Chapter Text
As far as packs went, it was relatively unorthodox to have any more than one omega. Even the bigger packs with twenty, or even thirty members still tended to have only one, maximum two omegas. It had something to do with stigmas, probably. Omegas were relatively rare, they had reputations for being soft, quiet, beautiful…useless, perhaps weak. In this modern world where there wasn’t as many people who wanted families with a dozen pups, who even needed an omega, right?
Chan had never played by the rules before, and he didn’t intend to start anytime soon.
JYP told him that if he wanted to debut, he needed a pack, and if he wanted to register an official pack, he needed an omega. Honestly, it sounded simple, Chan wasn’t too worried.
The noisy omega standing in the cafeteria that he found fourteen minutes later with no collar and cheeks stuffed full of food, waving a spoon around and lecturing a table of new recruits like it was his job, looked kinda perfect.
Chan had nudged him gently in the shoulder with his nose before the omega had even noticed his presence, tilting his head to discern which scent was the omega’s and which scents were just those of anyone who’d been in contact with his shirt recently. An abrupt squeak and baffled brown eyes blinking doe-like at him brought him back.
The omega blinked thrice more, but Chan tilted his head a little further and appraised. He’d seen his face before, he definitely had. What was his name, ah, it was…Han Jisung.
“Hey!” He exclaimed, clasping the boy’s hands, who jumped in shock, spoon trapped between them. “Join my pack.”
Walking back into JYP’s office half an hour after he’d left with a confused omega in tow behind him certainly wasn’t what JYP had expected, as it turned out. Silence reigned for a total of two more minutes, and then the man opened his mouth, closed it again. “Bang Chan,” he growled. “You can’t have a pack without a beta.”
That one was significantly easier, Chan already knew a beta, a perfect one, the most perfect one in existence.
When he returned for the third time with Seo Changbin, who looked at Chan’s new omega, whose hand was still held tightly in his, the burly beta shook his head with a long-suffering sigh. “First time, huh?”
“What, he does this often?!”
“I promise you’ve never met an alpha so inclined to collect strays as this one. He has some of the strongest gathering instincts of any alpha I’ve ever met, ever, and most of my family are alphas.”
“Christopher,” JYP growled, interrupting his new pack, which made a coil of discontent squirm in his stomach. He bit back the foreign urge to growl. “No.”
Three, supposedly, wasn’t enough. It took Chan a week to find more, just one single week.
Jeongin, the unpresented pup who collided with him at a million miles an hour in his haste to get to practise on time. Hyunjin, the intimidatingly beautiful omega pinned to the wall by three alphas leering over and telling him his looks would be put to better use in a bedroom than on a dance floor. It was the way his face was slanted down, lips unamused, that silvery glint in his eyes that was the same one Chan’s omega sister got before she broke someone’s nose that made Chan drop his bag and bolt across the room before blood got spilled.
It wouldn’t be the omega’s, of that he was reasonably sure.
Then he found the sound of his home, standing at the receptionist’s desk. An omega that smelled like ocean salt and a hairwash sold locally in one place only. One place that was very far away from here.
“Uh…” The omega attempted, practically radiating with anxious energy. “The…the room for…” His Korean was halting, and after a long pause he finally asked in English, with a hint of desperation tinging his deep voice. “Dancing? I’m sorry, I can’t remember the word. Dancing, um, like…” He awkwardly waved his arms.
“The dance studios.” Chan translated, tugging the guy down by his elbow to lightly rest his nose atop his head. Lemon myrtle. He smelled like Australian lemon myrtle trees, it must’ve been a moisturiser, or a shampoo. Chan was too busy focusing on how he smelled to realise the omega had gone taunt in his arms, innocent eyes as wide as saucers as he just remained there and let himself be sniffed. “I’ll take him, thanks.”
He wasn’t talking about taking him to the dance studios.
Then there was a boy who passed him in the halls, all fluffy hair and a focused expression, chewing absently on his thumbnail as he rewound the song on his ipod to listen to the chorus once more. Chan dipped his head in greeting, and the boy tugged out both earbuds and backed up until they were level again to bow properly, not noticing that Chan’s eyes trailed after him when he politely took his leave. A day later and he’d been tracked down and collected as well, much to his bafflement.
And so there was seven. A pack of seven, with one amazing gorgeous talented beta, one token pack alpha, and a whole beautiful perfect assortment of omegas. Well, plus an unpresented maknae pup, but considering all the rounds of testing, it was highly likely he was an omega too.
