leaning his hip against Seungcheol's. Fine. Fine fine fine. This round, Jeonghan.

"So, do you have plans for today? Cheollie said you have some friends in the city."

Cheollie.

"Yeah, you know. Some industry friends. I don't want to get in the way here, I know you guys have a lot of setting up to do."

"You wouldn't be in the way," Jeonghan replies, his edges softening. Jihoon wonders briefly if words laced with sincerity are actually worse than words laced with venom. He smiles, shrugs, and continues.

"No, no it's okay. I'll be around, and I'll be back for dinner. Especially if Mingyu’s cooking again."

Jeonghan smiles, head tilting again. Jihoon had met him several times when they were younger, and then several more over the years when Seungcheol had brought him to various award shows and company functions. Jihoon's anger had burned hotter then, his resentment flowed around him like a force-field that stopped him from noticing anything about Yoon Jeonghan, from perceiving him as anything other than Seungcheol's choice.

He hadn't realized how creature-like he was. Waifish. All spindly limbs and wide eyes, with a mouth that may even be called cute. Jihoon has the harrowing realization that here, in a ratty t-shirt and a cluttered kitchen, that Jeonghan may actually just be human. Flesh and bone. A fellow Omega.

"Well if he is, I will be sure to thank him in private," Jeonghan replies. Jihoon smiles.

At some point he must have grown accustomed to the overwhelming mix of scents in the pack home, because Jihoon notices almost immediately when something changes. There's something new, something herbal and a little floral, and it lopes into the kitchen in a t-shirt, jeans, and a black beanie. They haven't yet met in person, but Jihoon knows who this is.

"Hey hyungs," Hansol says, opening the fridge and pulling out a container of leftovers from the previous night. "Have you seen my aaaahhhhhh…ohhhhhhhhh…ohmygod…"

The fridge door closes slowly, abandoned by Hansol as he realizes they have company. His eyes are saucer-wide as he turns, making a bee-line for the doorway, out of the kitchen and away from any conversation with Jihoon. 

But this is someone Jihoon wants to talk to, someone he wants to know, and it's as good an excuse as any to leave. He nods to Jeonghan and Seungcheol, and follows Hansol out of the room.

"Hey!"

Hansol doesn't stop, square shoulders hunched as he barrels down the hallway with Jihoon in pursuit. Jihoon doesn't give up, this is one of the few people here he's actually been wanting to meet, so he chases Hansol all the way to what he assumes is his bedroom. The door swings towards him but he gets his foot into the frame, stopping it from closing completely. Hansol lets out a frustrated yelp and as Jihoon makes his way into the room, a door on the opposite wall slams shut.

"Hansol?" he asks, well aware of where he's gone,  and thus taking the opportunity to look around. It looks pretty much as he expected, the bedroom of a man in his twenties. The bed is unmade and every surface is covered in clutter; stacks of paper, books, the occasional drink can or piece of equipment. His desk however, is pristine and organized, and Jihoon is pleased to see the gear he sent Hansol as a pack-joining gift has been getting some serious use.

He's still not entirely sure why he sent the gifts. Maybe he was charmed by Seungcheol's stories of their newest acquisition, a nervous young Alpha with more talent than he knew what to do with, showing up and falling in love with their youngest Omega. Idolizing both Seungcheol and himself. Maybe Jihoon felt a fond sympathy for him, so mired in his own anxieties around Seungcheol's pack. Maybe he just wanted to encourage and nurture new talent.

Maybe he wanted to stain a happy occasion by reminding Jeonghan of the space he took up in Seungcheol's life.

Jihoon shakes his head, as if trying to dislodge the uncharitable thoughts. He's starting to grow tired of them. Besides, the room smells overwhelmingly like bergamot and tangerines and said nervous young Alpha is hiding from him.

"Hansol?" he repeats. "Are you in the closet?"

"No," comes the response, his voice a few octaves higher than it was in the kitchen. "Well, yes. But not like…no. Not for a long time. But also at this moment, yes. I am."

Jihoon grins. His eyes drift to the poster tacked to the wall beside the closet door, the corners torn and wrinkled. He recognizes it immediately.

After Seungcheol's first album blew up and they started Coup d'Etat Records, Jihoon had suddenly found himself with the time and the money to pursue his own projects. The first thing he turned to was finishing a collection of demos and remixes he had worked on all through university, featuring rappers and vocalists that had come up alongside them. It was the very definition of a passion project, and it got him a level of recognition from his peers that was worth a lifetime of platinum records.

(By now, he also has a lifetime of platinum records.)

The album cover of that first project stares back at him from the faded poster on the wall. Dark blue, with a stylized drawing of a spaceman helmet in the middle. The same helmet that he still wears in interviews and the occasional stage appearance, perfectly capable of protecting his privacy and life outside of the studio.

He didn't expect to see it here, in this building that has become his own personal haunted house.

"Where did you get this?" He asks, and the open-ended-ness of his question is enough for Hansol to crack the door and peek through.

"Ah," he says, opening it a little more, just enough to stick his head out. He’d lost the beanie in his hasty retreat, his black hair now strewn about, shaggy and unwashed. "Listening party. My first Audio Production class at Sangmyung. The professor was giving out prizes at the quiz after and I…yeah."

Jihoon grins, leaning in close enough to make out his own signature scrawled across the bottom.

"Cool" he says, shrugging out of Minghao's coat and folding it over his arm. "Really cool."

"Yeah," Hansol says, finally emerging from the closet and closing the door, pressing his shoulders back against it. "Everything about this has been really cool so far."

Laughing, Jihoon holds out his hand and refuses to drop it until Hansol takes it in his own, shaking firmly. "I mean, it's pretty flattering. You've been in a pack with Seungcheol for like, what. A year now? But you're this nervous around me?"

Hansol shrugs, a grin tugging at his handsome face. "Well, yeah. But like. I know how lame Seungcheol can be now. He kind of loses the tough guy facade when you get to know him."

The laugh that bubbles up out of Jihoon this time is involuntary and loud, the kind of laugh where he sounds like a malicious little crow. It tapers off into giggles stifled behind his hand and this time Hansol joins him, his nerves apparently evening out.

"Yeah," Jihoon replies, picking a chair devoid of notes and sitting down. "It's weird seeing him be the family man. He's played me some of your stuff, by the way."

Hansol immediately pales, sitting straight down on the edge of his unmade bed. Jihoon understands right away that his pause was poorly timed.

"-and it's amazing," he adds, pleased to see that Hansol immediately relaxes. "That remix you did of Dog Tuesday? I never liked that fade out from the last chorus, and I really loved the way you changed it up."

"I love that song," Hansol replies, immediately locked in. Jihoon recognizes that impulse in himself, the way that the friction and confusion of the greater world around him melts away when his mind ticks over into work-mode. "That sample that you laid in over the intro, it's so good. I've been trying to place it for years, and Cheollie-hyung says he doesn't know what it is…"

Jihoon grins, leaning forward and lowering his voice. "It's the opening guitar from Rocks, by Hound Dog."

Hansol's eyes widen briefly, and Jihoon can see the wheels turning as he tries to place the name of the song. He wonders if he has revealed too much, opened his heart just a little too wide and already the people that Seungcheol really belongs to will see Jihoon for the total loser that he is.

"Is that…is that the first opening theme from Naruto?"

Jihoon nods once, wondering just how much room is in that closet and if he could feasibly stay in there for the rest of his visit.

"That…is so fucking cool. That's so cool. Hey, listen, I've been working on a thing…it's kind of…okay, so Joe Hisaishi's score for Boy and the Heron, with the piano…okay, let me show you-"

The words rush out of Hansol as his demeanor changes. He crosses the room and sits at his desk, opening his laptop and turning on the mixing board. Jihoon scoots closer to him, shoulders touching, and finds himself so instantly charmed by the enthusiasm that fills the room around them.

Seungcheol has told him so much about Hansol. Showed him pictures, waxed lyrical about what a good fit he is for Seungkwan, what a good fit he is for the pack. Jihoon had always assumed that it was just the typical Seungcheol-loves-his-pack babble, the kind that gets on his nerves and always seems to pop up when they're laying in bed together, exhausted and sticky. But he wonders now, wondering if the real reason behind Seungcheol's fondness might be something else.

Might be that Hansol reminds him of Jihoon.

+++

"So," Jeonghan asks, standing up from where he's been bent over the dishwasher. "Am I behaving in a way you find acceptable?"

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, hands wrapped around a warm mug. "Like right now in this moment? Or in general? Because the answers might be different."

Jeonghan curls his lip, snatching dishes from the counter with a little more force than strictly needed. "Don't start with me, Seungcheol. I…"

With a sigh, Seungcheol sets his mug down next to where he's leaning, and watches Jeonghan with those big, dark eyes. Jeonghan hates them, hates how much sincerity they contain. He wishes he could poke them out.

"Is it really so terrible?" Seungcheol asks, crossing his big stupid arms over his big stupid chest. "If it is, why did you tell me to bring him up here? Why did you insist?"

It's so much more complicated than that, and Jeonghan feels the anger that flares in his chest crawl up into his throat, threatening to choke him. Worse than that, infinitely worse, he feels tears prick at his eyes.

"I don't know," he says, slamming plates into the dishwasher. Stabbing chopsticks into the little cutlery holder like they were tiny spears. Shoving coffee cups into the racks like they were…something something metaphor for how frustrated he is. "I don't know! I thought…maybe if you brought him up here, if he met everyone, then…"

"Then what?" Seungcheol asks, continuing his frustrating (and frankly unreasonable) expectation that Jeonghan will finish a sentence. "You thought he would fall at your feet and beg to be let into the pack? Was that your big plan for this visit?"

Jeonghan straightens, staring at Seungcheol like he's been slapped. He's not wrong, but he's not supposed to say it out loud. Jihoon's name has been on Jeonghan's secret little list of pack acquisitions for almost a year now. After Wonwoo joined, it was the last one. But for all Jeonghan's planning, his manipulating, his machinations…it doesn't feel the way he thought it would. Jihoon has been perfectly nice, but he thought there would have been a click. What he's gotten, so far, is polite small talk with the man his mate is fucking.

"I can't do this any more," Jeonghan whispers, eyes downcast. He knows how he smells, flat and sour, more bitter lemon pith than fresh and bright yuzu. Seungcheol makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, walking over and covering Jeonghan's hand with his own.

"No, hey. It's okay. Look, you just lift this part up and the glasses fit right in…"

He guides Jeonghan's hand back to the dishwasher, showing him how to unlatch the little tray that fits extra plates. Jeonghan slaps at his hand, laughing that kind of wet, thick laugh that only shows up when you're trying to hold back tears.

"No, you idiot," he forces out, his voice husky. "Not the fucking dish…you know what I mean, Seungcheol. I know he's important to you, I know the studio is important, but things are changing here and you're missing it. I need you here."

Seungcheol hums softly, a gentle rumbling growl in his chest as he wraps his arms around Jeonghan's narrow waist and pulls him close. Jeonghan won't cry, he won't give him that, but he buries his face in Seungcheol's neck and bites the inside of his own cheek so hard that it makes his head spin.

They stand like that for a few minutes, holding tightly to each other until their scents mingle and calm, soothing flared tempers. When he pulls back, Jeonghan feels exhausted, already too tired of this to continue growing it into a fully realized fight.

"I mean it," he says, returning to his cleaning, albeit with considerably less malice. "You need to choose. No more half-lives. You can fuck him in Seoul the same way you fuck him in Daegu."

Seungcheol nods and to his credit, Jeonghan believes him. "I did choose, Hannie. You're my mate. This is my pack. I'm going to show Jihoon some new buildings while he's here, and if moving isn't an option for him…we'll figure something out. But I promise, soon you'll be seeing so much of me, you'll get sick of my face."

"Mmm," Jeonghan muses, closing the dishwasher and looping his arm through Seungcheol's, kissing him on the cheek. "I've been sick of that face since the moment I met you."

+++

Jihoon spends a little over an hour with Hansol, going over a few things he's working on, giving his final project for school a once-over and offering some suggestions on how to steer it more in the direction he's aiming for. Hansol seems dizzy by the time they're done, overwhelmed by the fact that the man in his poster has come to life and complimented not only the music he makes, but also the extensive collection of stress balls that sit on his desk. Jihoon makes the call to give him a break, promising that he wants more of Hansol's time once the party is behind them.

When he leaves Hansol's room, he does so with a very strange realization. Work in Daegu has become monotonous at best, the same circuit of writing - recording - some stupid industry function - fucking Seungcheol - writing - recording. Even Bumzu, ever cheery, has started to spend more time at the gym and less time at the soundboard. They've all been successful for a long time now, but with it has come a staleness. If what they are doing works, why would they change it?

Why would it matter if it's become boring? So what if working with Hansol, bent over a small set up in his bedroom, was more invigorating than any of the work he's done in the last twelve months?

Jihoon walks down the hallway, back towards the kitchen, dragging his fingertips over the wall as he goes. They bump over the edges of photo frames, each one containing some memory of this pack, the very existence of which he puts so much effort into ignoring. He had written them off as people he had no interest in knowing - he never judged them for how they lived, or how they earned a living, but to know them would mean learning and accepting how funny, kind, generous, and genuine they all were. It would mean understanding that he really only has one twelfth of Seungcheol's heart to call his own.

But Hansol was so unexpected. Yes, Jihoon had been looking forward to meeting him, but only to do his due diligence as an industry senior. Instead he had been so painfully shy, and then charming, and then so eager to share his passion with Jihoon that they both almost lost track of the time.

And Soonyoung, so open and unabashedly true to themselves. The dedication that Mingyu has to his pack. Jun and Minghao, so ready to welcome Jihoon back into their lives, despite the (what he would consider) unforgivable sin of shutting them out for so long.

His fingers thud against a particularly large frame, knocking it askew against the wall. He huffs softly, turning to straighten it, and is faced with a literal picture of domestic bliss. It's a vacation photo of the entire pack. Wonwoo is included, tucked into a corner, so it must be recent. There is a backdrop of a rocky ocean wall with stormy waves in the background, the wind whipping through everyone's hair. Jeju, maybe. Jihoon's never been, never found the time.

Never made the time for anything in this picture.

"JIHOON-AH!"

Jihoon's heart leaps up his chest and into his mouth, startled so violently that he slams back into the wall behind him. Soonyoung, in stark contrast to how loudly they had just shrieked his name, quietly closes the door they just emerged from.

"Soooorry," they giggle, wiping their glistening mouth with the back of their hand. The entire hallway smells like sex now, pouring out of the bedroom in waves of sweet grasses and wildflowers. This many scents in one pack has been too overwhelming, and Jihoon isn't yet at a point where he can tell them apart.

"Shua-hyung is on the clock and free-use hours are open," Soonyoung says, as if that is a fitting answer that will solve the confusion crossing Jihoon's face.

"Free…use?" Jihoon frowns, leafing through the mental pages of his extremely limited kink knowledge. Soonyoung picks up on the confusion, holding a finger to their lips and cracking the door open. Jihoon, despite his better impulses, leans over to peer into the room.

It's a simple bedroom, by the looks of it. Not very personalized or very lived in. No photos on the walls or coats draped over chairs, no worn sneakers kicked off onto the floor. It's really just a couple of dressers, a desk, and a few pieces of padded furniture that Jihoon cannot imagine the use for and does-not-need-to-know-thankyouverymuch. But there is a bed. And that bed is occupied.

He knows which one Joshua is. The handsome American Beta that was handing out drugs on the roof last night like they were candy. Jihoon had politely declined A Drug and Joshua had given him the kindest, most beautiful smile he'd ever seen. It's a stark contrast to the scene he sees laid out before him now. Joshua is tied to the bed, blindfolded and with a hefty pair of headphones over his ears, with what looks like a pink dog bone buckled between his teeth. Jihoon can assume that he's naked; it's a little hard to tell, it seems that in acknowledgment of the chill in the air someone has thrown a thick blanket over most of his body, covering him from his chest to his knees.

It doesn't seem like he can tell anyone is there. Jihoon is wearing blockers, and Soonyoung's honeysuckle scent still hangs in the air after whatever they were doing in here. But Joshua bucks and gasps regardless, pulling against the straps that keep his arms bound and his legs spread. One of the nightstands is host to a dizzying array of sex toys, and there is a low buzzing sound with origins not immediately known.

Jihoon can guess where.

"I don't know who's running the vibrator today," Soonyoung whispers, poking their head in above Jihoon's. "Hyung puts the app code in the group chat every morning, and whoever gets it first…I hope it's not Seokminnie, he's mean."

Jihoon feels like he's staring too long. His mouth feels dry. The buzzing increases in pitch and Joshua gasps, hips arching off the bed. Jihoon's head is swimming, and it feels like his brain is holding him hostage in a sudden tug-of-war. He should move. He should pull away and close the door and scrub this from his brain. He knows these kinds of things happen, he knows Seungcheol bought Joshua for Jeonghan, years ago, in some twisted sex game. Living like this, like an object that people can use as they want - who would want that? How could he even enjoy such a loss of agency?

Jihoon jerks away, closing the door and stepping back into the hallway again. Soonyoung's eyes widen briefly but they don't question it, instead looping their arm through Jihoon's and enthusiastically tugging them towards the elevator. They blessedly don't encounter any other pack members on the way, Jihoon isn't sure he could string a coherent sentence together right now. Even Soonyoung seems to have picked up on the fact that Jihoon needs a moment, staying silent until the elevator chimes open on the club floor.

"I wanna show you something cool," they say, not acknowledging that they already showed Jihoon something that caused his brain to short-circuit. He nods mutely, helpless against the gravitational pull of this absolute maniac, who is dragging him down the hallway towards a locked door. What could possibly be hidden in the room? Is this where they keep the horny tentacle monster?

Is Soonyoung the horny tentacle monster?

The keypad beeps as they punch in a code that Jihoon was too distracted to take note of, the door swinging open into a dimly lit stairwell that leads up to yet another door. He silently follows Soonyoung, who bounds up the stairs with their usual endless well of energy. There's a prickle of anticipation that runs down Jihoon's spine - any room in this house could contain any number of deviances. Are they going to intrude on some new and exotic sex act? Is Soonyoung going to do something to him? The prickle of anticipation twists into something else, something adjacent, something lower, and the door at the top of the stairs is opened.

Soonyoung turns the lights on, and it's…just a room. It doesn't seem like anything of great importance or sexual excitement, until Jihoon's eyes adjust to the light and he realizes it's a stage control room. There's a huge panel of switches and dials pressed up against a tinted window that runs the length of the wall, facing down into the open expanse of the club. The window, narrow and tucked high on the wall, must be nearly invisible from the club floor. From his own experience in the tech world, Jihoon can puzzle out which parts of the board control which elements of the stage; lights, music, and curtain. There's a big red button with a piece of tape across it that reads CONFETTI CANNON. More concernedly, there's another identical button with considerably more tape that reads LUBE CANNON - DO NOT PRESS.

"Woah…" Jihoon exhales, walking around the small room and running his fingertips over the edge of the control board. "This is cool…who's usually up here?"

Soonyoung shrugs, flopping down onto the bench seat in front of the board. "We usually hire out for the big shows. Jeonghan knows a bunch of people that do this kind of tech work. Chan did some, when he was too young for shows. Now that Hao is back, he does it sometimes."

Jihoon nods, finishing his circuit and sitting down on the bench beside Soonyoung. "It must be nice, having them around so much."

Nodding enthusiastically, Soonyoung grins. "Yeah, for sure. When I joined it was just me, them, Cheollie-hyung, Jeonghannie-hyung, and Seungkwan. It sucked when they started leaving. But now there's so many of us…feels like the family is complete, you know?"

"Oh yeah, for sure," Jihoon replies, if only to distract his throat from the way it suddenly wants to constrict around his words. His genuine fondness and happiness for Soonyoung goes instantly to war with his need to keep at least half of Seungcheol for himself, to squirrel it away where no one else can touch or see or feel or love. What he feared the most from this visit is becoming painfully, obviously true - everyone here is just as great as Seungcheol said they were, and there's a bond between them that Jihoon can't even begin to approach or understand.

Soonyoung scoots along the bench until their hips bump against each other, and Jihoon wonders if his intrusive thoughts are written all over his face. Soonyoung clears their throat.

"Hey. I, uh. I'm sorry."

Fuck fuck fuck fuck-

Jihoon shakes his head, feeling like his skin wants to crawl off his body and head straight for the door. "No, it's-"

"For earlier. With Joshua. I should have given you a heads up."

"Oh!" Jihoon's flight-and-flight instinct immediately deflates. "No, no. It's fine, really. Honestly."

Soonyoung flaps their hands around, eyebrows drawn down in the most adorable display of chagrin Jihoon has ever seen. "No. I should have told you, and let you decide if you wanted to see that. I forget that not everyone is like me, you know? It's hard, when you spend all of your time around a buncha sluts."

Jihoon laughs his most raw, honest laugh. It comes out squeaky and loud, a hah hah hah of genuine delight. Someone save him, he's become so charmed by this gremlin.

"You're the king of the sluts!" he replies, cheeks pink from laughing. "Or queen. What's a gender neutral term for slut king?"

Soonyoung gets a look on their face that Jihoon recognizes from his own confusing interactions with gender, something that he is much too busy to look closer at thank you very much. That look of shock, relief, and delight that someone sees you. Knows you. Makes room in their life and their language for the space that you so desperately need to take up.

"Monarch?" Soonyoung replies, mouth drawn together in an adorable little bow of thought. "Young master? Commander?"

Jihoon grins, leaning his shoulder against Soonyoung. "Lord High Slut Commander."

"YES!" Soonyoung yells, throwing their arms up in the air, one totally innocently landing around Jihoon's shoulder. He leans in further, swimming in the sweet, heady mix of sandalwood and honeysuckle. "I'm gonna make Seungkwan announce me like that tomorrow. He's gonna hate it."

They giggle together, leaning into each other, and Jihoon feels a sudden tight swell in his chest when Soonyoung kisses him on the cheek. Flustered, he clears his throat. "So…this has got to be a pretty good place for. You know. Watching."

Soonyoung raises a conspiratorial eyebrow, grinning with every tooth in their mouth.

"Oh yeah. What do you think that's for?" They point to the opposite wall and a long futon couch, piled high with blankets and pillows. There's a little side table beside it, playing home to a basket full of what Jihoon can only assume are the finest in sexual accoutrement. He groans, swiveling around on the bench and looking down into the club. There's someone moving around on the stage, catching his attention and popping back into his brain the reminder of something that he wanted to do today.

"Hey," he says, drumming his fingers against the control board and chewing at his lower lip. He's finding it hard to end this time with Soonyoung, finding it hard to get to his feet and steer them towards the door. "I need to go talk to someone. Will you be at dinner?"

Soonyoung nods enthusiastically, extricating themselves from the bench and standing. "Yeeeah, Gyu's cooking again so I'll be there. It's cool, go do your thing. I have some bedazzling to do."

Jihoon standing, frowning. "Bedazzling?"

Soonyoung nods again, heading to the stairs. "Sexy bedazzling."

+++

Spending this much time in the actual DARL+ING club is a weird thing for Jihoon to experience.

He feels like he's always built it up to be more than it actually is. It's just a building, a huge brick facade on a cross-street in Itaewon, surrounded by bustling bars, saunas, and a handful of other tourist traps. Just a building that people work in, live in, and build a life around.

But it's also more than that. It's the real physical representation of Seungcheol's music success - Jihoon and Seungcheol's success - and is so closely tied to his pack, to Jeonghan, that Jihoon can no longer separate those feelings. While Jihoon has consistently put his money back into the label, Seungcheol made it possible for Jeonghan to grow this club from a tiny one-room building on Usadan-ro 12-gil into the absolute monolith of kink and performance that Jihoon is now standing in.

As much as he would like to, he can't divorce himself from this place. It's the looming shadow in the background of his relationship with Seungcheol. It's where the monsters that stalk his most anxiety-driven spirals live.

And to his surprise, as he looks around the huge open space, it's also just totally fucking normal. Early in the day, this very same day, it felt cavernous and foreboding.  But now it’s just a room, a room that he’s seen from a few different angles, and found every single one of them overwhelmingly normal.  Maybe this isn’t a temple built for the sole purpose of making him miserable.

But still, he can’t deny that this building is a temple to something. From the ground floor it's easy to see the elaborate rigging and lighting hoisted high above the stage, and he knows what it’s for. In moments of instantly regrettable curiosity, Jihoon has glanced at the occasional performance photo or video that Seungcheol has left laying around. For better or worse, he knows who and what can be hung from that rigging, he's aware of the elaborate contraptions and furniture that waits just backstage, ready to be hauled out and rendered soaking wet for the delight of local patrons and the tourist hoards.

Somehow, this place is everything and nothing like Jihoon expected.

Kind of like the people, his subconscious helpfully suggests. Jihoon smothers it with a pillow embroidered with the words Not Fucking Now.

"Hey!" someone shouts down at him, continuing the trend of Jihoon being shaken from his internal grousing by a loud, cheery voice. "You come here often? You're cute!"

Jihoon has been here for less than a day, but he can already identify the loudest person in the room. Seokmin grins down at him from the stage, hands on hips, still in his gym gear.

"No badminton?" Jihoon asks, wandering over to the velvet-roped stairs at the side of the stage, ducking under the barrier and walking up onto the shiny, well-trodden boards. Seokmin shakes his head, with a grin that feels brighter than every light suspended in the rigging above them.

"Well you see, if Seungkwannie decides on his own to stay home, then he's not doing what Jeonghan tells him. He's doing what he wants. And he's decided to run through his blocking for tomorrow. So."

There's a conspiratorial edge to his grin that only grows when the man behind Deja Boo emerges from behind the back curtain. Seungkwan is also still in his gym gear complete with a navy blue headband pushing his bottle-blonde hair back from his eyes. A new addition, however, are the glossy black platform shoes that make a killer pairing with his mid-calf high sports socks.

"Oh! Hello, Jihoon-ssi," he says, prancing over to where Seokmin has set up the microphone stand. Something about Seungkwan, Jihoon has found, is that he has a beautiful generosity about him. Generous with his attention, as he leans in to engage in a story someone is telling. Generous in his affection, as he drifted from seat to seat on the roof last night, delivering food to plates and kisses to cheeks. He's generous now, too, with his gently respectful words and his open smiles. It's hard to believe that this is the same petulant creature that a few hours ago went head to head with Yoon Jeonghan.

"What brings you down here?” Seungkwan asks. “Trying out the acoustics?"

As if compelled by some invisible force, Seokmin steps back from the microphone and sings a few bars from a song that Jihoon doesn't recognize. What he does recognize is one of the most clear, pitch-perfect falsettos he's ever heard. It fans out into the room around them, bouncing back off the walls towards them. Seungkwan joins him, harmonizing in a way that makes their voices sound buttery and full, a combined richness that washes over Jihoon in layers.

The two dissolve into giggles, slapping at each other's shoulders in a way that makes Jihoon ache all over. He was sure he would find close proximity with the pack to be an uncomfortable thing, that there was no way twelve people could all be in complimentary love with each other. But no matter what combination he stumbles upon, it feels like everyone brings out the best in each other. Sharing little in-jokes. Looking upon each other with such a profound love, Jihoon is not sure anything other than a song could describe it.

"Sorry," Seokmin laughs, spots of color high on his gorgeous cheekbones. Was this guy designed in a lab? By a committee trying to build the most stunning man Jihoon has ever seen?

"No," Jihoon continues, shaking himself from his trance. "No no, it's fine. It's actually. Uhm. I wanted to talk to both of you about what I said last night. About recording with you."

It's Seungkwan's turn to blush, his eyes opening wide and his mouth turning down into a pretty little oh. Seokmin throws an arm around his shoulders, his grin showing every tooth in his head.

"Our Swangkwannie!" he announces, beaming. Jihoon clears his throat.

"You too, Seokmin. Both of you. I know Seungcheol doesn't like to mix business and family, but you…it would be crazy if I didn't get you on a song together. Can we talk more about it after the party?"

They're both vibrating in front of him, radiating such excitement that Jihoon is a little worried he'll be caught in an explosion.

"Yes!" Seungkwan replies, clapping his hands together in front of him. "Of course, yes. Yes. Thank you, Jihoon-ssi, I don't know what to say."

Seokmin mutters something that sounds like first time ever and catches an elbow in the ribs for his trouble. Jihoon laughs, waving a hand. "It's okay, really. And you can call me hyung, if you want."

The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them, blazing over a line of familiarity that he had been so careful to draw in the sand. Hyung? You can call me hyung? JIHOON!!

The fondness ray is evidently turned up to one thousand after he says that, and they're both looking at him with such meaningful affection that Jihoon hopes desperately that maybe the stage has a trap door that a giant dildo pops up out of mid-show, and it can open up now and let him drop down into cavernous darkness.

No such luck. The floorboards stay strong.

"Well okay, I have to go now…" he says, turning abruptly and walking down the stairs, across the floor, and out of the club entirely.

+++

Chapter Text

Jihoon likes working out.

Really likes it. It feels good to move his body when his usual state of being is hunched over a desk or a mixing board, shrimped up into a variety of positions twisted enough to put a chiropractor in the ground.

Really really likes it. If he allowed himself time in the day to see a therapist, they would probably tell him there's a direct correlation between the way he feels betrayed by his biology and his desperate need to reshape his body and bend it to his will. To be strong and muscular, while retaining the softness of his features that, as an Omega, he can't deny exists.

Really really really likes it. When he breaks at work to get in a few reps, Bumzu usually follows. There's a long-term mutual crush there that has gone through periods of intensity over the years, one that they both mutually and silently agreed to leave alone because preserving the friendship and the work will always be more important. But that doesn't mean Jihoon doesn't enjoy watching a strong Beta with soft eyes absolutely demolishing the weights rack.

The gym in his borrowed apartment is small and there's no Bumzu, but it's distraction enough to fill the time before he has to leave. It's quiet, he's alone, and the thoughts that twist around in his head are, for once, not entirely unpleasant.

Would it really be that bad to move up here? Does he actually want to leave the label, or is that the only real leverage he has over Seungcheol? The only baton he has to threaten him with? Jeonghan on one side, luring him with his family. Jihoon on the other side, luring him with his life’s work.

That…doesn't feel good. Jihoon pauses as he heads towards the shower, mulling the words over a few times. He doesn't want to have to lure Seungcheol. Whatever their relationship has become, that's still his best friend. And they built something incredible together. Coup d'etat Records isn't just Seungcheol's baby, it's his as well. Why is he so eager to give it up, just to hurt one of the few people he actually really trusts?

There is, tragically, only one person that can help him untangle this.

Jihoon closes the bathroom door and cuts on the shower, pulling his phone from his pocket and sending off a quick message as he undresses.

[you] dropped a pin at the cafe. see you in an hour.

[ty] ‼️‼️💗🐸👀🍒✨💗

++

An hour later Jihoon is sitting in a very cute cafe, rotating a glass of cold coke zero between his hands and waiting for his lunch date. A cool gust of air fills the room every time the door opens, reminding him just how cold the last couple of days have been. The little spiteful part of his brain that whispers good, haha, Jeonghan might have to cancel his party feels even smaller than usual, and is immediately jumped and drowned in the growing lake of affection he feels for Seungcheol's pack.

As quickly as that lake is growing, however, it is nice to get away and see a friend who is just his. Someone outside of the pack, with only a thin connection to Seungcheol through work. Just enough that he understands the context and the personalities of the Darl+ing pack. Someone that Jihoon can talk to about this.

He doesn't have a lot of friends, but Taeyong is pretty high on the list.

If their personalities were more suited, maybe a relationship could have grown there. Something more intimate, with more of a label. Taeyong, a Beta, had been the only constant at Jihoon's heats for years now; he held Jihoon as he cried through the worst of it, weathering the natural processes of a body that he wished he could change, knotting him when he needed it and soothing him after. Even with the extreme difference in personalities, Jihoon has wondered in the occasional post-heat haze - could it ever be something more?

But Taeyong has his own thing, an assemblage that's starting to look like a family, centered around a popular nightclub that he owns here in the city. Jihoon doesn't know much about them, something he should probably fix. He's just not that great at having friends.

The chime of the door and a gust of cold air interrupts his thoughts, paired with a gasp from someone behind the counter. That's probably him.

"JIHOON-AH"

Yeah, that's him.

In retrospect, sitting on the side of the cafe furthest from the door was a mistake. It gives Taeyong the most room to make the most dramatic entrance possible - not that he needs any help in that outfit. The best and really only way Jihoon can describe it is a snowman that has been cursed with life, but instead of a magical top-hat or carrot, a capricious party fairy gave it a magical tab of acid.

The jacket, a billowing cloud of white fur, looks like it has fiber-optic strands woven through the entire thing. It lights up, flickering and pulsing with soft rainbow lights as Taeyong makes his way through the room to Jihoon's table. The pants, unfashionably tight, are garish pink camo and the shoes are possibly the largest that Jihoon has ever seen another human being wear. His hair is neon green and cut into a style of mullet that Jihoon can only describe as dirtbag chic.

"You're here you're here you're here!" Taeyong crows, pulling him to his feet and enveloping him in a hug that makes Jihoon feel like he's in the middle of some horrendous dimly-lit performance art installment.

"I'm here, hyung, hi, okay…" Jihoon extricates himself carefully, sitting back down and, despite himself, grinning. He really does love this nightmare carnival of a person, and he never sees him enough. You could, whispers the traitorous voice in his head. If you moved up here.

Taeyong sits across from him, raising his magenta sunglasses that are shaped like flamingos to perch atop his head. He fixes Jihoon with an appraising stare, looking over him in a way that makes Jihoon feel raw and exposed.

"You look good. Your hair is longer. I like it."

"Thanks," Jihoon replies, letting his wavy bangs fall over his eyes.  "You look good. I like all…this."

Taeyong grins, pinching the collar of his jacket and sitting back in splendor as the fiber-optic lights start to pulse and light up in wave after wave of color. "This? Oh, I just threw this on. Laundry day clothes."

Jihoon snorts, looking down at his phone as the server comes over to take their order. He absently listens to Taeyong as he chats to the girl, who evidently is a fan of his. Taeyong is famous in his own right, a performer with half a dozen albums having climbed the charts in two dozen markets, a couple of them produced in part by Jihoon. He's just come off a tour, a wildly successful one judging by the amount of times Jihoon sees him on his instagram feed.

The server departs, armed with both their lunch order and a napkin signed by Taeyong in garish green glitter pen. She clutches it to her chest as she floats across the floor, and Jihoon snorts again.

"I don't know how you do that. Seungcheol, too. Always so charming with fans."

Taeyong shrugs, drumming his painted fingernails against the table. "I love it. Who knows what kind of day she was having, and it cost me nothing to give her a reason to smile like that. You take your helmet off when you leave the house because you need to, and I understand that. I keep mine on."

Jihoon smiles, acknowledging the truth of the statement with the brief shrug of one shoulder.

"Speaking of Seungcheol…" Taeyong snatches the name up into his mouth like a cat with a mouse, spreading both hands out across the table and leaning forward with a predatory glint in his eye. "How's all that going?"

"Ahh…" Jihoon groans, slouching back in his chair and running a hand down his face. "Hyunggg. I can't talk about this while you're lit up like a Christmas tree. Take that off, it's warm in here."

Taeyong nods, turning off his light-show and shrugging out of the jacket. He's wearing a seasonally-inappropriate sleeveless shirt underneath, featuring a cartoon kitten with a huge pink bow and pinwheel eyes, sitting on top of bubble letters that read puff puff pass. Jihoon stares at him.

"Never mind, put it back on."

Taeyong grins, pulling the jacket up over his shoulders again, but declining to turn on the lights. There's a brief moment where his ring pop gets caught in the fur, but with practiced ease he manages to extricate it and fold his fingers together.

"Okay. So. How's it going. Have they swallowed you up yet?"

Jihoon sighs, running his fingertip over a weightlifting callous on the opposite hand, digging his nail into the edge. "Right into it, huh?"

"Would you prefer that I drag it out?" Taeyong asks, eyebrow raised. Jihoon snorts, leaning back in his chair and trying to remember why he agreed to this meeting in the first place. Surely nothing to do with the fact that he really, truly adores the manic nightmare goblin boy across the table from him.

"It's fine. It's going fine. I'm making friends. They're all so nice. Too nice. Like they've been commanded to be nice."

"You think they're all assholes when you're not there? That they're running the largest regional chapter of the We Hate Lee Jihoon club?"

"No, hyung, I-" Jihoon tries to laugh, waving a hand in front of him, but it feels like the muscles in his face have atrophied and he's never laughed once in his life, not ever. Because he does think that. He's always thought that. "I just thought they'd all be a little…angrier."

Taeyong stays quiet for a moment, a disconcerting scene if ever Jihoon has seen one. It's not the most charitable assessment; Taeyong can be incredibly delicate and thoughtful when the moment calls for it, Jihoon's seen it first hand at the heats he's spent with his friend. It's just weird to see it in this outfit.

"You thought they'd see you as a homewrecker? Blame you for Seungcheol leaving so often?"

Jihoon exhales in a way that's not dissimilar from a sad, forgotten, deflating balloon. "Yeah."

"Mmm," Taeyong nods sagely, his flamingo sunglasses wobbling where they sit in the green field of his hair. "An established pack, presumably with strong boundaries and communication, in which every member is presumably poly-amorous inside and outside of said pack…?”

Silence hangs between them, long enough for the server from earlier to return with their lunch and place steaming plates in front of them. It's some kind of deconstructed bibimbap, a concept that Jihoon hates but at least they serve the food on plates here, unlike half of the cafes he searched in the neighborhood, all of which seem determined to embody every concept except for simple-building-that-sells-good-food. Their server, extremely sweet and flustered, pulls a photocard in a sleeve from her apron pocket and sheepishly asks Taeyong to sign it. He does so graciously, asking if she would like a picture as well, striking the same pose as the photocard clutched in her hand. Jihoon takes her phone and snaps the photo for them, waving off her borderline-aggressive bowing as she leaves.

Jihoon wonders, as Taeyong grins and digs into his lunch, if that's a life he should have pursued. If he should have joined Seungcheol on stage sans-helmet, made a face for himself at the same time he made his name. What it would be like to have fans approach him, to leave giddy after the briefest interaction. He's had a little of that with Hansol, and he quickly decides that he would hate that more than seeing the contents of a perfectly good bibimbap splayed out on a tray in front of him like evidence in a crime scene.

"I don't want them to hate me," he says between bites, annoyed to find this is actually really delicious. "Some of them really like me, I think. And I really like them. And I know Jun and Minghao. Everyone is trying so hard to make me feel welcome, I wish someone would just say how fucking weird this whole thing is."

"Jihoon," Taeyong says softly, between bites of naengmyong, a truly bizarre choice considering how cold the weather is turning. "It's not weird for them. Your friendship with Seungcheol is older than the pack. For most of them, they probably don't know a time when he wasn't traveling back and forth. Of course they're happy to have you here - he loves you, and they love him. That's how a healthy family works."

A sauteed slice of aehobak is the unfortunate victim of Jihoon stabbing his chopstick violently down at his plate. He scowls, biting the inside of his cheek until the clashing waves of longing and resentment pass. "Hyung, when did you get so insightful?"

Taeyong shrugs. "I did mushrooms a few days ago, first time in months. Probably then."

Jihoon laughs, great heaving shakes of his shoulders and he drops his face down into his hands so as not to make a scene. They both dissolve into giggling for a while, until their faces are red and Jihoon decides now is as good a time as any to drop a bomb.

"I'm thinking about leaving the label."

The confession doesn’t come out with the wave of relief he was anticipating. It feels sticky, the words feel too big to comfortably pass over his teeth. Taeyong tilts his head, chasing a noodle around his bowl with his chopsticks. "That's big. Have you told anyone?"

"No. It's just a thought. Seungcheol wants to - is - moving things up here, and I don't know if it's for me. I like the way things are in Daegu."

"Mmm," Taeyong hums, contemplative. "Well, if changing your entire life and leaving behind the biggest thing you've ever done is easier than having one or two emotionally intense conversations with the man you're in love with, I suppose it's a good idea."

Jihoon purses his lips, taking an extremely pointed sip from his coke. "You're one to talk."

"Now now," Taeyong clears his throat, waving a hand. "We're here to talk about your toxic love life, not mine. And besides, if you do decide to leave, you and I could go into business together. You could be a part of all of this."

He leans back in his chair, tapping the button at his collar that activates the jacket lights. It pulses in rainbow waves, sending cascades of color down over his arms and sides while he simultaneously jerks his head, the flamingo glasses sliding down over his eyes and onto the bridge of his nose.

Jihoon laughs, his hah hah hah laugh that Soonyoung affectionately described as crow-like the previous night. There's a pang of fondness, a tug on his heart, and he decides at that point to steer the conversation towards kinder topics as the lunch date goes on. Mingyu's cooking. Jeonghan's My Melody headband. Jun's art collection, Minghao's fancy pajamas, and his growing affection for the Omega described in Bound magazine as Seoul's Most Gaping Bottom.

+++

Jihoon spends the rest of the afternoon in business for himself.

He walks back from the cafe, welcoming the bracing sting of the cold air against his cheeks and the clarity that it brings. He chews over the discussion at lunch, how it felt to say out loud, for the first time, that he had been considering leaving the label. Well…not considering, not really. More daydreaming about what that life might be like. A life without Seungcheol. A life where he walks away from everything they had built together. And why? Because it was easier? Because it would avoid confronting a few uncomfortable truths?

Taeyong hadn't sounded surprised in the least; Jihoon wonders if he was controlling his reaction for the benefit of the conversation, or if he just never thought that Jihoon would go through with it. The whole thing felt hollow, like the bombastic reaction he had been expecting was replaced instead with soft neutrality. It's making him second guess everything. Maybe that was Taeyong's intention the entire time.

Maybe he's giving him too much credit.

As Jihoon walks and the corner of the DARL+ING building comes into view, his phone chimes and he pulls it from his pocket with slightly numb fingers.

[ty] i know u arent going 2 jeonghan's party 2omorrow. cum 2 mine instead.

[you] i don't like clubs.

[ty] 🤪🪩✨👀‼️

[you] is there a name for what's wrong with you?

[ty] i was bitten by radioactive poppers as a child!!!

Jihoon snorts, declining to answer and likewise declining to return to the pack apartment. He's in desperate need of some alone time, and as annoyed as he was yesterday at how perfectly the apartment has been tailored to his needs, it's exactly what he wants right now.

Working out could maybe be a welcome reprieve from the way his thoughts spin around in his head. It's easier to focus on reps and breathing than to fixate on his interaction with Jeonghan this morning, or how that huge Alpha looked on his knees in the middle of the kitchen. How hazy his eyes were, how he stared up at Jeonghan like he controlled the very flow of air into his lungs. What would drive someone to act like that? To be so willingly, satisfyingly submissive in the middle of the morning?

What would that feel like?

Jihoon snarls at himself, giving up on his warmup stretches and instead starfishing in the middle of the gym floor. Why can't he just put this in the back of his mind? There was nothing malicious or backhanded in the way that Jeonghan spoke to him this morning. Nothing to suggest that he hated Jihoon, nothing to suggest that he thought about him at all! But is that worse? Would he rather be hated than not matter at all?

He groans, slapping a clammy palm over his eyes and clambering to his feet. Treadmill. Yeah. Running is the worst, it'll definitely take his mind off of this.

And it does.

For a few minutes.

What was up with Joshua? Tied to the bed like that, left alone to just…just be controlled by someone not in the room? To not even know who was making you feel that way? Who would even like that?

Run. Just run, Jihoon. Just focus on running. Just keep running.

Does the entire pack live like that? Tied to a bed or on their knees before they even have lunch? When do they go grocery shopping, when do they do laundry? Or is that a part of it? Does Mingyu get rewarded like that every time he ticks a chore off the list? Is there a points system for cleaning the bathrooms that ends in, what, someone pushing you over the side of the dryer and slipping their fingers inside, telling you what a good job you've done?

Jihoon stumbles, toe catching on the tread beneath his feet. He throws his hands out and steadies himself against the handrails, but it's hard to ignore the way that made him feel. The bloom of sweet cherries that mixes with the sterile, rubbery smell of gym mats.

A shower. Yeah. A shower is what he needs.

+++

Jeonghan is pacing.

Up and down the long hallway that runs the length of the pack apartment, the upstairs of the huge building that houses his family, his home, and his livelihood. Everything he's worked for since he was eighteen, cast out by his family for the unforgivable crime of falling in love with an Alpha that he wasn't even sure he liked all that much anyway. A building like this, a club and a business and a home like this, is all he's ever wanted. From the moment he set foot in CØDE, the shining gem in the heart of Seoul's nightlife, he wanted that for himself.