Chan’s parents were both omegas—unheard of, completely and utterly unheard of, and they’d been so scrutinised for it that they’d decided to raise him and his siblings in a whole new continent rather than continue living in their homeland. His sister was an omega, one with fangs bigger than Chan’s and a bad habit of leaving anyone who offended her on their ass in the dirt. His mother could throw a slipper with the accuracy of an arrow and the impact of one too.
So you see, the first time he’d been told that omegas were soft spoken and weak, Chan hadn’t really understood what they were talking about. His father exhibited more of the typical traits, mild temperament and a skill for lowering tensions with a gentle smile, but those were the things Chan admired about him the most.
“What, you’re not going to fight him Chan? That guy just insulted your dancing.” Someone had once asked him in his trainee years.
“Huh? Why would I fight him?”
“Because…you’re an alpha? Like, a proper, dominant alpha alpha.”
And it had become Chan’s whole life to be as respectful and kind natured as his dad. Despite that, he didn’t really see why lots of the old families in Korea considered omegas to be subpar. Exotic, like fancy fish to be collected in a tank.
JYP had worn this funny constipated expression when Chan had bounced brightly into his office at 20 years old with a pack that he knew would change the world, young and bright-eyed and totally unaware of the vein ticking in his sponsor’s temple as he stiffly signed the contract laid out before him as though every pen stroke was painful.
All Bang Chan knew was that they were debuting, and that all of his pack members were exactly as they should be.
He hadn’t realised one was missing, hadn’t registered the hole of his absence, not at that time.
Lee Minho hated alphas. There was no way to work around it, he despised them. Their stupid clingy scents that lingered on clothes for days—he knew it was because alphas were so possessive and whatnot, had evolved to be able to mark their pack and have it not rub off, but Minho was a part of no pack and he didn’t want to smell like garbage!
He hated their scents, he hated how noisy they were when they growled, he hated when they touched him and presumed he would like it, he hated when they tried to make him submit, he hated when they called him mean, he hated when they said he was cold, and rude, and violent, he hated when they fired him for biting the perv that grabbed his neck—fuck, okay, maybe Minho was a little bit sour. Just a tiny bit angry about this clear injustice. Maybe he was still holding a grudge against that guy he’d dated four years ago who’d told him he was a snappy prude who’d never get to have a loving pack because Minho had gotten scared when the man had tried to drag him to a love hotel on the second date. Maybe he still remembered the way his alpha father hadn’t spoken a kind word to him since he’d presented as an omega, maybe he remembered his alpha grandmother saying ‘oh, an omega, better go find a rich alpha then, he could make good money for this family with that body’ that same Christmas.
Maybe he remembered all the people who told him he was a bad omega, rude, snobbish, unkind, cold, too hard, too bony, too muscled, too strong-looking, his face was too sharp, his face was too soft, his personality was too mean, he’d make a terrible parent, he didn’t have a single motherly instinct, Minho was callous, Minho had a bad mouth, Minho wasn’t soft, he wasn’t kind, he wasn’t good—fuck, he was going to cry.
He rubbed furiously at his eyes and walked faster, almost goddamn whimpering when an obnoxious group of drunkards stumbled past him on his side of the footpath and surprise surprise, the closest alpha banged into his shoulder and nearly sent him stumbling onto the road. His hip slammed hard into the bollard lining the street, immediate splinters of pain shooting up his waist.
“Ugh?” The guy groaned, squinting at him. He suddenly leered and lurched closer. “Oh? A f’cking omega, watch where yer goin’. Why’re you crying ‘n walking, couldn’t save it ‘til you got home, weak bit of sh—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Minho roared and kicked him in the shin hard enough his toe went numb in his combat boot, before turning sharply on his heel and storming off.
Murmurs broke out immediately. Probably because the alpha had squealed like a pig with a pulled tail. Minho despised how good his hearing was in that moment because he didn’t want to listen, not at all, not again.
“Mama, did you see that? The omega just kicked that alpha!”
“Honey, keep walking please.”
“No, did you see it?!”
“Yes, he’s very naughty, now c’mon Hwan-ah.”
Naughty. Naughty, bad, bad omega, bad bad badbadbadbad—
He wasn’t good at anything, certainly not at being an omega, and apparently not at dancing, either. The one single thing he had left. Why did the new instructor have to be an alpha? Their last beta instructor had been perfect, why did they have to change?!
“Fuck.” He yelled, but his voice broke. It sounded pitiful even to him. He hated alphas, he hated them, there wasn’t a single good one out there. He scrubbed away more tears. He was cold too, his fingers were bright red, and his nose and ears were losing feeling, and he just wanted to get out of here.
Never again was he going on a date with an alpha, not for the rest of his life.
See, you want to know what Minho’s biggest secret was?
He was…lonely.
There. There it was, in all its stupid hopeless glory.
He was really, really devastatingly lonely. Minho was weak, because he wanted a pack so badly.
He wanted…he wanted someone to touch. He wanted to hold someone’s hand, wanted to scent them and coddle them and look after them. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he was old, already at the expiry date for an omega. People wanted young, bright-eyed nineteen-year-old omegas that were cute and fluffy and willing and pliable. Who in their right mind would want a grumpy, rough, almost-25-year-old that bit people for harassing them?! Clearly nobody.
This last date was the last straw. It had taken Minho a long time to decide that he wanted to go, a work colleague set it up for him, and his initial response had been to rear back because no no no he couldn’t take someone else looking at him and finding him lacking, not again, please—
She was lovely, and kind, so surely if she thought this alpha would be good for Minho it couldn’t be that bad? Right? One of her grandson’s friends from university.
So, he’d agreed. And he’d lingered at the meeting point for forty-five minutes after arriving far too early. He stressed himself out really, twisting his fingers together, biting his bottom lip, trying to ignore the tentative hope beginning to stir in his chest. The soft flush of excitement that had him buzzing slightly on his feet, shifting his weight. Sure enough, an alpha appeared, only twelve minutes late, that was easy, Minho had waited in the snow for almost two hours once, back when he’d still been full of trust.
Be nice, he chanted in his head, just…just, try and be soft Minho, like a normal omega. Don’t—don’t make any harsh jokes, just don’t make any jokes at all. Only say things that are definitely compliments, it’s easy, right? You can do that.
So he’d straightened, and opened his mouth to greet him, a smile that he was trying very hard to keep from looking petrified already in place.
“You’re the omega?” The man grunted, running his eyes up and down his body.
Minho paused, trying to conceive a response that wasn’t the instinctual quip of ‘forgot how to pronounce hello, did you?’. “Uh…”
“You’re quiet.” The guy shrugged, cutting him off. “Sure, I like that.”
Minho slowly closed his mouth, releasing the soft breath he’d drawn in to speak. Okay…quiet. Minho could, he could probably be quiet. “Um…yeah.” He agreed softly, wondering why suddenly his eyes were stinging. This was going well, going great compared to some of the other tries he’d made at dating, he should just be grateful, what was wrong with him? “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Lee Mi—”
“This is the lunch place, right? Great, I’m starving, let’s go eat.”
Minho could’ve slapped himself for flinching when the alpha suddenly grabbed his wrist. Be grateful, be grateful, he’s touching you, nobody’s touched you in so long. The guy frowned at the response before a low growl built in his throat and he tightened his grip. Minho’s bones began to ache under the white-knuckled hold. “Don’t be like that, omega.” He warned, and pulled them inside.
Minho was too stunned to resist when he was pushed into the booth by his shoulder. He sat there staring blankly at the menu until the waiter arrived. The alpha ordered, and Minho tried to focus his eyes enough to read the meal names but his mind felt like it was floating off somewhere above his head. Steak, sure, it was the first thing he comprehended and he liked meat, so that would be fine. Maybe once he had a good meal in him he’d stop feeling like he’d been slapped, this date was good, nothing had gone wrong yet, his heat must be approaching, he must be tired, he just needed a moment. He looked up and met the waiter’s gaze. “If I could have the—”
“Quiet.”
Minho hadn’t had an alpha command used on him in many years. Hadn’t been pushed around and forced to obey since he was still a pup and his father was testing how much control he had over him now that he was presented. When the alpha across from him barked a demand directly at him, Minho’s mouth slammed shut with so much force that pain shot through his teeth and blood seeped into his mouth where his cheek had gotten caught between two molars. The click of it could be heard even with his mouth closed.
He became aware again to find the waiter gone and the alpha shaking his head. “Hah. Well, omega, I can see why you’re still unmated at your age. How disgraceful, so you’re insolent, probably the worst trait in one of your kind.”
Minho must’ve sat there staring at the table in shock for far longer than he thought, because then the waiter was back and a meagre salad side was being set down before him. The alpha had ordered for him, it seemed. He hadn’t told him his name, had he?
In that moment, Minho felt a vicious hatred for salad wash over him, something snapping soundly inside him. He didn’t want to eat leaves, or sour tomatoes, or tiny slithers of transparent carrot. He wanted meat that he could tear apart with his fangs, he wanted to lick the blood off his fingers.
Silently, he stood up. He raised his head, leaning back to tilt his chin up, not a hint of amusement in the straight line of his mouth or the cold of his dark eyes.