So why is he now wearing a gouge in the carpet, as he wanders back and forth?

He sighs, clutching his overflowing planner to his chest. The preparations for the party tomorrow are going well and everything is under control. They've hired extra staff to keep an eye on things when the pack members inevitably get pulled in and taken apart by their guests. There's plenty of water and refreshments being brought in to stock the dry room (pants mandatory). They've thrown an event like this over a dozen times now, and besides, how complicated can an orgy be?

So why does he feel so brittle? Why does he feel like one minor complication would be the spark that lit him into a blazing wildfire?

Why is he pretending like he doesn't know?

His pacing slows, and Jeonghan stops outside of one of the bedrooms. It used to be Chan's, before he moved across the street with Wonwoo, which brings up another well of complicated feelings. It's a spare room now, a guest room. A room to store gently used things in. Quietly turning the knob and opening the door, Jeonghan is pleased to find that his most used toy is still exactly where he left him.

Joshua has been tied to the bed for hours now, Jeonghan having led him to the room just after breakfast. It's his favorite game - leaving Joshy bound and helpless, with a slim remote vibrator pressed up into his tight Beta pussy. Everyone has the control app on their phone, but only Jeonghan can generate the code needed to control it. It's a free for all when he drops it in the family group chat, and a delight when someone snatches it up. He's not sure who has it today, but judging by the overwhelming scent of wildflowers in the air, they've been having fun.

Beneath the warm blanket he's been allowed, Joshua's chest is rising and falling steadily. Everything is as Jeonghan left it, the headphones covering his ears, the blindfold covering his eyes, and the gag between his mouth. There is evidence he's been played with outside of the soft mechanical buzzing; an assortment of dildos and other wicked toys line up on the nightstand like soldiers, some with a glisten that suggest they've been recently used. The foot of the bed is disheveled and wrinkled, which also suggests others have been in here.

This. This is what he needs. Something to take his mind off of their visitor, and all of the loaded feelings that come with that. Jeonghan gets to work.

He presses a hand against the side of the bed, shifting the weight of things so that Joshua will know someone is there. The thing about sensory deprivation means that all of the senses are controlled, and the strong mentholatum delicately dabbed beneath Joshua's nostrils this morning means that he won't be picking up on anyone's scent. Jeonghan's gentle approach is a courtesy, he doesn't want his pet jumping out of his skin.

Joshua starts slightly, moaning into the gag and tilting his head towards the motion against the bed. He whines and his nostrils flare, fingers clenching and unclenching as he strains for any kind of contact and confirmation of who might have joined him. Jeonghan doesn't allow him that. Instead he gently moves Joshua's head to the side and unbuckles the gag, releasing it and easing the pink rubber from between his teeth. He gasps softly, his jaw locked and stiff, lips and chin wet with saliva. Or maybe something else. Jeonghan isn't sure.

"Shhh…" he soothes, well aware that Joshua can't hear him. He rubs his fingertips in little circles against the stiff hinges of Joshua's jaw, easing away the tension of, at this point, close to three hours of torture. Joshua whimpers, turning his head into the touch, hips moving restlessly beneath the blanket. Jeonghan gives in to his curiosity, peeling the blanket back to reveal the activities of his beloved pack members…whoever may have come in here to have their fun.

And it does look like they've been having fun. He laughs at the sight before him, clucking his tongue and whispering a poor Joshuji. There's a small clamp on each nipple, tight enough to maintain pressure but not too much as to be excruciating. His pretty cock is half-hard, laying against his upper thigh and twitching with interest as Jeonghan's fingers run down over his bare torso.

"Ah," he whimpers, his voice cracked and raspy with disuse. Jeonghan smiles, fingers skirting over his cock and the gentle swell of his balls, seeking out the unbelievable wetness of his cunt. Joshua lifts his hips from the bed as Jeonghan's fingertips dip between the slick folds, feeling the gentle vibrations of the toy still nestled inside of him. He rubs the pad of his thumb against Joshua's swollen clit and the Beta keens, digging his heels into the bed and straining against the restraints that still bind his wrists and ankles to the bed.

"Such a good boy," Jeonghan muses, removing his fingers and bringing them to Joshua's lips, letting him taste the result of his hard work. He has a feeling Joshua may have worked out who his visitor is, his tongue knows the shape of those fingertips by heart, and his pretty pet turns his body towards where Jeonghan sits on the side of the bed. At that moment, Jeonghan hears the door open behind him, and oranges sweep the room.

He doesn't turn around.

"Hyuuuung," Seungkwan says softly, staying close by the door like he's afraid if he approaches too quickly, he might lose a limb. He's not wrong. "Hyung. I'm sorry. Can we talk?"

Jeonghan sighs, keeping his attention on Joshua and not responding. He retrieves a bottle of water from the nightstand and lifts Joshua's head with his other hand, pressing the straw to his lips and letting him take a few small sips before laying him down again. Only once the bottle is returned to the table does he glance over his shoulder.

"What is it, Seungkwan? I'm watering my plant."

Seungkwan shuffles across the floor, fetching a chair and pulling it over to the foot of the bed, perching on it with his knees drawn up to his chest. "I'm sorry I was such a brat this morning. Especially in front of Jihoon."

Jeonghan doesn't reply, instead making a show of fetching a different gag from the assortment of toys laid out before him. This one is blue and shaped like a short, fat cockhead. He taps Joshua's jaw and waits for him to open obediently, pressing the gag into his mouth and letting it lay heavy against his tongue. Joshua whimpers the entire time, shifting restlessly and shaking his head slightly. Jeonghan does appreciate a little show.

With the gag buckled securely and Joshua left writhing and whining on the bed, Jeonghan looks up at Seungkwan.

"Apology accepted. I know things are a little tense lately. And I'm sorry for that."

Seungkwan makes a soft little sound and scoots his chair closer, laying his head on Jeonghan's shoulder. "Do you want to, I don't know, talk about it? Instead of snapping at everyone and torturing Shua-hyung?"

Jeonghan snorts. "I'm not the one torturing him. Do you know who has the vibrator code?"

Seungkwan shakes his head, tugging the blanket a little further down and cooing as he sees how hard Joshua is becoming, his cock twitching and filling as his tongue works against the new gag. "No, but I saw Chan vanish into the lounge with Wonwoo-hyung's phone. He was grinning like an idiot, so either he has the code or hyung is about to get a really surprising new phone wallpaper."

Jeonghan laughs a little, just a little, and hands Seungkwan a string of thick silicon beads. "He should be stretched. Fill him up, and we can talk."

Seungkwan claps his hands in delight, throwing the blanket completely to the side and positioning himself between Joshua's tied-open legs. Joshua strains and twitches, his bound hands clutching at nothing as his anticipation builds. Jeonghan loves seeing him like this. Seungkwan hums, sliding his fingers out of Jeonghan's sight, and nodding as he confirms that Joshua is, in fact, still slick and stretched.

"So," he says matter-of-factly, nudging Joshua's legs open just a little further and slowly pushing one of the beads into his hole, biting his lip in concentration. Joshua keens into the gag, sucking air through his nostrils and curling his toes. "Is it just our visitor that has you so prickly? Or is there something else?"

Jeonghan sighs, climbing up onto the bed and laying alongside Joshua, fingertips dancing over the nipple clamps. "I don't know, Kwan-ah. Can't it be everything? Can't I just be busy and stressed?"

Seungkwan looks up at him, eyebrows drawn together as he pushes another bead up into Joshua, who sobs and tries to wriggle away from Jeonghan's fingers. Jeonghan gives his chest a sharp slap, calming him immediately.

"Hyung," Seungkwan scolds, eyes narrowed. "Are you embarrassed that you're upset? That it's weird having your mate's boyfriend here, and you don't know how you feel about it?"

Scowling, Jeonghan fights the urge to get up and leave. He doesn't enjoy talking about his feelings, and he certainly doesn't like having his vulnerabilities exposed. Why else would he spend a lifetime positioning himself as an unshakably dominant Omega, ice-cold and in control of everything around him? Surely, not in any way to distract from anything.

"I do know how I feel about it," he says, lowering his hand and gripping the base of Joshua's cock, holding it tightly as Seungkwan pushes a third thick bead into his ass. Joshua is straining now, struggling to control himself and lay still. His cock pulses and twitches against Jeonghan's fingers, and for a moment Jeonghan isn't sure how long it's been since he let his pet cum. A week? Maybe longer?

"I don't like it. But I want it. I want him here. I like Jihoon. But I also don't. I don't like that Seungcheol splits his life in half, giving Jihoon so much time before they even started fucking. I want Seungcheol to move the label up here, but if that means Jihoon comes too, do I get even less of my mate?"

All of a sudden, Jeonghan can't stop it. It comes out of him in a rush, every fear and jealousy and petty little seed of hatred that he loves to crack between his teeth when he's at his angriest. It's a good thing Joshua can't witness this flagrant display of vulnerability, he might never let him forget it otherwise.

"I've had this grand plan for so long…Jihoon coming up here, seeing how wonderful it is, and begging to be let in. To be a part of it. And then I can have everything for everyone in one place. It was all going to be so easy, Kwan-ah. And now he's here, and everyone likes him so much, and he's not impressed. He doesn't seem to like me much at all, and I'm just…scared. I'm scared. There. I said it. Mark the occasion."

The room is silent, save for Joshua's soft gasping and the dull buzzing of the vibrator. Seungkwan chews at the inside of his cheek, letting Jeonghan catch his breath before he clears his throat.

"What are you scared of?"

Jeonghan scowls, sneering and releasing Joshua's cock. He scoots up on the bed until his back is against the headboard, Joshua's head pressing against his hip. He busies himself for a few moments by playing with Joshua's mouth, trailing his fingers around his lips, tracing the way they stretch around the gag. He sighs.

"I'm scared I'm going to put my foot down about this, and Seungcheol won't pick me. And then half of you will decide you would rather go with him. With Seungcheol. That you’ll all realize I'm just…unpleasant and sharp and…and mean. That I'm not the soft, sweet Omega you all wish I was. That I'm not good enough."

The last sentence comes out in a gasping sob, and Jeonghan is surprised that the tears that roll down his cheeks aren't made of dust. He hopes for a moment that Seungkwan will forget how much he hates to be touched when he's upset, that his youngest Omega, his favorite, will push all of that to the side and throw himself into his arms. It doesn't come, this pack is just so fucking good about boundaries, and for a moment Jeonghan forgets that he can just ask.

"Please," he gasps, looking up at Seungkwan with wet, bleary eyes. "Please hug me."

Seungkwan, in a rare moment of obedience, does exactly as he's told. He abandons his torture of Joshua for the moment and kneels on the ground beside Jeonghan, throwing his arms around his waist and pressing his cheek against his stomach. Jeonghan folds himself in half, leaning over Seungkwan and trying his best to pull all of his tears back up into his body. It doesn't work as planned, and so instead he decides to allow Seungkwan to gently stroke his spine and lay his pretty head in his lap.

They stay like that for several minutes, accompanied by Joshua's soft shallow breathing and the occasional shifting of his legs, as he seeks out whoever's touch has abandoned him. Poor Joshua, an unwilling and unaware witness to all of this.

"It's okay to feel that way, you know," Seungkwan finally says, leaning back on his heels, folding his hands on the edge of the bed and laying his cheek on them. "Like you're not enough. You've put yourself in charge of all of us, hyung, and even though you aren't doing it on your own, that's still too big of a job for one person."

"Eugh," Jeonghan replies, wiping away his tears with the heels of his hands. Seungkwan swats at him.

"We don't need you to be sweet and soft for us. We have every kind of person here. You don't need to be everything for everyone all the time. But that doesn't mean you aren't enough for us, just the way you are."

Jeonghan nods, carding his spindly fingers through Seungkwan's hair. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore, not when he still has so much to do ahead of the party tomorrow, but he does feel a little better. Better enough to put on a brave face through the rest of the day, and then get absolutely wrecked down in the club tomorrow. A cathartic obliteration.

"Thank you, aegi," he says softly, leaning down and kissing Seungkwan's forehead. "I'm sorry I've been taking it out on everyone. Poor Joshy, he's probably wondering what the hell is going on."

Seungkwan grins, standing and returning to his seat between Joshua's legs. Their captive Beta shifts in response to the motion, eagerly rolling his hips up and gasping as the beads shift inside of him. "I can think of a good way to apologize…"

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, looking from Joshua to Seungkwan and back again. He feels all of his usual wicked glee flood back into his body, and he nods. Seungkwan claps his hands in delight, crouching and pushing the very last bead in the string up into Joshua's eager, overstimulated body. Joshua groans into the gag, bearing down and straining against the restraints. Jeonghan knows exactly how full he is, having been on the receiving end of these very same beads.

"Go on, Kwan-ah," he says, nodding again. "However you want."

The grin on Seungkwan's face is eerily similar to Jeonghan's own, and between the warring emotions inside of him, Jeonghan feels immensely proud. He certainly raised his perfect Jeju Omega in his own image, albeit with more feathers. Seungkwan shimmies out of his tennis shorts and underwear, still wearing his windbreaker and navy blue headband. It's a pretty if not slightly ridiculous picture as he climbs up onto the bed and straddles Joshua's lap. Jeonghan watches as he steadies Joshua's jerking cock beneath him and sinks down, his slick cunt slowly taking each inch.

"Fuck," Seungkwan sighs, bobbing up and down on his knees and adjusting to the weight of Joshua's cock inside of him. "I love how big he is. Money well spent, hyung."

Jeonghan laughs, stroking his hand down over Joshua's face. Joshua, for his part, is beside himself. Jeonghan suspects this is the first real attention his cock has had in hours and he's snarling into the gag, lip curled back and teeth exposed as they bite into the silicone. His hips buck and the beads move inside of him, his cries muffled. The edges of his blindfold are growing dark with tears, and Jeonghan clucks his tongue as he pets his face.

"What a day for my Joshuji," he sighs, leaning back and watching Seungkwan do what Seungkwan does best. His full hips roll back and forth as his eyelids flutter shut, taking his time and making sure the toy beneath him hits every spot he needs. Jeonghan tries not to let his thoughts wander, wants to stay here in this moment without giving in once again to his anxieties. He does feel better, really, and there are other things that need his attention right now. Lee Jihoon will do what Lee Jihoon wants, and Jeonghan will be present with his family.

"Hyung.." Seungkwan keens, hips stuttering, cheeks flushed. "Please? Please let him? I want to feel it, Jeonghannie…"

Jeonghan smiles, drumming his fingers against Joshua's jaw. "He's been very good. And so have you. Do you think he deserves it?"

Seungkwan nods emphatically, bouncing harder, pretty little Omega cock jerking up and down as he moves. Joshua is lost in the movements, rolling his hips, pushing his head into Jeonghan's hand. Jeonghan still isn't sure that he knows who is here, and the way he gives himself completely to whoever might be touching him is intoxicating.

Well, at least a little charity will make him feel better. Jeonghan leans down and takes the right ear of Joshua's headphones in his hand, lifting them and delivering a one-word order.

"Cum."

Seungkwan's response is right on time. He leans back and hooks his finger in the loop at the end of the string of beads and tugs. They pop out one by one, sharp and quick, at the same time that Seungkwan slams himself down and grinds his cunt against Joshua's hips.

Joshua, trained to obey one command over all others, cums. His body snaps tight, unloading at least a week of tension and control all at once. He screams into the gag, thrashing his head to the side and completely dislodging the headphones as he moves. Jeonghan laughs, clapping his hands as he watches the display. Seungkwan holds on for dear life, thighs clamped tight to Joshua's sides, and he too cums soon after. He rides it out, head thrown back and fingers digging into Joshua's hips, painting his helpless hyung's chest as his pretty cock twitches and spurts. It's violent and beautiful, controlled and chaotic, everything that Jeonghan loves about his family and how they move together.

Seungkwan slumps forward against Joshua as things calm down, everyone panting and gasping in unison. Joshua shakes beneath him, jerking his head to the side and seeking out some kind of touch, some kind of confirmation that yes he was allowed to cum, and yes he did do well. Jeonghan gives him just that.

"Joshujiii…" he purrs, setting the headphones to the side and leaning down to kiss his forehead. Joshua reacts immediately to the knowledge that yes, this is Jeonghan, this was Jeonghan touching him and praising him and teasing him. He sobs into the gag, burrowing his face in Jeonghan's hip and gasping as the last quakes of his orgasm run through his ragged body.

Seungkwan groans, pulling himself off of Joshua with a wet, slick pop. He makes a face as he wobbles off the bed, sweeping a foot around for his shorts. "Now my badminton gear is covered in cum. Again."

He slaps Joshua on the bare thigh and leans down to kiss him on the cheek, whispering a thank you on his way out. Jeonghan catches his hand as he goes and rubs his jaw against Seungkwan's wrist, scenting his beloved princess Omega by way of his own, silent thank you. Seungkwan beams, and closes the door quietly behind him.

"Mm mm…" Jeonghan hums, feeling a little more in control, a little more like himself. "You've been so good, Joshy. So good. I know you love taking care of Seungkwannie."

Joshua nods emphatically as Jeonghan stands, selecting yet another wicked toy from the nightstand. He retrieves the string of beads, wet with lube, and deposits them in the to-wash basket sitting near the foot of the bed. They run a tight ship, in this house of kink. Judging Joshua still slick enough to play, Jeonghan presses the head of a thick, heavy glass plug to his ass, and waits for him to stop whining and rolling his hips.

"Still," he commands, waiting just a beat longer before pushing the toy forward. It's a stretch, slow going, but it eventually glides into Joshua's well-used hole with just a little encouragement. Joshua pants and sobs the entire time, fingers clenched into tight fists, heels digging into the sheets. Jeonghan pushes down against his cum-slick abdomen once he's done, feeling the weight of the plug and laughing as Joshua lets out a most mortified yowl.

"Good boy, good pet," he whispers, kissing Joshua on the cheek and patting the end of the gag with two fingers. "One more hour, I think, and then you can come and eat my pussy while I pay vendor invoices. Have fun, Joshy."

He replaces the headphones, turning the volume up so slightly. Joshua is shaking as he covers him with the blanket once more, keening and rolling his head from side to side on the pillow. It's a pretty sight, but alas, work calls. For as out-of-sorts as he feels, Jeonghan still has a business.

He takes his phone from his pocket and swipes away a dozen messages, pulling up a conversation with Chan as he closes the door.

[you] Turn the vibrator up to full for ten minutes, please. Thank you baby.

[Twunk I Found In A Dumpster] 👍😈👍

+++

Despite emotionally torturing himself while on the treadmill, Jihoon still decides to head over for dinner a little early. He feels brittle around the edges of his emotions, and yet the building across the road is pulling at him in a way that he can't quite grasp. What he can grasp is that the pull has cute cheeks, insane vibes, and a smile that makes their eyes all but vanish.

But it's more than just one person. For the first time in a long time, Jihoon finds himself wanting the company of others. Jun and Minghao. Mingyu. Seokmin and Seungkwan, and more of the open, engaged Hansol that he met today. He likes the way that the pack looks at him, the way they all sit on the edge of their seat when he tells a story carefully crafted to embarrass Seungcheol.

There's another change, more subtle, more hesitant. A change in the way he sees Jeonghan. Even in the way that he's become Jeonghan and not Yoon Jeonghan, a full-government-named specter haunting Jihoon's punishing inner monologue. Seeing him in the kitchen this morning so disheveled, so flustered by the sheer size of his family. Delicate wrists and dark circles under his eyes. That ridiculous plush headband.

Could it be that Jeonghan is actually just flesh and bone, and not some flawless pinnacle of perfect omega-ness, designed to torment Jihoon's every waking moment?

He snorts, pulling his hair back into a short and messy ponytail. Not fucking likely.

Minghao collects him in the elevator on his way down and they walk over to the main building together, enjoying an easy silence that Jihoon appreciates with every overstimulated fiber of his being. The guilt he was feeling over letting his friendship fade with Jun and Minghao has steadily shifted into excitement over seeing them more, getting to know them now at this point in their lives. They're not a little collection of starving artists anymore; the two of them, himself, Seungcheol, all wedged into the corner of a campus cafe like a little pack.

A little pack. It's not the first time the idea has crept into his head. A little parallel timeline in which he confessed to Seungcheol how he felt on time, and the four of them grew closer and closer and…

…and that thought goes right into the trash can, legs poking up in the air, where it belongs. Minghao's touch snaps him out of it, gentle on his shoulder to stop him from walking right into the side of the club. He lets them in with the keypad and kindly doesn't mention the dazed look on Jihoon's face.

There's the typical wave of chaos that hits when the elevator opens into the pack apartment. Someone runs past the doors immediately, chased by someone else, chased by someone else swathed in layers of bright orange feathers. There's screaming and giggling, which Jihoon finds immediately alarming but with slightly more fondness than before.

"They should put a traffic light in here," Jihoon says absently, and Minghao snorts.

"Or a bottomless pit," Minghao replies, walking towards the kitchen. "That we can open up with the press of a button."

"Did someone say bottomless pit?" Soonyoung pops their head out from inside a door frame, eyes going wide as they see Jihoon, grinning so wide that their sharp little omega incisors poke out. They do seem sharper than most, and Jihoon wonders if that's the result of some bizarre cosmetic choice. It wouldn't be surprising.

Minghao pats their head fondly as they barrel past, wrapping their arms around Jihoon and squeezing tightly. Jihoon protests, grumbling and putting up an extremely weak fight. Soonyoung laughs and growls, nuzzling their face into the crook of Jihoon's neck.

"Aaagh…" Jihoon huffs, twisting his head to the side. "Are you scenting me?"

 "Noo…" Soonyoung pulls back, eyes wide. "Nooo. That would be so weird if I did that. Right? Too weird?" Their eyes narrow, leaning in slightly. "…not weird enough?"

"Alright, freak time is over, let's leave the nice man alone…" it's Minghao to the rescue again, twisting his long fingers into Soonyoung's hair and pulling them away from Jihoon, leaning in and biting them hard and slow on the side of their throat. Soonyoung immediately goes boneless, eyes rolling back into their head, mouth hanging open in what Jihoon assumes is bliss. Minghao slowly drags the creature away leaving Jihoon feeling…fucking something. What the hell was that? Do they just do that? Is that normal pack shit, or is it just normal to this pack?

He shakes himself, deciding that not everything has to be interrogated. Besides, something in the kitchen smells incredible, and his stomach is starting to growl. He knocks on the doorframe, relieved to see just two people await him. Mingyu is behind the counter in front of the stove-top, turned away from the rest of the room. The ties of a pink frilly apron cinch his already slim waist, and yeah okay maybe it's more than just the delicious smells making Jihoon's mouth water.

At the long family table, covered in the detritus of an extremely active family, sits Jun. He's in sweatpants and a bright pink baby-doll shirt with a cartoon flogger on the front, branded DARL+ING merch no doubt. There's a huge bowl of fruit in front of him, including several fat juicy grapes which are being speared by Jun's incredibly long, claw-like fake nails.

"What do you think, Jihoonie?" he asks, popping a grape in his mouth and wiggling his fingers, nails clacking together. "I'm trying them out for the party tomorrow. Fingering is going to be tricky, but at least I'll be able to do it from a distance!"

Jihoon, surprised to find himself overwhelmed with fond helplessness, simply pats Jun on the head on his way past the table and around the counter, into the kitchen proper.

Mingyu is a sight to see, and has been every time Jihoon has laid eyes on him. He's not just tall, he fills whatever space he occupies. He's big in the way that people refer to ancient wonders as big; you know, logically, that he has to be impressive from the way people describe him, but seeing him in person is a different deal entirely. It's shocking. He's broad, tan, and constantly smiling in a way that Jihoon might - in any other situation - perceive as untrustworthy but he doesn't think that Mingyu has an untrustworthy bone in his body. He thinks, for an idle moment, that the only bone he could see Mingyu with is one of those stupid, pink, rubber gags that looks like a cartoon bone.

And right into the trash can with that thought also.

"Hyung!" he says brightly, turning away from the stove and grinning a grin that should be accompanied by a burst of choral music. "Do you want to help?"

"You're going to let someone help you?" Minghao says, having rejoined them, now sitting at the table next to Jun and accepting a fingernail-stabbed-grape. Mingyu shoots him a look over Jihoon's shoulder, curling his lip and showing off a slightly crooked Alpha fang. In a strange moment of some indescribable feeling, Jihoon realizes he's in this room with two Alphas and a Beta, all of whom are much taller than him, and there's just…no panic. No skin-crawling feeling of having to locate every exit, to not get trapped by a wall, to make himself prickly and unpleasant. He's just here, with friends. With people he likes.

"I'd like to help," he says, and Mingyu puffs his chest up.

"Well, it's nothing special today. We're busy with the party stuff, so I just ordered in some Jonny, and there's a lot of leftovers, so…"

He gestures to a pile of containers on the counter, each bearing a smiling yellow cartoon dumpling. Jihoon's stomach growls and he laughs, ready to be put to work. Mingyu has him opening containers and dividing dumplings and fried shellfish between serving platters as he tosses a pan of myeolchi-bokkeum on the stovetop, filling the room with a delicious salty, savory aroma.

Members of the pack filter in and out of the kitchen as they prepare dinner, all equally excited to see Jihoon and greeting him enthusiastically. Seungcheol appears at some point and walks through the kitchen, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head as he passes, inhaling deeply in a way that makes Jihoon's stomach flip. He settles into an easy rhythm with Mingyu, asking for more plates and laughing when the big Alpha contorts himself to point to a corner cabinet with one long leg.

"You really like this, huh?" Jihoon asks as he pulls one last banchan from the fridge, popping open the lid and sighing happily as it reveals a dozen marinated eggs. Mingyu glances over his shoulder.

"Mayak gyeran? It's fine. Not my favorite, but Chan likes them and he's crazy for protein right now. Plus Wonwoo-hyung has to work late tonight, so he'll be all pouty and this will cheer him up."

Jihoon grins, shaking his head. "No, I mean. This. The cooking, and taking care of everyone. The, you know…"

Mingyu returns his grin, eyes wrinkling. "The house Alpha stuff?"

"Yeah," another laugh. For a moment, the urge to apologize and change the subject almost overwhelmed him, but Jihoon held it off. It's not insulting, here. In fact, it seems like something Mingyu is extremely proud of. It doesn't make him less of an Alpha. It makes him more.

"I do, yeah," he nods, black hair falling in his eyes. He sticks his lower lip out, fuffing his bangs back with a puff of air. His lisp, Jihoon decides, is extremely endearing. "I love it. I love my family. Taking care of them is, you know…it's a privilege I never feel like I have to do it. I want to do it." 

Jihoon nods slowly, turning the words over in his head. It's not an obligation. Not a role he's been pushed into. It doesn't even feel like work, not really. Of course, the financial success of the pack makes caring for so many people that much easier; not everyone has an industrial dishwasher or two stovetops side by side, not everyone can afford this amount of takeout when they don't have time to cook. But Jihoon is well aware that it wasn't always this way.

"And, you know," Mingyu continues, plating the crispy anchovies and topping them with a handful of chopped cashew nuts. Not peanuts, Jihoon thinks. Hansol's allergy. That feels like a normal amount of information to know about someone else's family.

"It's like a…" Mingyu frowns, his cheeks darkening as he blushes. "It's…"

"What?" Jihoon asks, stepping to the side as someone else enters the kitchen. It's Minghao again, with half a dozen bites across his collarbone that were not there before. "Like a what?"

"A kink," Minghao offers, patting Mingyu's hip as he walks past, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Big puppy gets big rewards when he takes care of us."

Mingyu's blush deepens and he looks over at Jihoon, abashed. Jihoon is aware that Seungcheol has explicitly instructed all of them to keep the kinks to a minimum while Jihoon is around, and Mingyu looks duly mortified, but Jihoon doesn't really mind this one. After all, his day started with Mingyu on his knees, why shouldn't it end like this?

"Damn. Where even did they find you?" he says, grinning. Mingyu visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping as he exhales a shaky laugh.

"Bought me at auction!" he replies brightly, picking up several dishes with impressive dexterity. Jihoon laughs, following suit and gathering up a handful of dishes.

"Oh, I'm sure."

"No, he's right," says Jeonghan, materializing at Jihoon's side but without the rolling fog and clap of thunder that Jihoon would have expected. He freezes for a moment, eyes wide, before realizing that Jeonghan is smiling gently and holding out his hands to help Jihoon unburden himself. "Cost me an arm and a leg, but I think he's worth it."

Mingyu blushes again, deeper this time, and mutters something too jumbled for anyone to understand as he ducks back into the kitchen. Jihoon, trying desperately to hold on to how carefree and playful he was feeling, returns Jeonghan's smile and hands him several plates.

"You really bought him?"

Jeonghan nods. "Oh yeah. It was a charity thing, a fundraiser. I'll tell you the story next time you visit."

Jihoon nods, turning back to the kitchen and trying so, so hard not to overanalyze that. Next time? Jeonghan wants him to come back?

Thankfully, he's pulled out of a potential spiral by the arrival of literally every other pack member. They filter into the dining area from several different directions, reminding Jihoon of a subway station during peak traffic hours. They take their seats, happily chatting and laughing among themselves and greeting Jihoon if they haven't already done so. Mingyu appears again with an extra chair, making room for Jihoon, which makes him feel a way.

This dinner is less of an occasion than the previous night had been. They're inside, for one, a fact for which Jeonghan apologizes profusely. He knows it's cramped, he says, but it's just too cold outside even with the heaters. There is some discussion about the party tomorrow night, but Jihoon is well aware that the members are censoring themselves for his benefit. He doesn't hate that, he's sure the intricacies of a gigantic sex gathering wouldn't be the most enjoyable dinnertime conversation for him, but it's a reminder that he’s an outsider here.

But for the most part, it's nice. Seungkwan sits in Seokmin's lap, reaching across the table now and then to feed Hansol a dumpling. Chan sits between Soonyoung and Minghao, threatening more than once to dump a glass of ice water on both of them if they don't stop trying to reach past him to get to each other. Seungcheol sits at one end of the table, Jeonghan sits at the other. There is bickering, laughing, a dramatic spilling of dumpling sauce. It's loud and chaotic, but not in a way that Jihoon feels he needs to escape from. But there is one thing.

Joshua is sitting across the table from him, beautiful, hair damp from showering, wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a faded t-shirt. Every time Jihoon catches his eye he smiles, inclines his head. Winks. It twists inside of Jihoon, the image of Joshua blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a bed still so fresh in his mind. He still isn't sure how he feels about that, no matter how hard he tried to outrun it on the treadmill earlier.

Logically he knew that shit like that happens in this house. It's above a sex club, for god's sake! Half of them are active, famous, sex workers!  But it's something else entirely to have seen it in person. To have seen Mingyu on his knees. To see Minghao bite Soonyoung in such a possessive way, dragging them off down a hallway. And Jihoon knows about Joshua's role in this pack. He remembers when Seungcheol came back from a business trip to Los Angeles, abuzz with excitement over Jeonghan's birthday present.

I bought him a live-in, professional submissive! he had exclaimed, still punchy from jet lag.

Jihoon had slowly pushed him backwards out of the studio, closing and locking the door.

But here they are, a handful of years later, and Joshua is retired, a part of the family. How does this pack do it? How do they suck people in, and keep them without a second thought?

"Eat, Jihoon-ah" Jun says softly, breaking Jihoon's train of thought and pushing a bowl of rice towards him. Jihoon nods with a grateful smile, accepting the food and spending the rest of dinner entertained by Seokmin and Seungkwan reenacting an apparently legendary fight. Something about a broken heel, sixteen parakeets, and a restraining order from a local food truck.

After dinner, the domesticity only increases. Jihoon stays in the kitchen to help Seokmin and Hansol with the dishes as the rest of the pack filters out of the adjoined dining room, full and happy. Seungkwan, Minghao, and Jeonghan vanish downstairs, citing last minute costume adjustments before tomorrow, while Mingyu and Soonyoung set about distracting a pouting Chan. Seungcheol falls asleep in a corner of one of the huge couches that Jihoon can see through the open doorways, Jun's head in his lap.

He can see why people would want this. It's hard to not want it. It's just not for him. He has nothing against packs, even one of this size and, uh, rating. Growing up, it was only ever his parents and himself, three Omegas living an extremely guarded life. It took him years to even be able to stomach any intimacy with Seungcheol, who he was in love with. There's no way he could let in eleven more people.

All of a sudden, the living room feels too hot, the walls are too tall. The constant murmur of the pack, the heartbeat of this building, is deafening and he needs to get away. Jihoon excuses himself, setting down the dish he was drying and making a beeline for the living room. He knows one of the doors in there leads to an outdoor balcony and he snatches a lap blanket from a couch as he goes, throwing it around his shoulders and slipping out into the cold. It is cold, the chill in the air is like a slap in the face and it's exactly what he needs to snatch him out of this spiral.

"Jesus christ," he mutters, letting his shoulders relax and his head fall back against the closed door.

"We try not to blaspheme in this house," says the other person on the balcony. Jihoon jumps, clutching his chest, and Joshua makes an apologetic sound.

"Oh, Jihoon-ah, I'm so sorry…" he continues, soft and slightly accented. "I didn't want to bother you with the smell so I came out here, but you're welcome to join me if you need a break."

Recovering from his cardiac event, Jihoon nods and takes stock of what he sees before him. The balcony is woven with string lights, a soft and steady glow competing with the neon signs from other businesses on the street. There's a worn rug beneath his feet, and Jihoon realizes too late that he's just wearing socks and the chill is already biting at his toes. Joshua is wrapped up in a puffy jacket with a blanket across his lap, sitting in one of two chairs tucked between potted plants. In front of him, in the middle of the balcony, is a little table with a metal tray and a, yep, oh, yeah. That's a joint, and that's why everything out here smells like a joint.

"You wouldn't have bothered me," Jihoon replies, slinking over to the offered chair and tucking himself into it, his blanket wrapped tightly against the cold. Joshua unfolds his own a little more, reaching down and tucking it around Jihoon's feet. The shared warmth of another person is instantly appreciated, and Jihoon relaxes.

"Good. Help yourself, if you'd like."

Jihoon is no stranger to weed. He remembers the referendums and passing of laws when he was a child, remembers how his parents and their social circles reacted like it was the end of civilized society as they knew it. He tried it in college a few times and decided that he didn't feel comfortable enough in his body to choose to make it feel all weird and woobly. As he got older and found his safe places, his safe people, it was easier to indulge now and then. More than a few of his great producing successes had been worked through in the studio late at night, splitting a joint or a dosed beverage with Bumzu. It's not a habit, but he doesn't hate it.

"Yeah. Why not."

Joshua grins, handing Jihoon a bedazzled roach clip and holding up a long-necked lighter, cupping his hands to shield it from the cold. There's something devastatingly intimate about having someone light your joint for you, but Jihoon actively doesn't pay attention to that as the smoke rushes into his lungs and he takes one slow, measured breath. Coughing and spluttering in front of Jeonghan's very expensive, very beautiful sex pet would be an ego blow he's not sure he could come back from.

But thankfully his moments of studio delinquency pay off, and he exhales smoothly enough that he thinks he looks pretty cool in front of this very elegant man with his bespoke weed paraphernalia. It doesn't take long for his fingers to feel tingly and for the chair to feel deeper and softer than it did just a few seconds ago. He stretches his legs out like a cat and then crumples into himself, warm and satisfied all wrapped up in his blanket.

"So," Joshua says, smoke wafting in a circle around his head as he returns the joint to the tray. "How are you enjoying our wretched hive of sin and debauchery? Do you have enough towels?"

Jihoon laughs, looking up at the night sky. He can't see the stars, there's too much light pollution, but it's like that in Daegu as well. He can't really remember the last time he saw a seriously starry sky.

"You make it sound so normal."

Joshua nods, opening one side of his coat to reveal a bag of saeukkang, offering them to Jihoon and laughing as they are enthusiastically pounced upon. "It is normal for us. For all of us, in different ways. I've been living like this since my early twenties. After a while, it starts to feel weird if every conversation isn't laced with some kind of kinky subtext."

Jihoon grins, momentarily distracted by how crunchy the shrimp chips are between his teeth, how satisfying, how…shrimpy.

"Do you like it? Really? Being a human sex toy?"

He claps a hand over his mouth, having forgotten how much weed removes his inhibitions and loosens his tongue. He can feel his cheeks warm in the frigid air, and Joshua is laughing so hard that his eyes are crinkling into little half-moons. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I just…..ohmygod…"

Joshua wipes his eyes with the heel of one hand, shaking his head. "No, no. No it's okay, Jihoon you're fine. I live with Kwon Soonyoung, subtlety is a rare delicacy around here. I'm not insulted. But I am taking these."

He snatches the bag back, grinning as Jihoon lets out a small mournful wail. Jihoon, despite mortified adrenaline still flooding his veins, is starting to feel remarkably silly and relaxed.

"Of course I like it. I wouldn't do it if I didn't," Joshua continues, leaning back and staring up at the same sky as Jihoon, sitting on the same balcony and eating the same snacks. "I loved doing it professionally. You know, being in a contract. A professional submissive. I traveled all over the world, I met the most incredible people. I made friends, and contacts, and…honestly, had a lot of really good sex. Really good. And got paid an insane amount of money for it."

Jihoon nods, and asks a question he already knows the answer to. "Why did you stop?"

Joshua laughs like a little bell ringing. "Why does anyone do anything? I fell in love. With everything here. Everyone. There are too many reasons to love all of them, and not enough to fight it. So I stopped fighting it."

Jihoon smiles, picking at the callouses on his palms from lifting weights, letting the gentle magic carpet of an easy high float his thoughts to their next conclusion. "So now you're…?"

"Unemployed." Joshua finishes the sentence for him, leaning down and retrieving the clip again, holding it to his (very prettily shaped) mouth and lighting it with that ridiculous lighter again, taking a small drag. He offers it to Jihoon, who waves his hand no. "Happily unemployed. An independently wealthy layabout. I keep busy, a family like this needs a couple of live-in maids, and Mingyu can't do it all. I run errands, I cook, I help with some of the behind the scenes club work. And several times a day I get my shit absolutely rocked by one of my pack-mates."

Jihoon laughs again, his squeaky little titter emerging from beneath the warm blankets. "I believe you."

Joshua smiles, tilting his head to the side. "I know you do. Soonyoung confessed to their little….mmm…boundary violation?"

"Oh, fuck," Jihoon feels himself go cold again, the warmth of the blanket washed away in that flood of anxiety adrenaline. Everything is exacerbated by the weed, so instead of these people are gonna hate you it morphs into they're actually gonna kill you…

"I am so…I'm so sorry about that, I-"

Joshua laughs softly, shaking his head. "No, no Jihoon, you're fine. Soonyoung shouldn't have surprised you with that. They get so excited and forget that not everyone lives our life. I'm sorry if it was too much."

Was it too much? His first impulse is yes, of course, a beautiful man tied to a bed, blindfolded and gagged, being tortured by some unseen device is a crazy thing to walk in on. But that wasn't the feeling that was ping-ponging around Jihoon's brain when he had left with Soonyoung, closing the door quietly behind them. It wasn't disgust, it wasn't revulsion. It was something else entirely, something that he couldn't outrun on the treadmill.

"Do you really like that?" he asks for the second time, inhibitions melting away. Maybe he should have gotten stoned right off the plane, this is making talking much easier. Joshua smiles his kind crinkle-eyed smile again and nods.

"I love it. I really do. It helps that I have the temperament for it, not everyone is going to be comfortable giving up so much control, so much autonomy. And I have exceptional training."

"Training?" Jihoon frowns, reaching for the joint again. Joshua takes it first, holding it up for Jihoon and lighting the end. His long, elegant fingers are extremely close to Jihoon's mouth, and Jihoon is sure his cheeks are as red as tomatoes.

"You need to train for this? For that?"

Joshua grins, nodding again. "Oh yeah. I didn't spend all of my time on my knees. I speak four languages, you know. I can ballroom dance. I went to international conferences, movie premieres. But…you do also need to learn how to be on your knees for eight hours, because it'll fuck your body up otherwise."

"Damn," Jihoon lets out a low, soft whistle. "Your quads must be crazy."

Joshua snorts, leaning back and blowing a perfect O of smoke up into the night sky. "You have no idea."

They both dissolve into laughter, the kind of hysterical hunched over giggle that comes with a lazy, easy high. They're wheezing by the time they're done, Jihoon thieving away the shrimp chips and stuffing one into his mouth to try and get a hold of himself. Joshua pats him on the back, reaching down and offering him a drink from an ice-cold bottle of water.

"What's the craziest contract you ever had?" Jihoon asks, emboldened. Joshua laughs again.

"Without violating an NDA? The most detail I can give you is…" he pauses, nose scrunching as his thoughts force their way through the smoky haze in his mind. "A minor member of a European royal family."

"Holy shit," Jihoon replies, eyes wide. Well, as wide as they'll open, presently. "Why would you give up something like that?"

"Do you want the annoying answer, or the honest answer? They're both true, but one of them is so annoying."

Jihoon grins, flexing his toes. The cold is starting to numb the tips of them, and the weed-sleepies are overcoming him. "Annoying."

"I fell in love with eleven people."

Jihoon groans, standing up and drawing the blanket tightly around his shoulders. "That is annoying, you're right. Okay, what's the honest answer?"

Joshua winks at him, collecting the detritus of his sinning and placing it all into a little metal box, tucking it under his arm and standing. "I fell in love with eleven of the hottest, most gorgeous, talented, kinkiest freaks you've ever met, and I get to spend my day being tortured and adored by all of them.”

Jihoon grins and nods, slipping back into the house as Joshua holds the door open. There's a feeling growing in the middle of his chest that he's attributing to the weed, but he knows damn well that the weed doesn't have anything to do with it. It's heavy, a crushing feeling, but not in the way that he's used to. Jihoon is used to feeling like he's on the outside - the outside of Seungcheol's relationship with his family, the outside of the ritzy side of the industry he excels in. On the outside of any kind of comfort in his own body. That feeling is crushing, smothering, drowning.

This one is different. This feeling is external to him, it's reaching out, an outstretched hand grasping and yearning to clutch on to something that he can't identify.

"Wow," he says, several pairs of eyes in the room swiveling to meet him. "I'm really stoned. I'm gonna go."

Someone protests but they're gently shushed by Joshua, who helps Jihoon to gather up his shoes and coat, as well as several containers of leftovers helpfully supplied by Mingyu. Jihoon thanks them all profusely, assures them that he can get across the street and into his borrowed apartment just fine, and wonders if this new feeling is any easier to outrun than the others.

+++

Seungcheol is having a stressful few days.

He had been so excited to have Jihoon visit, after years of nagging, pleading, bargaining, and at one point even bribery. But finally, finally, he had everything he wanted, everything he loved in one place. His mate. His family. His pack. And his best friend who he'd had a devastating crush on since college and then years later he’d started to casually fuck and it's been totally fine actually and not complicated and emotionally charged at all.

He'd had it all planned out. Jihoon would relent and make the trip up to Seoul, joining Seungcheol for his weekly trek back home. The pack would be so charming, so welcoming, so respectful of his boundaries. Everything that he promised Jihoon they were. And Jihoon, overcome with the perfection of Seungcheol's family, would give in.

'You're so right, Cheollie, everyone is just as you described them. I'd be crazy to not want this, we should move the label to Seoul immediately and I'm going to move into your giant apartment above a sex club, despite my incredibly fraught relationship with both my own sexual identity and your terrifying kink emperor of a mate. You did it, Seungcheol, you're the perfect Alpha.'

It's not exactly going to plan.

Seungcheol lets out an exasperated breath, tucked into the corner of one of the huge couches that fills the bigger of the house's two living rooms. He had fallen asleep after dinner and didn't wake for at least an hour, long enough that he missed Jihoon before he went back across the street. He'd been hoping Jihoon would have spent more time here tonight; with the party tomorrow, there'll be no family dinner and no chance for him to spend a little more time around the whole pack. He’s only here for a couple more days. How could Seungcheol advance his nefarious plans without as much exposure as possible?

He shifts, his legs cramping and starting to hurt. Jun is also here, asleep on the couch with his head in Seungcheol's lap, and as he cards his fingers through Jun's soft hair he briefly considers just staying exactly where he is. But his dissatisfaction is nagging at him, and there's no going back to sleep now.

Gently, Seungcheol slips out from underneath Jun, tucking a pillow underneath his head as he goes. There's a small noise of protest and Jun rolls over, kicking out one leg as he does so.