“You’re a pig,” he said calmly, and let the seal break away from his sharp mouth. “You’re an entitled prick and I haven’t the slightest interest in your toad-like face nor your rake body. Are you embarrassed to have an omega sitting across from you with more muscle I wonder, is that why you feel the need to belittle and impose yourself upon others? You’re insecure I see, as well you should be with such a sickening personality. I doubt anyone will ever like you if you keep this up, best you get some therapy before it becomes incurable.”
He smiled sharply, and the alpha actually blanched. Minho opened his wallet and watched the man’s eyes bug out at the notes flashed at him. He drew out a single small note from a separate compartment and set it down on the table, tracing his finger along the perfectly straight edge. It was his father’s money actually, Minho was shockingly broke. His father sent him money on the condition that Minho pretended he wasn’t a part of the family and said nothing if anyone ever asked. Minho always sent it back to him and said what he wanted instead. He hadn’t been to the post office yet to get rid of this, and he was strangely glad to have reason to make this alpha go pale. “I believe this well and truly covers what you ordered for me, since you decided to purchase the cheapest thing I could immediately see on the menu. Another area you’re lacking in, I presume.”
And without much ado he slipped his hand beneath his plate, the bangles on his wrist chiming faintly, and twisted his grip to push it into the man’s face as he walked past and out the door. The dull clink the tin plate made as it clattered back onto the table didn’t make him feel better.
Lee Minho, let it be known, was bad at restraint.
The words the man had shouted after him as he walked evenly down the stairs, both hands slipped deep into his pockets, may have appeared to bounce harmlessly off the shell he wrapped around himself, but Minho felt each shard embed in the soft underbelly of his centre, closing his eyes as he was reminded for the final time just how much he wasn’t a good omega. He wasn’t even an—omega, he didn’t have a single trait that suited his subgender, not one.
An hour later, walking through the frigid city, those stupid words were on repeat in his brain and now he was crying. Actual stupid stupid beads of moisture that kept bubbling up again each time he violently accosted them with the sleeve of his sweater.
He stood in line for coffee, having finally made the decision to duck into a little café when his breath started frosting the air, and remained glaring at nothing and everything as tears he’d given up on eliminating slid defiantly down his cheeks. He was actually angrier at them than he was at the alpha. He was Lee Minho, and he couldn’t even stop the stupid waterworks, what fuckery was this?!
He was tired. He was tired of everything. Perhaps he could go home and curl up in his nest, and maybe if he arranged the blankets right he could hug one and pretend it was a person, someone that could be Minho’s pack, someone warm and alive whose hair he could stroke to help them sleep. Anyone was fine.
The young presence of the person behind him caught his attention when they began to shift from foot to foot, picking at the hem of their shirt. He could feel their attention burning a hole in his back, but he resolutely remained scowling forward, tears still falling.
“Uh, hey,” A voice said gently, male if the masculine tone was anything to go by, and he was right, they were definitely young. He felt a hand touch his elbow lightly and closed his eyes. Why why why why why—
“Do you want my scarf? Chan says pretty omegas shouldn’t cry. It feels better if you can hide, right?”
Pret…ty…Minho looked abruptly to his left to make sure it was actually him that was being spoken to. He turned fully to face the kid that had leaned around his other side, tugging half-heartedly at the scarf that had been bundled around his neck. He wasn’t quite a kid, a little too old for that, but by Minho’s standards anyone even a week younger than him was still a pup and should be protected, unless they were an alpha and then he had limited sympathy. “It smells like my packmate, Hyunjinnie.” He mumbled, shifting his weight back again. “He caught me as I was leaving and wrapped me up in it. I thought he wanted to strangle me, but he used it as a trap to pull me in and smother me in overzealous kisses. Not sure which option’s worse.” A faint look of exasperation crossed his handsome features. “It’s his, and he buys really nice things so I’m sure it’s high quality. We don’t need it though, Hyunie-hyung has way too many scarves as it is, Minnie’s always telling him off, Felix thinks it’s hilarious.”
When Minho only continued to stare at him incredulously, the young omega nodded a couple of times and tugged it free from his neck, reaching forward to throw it around Minho’s instead. They were roughly the same height, he noticed distantly, or maybe Minho was a little shorter. This omega was possibly more toned than him too, his frame alpha-like, not so unlike Minho’s own. Well, more so than Minho’s actually, but Minho was still far from fitting the omega bill. He always got mistaken for the other subgenders. The pup barely wore any clothes, a sleeveless black shirt that smelled like it belonged to a stupid alpha, but suited the omega well nonetheless. He probably had an alpha packmate, Minho surmised vaguely. Poor thing.