"No didi…" he fusses, mumbling into the pillow. "Don't put dolly back in its box, not yet…"

Seungcheol pauses, frowning, and then decides not to interrogate that any further. Whatever happens in that penthouse is above his kink level. Instead, he grabs a warm coat and a beanie, assures Mingyu that Jihoon probably has enough food, grabs his shoes by the rack near the elevator and takes the short ride down to the club. He can hear Minghao on the stage, his voice echoing across the empty, cavernous room, counting out beats. Seungcheol pokes his head around the arched entrance into the club proper, watching for a moment as Seungkwan walks around the stage, wearing a blue corset over his pyjamas, pants rolled up to his knees so that he won't trip in his baby blue suede heels. Jeonghan is watching both of them from a table near the door, and Seungcheol catches his attention easily enough.

"All dressed up, Cheollie," Jeonghan says, walking over and sliding his hands inside the front of Seungcheol's jacket. Seungcheol leans in, breathing deeply once he realises that Jeonghan has taken off his scent blockers. He loves that someone who can be so icy and so cold can smell so warm and inviting. "Are you going somewhere?"

Seungcheol nods, a little sheepishly, nuzzling against Jeonghan's long neck. "I want to go check on Jihoon. Make sure he has everything he needs."

Jeonghan smiles, just a little smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth, an inscrutable expression that doesn't give anything away. "Gyu's been doing that. Jun and Hao as well. Why are you really going over?"

Seungcheol growls softly, a rumble in the back of his throat. Jeonghan drops his hand, pushing the heel against Seungcheol's groin in a way that makes him want to rock forward, press into that resistance.

"I want to see him, Hannie. I'm used to having him to myself."

It's a little more honest than he wants to be, but his mate has that effect on him. Jeonghan's spidery fingers and piercing gaze have pulled more than a few truths from Choi Seungcheol.

"Are you going to fuck him, Cheol-ah?" Jeonghan whispers, barely audible over Minghao's counting and Seungkwan's clack-clack-clacking. He's been auditioning outfits for over two weeks now, and Seungcheol isn't really sure why he's putting so much energy into a party he's going to attend mostly-naked.

Jeonghan tilts his head to the side, clutching at the back of Seungcheol's neck and guiding him forward, teeth to neck. Seungcheol growls again, lip pulled up into a sneer, teeth grazing over skin.

"Yes," he whispers against Jeonghan's neck. "If he wants me to."

Laughing, Jeonghan tilts Seungcheol's neck up and kisses him gently. "Why are you so drawn to the mean ones, Cheollie?"

Seungcheol returns the laugh, his gaze dropping. He feels like he should say more; he should thank Jeonghan for his generosity and understanding, he should explain more why he craves Jihoon the way he does. But Jeonghan doesn't ask for more, and Jeonghan always asks when he wants more.

"I'm going to go over there smelling like you," he says, teasing, pushing the limit. Jeonghan shrugs, turning back to the stage.

"And you'll come back to me smelling like him. The world will keep spinning, jagi."

Yoon Jeonghan is, Seungcheol knows, a confounding creature. He lets his real feelings out in fits and bursts, either letting them bottle up until they explode or revealing them in an unexpected, devastating moment of sincerity. However they're unveiled, the door closes again almost immediately, so you have to appreciate them for the fleeting rarities they are before they're gone.

And Seungcheol does appreciate them.

"I love you," he mutters, pressing a kiss to the back of Jeonghan's head.

"I know you do," comes the reply.

Seungcheol pulls his coat tightly closed against the cold as he crosses the street, punching in the door code and slipping inside the small apartment building. He hasn't spent enough time over here since the pack bought it, investing in - as Jeonghan put it - the future growth of their family. In actuality, it was a carrot to get Jun and Minghao to settle down, bait by way of a guarantee of privacy and a little peace and quiet when needed. Now Wonwoo and Chan are here as well, taking their first steps towards being mated, settling down, being in love.

Stepping into the elevator, Seungcheol lets his head fall back against the metal wall, hands in his pockets. Is that really what he wants from Jihoon? For him to relent, to be snatched up and placed in one of these apartments, like a butterfly pinned under glass? Does he really think he can share Jihoon, after having him to himself for so long?

Yes, of course. Yes. The answer is always yes, because the answer is always the pack. The pack always comes first.

Seungcheol stares at his reflection in the elevator doors. If the pack always comes first, why is he still flying down to Daegu every week?

He groans, thudding his head back against the wall again as the doors chime open. Seungcheol pulls himself together, knocking on the only other door in the little hallway. There are a few beats before he gets an answer, a muffled yeah, come in, so he does. The keypad beeps, there's a clunk as the door unlocks, and Seungcheol toes his shoes off as he closes it behind him.

"Hey,"

Jihoon is sitting on the kitchen counter, just visible from the entranceway. He's in gym shorts and nothing else, his hair curly and damp from sweat, legs dangling as he eats fruit from a plastic leftovers container. A little pang of guilt runs through Seungcheol at the same time that his nostrils flare and he presses the tip of his tongue into one of his sharp incisors. He can’t lie to himself, he knows exactly why he flies back to Daegu every week.

"Hey," he replies, walking over and standing between Jihoon's knees. He leans up on his toes, rubbing the crown of his head underneath Jihoon's chin, drinking in the scent of fresh cherries. Jihoon rubs his cheek against the top of his head, and Seungcheol's surprised to see him so affectionate. Of course there is another scent, just beneath the sweet, spiced mix of the two of them, something that the shower couldn't hide. Something skunky.

"Are you high?" he asks, grinning. Jihoon nods sheepishly, stuffing a too-big piece of melon into his mouth.

"Shoshua shmoked me out," he mumbles around his mouthful, eyes scrunched shut as he giggles. Seungcheol laughs, leaning his head forward, his shoulders shaking.

"Better watch out, Shoshua has potent stuff."

They both dissolve, giggling and laughing and falling against each other as they do so. The tension melts out of Seungcheol and he rubs his jaw against Jihoon again, a lazy growl rumbling up out of his chest.

"Do you want something, Cheol-ah?" Jihoon asks, setting the bowl down and leaning back on the palms of his hands. Seungcheol's mouth is dry as he takes in the sight before him. Jihoon is so pink. Jihoon is so small, but sturdy and strong underneath his hands. Seungcheol knows that Jihoon could take him by the arm and flip him over his back like he weighed nothing.

Honestly, that's part of it. No one has ever accused Seungcheol of not liking intimidating Omegas.

Jihoon is a lot of things. His best friend, his business partner. Half of the creative force behind his success, the success that allowed his pack to start the life they now have. He’s all of the reasons why they shouldn't have started fucking.

But to Seungcheol, right now in the apartment he personally curated specifically to make him feel at home, Jihoon is his to devour and it doesn't have to be more complicated than that.

He slides his hands between Jihoon's hips and the counter, gripping his gym shorts and scooting him down to the very edge. Jihoon grins, spreading his legs to accommodate Seungcheol's frame.

"How's your visit going so far…" he asks, breath hot against Jihoon's collarbone. Jihoon gives a soft little sigh and tilts his head to the side.

"If I tell you it's been nice and I like everyone, will you be really fucking smug about it?"

Seungcheol grins. "Mhmm."

Jihoon laughs. "Well I'm not going to lie. I like them. It's nice. It's all nice. Even this weird twilight zone apartment you made me."

"Weird?" Seungcheol whines, pulling back. "What do you mean, weird?"

"Cheol, you bought the same dish-washing liquid I use. This fruit is the same brand I like. You're Alpha-ing too close to the sun."

Seungcheol shakes his head, kissing at Jihoon's throat, teeth grazing. "I can't believe you're scolding me for being too thoughtful."

Jihoon laughs again, the last hah hah pitching up into a moan as Seungcheol bites him. "You're trying to brainwash me into joining your pack, that's what you're doing. Name-brand toothpaste won't be enough, I'm afraid."

Growling against Jihoon's neck, Seungcheol laughs again. He forgets how an altered state, be it weed or alcohol, removes Jihoon's filter and carefully constructed walls. They've fucked like this before, buzzed on champagne after an industry event, or gently stoned at the end of a frustrating week while they wait for their take out to arrive. They both like it, Seungcheol has made sure of that.

"I'll have to start Plan B," he says, teeth grazing, Jihoon's skin prickling and shivering against his lips. He bites softly, never enough to break the skin, but enough that Jihoon's scent intensifies and he goes boneless. He leans back on his elbows, stretched out in front of Seungcheol, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and sleepy eyes. Jeonghan's golden rule echoes in Seungcheol's head - No Sex in The Kitchen - but he's not in Yoon Jeonghan's house right now.

And that's a thought that echoes.

He encourages Jihoon to lift his hips up, tugging his gym shorts down and letting them fall to the side. The musings on Jihoon's pinkness only intensify as more of him is revealed, his cock twitching against his thigh as it thickens and swells. Seungcheol loves Jihoon's cock; he's bigger than a lot of the Omegas Seungcheol has fucked, much bigger, he'd even be big for a Beta. But Seungcheol has plenty of big cocks to entertain himself with across the street, that's not what he wants right now.

Jihoon makes a soft noise and shifts on the counter, bringing one leg up and bracing his foot against Seungcheol's shoulder. He reaches down, eyes half closed, and lets his fingers drop beneath his cock to trail along the slick, wet opening of his cunt. "Is this what you want, Cheol-ah?"

Seungcheol's mouth goes dry and he nods, struck mute by Jihoon's uncharacteristic display. Jihoon huffs, arching his back and reaching down further, fingertips catching the wetness and dragging it up over his clit.

"Say it. Say you want it."

"Fuck" Seungcheol breaths, going to elbows, bracketing Jihoon's hips and breathing in deeply. Cherries and pussy, what an underrated combination. "I want it. I want you, Jihoon, please, I wanna taste-"

Jihoon lifts his leg, slinging it over Seungcheol's broad shoulder and using his foot as a hook, tugging him closer, forcing him to bend his knees. Seungcheol can feel his heart beating in his throat and he's just growling non-stop now, a soft rumble that slips out with every breath. God how he loves an assertive Omega. He's surrounded himself with them, after all.

"Is it pretty?" Jihoon asks, and Seungcheol's mouth snaps shut. He's buzzed, sure, so that's not something that needs to be interrogated right now. But Seungcheol is hyper aware of Jihoon's fractured relationship with his own body, so that's a thought to be tucked away for later. If this is what he needs right now, Seungcheol is helpless but to obey.

"Beautiful," he answers, his voice low and rough. He recognizes a gender moment for what it is and ignores Jihoon's cock, doesn't touch it, doesn't mention it. Instead he crouches further, bending at his hips and lifting Jihoon's hips with both hands underneath him.

"So pretty, Jihoon-ah. So pink, so soft and wet for me. Please, I want it. Wanna taste you."

"I don't believe you," Jihoon replies, kicking his heel against Seungcheol's shoulder and laughing a cackling, wicked little laugh. "You're too good, Cheollie, too good. Show me how bad you want it."

Seungcheol snarls, teeth bared. He digs his fingers into Jihoon's hips and lifts them from the counter, forcing them to meet his teeth as he leans in. He bites down on the soft swell at the top of Jihoon's thigh, inhaling. He loves this part of Jihoon's body, the soft little pockets of fat that press together beneath his cunt, the physical quirks of his subgender that Jihoon can't remove, no matter how fast he runs on the treadmill. A perfect mouthful. Seungcheol growls against him and Jihoon gasps and bucks, his slick-wet fingers dragging across Seungcheol's cheek as he twists them in his hair.

"I said show me," he whines, and the last little pieces of Seungcheol's self control fall away.

He lifts Jihoon's hips again, pressing the flat of his tongue against his pussy and dragging it up to his clit, pressing his tongue against it just briefly enough to make Jihoon kick and squeal. He holds his thighs tight, one either side of his head, and traces his tongue around Jihoon's clit with such soft, delicate motions that he's barely touching him. Jihoon gasps and arches, so sensitive that just the suggestion of sensation is enough to make his toes curl and his eyes roll.

Seungcheol is good at eating pussy, really good. He was already good at it when he met Jeonghan, but dating an Omega like him was like boot camp for learning how to selflessly please someone. It's still one of his favorite things to do, and he's justifiably proud of his technique. He'd never say that of course, not in his family where the danger of having a very pointy shoe thrown at your head is all too real.

But he does take great delight in how Jihoon reacts. He twists and gasps beneath him, covering his own mouth at some point with the back of his hand. Seungcheol drags his tongue down around the outside of his cunt, tracing the wet, sensitive skin over and over until Jihoon is whimpering beneath him. He teases at the opening, dipping his tongue in enough to make Jihoon buck before he returns to his clit, swiping his tongue around in little circles and barely, just barely pressing down against the hood.

His neck is going to ache in the morning, but that's a sacrifice he's willing to make.

It doesn't take long before Jihoon's fingers are in his hair and he's pushing Seungcheol's head down, rocking his hips back and forth, grinding his cunt up against Seungcheol's mouth. Seungcheol takes the hint, wrapping up the teasing and settling into a consistent pace, his tongue flat and broad against Jihoon's clit, giving him something firm to rock against. The angle isn't great as Seungcheol brings an arm up, but he wants to feel it when Jihoon cums, wants to know what he's doing to him, and so he tucks a hand in between them and slides two fingers up into his cunt.

It doesn't take much more. Given something to clench down onto, Jihoon bucks and arches, hips lifting from the counter. Seungcheol brings up his other arm and lays it across Jihoon's abdomen like a safety bar, pinning him back down and holding him as he cums. He clenches around Seungcheol's fingers, twitching and pulsing as they're fucked in and out, turning his orgasm from lazy and toe-curling into something obliterating. Seungcheol holds him firmly, tongue still working, fingers crooked and firm, prolonging this until Jihoon smacks a hand against the side of his head, crying out.

"No, no more, no more, Cheollie, please, I can't-"

That's when Seungcheol pulls back, easing his fingers out of him, rolling his jaw and rubbing the side of his head. He can't help himself, he wants more, and so when he licks his fingers clean as he looks down at the mess he's made of his best friend, that's just for himself.

"Fuck," Jihoon exhales, sticky and boneless on the counter, limbs sprawled everywhere and a pink flush extending from his cheeks to halfway down his chest. His cock is still hard, and Seungcheol knows that if he fucks him, if he wraps his hand around that thick cock, Jihoon will cum for him over and over again.

"Yeah," Seungcheol laughs, groaning as his lower back protests. He needs to remember that eating pussy is a horizontal activity at this point in his life.

He helps Jihoon up into a sitting position, scooting him to the edge of the counter, wrapping his legs around his waist and rubbing his nose against the side of his neck. They smell good together, cardamom and pine and cherries. "What now?"

"What now?" Jihoon asks, lips swollen from where he was biting them. "If you ask me if I want to work, I'm going to kill you."

Seungcheol laughs. "No. I was thinking about carrying you into the bedroom and fucking you, and then eating you out again when I'm done."

A shudder runs through Jihoon, even as he smacks a hand against Seungcheol's chest. "You made a mess in here. Jeonghan's going to kill you."

There's a moment where Seungcheol's brain, his brain that's divided between twelve people and all of their little quirks and needs and hates and loves, latches on to that notion and won't let it go. The feeling of Jihoon talking about his mate like that, in a gentle domestic way that doesn't carry any further weight, positive or negative. Jihoon knows that Jeonghan doesn't let anyone fuck in the kitchen. Jihoon is here, Jihoon smells like his family, knows their little things, has been laughing at their jokes and getting to know them.

That stupid part of Seungcheol's mind, that craven Alpha need to gather and protect and keep and hoard, wants him to tell Jihoon they should find out, they should call him over, that he should really get to know Jeonghan. But thankfully, Seungcheol knows that would be a catastrophically stupid thing to do, and right now Jihoon just needs to know that even this close to the rest of his pack, he can still be the only thing Seungcheol needs.

At least right now.

"Jeonghan isn't here," he says simply, sliding an arm around Jihoon's waist and lifting him, feeling soft yet muscular legs wrap around his own hips, his other arm underneath Jihoon’s hips, holding him secure. Jihoon usually hates this, hates when Seungcheol picks him up, but instead he just leans in and presses his sharp little Omega fangs into Seungcheol's neck.

"Make me cum again," he says softly, as ripe as red cherries and as pink as a peach.

What else can Seungcheol do but obey.

+++

Chapter Text

Jihoon doesn't make a conscious effort to avoid the pack apartment, but knowing all of the planning and prep that's going on for the big party (orgy?) that's happening tonight instills in him a reluctance to insert himself. Stuff like that is firmly out of his comfort zone, a fact which he made clear to Seungcheol when he agreed to visit. Besides, he doubts anyone will miss him.

Seungcheol left early that morning, but not before rolling Jihoon onto his side and slipping back inside him, his lips warm on the back of Jihoon's neck. He hadn't been quite ready to wake up yet and so he had drifted in and out of a light half sleep as Seungcheol moved slowly inside him. After Cheol had gotten up out of the bed and kissed him and promised to see him later, Jihoon had burrowed further into the covers and reached down to push his fingers into the wet, sticky mess between his legs and made himself cum another two times before drifting back off into hazy dreams.

He wakes for real a little after 10am and rolls out of bed feeling soft and tender and sensitive. Everything in the apartment smells like Seungcheol now and it's torture. Having to share him with people feels unfair and strange and Jihoon tries to push down the resentment that rises up inside him as he waits for the shower to heat up.

This is supposed to be a nice trip. He really does want to get to know Seungcheol's family, but there are two voices inside him mocking his reasons and he isn't sure which one to believe. Is he here because he knows he's going to lose Cheol if he doesn't at least pretend to make an effort? Is he here because he's checking out the competition? 

Is it just a new, fun way to torment himself?

He showers, washing Seungcheol's scent off of his skin. It is both an act of relieved reclamation of his own body and a resigned surrender of the one thing that makes him feel safe in this deeply strange environment.

But that isn't fair, is it? Jihoon towels off and dresses in soft, warm clothes as he argues with himself. It is strange, yes, but Cheol isn't the only friend he has here. Jun and Minghao are always checking in with him, not hovering exactly but he has noticed that they're never far away when he needs them. Hansol is lovely, and so is Seungkwan, even if he is a little standoffish due to the tension between Jihoon and Jeonghan.

And there's Soonyoung, of course. Soonyoung, who is taller than Jihoon (like most everyone is) but somehow seems smaller. Constantly full of energy, constantly touching. Jihoon isn't used to such casual physical affection, but it's just easier to accept from another omega. Soonyoung likes to hold hands, likes to rest their head on Jihoon's shoulder, likes to plant a little kiss on Jihoon's cheek and then giggle about it. In spite of himself, he's charmed by it.

He goes to the window and peers out at the club. It's nearly lunch time and he is starting to get hungry. He knows he could go across the street to the club and someone would find him something to eat, but he also knows that by doing so he will be disrupting them from their party preparations and while Jeonghan has been nice, if not a little awkward, Jihoon doesn't want to give him another reason to resent his presence.

He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling, checking out the restaurants in the neighborhood to see if there is anything that appeals to him. He doesn't love going to new places unless he's with someone that has been there before, and he considers texting Soonyoung or Hansol to see if they want to grab some food. Which, yes, will disrupt party prep, but Jeonghan won't be able to flash that chilly picture-perfect smile at him because he won't be invited.

Jihoon is about to start typing when there is a soft knock on the door. He tenses up immediately and just as fast berates himself for doing so. It's probably just Jun or Minghao coming down to check on him. Or Soonyoung, distracted from his party planning by an overwhelming desire to come bother Jihoon.

The wave of pleased, slightly giddy anticipation that accompanies that thought doesn't bear reflecting on now. He'll rotate it around in his head later, maybe even carve a song out of it.

Jihoon opens the door, expecting to see one of his friends (hoping to see Soonyoung) and is slightly taken aback by who he finds.

"Hi," Wonwoo says, smiling slightly. He's dressed in a very elegant suit, well tailored and crisp, that accentuates the narrowness of his waist and immense breadth of his shoulders. His hair is combed, shoes polished, glasses gleaming like they're brand new. Even the umbrella that he carries, hooked over his elbow, is tidy.

"Oh!" Jihoon says. "Hi! Um… do you want to come in?" He can't imagine why in the world Wonwoo is here; they met each other at the family dinner when Jihoon had arrived, but hadn't interacted much since. From what he remembers of the stories that Seungcheol tells, Wonwoo has some of the more extreme kinks in the pack. Looking at him now, Jihoon can barely believe that. He seems so restrained.

He is also, Jihoon remembers abruptly, the latest member to join the pack. After holding out for years.

Jihoon's scent goes a little sour but he steps to the side, inviting Wonwoo in. Was it Cheol or Jeonghan that put him up to this? Seungcheol had promised that no one would bug him about joining the pack when he'd agreed to come visit. Honestly, Jihoon is impressed that they lasted this long.

"Thanks," Wonwoo says, stopping at the threshold so he doesn't have to take his shoes off. "I was actually checking to see if you wanted to go grab some lunch. There's an excellent noodle place in walking distance and you kind of have to know where it is to find it."

"Oh," Jihoon says again. "Sure. I was going to see if Soonyoung or Hansol wanted to get some food." It's not quite a question, but it kind of is. Wonwoo smiles.

"Hansol and Chan are out running errands," he says. "And Soonyoung is with Seungkwan. They're picking outfits." The way he says it definitely implies that they will be picking outfits for hours, if not the rest of the day.

"I should get changed," Jihoon murmurs, looking down at his joggers and old beat up sweatshirt. Wonwoo chuckles softly.

"If you want," he says, "but you don't have to. I dress like this for work, I don't expect other people to meet me at this level."

Jihoon breaks out his mental scales, on the one side Looking Like Shit Next To A Very Handsome Man and on the other Digging Out Something Nice To Wear. Looking Like Shit wins so he shrugs and puts on his shoes (sneakers, in concession to the cold) and they leave the apartment.

The day is gray and windy, and Jihoon watches enviously as Wonwoo grabs a heavy black overcoat from a coat rack that is stuck in the lobby. "Do you want one?" he asks and Jihoon pounces on the rack, selecting a puffy baby blue monstrosity that looks incredibly warm.

"Will you give that back to Soonyoung when you're done with it?" Wonwoo asks, and Jihoon, still kind of trying to pretend that he feels super normal about Soonyoung, nods his head mutely.

They make their way through a maze of side streets and little alleyways. Jihoon peers into the shops as they walk, making note of the ones that he wants to revisit when he has time. There are a couple of traditional medicine shops, a manga store with a bank of gatcha machines clumped up in the center, a vintage game shop (they call out to Wonwoo and he waves, promising to stop by later), a tailor, a shoe repair store, a dizzying array of grocers and bakeries and hole in the wall street food shops, and a record shop that Jihoon is definitely going to duck into on his way back.