Unlike Minho’s own physique, which had been the brunt of countless jokes that always ended in yeah he just doesn’t look like a real omega, does he?, this omega’s toned shape suited him, made him look handsome and a little roguish. Minho wanted nothing to do with the alpha whose clothes he’d plundered, but…the scarf smelled like omega, so Minho supposed his packmate, Hyunjinnie, was one as well. How unusual, most packs only had one omega, and this little one was certainly sufficient.
Minho was sad, and hazy, and his cheeks were red from all the scrubbing he’d done to force his own useless tears to go away, fruitless as it had been. His instincts poked their pesky nose up and decided that this pup should be protected, so he reached forward with no awareness of his own stupidity, and tilted up onto his toes to tug the pup under his chin and smother the persistent scent of alpha with his own much softer orange and lime, a dull purr rattling in his chest to comfort him while he did. When it took too much effort to keep standing on his tiptoes he nuzzled his nose briefly into the hair behind his ear instead, slipping down.
The pup accepted it with a soft noise of surprise, even canting his head ever so slightly to let Minho have better access, unthreatened by the sudden scenting. He giggled after a moment, and it was exactly what Minho had wanted. The pup’s whole body shifted along with his shaking shoulders, his fluffy dark hair brushing Minho’s cheek, and Minho nudged his jaw with his nose, breathing out a soft huff of laughter in return. For a second everything was okay, and Minho was going to buy this pup coffee to say thank you, and he didn’t feel like he’d burst into tears again, and he’d go home and he resolutely would not cry anymore, not over some dumb alpha, not when such a cute and kind omega pup existed in the world. Then someone started muttering about indecency behind them and Minho only caught the tail end of their complaint.
“…oddamn omegas, do they want to send someone into rut? Always with the disgusting simpering. Attention seeking harlots—"
Minho whipped around so fast that the only thing saving him from whiplash was his dancer’s flexibility and growled. It was a ferocious sound, bordering on furious, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so utterly in disbelief.
The man was a beta, and he’d clearly never heard an omega growl and mean it before because he all but got bowled over backwards by the intimidating scent Minho put out, biting citrus and well-soured lime flaring in the air like a vicious snake. The beta even bared his throat on instinct, tipping his jaw over before he caught himself and swallowed thickly.
“What did you say?” Minho breathed very softly and watched each and every person in line take a wary step back. It was a small café, most of the people in here were betas, Minho wouldn’t have come in if he could smell an alpha, so there were none of those, but it seemed everyone else in the shop had a much healthier fear of a wrathful omega when they saw one, because no-one met his gaze. His eyes flashed silver, and fuck, he was starting to slip and he had no desire to accidentally drop himself into a headspace he couldn’t pull himself out off. Rejection stung his skin, those hateful comments were piling up in his head, bad omega, bad, he had half a mind to just rip this man’s throat out—or at least verbally abuse him until he was the one crying, but with the way his chest began to lace up that wasn’t what would happen.
He called the pup a harlot, he—
He was crying again, damnit, but he was still growling. This wasn’t fair, he hated this day, he wished he’d have stayed in bed.
“Say it again,” He mumbled, smiling harshly in what could better be described as a baring of fangs. He took a step closer to the idiot, and the guy flinched bodily. Minho didn’t even want to know what he looked like, leering smile, glowing silver eyes, dishevelled hair. “Go on, call the baby a harlot for being scented, I’ll rip your tongue out, we’ll play fetch with your bones—”
There was a startled laugh from behind him and Minho sniffled, looking over his shoulder. His newly adopted pup grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, biting the inside of his mouth like that could keep the snicker so clearly trying to escape contained.
“I’m alright, pretty omega,” The pup laughed, and now it was Minho who was tugged down, tucked in and nuzzled. “He’s just a jerk, Channie says there’s lots of them around.” He switched to English suddenly, the fringes of an accent Minho couldn’t place lilting the words. “Water off a duck’s back, Felix says that sometimes. I’m not really sure what it means.”
Minho didn’t either. He couldn’t even make sense of the way the ‘r’ in water had been pronounced, more of an ‘uh’ sound, much less the rest of it.
He grabbed Minho’s hand and Minho let himself be led back into the frigid cold outside. He didn’t see the way the pup glanced down as they passed the beta that had insulted him, missed the glare he burned into him, missed the way his eyes flashed a hard golden for a second before he resumed leading them outside. Minho was too busy stomping down on the man’s hand as he passed, never too far above being petty, and although the beta managed to yank his fingers away before they got trodden into the dirt, the yelp he made was satisfying.
The second they crossed the threshold Minho had tugged the scarf from his neck and rewound it around the pup’s instead, releasing a very brief purr to sooth him. He was just a baby, he shouldn’t be cold. The pup huffed a laugh, his dark eyes suggesting he thought maybe Minho was the one who should be soothed, but he didn’t say it. He grabbed both of Minho’s hands, leaning forward. “Thank you for protecting me, pretty omega.” He chirped brightly, with a fox-like grin that Minho thought he was a little bit in love with. “He really was an idiot, to even bother suggesting that an omega scenting someone is inherently sexual enough that it would only be done with the intention to send someone into rut. How obnoxious. My packmates would riot.”
Minho purred again in acknowledgement and lifted their joined hands to rub his cheek along the pup’s knuckles. He knew his gaze was still silver, his head was getting fuzzier faster than ever. He chuffed in discontent when he realised that somehow the alpha scent he thought he’d snuffed out before had returned, clinging to the pup’s wrists, and he rubbed it away against his neck. It didn’t have quite the desired effect. He’d meant to douse it, but alpha scents were clingy and it got on Minho instead. He wanted to hate it, he really did, but the soft alpha tones of fresh bread just shoved him down all the harder, made him dizzy, made him keep purring.
Wait…packmates. Minho wasn’t one of his packmates, this pup belonged to someone else. But—but he was Minho’s.
He wasn’t quite sure why he started crying again, he was just so tired, and so drained, and Minho’s pup had packmates and it was devastating.
He wanted his nest. But his nest was cold and lonely and empty. It was barren. It just smelled like burned oranges, because he was always accidentally letting the smell of his loneliness embed in the blankets, and even when he scented over the top of it, it still wasn’t sweet with comfort, it was just…nothing. No emotion. Minho clasped his fingers tighter around his pup, pressing his nose to his wrist again, whining softly.
“Are you…” His pup breathed, his eyes locked onto the telling silver of Minho’s. “Are you dropping? Ah, hey, pretty omega, that’s enough now, it’s okay, I’m safe now, you don’t need to worry so much about scenting me.”
He turned to look over his shoulder, and Minho heard him curse under his breath. He made a small omegan chuff noise in protest, put out that his pup knew such filthy words, who’d taught him that? Minho would hand them their ass in a fight.
But…not right now, Minho didn’t feel well.
He was getting so cold, it was burning his fingertips. His arms began to quiver with uneven shivers, and his head was really foggy, he couldn’t even think. Hell, how long since he’d let himself slip, he should have more control than this.
But…dropping into omega headspace alone was like scalding knives digging into his ribs, every time he woke up again his head pulsed with pain for weeks.
“What’s your name, beautiful pup?” He wondered softly, ignoring his thoughts in favour of tilting his head. His words slid together at the ends, they sounded blurry even to him. His pup looked back at him, eyes widening and breath catching in his throat at whatever he saw. Minho didn’t know what he looked like, ugly and flushed pink at his ears maybe, his dark hair was falling in his face, his gaze glazed. But he made sure to let only affection show in his expression, made sure there was a gentle smile on his lips, don’t upset the baby omega. His pup shook his head once sharply, dark hair bouncing, and almost stepped back, but caught himself at the last second and instead closed his hands loosely over Minho’s wrists, pulling him forward.
“You’re shivering so much,” He breathed, growling once under his breath. Minho’s eyes widened slightly. Woah, such a deep growl for an omega. He was so distracted by it that he didn’t notice the pup tug him against his chest and loosely wrapping his arms around him. For a slight, impossible moment, Minho felt small next to him. He wasn’t as tall, nor broad shouldered, he felt like an actual omega. “Why didn’t I bring a coat, it’s practically snowing outside, Hyunie-hyung was right.”
“You’re cold?!” Minho yelped like he’d been hurt, instantly yanking his hand free to fumble with the buttons of his own unsuitable clothing. He wasn’t an alpha, so he didn’t run naturally hot. Just another thing their stupid selves got to have for free. At least they all roasted in summer, while Minho and the other omegas could just languidly lounge around at the perfect temperature, basking in the sun. The pup couldn’t be warm enough though, he was an omega too but he was wearing far less than Minho, Minho’s thin outer shirt wouldn’t make much of a difference but it would do something.
“Ah—no, no it’s not that, if I’d brought a coat you could wear it, I’m not cold, I promise!” He grabbed Minho’s jacket and held it closed over his chest, looking over his shoulder again like he was searching for something. “Um,” He ducked his head, maybe unconsciously, and scented Minho quickly in reassurance before looking over his shoulder again. Minho thought it was an anxious instinct rather than a conscious thought. “Yang Jeongin, that’s my name, but…” He trailed off, distracted. “But I usually get called Innie.”
Yang…Jeongin. Minho thought that maybe, distantly, that name was familiar.
Jeongin seemed to give up whatever he was waiting for because he roughly tugged a phone out of his pocket and dialled someone’s number.