They reach the noodle shop and Jihoon lets Wonwoo order, trusting his judgment, and soon the two of them are settled across from one another at a small corner table, steaming bowls of ramen in front of them. He'd ordered Jihoon tonkotsu ramen, a safe bet for any palate, and himself a clear shio ramen spiked with yuzu peel. It reminds Jihoon of Jeonghan, his sharp scent seemingly unavoidable.

"So, how's it going?" Wonwoo asks. His glasses fog up as he leans over to get a mouthful of noodles. "The pack can be a lot."

"It's going well," Jihoon says, trying to be diplomatic. He doesn't know Wonwoo that well at all, but he does know that Wonwoo is old friends with Jeonghan. "Everyone has been really kind and welcoming."

"I heard that Soonyoung has latched on to you."

"Yeah," Jihoon says, suddenly defensive. He’d talked to Seungcheol last night about Soonyoung, and Cheol had kind of laughed in disbelief and made a comment about Soonyoung's proclivities. Jihoon is getting a little tired of it. Soonyoung might be a borderline reckless borderline nymphomaniac, but they're sweet and earnest and Jihoon likes them. "I called them a shark instead of a tiger and now we're best friends."

Wonwoo laughs softly and nods, his expression fond. "Yeah, that sounds like them," he agrees. "They're amazing, you're very lucky."

Jihoon softens a little at that. The ramen is delicious, the sun is starting to come out, and Wonwoo didn't immediately doubt Jihoon's ability to connect with someone like Soonyoung.

"They're a little crazy," he says softly. Fondly. Something about Soonyoung - something about the way their eyes turn up in happy slashes when they smile, the softness of their cheeks, the lean hardness of their body when they snuggle up against him - has wormed its way into Jihoon's heart. He has never been so wholeheartedly and guilelessly embraced by another person.

"Everyone is, in their own way," Wonwoo answers.

They eat in silence for a while, slurping noodles in a quiet sort of companionship. Jihoon is glad that Wonwoo is one of those people who understands and appreciates silence. Everything is so fraught these days, Seungcheol and the label and this visit. It's nice to just be able to enjoy the creamy tonkatsu broth and tender pork.

Jihoon revives the conversation when they're both almost done eating. "You just joined up with them recently, didn't you?" he asks, capturing the last square of menma floating in the dregs of his broth. It crunches pleasantly between his teeth. "The pack, I mean."

"Yes," Wonwoo says, pausing to finish his last mouthful of noodles. "I've known Jeonghan for a long time and I've been hovering around the club since the beginning, but yeah, I just joined the pack a few months ago."

"How come?" Jihoon smiles at the surprised look on Wonwoo's face. "Come on, you've been friends with them for ages but you only just joined up? Why now?"

Wonwoo carefully lays his chopsticks down and steeples his fingers in front of his lips, as though debating how honest to be. "It's hard to say," he says slowly, "because there were a lot of reasons. Mostly it was just that I thought it would be too overwhelming. I'm a pretty quiet person, I like my privacy, and I'm sure you've noticed how… boisterous it can get over there."

"I have," Jihoon answers. It's reassuring to know that he's not the only one intimidated by all of those larger than life personalities.

"So… it was that," Wonwoo continues. "But it was also a lot of my own insecurities. I thought they wouldn't really want me around once they figured out that I was kind of boring. My everyday persona is very different from my club persona." He shrugs, an endearingly sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. "They all knew me as the leather guy, you know? I'm not unknown in the scene. But when I'm not out at the clubs, I like to stay home and make gear and play video games."

"And you thought they wouldn't want you if you weren't 'the leather guy' all the time," Jihoon finishes, and Wonwoo nods. It's strange how much an echo of each other they are. Jihoon is just the vanilla version. "So what made you go for it?"

"Again, a lot of things," Wonwoo laughs. "I was - I am - pretty in love with Chan." Jihoon matches the name and the face in his mind; the pretty, burly little beta that had been wearing practically nothing at that dinner on the first night. "And Jeonghan has a rule that when one of them is in heat or rut, it's pack only, so that was kind of eating me up."

Talk stalls as a waitress comes to take their bowls.  There is a brief, polite battle over who will pay the check, which Wonwoo wins by virtue of being able to extract his wallet and produce a card first. They bundle back into coats to face the biting wind, and Wonwoo picks the conversation back up as they walk back towards the apartment building.

"It was also that Jeonghan was sick of me," he says, mouth quirking wryly.

"Sick of you?"

"Mmm. Sick of me hovering around on the outskirts. Chan…" He stops, clears his throat. Color touches his high cheekbones, a scarlet flush of embarrassment. "Chan was having a hard time with his cycle. He… cried for me."

"Seems like that's Jeonghan's fault for not bending the rules a little." Jihoon can't resist the jab.

"He's very protective of his family," Wonwoo says softly. "They really went through it at the beginning. No money, barely any room in their apartment. Before you and Seungcheol started the label and hit it big, they were barely scraping by."

Jihoon remembers that time in his life. He and Seungcheol, bent over the laptop that Jihoon's dad had given him as a graduation present. Seungcheol had wanted to shop the record around to some labels but Jihoon had refused. Underground was the way to do it, he'd insisted. That way they kept control of it, that way they decided Seungcheol's career, not some corporate suit that only cared about profit.

It had been hard. Seungcheol was already living in Seoul with Jeonghan by that point, taking a train down to Daegu when he could afford the ticket so they could work on the album. Jun and Minghao had moved away, too, which was why Jihoon had kind of lost touch with them; the bitterness of that little betrayal surges up his throat like acid reflux and he tries to swallow it down. He had been miserable, crammed into a tiny apartment, barely able to afford meals but refusing to swallow his pride and let his parents take care of him until he got on his feet.

And everyone in his life, all of his anchors in Daegu, had flitted off to Seoul to orbit around Yoon Jeonghan.

"Yeah," he says, unable to disguise the ugliness in his voice. "It was a tough time."

He senses rather than sees the glance that Wonwoo shoots him, but the alpha elects to ignore his comment and continues. "We got in a fight and I had to really evaluate what was more important to me. The choice was all these people that I love, and that love me, versus my own anxiety. I think I made the right choice."

They are quiet for the rest of the walk back to the apartment. Wonwoo points out a few stores that are worth going in, and he ducks quickly into a bakery for a bag full of pastries. Jihoon doesn't ask who they're for. He already knows.

They part in front of the hotel, Wonwoo waving over his shoulder as he jogs across the street to the club. Jihoon watches him until he is swallowed up by the building, the old mix of resentment and jealousy beginning to bubble away in his gut once again.

Wonwoo has been the most convincing sell on the idea of a pack so far, and the bitter voice inside him insists that Jeonghan sent him over for exactly that purpose. This was no accidental lunch meeting, none of them wanted him here except for Seungcheol. Wonwoo was just dispatched to rub it in how much better things are under Jeonghan's thumb.

Suddenly exhausted, Jihoon trudges back inside and into the elevator. He'd intended to work all afternoon, certain that his emotional turmoil would at least turn out some good songs. But he opens the apartment door and sees the big plush couch and only manages to take off his shoes before he collapses onto it.

He doesn't cry; his eyes are strangely dry in spite of the tight, ugly feeling in his chest. He just wants to sleep until he can be normal about all of this, until he can look at someone else's family and not think about how much he hates it.

How much I want it. There is a new voice, a small voice that has always been choked out by bitterness and loneliness and resentment. It's stronger now, though, given life by Seungcheol's warm arms around him, pulling him back and fitting him against the curve of Cheol's body. By the way Soonyoung's cheeks glow when they're happy, and by the easy, eager way that they laced fingers with Jihoon when they were showing him around. By Mingyu, big and handsome and gentle, and by Seungkwan, lovely and energetic and kind. By Minghao and Jun, who had taken him in to their bed and held him close when he was lonely, and by Hansol, who had been so nervous to talk to him that he had been almost unable to produce words, but whose music is so fresh and interesting that for the first time Jihoon can see a real reason to move the label to Seoul.

He drifts off thinking about them, all these people who have welcomed him so eagerly. Joshua and his mysterious little smile, Wonwoo and his all too relatable anxieties. Chan and his boisterous laugh, and Seokmin and his radiant smile. 

And Jeonghan at the center of it all, untouchably perfect, tempting Jihoon into the web like a beautiful spider beckoning a fly.

+++

He sleeps for a long time, three hours at least. He isn't sure how long he and Wonwoo were out or what time he fell asleep on the couch. He wakes, bleary and sweaty and with the beginning of a headache throbbing behind his eyes. It was one of those naps, the kind where you wake up more tired than before and in an infinitely worse mood.

He shucks the coat - Soonyoung's coat, which he had not bothered to take off before curling up - and shuffles to the bathroom. One look in the mirror is enough to convince him to shuffle right back out again, and he makes a desultory loop of the apartment, his sleep fogged mind spinning the shitty mood roulette wheel and landing firmly on self pity.

It's already getting dark outside and the neons of the club stream in through the apartment's massive windows. Jihoon stands there, arms folded across his chest, taking in the banners for what feels like the hundredth time. Deja Boo. Soonyoung. Seokmin. Mingyu. They will all be over there now, getting out their insane outfits for tonight's party/orgy.

Seungcheol had tried to explain to him what exactly would be going on at the party and Jihoon had balked almost immediately. He isn't one to kink shame or anything, but the thought of being the only guy without them at a party specifically for people to air them out sounds like a total nightmare. So he'll be alone tonight, sitting in this huge apartment, watching people stream in and out of the club while his resentment simmers away.

Sounds awesome.

He's so zoned out in his own misery that he almost doesn't notice the figure scurrying across the road wrapped up in an ankle length puffer jacket. Startled, he leans closer to the window, trying to make out who it could be. Jun or Minghao maybe? Chan, coming over to see Wonwoo? Someone coming to see him?

He has his answer a minute or so later when a happy knocking explodes against the front door. He debates not answering; he doesn't really want to see anyone, doesn't want to explain to them why he's not coming to the party. Seungcheol said he'd handle it, but Seungcheol says a lot of things.

Then, from the hall, comes a musical little, "Jihoon-ah! Open up!"

Soonyoung.

Jihoon pads across the living room and opens the door, wisely standing to the side so that when Soonyoung barrels into the room they don't run him over. They are clearly excited, their body practically vibrating with it, and they bounce on their toes until Jihoon has the door closed, then lunge forward and plant a slightly sticky kiss on Jihoon's cheek. They seem taller than before.

"Ugh, what is that?" Jihoon asks, reaching up to rub at whatever ick Soonyoung just deposited on his face.

"Lip gloss!" Soonyoung claps their hands and dances from foot to foot. "Do you wanna see my outfit for tonight?"

Ohhhhhh. So that's why they're wearing an oversized coat! Up close, Jihoon suspects that it could be one of Mingyu's the way it swallows up Soonyoung's slim frame. He can see hints of the outfit at the collar and ankles, and it looks appropriately insane. But Soonyoung's excitement is infectious and Jihoon smiles in spite of himself.

"Yeah," he says, shooing them further into the room. "Show me the outfit."

Soonyoung disrobes by spinning in a circle while they unzip the jacket, throwing it across the room in a final flourish and standing with their arms outstretched, as though waiting on applause. Jihoon checks quickly to make sure the flying jacket didn't hit a lamp or anything and then turns to truly take in Soonyoung's…

Well, outfit isn't really the right word for it. In the loosest sense of the term, Jihoon supposes it is one, but somehow that doesn't encapsulate the full impact of its insanity.

Soonyoung is covered in glitter, so much so that their skin glitters like a diamond even when they aren't moving. Their legs are fully encased in a pair of those massively wide legged club pants, but the pants have been modified so that the entire crotch is excised. Their hipbones jut against the waistband and Jihoon stares in mingled horror and delight at the bedazzled thong that conceals Soonyoung's genitals. On the front of it, directly over their cock, is the snarling face of a tiger.

Their shirt, if it can be called a shirt, is also tiger themed. It looks like it may be some kind of shiny latex or something. Jihoon can't tell if it was cut up or if it came that way, but the overall result looks like a series of tiger striped fabric strips wound around Soonyoung's lean torso. They are carefully positioned to conceal Soonyoung's nipples, although Jihoon suspects that they won't remain that way for long.

"Oh," he says softly, covering his mouth in an attempt to stuff hysterical giggles back down his throat. "That's…."

"Insane? I know." Soonyoung beams. They are also wearing a black leather collar adorned with long gold spikes and a big golden ring on the front, matching bracelets on both arms, and a mixture of spikes and hoops stuck in their alarming number of ear piercings. "Look at my shoes!"

They pull up the wide leg of their pants (chaps?) to reveal the ugliest pair of shoes that Jihoon has ever seen, which is a very high bar considering his best friend is Lee Taeyong. Soonyoung’s monstrosities are massive platforms and appear to be an unholy amalgam of faux tiger fur, spiked straps, and various tchotchkes that swing and bang against their ankles.

"Is that a labubu?" Jihoon asks, incredulous. Bumzu recently tried to get one of those for his niece and complained the entire time about how impossible they are to buy, and Soonyoung just casually has one clipped to their ankle.

"Yeah, it's cool right?" they coo, twisting their leg to show it off.

"Very cool," Jihoon says, unconvincingly. "But you can't really see the shoes because the pants are so… wide."

"They flare when I dance," Soonyoung says happily. Jihoon stifles a laugh behind his hand.

"Well, you look great," he says, and he does mean it. Soonyoung's outfit might not exactly be to his taste, but they wear it well and their makeup - a flare of orange eyeshadow, thick smudgy black eyeliner, yet more glitter - has been expertly applied to make them look like they've been partying all night and aren't done yet.

"Thanks! What are you wearing?"

"Um…" Jihoon looks down at his sweatpants and black t-shirt, wondering if Soonyoung is asking about the brands or just can't believe that Jihoon is in lounging clothes.

"To the party, not right now," Soonyoung says, rolling their eyes. "Do you need help getting dressed? Are you gonna do makeup? Seungkwan is mostly dressed already so if you need help with your eyeliner or anything he can do it, but he refuses to do someone else's base so if you're gonna do any foundation or anything, we should go ahead and get you into it. How long does it take for you to get through all that? Or are you going to wear your spaceman helmet?"

Jihoon, overwhelmed and furious that Seungcheol hadn't upheld his promise to break the news to his pack, pats the air in a futile attempt to get Soonyoung to stop talking. They chatter away happily as they peer around the living room, probably looking to see if Jihoon has laid out an outfit. Jihoon finds his voice when they turn down the hall towards the bedroom.

"Soonyoung!" he says, his voice almost raised to a shout. They turn back to smile at him guilelessly and a pit of guilt opens in his gut. He's going to kill Seungcheol. "I'm not going. To the party."

Soonyoung's face falls but they recover quickly, smiling and nodding a little sadly. "Oh," they say, shoving their hands into the pockets of their ridiculous pants. "Yeah, no, that makes sense. It's not really your scene, huh?"

"It's not," Jihoon confirms. "I'm just going to go down to the gym and order some dinner and work on some songs. But I hope you have a great time!"

"No!" Soonyoung looks up at him, distressed. "You can't just hang out by yourself! Not while everyone is partying!"

"I like hanging out by myself," Jihoon assures them, patting the air beside their arm so as not to disrupt their glitter coating. "It's fine, you go…. do whatever you guys are going to do, I'm not actually clear on the specifics."

"Dance and fuck mostly," Soonyoung says mournfully. "I was going to see if Wonwoo wanted to fist me."

"Oh my god," Jihoon says faintly. It's not the fisting so much, he knows that the club hosts shows every weekend where things like that happen on the big stage. It's more that now he has faces to put to the participants and his brain wants desperately to reject that information. He just can't imagine the quiet, well-dressed lawyer he had lunch with wrist deep inside Soonyoung.

"It's okay," Soonyoung says, patting his wrist encouragingly and leaving behind a shower of golden glitter. "I pre-stretched myself."

In spite of himself, Jihoon laughs at that, his fingers closing around Soonyoung's and holding them tight for a moment. It feels good to touch them, it feels right like the two of them should have fingers entwined and shoulders touching at all times. That sensation is a bit much for Jihoon, who has always held his status as a loner as a point of some pride.

But maybe it's time to move on from that, he thinks. Maybe it's time to embrace friendship like some cartoon character learning his lesson at the end of the film.

"That's good," he manages, swallowing the rest of his laughter. It's threatening to turn a little hysterical, a little too loud to convince Soonyoung that it really is fine. That he won't be sitting by the window all night, watching people flow in and out of the club, wondering where Seungcheol is. Wondering who and what he's doing.

"It is good," Soonyoung sighs, crowding a little closer. Jihoon side steps, mostly to avoid getting glitter bombed, and Soonyoung grins. "You're such a cat. You can hold my hand but I can't hug you?"

"You're very… sparkly," Jihoon says. "I don't want it on my clothes."

"That's fair, I guess. I was going to use it kind of like a calling card, you know? Anyone with a bunch of gold glitter on them, you know where they've been!" Soonyoung points with triumphant joy to their bedazzled tiger thong and Jihoon has to cover his hands with his face for a moment so that Soonyoung can't see the expression of overwhelming fondness that twists his features.

"That's a good idea," he says, lowering his hands once he's mastered control of his facial muscles. "I like the shark underwear, did you get that made special?"

There is a moment of silence and then Soonyoung launches themself, yelling and laughing, at Jihoon. He probably could have escaped if he'd wanted to, but he just holds up his arms and closes his eyes as the gilded omega wraps long arms around him and wriggles vindictively against his black shirt, streaking it with gold dust.

"Okay, okay!" Jihoon protests, laughing. "You win!"

"I always do," Soonyoung says, trying so hard to sound ominous. They're way too cute for that, though, and their crazy outfit undermines the vibe even further.

"Better get back over there before they miss you," Jihoon says wistfully.

"Nah," Soonyoung answers, already fishing their phone out of one of their huge pockets. They text rapidly for a moment, then flash a brilliant smile at Jihoon. "I don't want you to hang out alone, so I'm skipping the party."

Jihoon is (shocked? pleased? a little frightened? vindictively triumphant?) not sure how to react to that statement and he stands, mouth open slightly for long enough that Soonyoung's expression turns uncertain. 

"Is that cool?" they ask, suddenly nervous. "I mean, I don't have to if you don't want me around."

"No, no, no," Jihoon manages. "I do want you around. I just. Won't you get in trouble?"

Soonyoung scoffs. "The parties aren't mandatory," they say. "It's not like I'm getting paid to be there, they're just for fun. Chan skipped the last one because he had an upset stomach and Hansol skipped the one before that because he had a paper due."

Even as kink-shy as he is, Jihoon is aware that Chan or Hansol missing a party is not the same as Soonyoung missing one. Soonyoung sitting out on the orgy is like the guest of honor at a fancy dinner deciding to go get McDonald's instead. Jihoon knows he ought to fight a little harder, try to convince Soonyoung to go, but at the same time, he doesn't want to.

Still, he gives it one last try.

"But your outfit," he says. "It would be a waste if you didn't go out in that."

"Aww," Soonyoung preens a little, turning and shaking their butt at Jihoon. "I know, but it's okay, I can just wear it some other time. I would rather hang out with you. Honestly." And the devastating sincerity in their big boba eyes hits Jihoon like a cartoon piano falling from 20 stories up.

"Well…" he says, his brain scrambling to try and catch the words before they leave his mouth. "We can still go out, though, right? To a normal club?"

"Oh! Yeah, we could do that!" Soonyoung brightens up instantly. "We can just go dance!"

There goes my evening of writing. But Jihoon doesn't mind that much. He really does want to spend time with Soonyoung, and he did promise Taeyong that he would stop by. It wasn't a promise that he had any intention of fulfilling and both of them knew it, but it could be kind of fun to see Taeyong's face when he shows up.

Soonyoung is happily rattling off a list of clubs that they know and like, and Jihoon doesn't recognize a single one. Why would he? He doesn't even party in his home city, there's no way he can choose a club in Seoul. It would be like closing his eyes and pointing at a restaurant menu and hoping he gets something that he likes.

"What about Gold Dust?" he interjects, and Soonyoung snaps their fingers and points at him.

"That's actually a great idea," they say. "I'm already gold and they have a hot bartender and their DJ is really good." They pause, clasping their hands and holding them apologetically in front of their mouth. "You gotta change, though."

+++

Roughly 45 minutes later, they step out of the cab and Jihoon stares up at the facade of Taeyong's club.

Soonyoung had torn through Jihoon's suitcase, making a little pile on the bed of potential options, and then instructed him to shower and get ready while they, Soonyoung, ran around borrowing things. Jihoon had obeyed, bemused by Soonyoung's manic energy but willing to trust that the little sex gremlin could put together an outfit that didn't put him too much on display.

(He had also communicated that desire to Soonyoung very plainly and emphatically, and Soonyoung had patted him on the cheek and told him not to worry, they knew exactly what he should wear.)

The result was an outfit that Jihoon would never have chosen for himself but which, actually, he didn't mind at all. He wore a pair of his own jeans, tight around the hips and ass but with wide legs and some artful distressing. A black compression shirt, black boots, a silver chain harness, and a ridiculous black furry coat (all borrowed) complete the outfit. Soonyoung had then pulled him into the bathroom and forced makeup on him, a little smudge of black eyeliner, pink tint high on his cheekbones and on his lips.

Jihoon feels very out of his element but he has to admit the effect is a good one. He looks flushed and pretty, like he's already been dancing and doesn't intend to stop.

And now they are standing in front of the club, painted by neon lights, surrounded by the muffled thump of bass from inside. The club is connected by an enclosed walkway to a tall building with a tasteful sign that declares it as The Sixth Sense, an upscale heat hotel. Jihoon is vaguely aware that Taeyong has a business partner, and said partner runs the hotel, but beyond that his knowledge ends.

"Have you been here before?" he asks, leaning close to Soonyoung to be heard. It isn't quite so loud that he needs to yell, but there is a crowd of people waiting to get into the club and they are all talking to one another, the traffic is whizzing by behind them, and just all of the sounds of a city at night surround them…

…and Jihoon is feeling a little overwhelmed already. His hands clamp around Soonyoung's arm just above his elbow. Soonyoung shoots him a speculative look, then grins and snuggles closer, rubbing gold all over Jihoon's borrowed jacket.