“Channie-hyung?!” He begged, the moment the line picked up. “I don’t know what to do I don’t know what to do—”
Minho whined loudly at his agitation, taken aback. Why was his pup so upset all of a sudden?! “Innie,” He called in distress, pulling him down, scenting him again with as much comforting scent as he could. His head was so…so foggy, damn now was not the time, he needed to…
Oh? The alpha scent had managed to sneak back here, too? It pinged bells in Minho’s head that Minho didn’t know were there to be pinged. Bread had never smelled so safe before, a warm bakery in winter, leaking its delicious buttery aromas outside to comfort everyone shivering in the snow, cheery orange light shining through the frosted windows. Innie was talking, not that Minho could process the words, but…the tone of his voice was so nice, deep and resonant in his chest. He smelled of alpha, yeah, Minho hated alphas, they were so mean to him, they told him he was bad, he was bad he was bad he was a bad omega, but…he was so lonely, and alphas smelled deceptively safe, like they were supposed to protect. Only they never protected Minho.
He choked on a sob. How was he supposed to comfort his pup, he wasn’t a good omega, he wasn’t made for this, he wasn’t capable of bringing someone comfort. His scent was always too bleary, too citrusy to be nice or calming, it made people back away, it was always tinged with nervousness that made it too tangy to be likable. Every time Minho wanted to make a good impression, he got nervous, when he got nervous, his scent was, not nice. People didn’t like it.
“Please don’t cry…” Minho’s pup whimpered, and Minho tucked his nose under his jaw to try and hide himself. He was torn between wanting to be here where his instincts thought he was safe and desperately wanting to tuck his pup into his nest so no one could hurt him.
“’M sorry,” He gasped. “I’m not a good omega.”
Minho could hear the tinny squeaking sound that came from Jeongin’s phone go quiet for a beat.
“What?” Jeongin breathed, but a low rumble was building in his throat, another growl, and Minho knew he wasn’t happy. “Why would you say that?”
“The alphas,” Minho tried to explain, still fumbling with how thick his tongue felt. He wanted to answer though, Innie asking anything made him want to answer, he was so pliant right now. “Because I’m mean. And I got scared because I didn’t want to go to the love hotel, I didn’t want to eat the salad with the sad tomatoes, and all the commands make me…make me feel sick.” He slurred, shuddering.
The voice coming from the phone said something, and Minho shivered at the tone of it even when he couldn’t make out the words. Strong, deep, they were angry but it wasn’t directed at Minho because it didn’t give him a headache like normal alpha anger. It was always directed at Minho. Their scents always became so loud, they wanted him to be scared, they didn’t like it when Minho didn’t get scared of them. He wouldn’t let them know even if he was.
“Someone used a command on you today, baby?” A silken voice said suddenly, and Minho tilted his head at it, wondering. Innie must’ve made the phone louder.
He made a soft questioning omegan chirr, and the voice repeated the question. Oh, they had a nice voice, with a good timbre to it. Not too deep, melodic, maybe cheery when it wasn’t so serious.
“Thank you little one,” They rumbled, a gentle laugh following. Minho’s tongue was too loose, he’d said that out loud. He couldn’t go complimenting alphas voices; it was against his morals. “Do you think you could focus on what I said? You’re doing so good listening; do you know the answer?”
Minho considered it. “Mm…” He finally decided, hiding his face in Innie’s throat when he felt bashful. He liked this voice, it was soothing something that had been upset within him for a long time, gently sanding down the edges of broken glass.
“Yeah?” They repeated. “Yes, someone used a command on you today?”
Minho nodded and Jeongin made a sound of confirmation for him.
“Fuck.” A beat of pause. Minho was about to whine for him to keep speaking when he did it unprompted. “Shit, okay. Someone you knew, sweetheart?”
Minho liked being called that. Nobody had ever called him that before, why was the voice so nice to him? Didn’t it know how bad Minho was?
He shook his head.
“What do you mean?” Jeongin asked quickly. “An alpha you didn’t know used a command on you?!”
“Yeah,” Minho whimpered. “He yelled at me so much. Bad, told me I’m not an omega.” His eyes welled with tears again. That wasn’t the only thing that had been yelled after him and it was hardly the worst of them. He’d cried so much today, he hated it. He grabbed Innie’s arm and tried to search his neck for his scent, but the omega scents were so mixed up and they were getting weaker, not stronger. “I wanna go to my nest now, pup, please.”
“Iyen, I thought you said you found him at a café?”
“I did.” Jeongin said. “He was crying in the line, his scent was so full of grief. Hyung, his eyes, they went silver the moment I looked at him, do you think…”
“He could’ve just been upset.”