"Yeah, a couple of times since they opened," they say, dragging Jihoon down the block so that they can line up. Jihoon resists, looking back over his shoulder to the bouncer. He's almost certain that Taeyong is in tonight — why would he ask Jihoon to come out otherwise? — and in that case all they need to do is get in touch with him and skip the line.

He pulls out his phone as Soonyoung begins happily conversing with the group ahead of them in the line. He calls but no one answers. Not that big a mystery, the music is so loud that it practically rattles his teeth and they haven't even gotten inside yet.

Jihoon turns, snapping a picture of himself with the line stretching away behind him, then texts it to Taeyong and waits. The line shuffles forward a few times. The crew in front of them turn out to be Darl+ing semi-regulars and they are discussing some of Soonyoung's more extreme feats of insertion. Jihoon listens, bemused, until he sees a tall man pacing down the line, scanning faces.

"Come on, he's looking for us," he says, tugging Soonyoung away as they promise to find the group once everyone is inside.

"Who is?" they ask, following like a puppy. "Why is he looking for us?"

"Because we're skipping the line," Jihoon says. He waves a hand and the man's face warms into a broad smile.

"Hey, there you are! Come on, Taeyong sent me out to get you." He's tall, not quite as tall as Mingyu but only shy by a few centimeters. His hair, dyed honey brown, is artfully shaggy, and his clothes are casually fashionable in a way that Jihoon has always found simultaneously enviable and annoying. Minghao is the same way, they could wear a sack and make it look good.

"I know you…" Soonyoung says, trotting after the newcomer. Their eyes are narrowed in contemplation, then open wide as they make the connection. "Oh! Aren't you the DJ?"

"Sometimes," the man says, turning and offering a hand. "I'm Johnny. And you're Soonyoung. I was at the club when you did that suspension show a couple of weeks ago. Very impressive!"

Soonyoung preens, puffing out their gold chest as Johnny leads the two of them into a side entrance. The music is louder now, but Jihoon is relieved to find it isn't as overwhelming as he'd anticipated. It feels different now that he's inside, sinking into his bones in a way that it couldn't while they were waiting in the cold.

"Why did Taeyong send you out?" Soonyoung yells, easily making themself heard above the pounding bass. They're used to it, probably.

Johnny doesn't have time to answer. The man in question has spotted them — who knows where he was stationed, Jihoon is having enough trouble keeping track of Johnny and Soonyoung — and he bursts through the crowd to wind his arms around Jihoon's neck. Over his shoulder, Jihoon sees Soonyoung's nose wrinkle a little. Distaste?

Jealousy?

"Jihoonie!" Taeyong crows, leaning back. He maintains his hold on Jihoon's shoulders, eyeing him up and down with a faintly lascivious look in his big, round eyes. "I'm so glad you made it! And I'm so glad you wore this, look at you…" One hand drifts down, its eventual destination doubtless one of Jihoon's pecs. Jihoon slaps it away and holds up a warning finger.

"Quit that," he says. "I'll leave if you start any of that." Taeyong pushes his lips out in a fake pout, but stops trying to grope him. He's good at respecting Jihoon's boundaries at least, even if he bitches about them on occasion.

This time, though, he settles for a kiss to the forehead and then redirects his attention to Soonyoung, holding out his hands and beaming. "I love your outfit."

Up until this point, Soonyoung's expression had been steadily darkening but as soon as the full force of Taeyong's attention is on them, they are all smiles again. It's hard for Jihoon to tell whether that's because Taeyong's compliments have healed whatever annoyance Soonyoung was feeling, or if they just hate not being the center of attention.

It does give Jihoon time to take in Taeyong's own insane outfit (neon green boiler suit with the top peeled down and tied around his waist, a black cropped tank top featuring the Sanrio character Keroppi happily smoking a blunt, and a neon green sports bra that shows on the sides and whenever Taeyong raises his arms) and share a mutual shrug with Johnny. Jihoon is regretting his decision a little less now. It's always good to see Taeyong, no matter how much (or how little) time has passed between visits.

"Okay, come on, I've got us all set up in the VIP section," Taeyong says, finally finished gushing over Soonyoung's tiger thong. He holds out his hands. Soonyoung gleefully accepts one and Jihoon, with a little eyeroll, takes the other. "You coming Johnny?"

"No, I need to go check in at the bar, see if Jaehyun needs any help, and then I'm probably going to hit the booth," Johnny answers. He turns a broad smile on Soonyoung and Jihoon in turn. "It was really good to meet you guys, though. Hope we see you around more." And then, leaning in so there is no doubt that his words are addressed to Jihoon, "I'm a big fan of yours."

He's gone before Jihoon can respond, but he groans as Taeyong sets off, guiding them over to a set of spiral stairs and shooing them up. "Did you tell him?" he demands, turning to look over his shoulder at Taeyong bringing up the rear.

"No, he really is a big fan. And he’s smart, he knows Woozi you produced a bunch of songs for me and that Jihoon you is my friend and he put two and two together," Taeyong says, patting Jihoon's ass to get him to keep moving. Jihoon briefly internally debates whether or not that counts as groping and therefore a reason to cut the visit short, but he looks up at the top of the stairs, at Soonyoung's delighted face, and decides maybe he can endure a little public grab-ass for the sake of that smile.

He doesn't love the implication of that impulse, but he can chew it over later when he's back at the apartment. For now, he allows Taeyong to guide them over to a table in the corner. It's quieter up here, not by much but enough that they can talk without yelling. Jihoon slides into the long bench seat, positioning himself in the middle, Soonyoung on his left, Taeyong on his right.

"So," Taeyong says, clapping his hands. "What can we get you two? Drinks? Smokes?" He lowers his voice. "Boys? Ten frowns on it, but some of the boys from the hotel hang out here when they're not booked and they aren't opposed to a one off client. Alphas, omegas, and betas." He raises an eyebrow.

"No, thank you," Jihoon says, before Soonyoung can open their mouth. "Soonyoung just wanted to dance."

"Yeah," Soonyoung echoes mournfully. "Just dancing."

"No problem," Taeyong beams. "That's what we do best here! Listen, I need to run and check on some stuff, but Jaehyun will take care of you. Just find the bartender with the dog collar on, you can't miss him, he's gorgeous."

He plants a kiss on Jihoon's cheek and squeezes his hand and he slides out of the booth, then pauses and leans in close. "He'll also sell you molly if you want it, just tell him you're trying to have a little extra fun."

"Aww, I should have brought more money," Soonyoung grouses. Jihoon shoots him a look as Taeyong disappears into the crowd and Soonyoung immediately looks contrite. "No, I mean. For other things, I never do drugs. Ever."

Jihoon sighs. "Come on, do you want to dance?"

+++

Soonyoung, unsurprisingly, turns out to be an incredible dancer. Jihoon isn't bad at it himself; it's an enjoyable way to get his body moving for some cardio, which he otherwise despises, so he's been in and out of various dance classes for years now. He has moves, he has rhythm, but what he doesn't have is Soonyoung's incredible, instinctive feel for the music.

Jihoon loses track of the songs as they dance, sometimes together, sometimes apart. The beat is heavy, driving, and the lights are disorienting in a good way and for a while it feels like he's part of something bigger, a mass of humanity moving as one, caught up in the music. There is something primal about it, and as soon as he thinks that he feels silly, embarrassed somehow as though he projected the thought to everyone in the room and they're all laughing at him.

He signals to Soonyoung and leaves the dance floor, weaving his way through bodies that are starting to feel suffocating. The bar is thankfully sparsely populated and he sits down on one of the stools, leaning heavily against it as he catches his breath. Now that there is space around him not occupied by other people, Jihoon feels some of the tension trickle away.

"Hey." He turns to face the bartender who seemingly has materialized behind him. "Can I get you anything?"

"Water?" Jihoon suggests, and the bartender smiles. This has got to be Jaehyun; he is incredibly handsome, with a strong, square jaw and high cheekbones and a finely shaped, sensitive mouth. His hair is a thick tumble of soft, bleach blond waves and his eyes are so dark that pupil and iris seem to melt together. But the real confirmation is the thick silver chain around his long throat, held closed by a padlock that rests in the hollow of his throat.

"Coming right up," he says. Jihoon starts to fumble his wallet out but the bartender holds up a hand and shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, Taeyong said all of your drinks are on him tonight."

"Oh." Jihoon accepts the water, so cold that the glass is already sweating. He relishes the sensation of it sliding down his throat and into his stomach and gives a pleased little shiver. "That's nice of him. What's the most expensive thing I can order?"

Jaehyun laughs, holds up a finger. "Let me get those guys at the other end of the bar and we can talk vodka or whiskey," he says. Jihoon watches him go; the quiet confidence of his stride reminds Jihoon of someone. Jun maybe, when he’s on a runway.

He turns, scanning the dance floor for Soonyoung. They are still out there, still writhing away, an expression of bliss on their cute face. Jihoon watches them, turning over and over in his mind this new giddiness that grips him whenever he sees them. It has the same components as so many negative things; the swoop in his stomach that he gets when he's embarrassed, the clammy weirdness of being in an unfamiliar place, the tightness in his throat that heralds a body cramping wave of anxiety.

But none of them progress to the bad feelings, they just kind of congregate and make him feel silly, activated in a way that he can't quite parse as good or bad. He wants to be around Soonyoung, wants to feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck. He recognizes that he is attracted to them, recognizes that he craves their friendship, but this nervous excitement is new to him.

Or… maybe not entirely new. Seungcheol.

"They're a good dancer," says a voice beside him, and Jihoon nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Yeah," he answers, turning to face the newcomer. He's small and slim, not as short as Jihoon but closer than most. There is an androgynous beauty about him; soft face, big eyes, full lips. His hair is long, his clothes artfully torn in a way that Jihoon suspects is deliberate but looks natural. His jeans are tight, his boots are big and black, and his Guns N' Roses shirt drapes against his torso in the way that only a vintage t-shirt will, softened as it is by years of wear and washing.

"Are you a friend or a client?" the stranger asks, and Jihoon goes rigid on his bar stool. It had never occurred to him that anyone familiar with Soonyoung would assume he is a client of theirs and the thought horrifies him in some unexplainable way.

"A friend," he answers, perhaps a shade too fast. The stranger smiles.

"Me too." He offers Jihoon a hand and it is surprisingly small and delicate. Jihoon shakes it awkwardly. "I'm Taemin."

"Nice to meet you," Jihoon says, unsure how he should react. Taemin does seem to expect something and Jihoon doesn't know how to explain that he's not a fellow sex weirdo (non-judgemental) without it sounding completely insane. "I'm Jihoon."

Blessedly, Jaehyun returns before he starts word vomiting, rapping on the bar to get their attention. "Hey hyung," he says, smiling broadly and leaning across the wide wooden surface to kiss Taemin on the cheek. "Didn't think I'd see you tonight."

"I'm everywhere," Taemin says, wiggling his fingers in mock mysticism. "How's it going?"

"Good!" Jaehyun says, busying himself with making a drink. Apparently, Taemin is a regular. "Not super busy at the bar, but the dance floor is full at least. You sticking around for a while?"

"Mm, no." Taemin accepts the drink, which is an unlikely shade of bright greenish blue, and takes a sip, smiling and nodding in approval. "I just stopped by to say hi to Taeyongie, I'm on my way to the party at Darl+ing."

Suddenly, the full force of his regard is aimed at Jihoon, who shrinks back a little in alarm. Taemin's expression hasn't changed but there is a different note to his voice. Jihoon recognizes it. It's the same one that he uses with interns and trainees when they just aren't grasping a concept, not angry exactly but firm. Authoritative.

"You're here with Soonyoung, yes? Why aren't the both of you at the party?"

"I didn't want to go," Jihoon says. He feels hypnotized, like a small rodent frozen in place by a snake. Easy prey. "Soonyoung decided to come with me."

And then Taemin is all smiles again, his eyes disappearing into happy crescents as he polishes off his drink. Jihoon lets out the breath he'd been holding and exchanges a glance with the clearly amused bartender.

"Oh, well, that's fine then," Taemin says. "As long as it was their decision. Soonyoungie!"

"Hyung!" Soonyoung joins them, throwing their arms around Taemin and then darting back like a nervous puppy. Jihoon marks the awe and respect on their face, and wonders who Taemin is within the greater Seoul nightlife. Clearly someone that Soonyoung looks up to. Another fetish performer?

"Have you met my Jihoonie?" Soonyoung asks, draping a sweaty arm around Jihoon's shoulders. Jihoon stiffens and starts to lean away out of sheer habit, his entire face turning pink. My Jihoonie? What does that mean? Does it mean anything? Soonyoung tightens a hand on him, preventing his escape. "He's like a stray cat, no one has ever petted him before so he's got to get used to it."

"You used to be like that," Taemin says fondly, patting Soonyoung on the cheek. He finishes his bizarre drink, slides it back across the bar. "Now look at you, picking up strays yourself!"

"Seungcheol brought him home, actually," Soonyoung says, and Jihoon tries to pull away again. He doesn't want random strangers knowing who he is, and Soonyoung is about to blab it to the whole world. "They work together — OW! You pinched me!"

"I did?" Jihoon says, smiling sweetly. Maybe he had clamped down a little harder than he needed to, but Soonyoung talks so fast that it felt urgent. He can apologize later. "Oops! I didn't mean to grab skin."

Taemin eyes them speculatively as he slides off of the bar stool. "I'm heading out," he says. "You two have fun…" 

Soonyoung accepts a kiss on the cheek and then thumps down onto a bar stool, their pretty face arranged in an expression of wounded dignity.

"You didn't have to do that, I wasn't going to tell them what you do," Soonyoung sulks. Jihoon joins them, leaning over to bump shoulders with the sulking omega. He notes the 'them', makes the mental adjustment. Taemin: they/them. Got it.

"I'm sorry," he says, sincerely contrite. "I panicked, I really didn't mean to pinch you that hard. Let me buy you a drink?"

"Or some molly?" Soonyoung says, their eyes wide and hopeful.

"Absolutely not, order a drink, you reprobate."

Giggling, Soonyoung orders something with a ridiculous, convoluted name and then leans over, nestling their head against Jihoon's shoulder. "This is fun," they declare, "I'm having fun. And I'm excited that you got to meet Taemin hyung!"

"Yeah, who are they?" Jihoon says, hoping that his voice is casual. The more he thinks about it, the weirder that whole thing was. "You guys seem pretty close."

"I knew them when I was homeless," Soonyoung answers. They say it with the same level of casualness that they talk about getting fisted and a jolt goes through Jihoon. Homeless? "They would help me out sometimes, let me crash on their couch, help me find clients."

"No, wait, back up," Jihoon orders. "You were homeless?"

"On and off." Soonyoung shrugs, accepts their drink. It is enormous, baby pink liquid over ice with slices of orange and pineapple decorating the sugar crusted rim. They take a cautious sip, then a larger one, their feet kicking happily against the bar. "This is so good, do you want to try it?"

"No," Jihoon says, holding up a hand to ward off the concoction. "I never knew you had it that rough. I mean, Seungcheol told me that they found you in the gutter, but I didn't think he was serious."

Soonyoung laughs brightly but there is a brittle edge to it now, and Jihoon regrets pursuing the conversation. "Yeah, it was bad for a while," they say, stirring their drink with a comically tiny straw. "I joined the pack when Jeonghannie and Minghao found me trying to sell my heat to some sketchy dude. They cleaned me up and brought me home, but that's when they all lived in one crappy apartment so I had to sleep on the couch with Seungkwan."

Jihoon wraps an arm around Soonyoung's waist, wishes for possibly the first time in his life that he wasn't wearing blockers so that he could scent mark Soonyoung, soothe them the way omegas are meant to soothe each other.

"It's okay," he says, "I’m sorry, we don't have to talk about it."

"No, it's fine!" Soonyoung sounds cheerful again. "It's in the past, and everything turned out fine! Anyway, Taemin is the one that called Key and then Key called Jeonghan and then Jeonghan and Minghao came out and found me in the snow and Minghao pulled a knife on the guy that was trying to buy my heat."

"You guys are all insane," Jihoon says, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. Soonyoung beams at him, kisses him on the tip of the nose. Their breath smells like fruit candy.

"Yeah," they say happily. "C'mon, let's dance more!"

Jihoon sighs, pops the pineapple garnish from Soonyoung’s drink in his mouth, and follows them back out onto the dance floor.

+++

The rest of the night blurs a little. They dance, they settle at the bar. Soonyoung chatters endlessly and Jihoon is content to listen. Jaehyun brings them drinks (water for Jihoon, a series of ridiculous fruit concoctions for Soonyoung). The later it gets, the busier the bar is and Johnny joins him at some point, flashing that broad, even smile every time he slides a glass of water across the bar.

Jihoon isn't drunk or anything, but the night and the dancing and the music have him feeling a certain type of way, and there is something that he likes in that smile. An edge, maybe, a glint that suggests that Johnny would spit in his mouth and fuck him dirty.

The thought shocks him a little. Pre-Seungcheol Jihoon would never have even considered how an alpha he just met might fuck him, and certainly wouldn't have imagined it quite so vividly.

The next time Johnny brings their drinks, he winks at Jihoon and Jihoon's whole body flushes hot and cold.

"We should go soon," he mumbles, texting Taeyong with damp fingers that he needs to leave. Soonyoung groans and kicks their feet against the bar; their cheeks are flushed bright red and their eyes are glassy, both from alcohol and from dancing all night.

"Okaaaaaay," they say, dragging the word out. They lean over, nuzzle up against Jihoon's shoulder. "Do you wanna come back to the club with me? We can sneak up to the control booth and you can see the party."

Jihoon thinks of the tinted window, the futon with its basket of sex toys. He looks at the eager glow in Soonyoung's eyes, the way that they bite their lips. He realizes, with a dull shock, that this night doesn't have to end with him saying goodbye to Soonyoung outside the club and going back to his cold guest bedroom alone.

He thinks about the kind of depraved shit he might see if he accepts Soonyoung's invitation, acknowledges the very real danger of seeing Seungcheol and Jeonghan together. Would it be worth it though? He might also see Jun and Minghao, or Mingyu, or Seokmin. He might see Seungkwan, soft and curvy and laced up into a beautiful corset.

"Okay," he says, and it feels like he has detached from his body, like some kind of horny ghost is using his mouth to speak. "Yeah, let's go be creeps."

"Wait, for real?" Soonyoung sits up straight on their bar stool, their eyes suddenly fully focused and alert. "I thought you were gonna punch me."

"No, it sounds kinda fun," Jihoon says. "It's okay, though, right? No one is going to be upset that we saw them?"

Soonyoung snorts loudly, sliding off their bar stool and tugging Jihoon after them. Jihoon manages to wave to Jaehyun and Johnny before he is swallowed up by the crowds. Only Soonyoung's firm grip on his arm keeps him moving in the right direction, and by the time they make it to the club's exit, Jihoon is squirming in discomfort. Too many people, too many smells, too many bodies that he doesn't know pressed up against him.

"Can we shower first?" he mumbles.

"Mmhmm," Soonyoung answers absently. Jihoon glances over their shoulder and sees that they're calling a car. He smiles a little to himself, amused by their eagerness. "I should probably rinse some of this glitter off anyway. The club has some showers downstairs where the private rooms are, no one should be down there tonight."

Jihoon checks his phone. Taeyong hasn't replied, which probably means he has either forgotten it somewhere or is otherwise occupied. That's fine with Jihoon, Soonyoung's boba eyes are hard enough to say no to already.

The car arrives and they are silent on the ride back, both decompressing from the club in their own way. Soonyoung seems full of energy, their ridiculous boots tapping and jittering against the floorboards in barely contained excitement. Jihoon, who feels kind of like a limp rag, reaches over and rests a gentle hand on their knee, patting it until they stop shaking like a nervous lapdog.

After a moment, Soonyoung covers his hand with their own. Their palm is damp and Jihoon would ordinarily have pulled away from such a gesture. He's feeling overstimulated and starting to second guess himself about going to the club, and in an ideal world he would just be left alone to process.

But the world isn't ideal and there is someone in the car with him, someone who, against all odds, has wormed their way into his heart in record time. And he can sense the hesitation in Soonyoung's touch, the way that hand hovers a little instead of resting fully against him, like Soonyoung knows the touch might be rejected.

Jihoon knows if he pulls away that Soonyoung won't take it personally. If anyone understands consent, it's them. He also knows, though, that there is something delicate happening between them tonight; he can sense it, thin and beautiful as a soap bubble, and if he moves his hand away that could upset the balance and destroy the bubble forever. Or at least alter it irrevocably.

He twists his wrist and Soonyoung starts to pull away. Jihoon captures their hand before they can get too far, lacing their fingers together. There is a beat, and then Soonyoung squeezes his hand tight and whatever is in the air crystallizes a little. Still unimaginably fragile, but more real now, more tangible.

Soonyoung doesn't jitter at all for the remainder of the ride.

+++

It's freezing and windy by the time they get back to the club, and Soonyoung giggles as they scurry along the side of the building, gesturing for Jihoon to follow. He does, taking the time to push down the misgivings that arose in him as soon as their ride pulls up in front of Darl+ing. Seeing Soonyoung's sweet silly face plastered on the side of the building, an expression of lust and invitation on their features had been like a punch to the chest, a stark reminder of the kind of work they do here.

But that's fine, isn't it? He doesn't care about all that, does he? Jihoon has never thought of himself as someone with prejudices, although of course he has them. Everyone does. But he's tried so hard not to be judgemental of sex workers, well aware that his own hangups about intimacy could easily lead him down a prudish, unpleasant path.

Being faced with it so blatantly is a lot though. He can tell that Soonyoung hopes to have sex with him tonight, and he knows that he wants that too. He's surprised by how much, actually; the last time he felt this level of giddy happiness around the prospect of sex was when he'd been in college, waiting for Seungcheol to come back from vacation so that he could confess to him.

And that had gone so well. Fuck's sake, no wonder he's overthinking this.

"Hurry up!" Soonyoung calls, huddling over the pin pad as they enter the lock code. "It's freeeeeezing out here!"

They reach out, tangling fingers in Jihoon's jacket as the door swings open, laughing as they pull him inside. Jihoon stumbles and the two of them tumble into the club, Soonyoung falling against the wall, Jihoon falling against Soonyoung. Before he knows it, cold hands bracket his face and Jihoon is being pulled into a kiss.

Soonyoung's mouth is sweet like a fruit gummy and scaldingly warm against Jihoon's chilly lips. Their tongue is eager but gentle, testing Jihoon's acceptance before sweeping into his mouth to caress his own. Their bodies press together, Soonyoung long and lean, Jihoon small and solid. One of them makes a soft, hungry sound. Jihoon thinks it might have been him.

"Wow," Soonyoung whispers when they break apart. Their soft cheeks are flushed red and their dark eyes are bright and eager. "You're a good kisser, Jihoon."

"I'm an okay kisser," Jihoon laughs. "You're amazing." Soonyoung squirms happily between Jihoon and the wall, delighted by the praise.

"Yeah, I'm really good with my tongue," they say, detangling from Jihoon and grabbing him by the hand. "Come on, let's shower and then check out what the pervs are up to!"

They lead him down the hall, giggling and shushing him even though they are the one making the most noise. Jihoon just follows, content to be dragged around by this strange creature that he is so inexplicably fond of.

There is a flight of stairs down and then they are in the basement, quiet and dark and full of branching hallways and closed doors. Soonyoung explains in a hushed voice that the rooms are styled for a variety of tastes; some are decorated like five star hotels, some like dungeons, all equipped with a wide variety of toys and contraptions and two different light switches, one for when they had a client down there and one for when they were recording or streaming.

The showers are similarly a set, though they are fully functional and squeaky clean. They remind Jihoon of the showers at his gym, one room with a series of lockers and another fully tiled with a bank of shower heads and minimal dividers between them.

Soonyoung strips cheerfully, tossing their clubbing outfit into a laundry bag that they pull out of one of the many closets. Jihoon is a little slower; Soonyoung had seen him in various stages of undress while the two of them had figured out his outfit for the night, but nudity is a new step.

It’s one that he forces himself to take, though, peeling off his underwear and tossing them into a new laundry bag, brandished by Soonyoung. They toss it on the floor next to theirs and hand him a hotel sample sized bar of soap and a clean washcloth with one hand while they use the other to peel off their scent blockers. The smell of honeysuckle and sandalwood fills the room, sweet and rich, and Jihoon inhales deeply, surprised by it and yet not surprised at all.

“You don’t have to take yours off if you don’t want to,” Soonyoung says, offering an easy smile. “Cheollie said that you’re a little shy about it.”

“A little bit, mostly around alphas,” Jihoon lies. He’s nervous around everyone but there is a part of him that desperately wants Soonyoung to know how much he likes them, and he can’t think of a better way in this moment than to trust them with this little extra nakedness.

Soonyoung sniffs eagerly as Jihoon peels off the patches and then stares at him with mounting horror and amusement. “Oh no, Jihoonie,” he wails. “Not cherries!”

“I know, I know,” he laughs, following Soonyoung into the tiled room. “Seungcheol was insufferable for weeks.” 

They rinse off in adjacent showers. The steaming hot water sluices over Jihoon's body, washing away the grime and sweat and smells of the club, and calming the giddy nervousness that simmers low in his belly. He stays maybe a touch longer than he needs to, relishing the clean smell of the soap and the warmth that creeps into his bones before following Soonyoung into the next room to dry off.

Each locker contains a fluffy towel, a gray or white or black sweatsuit, and a pair of slippers. Laughing, Jihoon selects a black set and gets dressed; the pants and sleeves are a little long, but he's used to that, and the way that Soonyoung eyes him appreciatively makes him blush a little.

Then it's time to check out the stage control booth, a fact which fills Soonyoung with delight and Jihoon with trepidation. Why in the world had he agreed to such an insane thing? Why hadn't they just gone back to the apartment?

Soonyoung leads him back up the stairs and they emerge in a quiet, dimly lit hallway. Jihoon experiences a moment of confusion and vertigo. He recognizes this hallway, but not from this angle and it all feels just a little bit off, but Soonyoung drags him into the stage operation booth before he has time to get caught up in the feeling.

Jihoon had half expected someone to be up here already, but the room is empty and quiet. Soonyoung flicks on the lights and locks the door, sneaking glances at Jihoon from the corners of their pretty eyes. Jihoon moves a little more slowly, dragging his fingers along the wall, examining the futon and the piles of blankets and pillows.

Anything to avoid the long dark windows along the opposite wall. Anything to keep from looking down at the party.

He hears the music, a low thumping bass that isn't nearly as loud as the music at Gold Dust had been, but which still gets into his bones. There is something intimately familiar about it, a rhythm that he knows as well as his own heartbeat, and he realizes that they are playing one of his songs.

Not his, though, not entirely. It's a song off of Seungcheol's second album, which Jihoon had produced himself from top to bottom. He made all of the beats, composed the music, wrote the lyrics with Cheol. The two of them had spent weeks bent over a mixing board, heads pressed together as they tweaked lyrics and selected samples.

This is one of the more suggestive songs, with lyrics that had made Jihoon flush pink at the time. He had poured a lot into this one, transforming his repressed desire for Seungcheol into something raw and hungry, which Seungcheol had then refined into the exact kind of high class sleaze that played as well in clubs like this as on the radio during the evening commute home.

"This is my favorite song you guys have done," Soonyoung says, coming up behind Jihoon and wrapping their arms around his waist. "It's so slutty. I danced to it loads before on stage, it's always a big hit."

"Thanks," Jihoon says dryly, patting Soonyoung's hands until they release him. "I didn't realize so many of my royalties are from you." Soonyoung giggles, kisses Jihoon just behind the ear.

"Come on, do you wanna check out the perversions?" they ask, nudging Jihoon towards the window.

No, he wants to say. Yes. Maybe. What if I get upset? What if I get turned on? Which one, he wonders, would be worse?

He follows Soonyoung to the window, reminding himself that the glass is polarized and no one on the club floor can see them, then realizing immediately that he need not have worried about that. Everyone in the club is occupied to a degree that Jihoon worries they might not detangle from one another even if someone were to run into the room and announce that aliens had conquered the world.

At first all he really sees are bodies. Some are dancing, some are fucking, some are engaged in more elaborate courtships. There is a contraption set up against the wall shaped like an X and Jihoon recognizes Chan, strapped up by his wrists and ankles, his handsome face glazed with pleasure as a head bobs between his legs. There are welts across his chest and thighs, stark enough that Jihoon can see them even from the booth.

He scans the room for Jun and Minghao and finds Seungkwan instead. His waist, soft and slim, has been cinched even smaller by a black under-bust corset and his heavily lined eyes and vivid red lips are twisted in an expression of need. Jihoon recognizes the hands on his hips, knows the set of those shoulders, and a pang of need spears him as he watches Seungcheol fuck up into the pretty little omega.

He sees Wonwoo, fully dressed in a tailored black suit with a black medical mask covering the bottom half of his face. His feet are encased in shiny black biker boots and his hands are covered by a pair of skintight black leather gloves. He is holding the leash of someone that Jihoon doesn't recognize, watching with cold, impassive eyes as the stranger grinds desperately against the toe of his boot.

He sees Seokmin, hand cupping the back of someone's head, holding them flush against his hips as he fucks his cock into the back of their throat. Jihoon swallows at that, squirming at the uncomfortable sensation of wetness between his legs. It looks so degrading, almost humiliating to be fucked like that; the man on his knees in front of Seokmin is wearing a jock strap and a pair of gloves that come up over his elbows and lace behind his back, rendering him essentially exposed and helpless.

And then Seokmin pulls back to give him a chance to breathe and Jihoon recognizes Hansol, his pretty brown eyes glazed over, his chin and throat wet with his own spit and drool. Something about seeing him like that, submissive and needy, something about the way Seokmin's hand caresses the side of his head, cups the back so gently to guide him back, the way that Hansol opens his mouth, wide and eager to be used…

Jihoon bites at his own lips, squirms uncomfortably. Beside him, Soonyoung makes a soft little cooing sound and puts their hand on his waist, rubbing at him, soothing. Jihoon glances over, realizes that Soonyoung's eyes are fixed on him, not on the party.

"Keep checking it out," Soonyoung murmurs. Their pupils seem huge in the dim light of the room. "I'm going to take care of you, okay?"

"What do you mean…. oh…."

Jihoon sighs, leaning forward against the control board as Soonyoung sinks to their knees behind him. Quick little fingers untie the drawstring of his sweats, pull them down around his ankles. There is a part of his mind clamoring for him to stop it, but Jihoon squashes it like a bug. He likes Soonyoung, he wants this to happen.

"Is it okay to watch them like this?" he asks. Soonyoung giggles, resting their face against his thigh.

"Jihoon-ah," they chide, thumbs sliding along the slick lips of Jihoon's pussy, pushing them apart to get at his clit. "They're having an orgy in a room full of other people. They don't care if you see."

Jihoon laughs softly, blushing, and then his knees go weak as Soonyoung's tongue teases its way between his legs. "Oh my god," he breathes, eyes going unfocused for a moment as he adjusts to the gentle, teasing pressure of pleasure in his belly.

His attention stays with Seokmin and Hansol for a long time. He's fascinated by the contrast between Seokmin's fingers fisting in Hansol's hair, the rough way he fucks his hips forward, the way he holds Hansol pinioned against his hips in a way that clearly obstructs Hansol's breathing and the gentle way that he touches Hansol's cheeks when he pulls him back, the tender stroke of a thumb across Hansol's swollen lips, the adoring expression on his pointed, handsome features.

He's not sure that he wants to be in Hansol's place, but every time Seokmin smiles down at him, his face transforming with tenderness, Jihoon is positive that he needs that smile, that praise, that warm attention directed at him. He thinks about it, rolling the idea around in his mind. Allowing another alpha to have him, to hold him open, to cup his face and tell him he's beautiful.

Soonyoung's tongue flickers across his clit and Jihoon closes his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek and riding out the flare of pleasure that idea brings. He isn't ready to cum yet, doesn't want Soonyoung to stop.

He looks away from them finally, allowing his eyes to wander. Chan has been taken down from the X and Jihoon doesn't see him anymore, but in looking for the pretty little beta, his eyes are drawn to a corner of the club he hasn't examined yet.

There is a knot of people there and he almost moves on, but they shift and break and reform in a way that allows him a glimpse of the action. There are four people clustered around a central figure — Jihoon recognizes Mingyu on the floor dressed in tight black shorts and a bulldog harness, his tongue rasping up the side of a thigh high white leather boot and Joshua on the couch, his arm around a slim waist, his face lazy with pleasure as he thrusts up into the owner of the boot, his cock buried deep inside their ass.

There is another person between their legs, tongue flicking at their cunt the same way that Soonyoung is doing to Jihoon, eager to serve, eager to please. And one more beside them on hands and knees, a plate on their back bearing a flute of champagne and a half smoked joint in a long cigarette holder.

Their (his) head is thrown back against Joshua's shoulder, tilted so that Jihoon can't see their (his) face, but he knows who it is. Of course he does. No one else is that perfect, slim and beautiful and smooth as jade.

Jeonghan's back arches as he cums, his long fingers tightening in the hair of whoever is between his legs, and they all pause for a moment, Joshua pushing deep inside him, his pretty face flushed and avid. Jihoon whimpers, strains against the control board. Soonyoung's tongue between his legs is quick and eager and he can feel himself edging towards climax, can feel how much he needs it.

Jeonghan lifts his head from Joshua's shoulder, captures those pretty curly lips in an eager kiss. Jihoon watches, fascinated, wondering what he tastes like. Champagne, probably. Weed smoke. Yuzu. Pussy. He bites his lip against a wail that rises up in his throat, his eyes darting frantically from the high, beautiful color dusting Jeonghan's cheekbones to the wet darkness between his legs to Mingyu's tongue against his thigh to Joshua's cock sliding so slowly up inside him and back again to his face where they lock eyes.

Not really, of course, there is no way that Jeonghan can see him up here. The windows of the booth are dark when you look up at them from the club floor, and Jeonghan is already plenty occupied. But it looks like he's looking up here, it looks like his beautiful dark eyes are staring directly into Jihoon's, both of them pleasured by other people but seeking each other out in the middle of their hedonistic indulgence.

He cums against Soonyoung's tongue with a little yelp of pleasure, hand rising to cover his mouth as his hips buck against the control board, thighs squeezing together to push Soonyoung away from his overstimulated clit. Down on the floor, Jeonghan looks up, his lips parted in mindless pleasure, and in that moment Jihoon wishes desperately that he could reach out and twine fingers with him, bridge this unbridgeable gap between them with just that little gesture of need.

"Pretty baby," Soonyoung coos, kissing their way up his back. He turns, shutting out Jeonghan. That's for a different day, a different time, a different Jihoon. He has Soonyoung now, right here in front of him. Their eyes are so pretty, so bright, and their lips are slick and pink and when they lean in to kiss Jihoon they taste like him and one of the iron bands that he keeps around his heart crumbles to nothing.

"You wanna come over to the futon?" Soonyoung whispers. Jihoon can smell them, sticky sweet and eager, and he smiles.

"What if we go back to the apartment?" Jihoon suggests. "You can stay the night with me." He sees immediately that it was the right thing to say; Soonyoung lights up like a Christmas tree, tugging Jihoon to his feet and helping him pull up his pants. They get in the way more than they assist, but they're giggling so hard the whole time that Jihoon doesn't even mind.

"Come on, come on!" they insist, grabbing Jihoon's wrist and tugging him towards the door. "I wanna see how good you are at eating pussy!"

+++

Soonyoung is already up when Jihoon finally swims up out of the fog of sleep, a fact which surprises him in some ways, but not really in others. He can hear them moving around in the kitchen, can smell the warmth of brewing coffee, and so he snuggles down into the covers and dozes lightly, content to be warm and soft and secure.

They'd returned to the apartment last night, cold and laughing and unable to keep their hands off of each other. Jihoon, it turned out, was very proficient at pussy eating, at least if Soonyoung's reaction was anything to go by. They'd asked him, breathless, who taught him to do it and he'd had to confess that all of his cunt related trickery was cribbed directly from Taeyong.

They had fingered each other, twined their legs and pressed their cocks together and ground against each other, gasping and laughing and nipping at each other's throats. Jihoon had fucked other omegas before, but none like Soonyoung; he had expected them to perform a little, as though he were a client, but they were the exact opposite. Every part of them was raw, authentic and sweet and so present that Jihoon would have believed them if they'd professed their undying love to him right then and there.

They fell asleep, Soonyoung's head pillowed on Jihoon's shoulder, and the few times that he'd awakened during the night to roll over or adjust his pillow, Soonyoung had endured it with a series of grumpy noises that let Jihoon know that, while such adjustment was necessary and allowed, it wasn't appreciated. And once he'd finished, Soonyoung had plastered themself back against Jihoon's body like they were magnetically drawn to it.

Jihoon stretches, luxuriating in the coolness of the sheets for a long moment before dragging himself up out of bed. He feels deliciously sleepy, the way he always does the morning after a big social event. He shuffles through the room, kicking discarded clothes until he finds a pair of gym shorts and pulls them on.

Not that he needs to feel modest in front of Soonyoung, not anymore, but he's pretty sure they didn't draw the curtains on that big picture window and he's not in the business of flashing his business to everyone on the street.

"Morning," he calls. The kitchen noises stop and Soonyoung's head pops out of the entryway. They smile but the expression is strained and Jihoon is immediately on alert.

"Morning," Soonyoung says. Their eyebrows are drawn down, and though they attempt a smile, there is a fretful light in their eyes. Jihoon, surprised by how upsetting he finds that, hurries the rest of the way down the hall, hand out to cup their face.

"Hey," he murmurs. "What's wrong?"

"Jeonghannie is really mad at me," Soonyoung says mournfully, burrowing into Jihoon's arms like an animal seeking safety.

"What for?" What a stupid question. Jihoon knows damn well why Jeonghan is mad. Last night's party had been a big deal and one of the performers on the big banners outside the club had just not shown up.

"You know," Soonyoung says, miserable. "The party. I texted him but he didn't see it until after the party had already started and he's…" A little hiccuping sob catches in Soonyoung's throat and Jihoon soothes them, running a hand up and down their spine until they can continue.

"He thinks I don't care about the club or the pack," Soonyoung sobs. Their arms are so tight around Jihoon that it's almost like strangling. Jihoon, unused to Soonyoung in any mood other than bouncy and horny, can only pat their back and rock them gently back and forth in the middle of the kitchen.

"I'm sure he doesn't think that," he says, and it feels useless.

"He's going to kick me out!" Soonyoung wails. Jihoon almost laughs at that because it's so absurd, but the way Soonyoung's body is trembling makes him think that they really believe that's a possibility.

"Hey, he's not going to do that," Jihoon murmurs, squeezing them tight around the waist. "That's not how families work, okay? People get mad at each other all the time and then they talk it out and make up."

"He said he hates me." Jihoon's hair is damp from tears, rumpled from Soonyoung constantly rubbing their cheeks against Jihoon's scalp. It's anxiety scenting. Jihoon is all too familiar with it; more than once poor Bumzu has had to endure Jihoon's soft cheeks against his shaved head, usually out of distress at a song that just won't come together, but not infrequently because of the whole situation with Seungcheol.

"No, I'm sure he didn't," Jihoon murmurs. "Where's your phone, let me see what he actually said." Soonyoung hesitates, sniffles.

"Okay, he didn't say he hates me," they say in a small voice. "But I know he's going to yell at me when I go home and I don't want to."

Jihoon's stomach opens up like a pit, anxiety bubbling up to fill the void. Soonyoung's reluctance to share their phone could mean anything, but the most likely reason, at least to Jihoon's mind, is that Jeonghan said some especially cruel things about Jihoon and Soonyoung doesn't want to hurt him.

He turns it over in his mind, wondering what poisonous accusations are lurking in Soonyoung's text messages. Wondering how to see them without just snatching Soonyoung's phone and scrolling through it. Maybe if Soonyoung decides to take a shower before they go back across the street…

Jihoon slams the door on those thoughts, arms tightening around Soonyoung until the other omega squeaks. He's not going to dig through anyone's text messages; he hadn't done it to Seungcheol even though he knew Cheol's password and had been left unattended with his phone plenty of times, and he's certainly not going to do it to Soonyoung. Not only is it wrong and ugly, he can sense that that sort of betrayal of privacy would irreparably damage whatever he and Soonyoung have between them.

"You wanna just stay here all day?" he asks instead, gratified by the watery smile on Soonyoung's face. "I'm pretty sure I can figure out how to change the door code. We can just barricade ourselves inside, order some takeout, craft new identities…"

"You're cute," Soonyoung murmurs, finally drawing away from Jihoon to pour them both a cup of coffee. They're still visibly upset, but they've calmed down a lot and Jihoon congratulates himself for weathering an unexpected display of emotion without totally shutting down. "I can't, though."

"Yeah," Jihoon says, leaning against the counter and sighing. "I guess they probably would just go up to Jun and Hao's apartment and cut through the floor to get to you."

Soonyoung giggles, and even though their laughter is muted and a little strained, it just confirms to Jihoon that he is more infatuated with Soonyoung than he'd previously allowed himself to believe.

"The longer I wait, the worse it will be," Soonyoung sighs, staring down into their coffee cup.

"Just take the coffee with you," Jihoon says. "Go ahead and get it over with. I can come get the mug later."

"Yeah," Soonyoung answers. "Hey, if I get fired and kicked out of the pack, can I crash with you in Daegu for a while?"

Jihoon thinks about reassuring Soonyoung further. The impulse to explain to them that even though he thinks that Jeonghan is kind of a devil, even he knows that Jeonghan doesn't just throw people out of the pack for a minor infraction. Or a major one, even. That's not how families work, and like it or not, this pack is definitely a family.

But he gets the sense that Soonyoung doesn't want that kind of comfort. They aren't asking him to tell them things they already know. They want to know that he'll be there to catch them if something bad does happen.

"Of course," he says, wrapping an arm around their waist and nuzzling the scent gland under their jaw. Soonyoung giggles, a little anxiety melting away, and Jihoon mentally congratulates himself on a job well done.

His own fate, once Jeonghan gets a hold of him, is still kind of up for debate. He doesn't have the benefit of familial protection the way Soonyoung does.

"I don't care that Jeonghan is mad," Soonyoung declares, leaning into Jihoon's embrace with a happy sigh. "I'm glad I went out with you last night. I had a really good time."

"So did I," Jihoon says, and finds that he truly means it.

"I should go talk to Jeonghan," Soonyoung says, but they stay plastered to Jihoon's side, cheek on the top of his head. It's just a fond gesture now, not the agitated scenting they were doing earlier, and Jihoon thinks yeah, this is nice, I like this, I could get used to this.

"Okay," Soonyoung says. They don't move. "Okay, I'm going to go." They don't move.

"You probably should," Jihoon says. His arm tightens around their waist.

"Okay, I'm going," Soonyoung answers. They still don't move. On the counter, their phone buzzes, and Jihoon sees the display name BRAT 👎💕but averts his eyes before he can read the message. Soonyoung thumbs the phone open and sighs, buries his nose in Jihoon's hair and sucks in a huge breath, then steps away finally.

"Okay, for real," they say, reluctance in every line of their body. "I'm gonna go."

"Okay," Jihoon agrees, following them to the door. They make it halfway into the hall before turning around, their face naked with emotion. Jihoon wonders how they do it, how they seem to always be in the moment, feeling everything with full force all of the time. He wonders how they aren't exhausted all the time. "Um. Text me if you survive?"

"I will," Soonyoung says, staring at Jihoon with unadulterated adoration. "Jihoon, I think you're my soulmate."

The door closes between them before Jihoon can reply, so he is left standing in the entryway of an apartment that isn't his, the scent of the strangest omega he's ever met all over his clothes and skin and hair, the coffee in his hand rapidly growing cold. Soulmate?

If Seungcheol had said that word to him, Jihoon would have ripped Cheol's arm off and beat him to death with it. If he had even thought the word 'soulmate' in Jihoon's presence, Jihoon would have disassociated so hard that he could have watched from outside his body as he tore Seungcheol to pieces with his teeth. He would have summoned all of the rage and rejection and sorrow and self loathing that he had ever felt and coalesced it into a car that he could use to run over Seungcheol again and again and again until he was nothing but a fine paste on the road. And he loves Seungcheol. He might be in love with Seungcheol.

Jihoon stands, frozen, waiting for his mind to react. Waiting for his body to react. The smell of honeysuckle hangs in the air, sweet and enticing, and Jihoon sighs. He takes a sip of his coffee.

Soulmate?

Yeah. Yeah, he could get used to that, too.