“Yeah maybe.” Innie agreed, but he sounded frustrated rather than convinced.
“Hyung, he’s really gentle…” He added softly, after a moment. “He scented me when I gave him Jinnie-hyung’s scarf, but he’s fierce. Worse than Felix. To have not slipped, even after being forcefully shoved under by a command, and then insulted by the same alpha…and at the store too, someone mistook me for an omega and yelled at him for scenting me, and he growled at them.” He snorted softly. “He said he’d play fetch with their bones, without missing a beat too, just came up with that unhinged threat right there on the spot.”
“Binnie’s almost there,” The voice comforted. “I’m sorry I can’t come. Will he be able to tell you where his home is so you can take him there?”
“I don’t know hyung, can’t I just bring him home?” Innie said, in what was very close to a whine, and Minho whined too, hugging him tighter. He could vaguely sense people stopping on the streets around them, but each time Innie shot them a golden-eyed glare and they backed away. Gold…his eyes shouldn’t have been gold, that colour was for alphas, but Minho couldn’t focus enough to process the thought properly.
“Pup, that’s not…that’s probably not a good idea.”
“But—please hyung, you haven’t seen him, he’s really cute, he growled a beta into submission just by flaring his scent, omegas are so much happier together, Lixie and Jinnie and Minnie and Sung can make it better, they can—”
“Pup, that’s not necessarily—”
“Innie!”
Minho flinched at the sudden voice, and Innie twisted with him in his arms to look over his shoulder, every muscle in him slumping in relief at whatever he found. The phone line clicked off. “Changbin-hyung.”
Minho endured the new presence all the way up until it was within touching distance and then his hackles flared up, a low growl warning the intruder not to come any closer to his pup.
As though he hadn’t even noticed him yet, the newcomer jerked back, palms out, startled. “Iyen, wh—?”
“It’s okay,” Jeongin said quickly, “This is my packmate! Changbin.”
Minho narrowed his eyes, glaring. Packmate…alpha? Was he the alpha Minho could smell still getting increasingly stronger? Pleasant scent or no, Minho wasn’t having it. He growled softly again, unconvinced, and took note. Changbin was big, he had a build like an alpha, strong arms, an intimidating presence only further accentuated by the leather vest with only a thin tee underneath. If he wasn’t cold and it was practically snowing then he’d either ran here unprepared or he was being obnoxious and showing off his ‘wonderful alphaness’ by getting around dressed only in stupid clothing to make sure everyone knew what second gender he was.
Minho, still growling at him from his safe place under Jeongin’s chin, encased in his arms, was quickly considering reversing their positions so that his pup was the one shielded by Minho’s body. One wrong move and he’d bite, he absolutely would, this alpha shouldn’t put it past him.
He wasn’t appearing to, if the way he swallowed and stepped back again meant anything. Like Jeongin also was considering the possibility that Minho was quite likely to become unpredictable if this went south, or just remembering everything that had happened in the store, he rumbled instinctively to soothe.
It was truly testament to how far under Minho was that he didn’t clock onto the fact then and there that omegas purred and alphas rumbled, not the other way around.
“Binnie-hyung, don’t scare him, he definitely bites.” Jeongin said softly.
Changbin huffed a laugh, and Minho relaxed slightly, tilting his head. Around them, it was starting to get dark, thick clouds slipping above the skyscrapers with a promise of bringing a lethal chill before much longer. “It’s okay,” Changbin said in a soothing voice, easing slowly closer. “He can’t bite more than Jisung. You too Innie, you were terrible when you first presented, you wanted to gnaw on everything, usually Chan’s wrists. Surprised he doesn’t have scars from all the scratches those sharp baby fangs of yours left, you were like an overgrown puppy.”
Jeongin made an affronted sound above him and Minho giggled despite himself, looking up at the beautiful pup. He wasn’t quite lucid enough to know what the conversation was about, but Innie was so cute.
“Oh, he adores you Innie,” Changbin murmured, gaining another step. “Hey there, little omega, sorry my packmate pushed you under so deep.” He was saying, still in that soft tone of voice. “He’s young, and he doesn’t know how to control his pheromones yet. Always forgetting to put scent patches on too, but our naughty omegas hate them, so they peel them off anytime they find them on him as well. Seungmin-ah, the devil, thinks it’s hysterical.”
“I didn’t.” Jeongin said, sobering suddenly. “It wasn’t me, I didn’t make him scent drunk hyung, some bastard used a command on him and then left him without telling him it was alright, or guiding him out before he dropped, they told him he wasn’t good enough to be an omega.”
Changbin hissed and Minho immediately locked up, hissing back, taking Innie with him when he skittered backwards and pushing the pup under his arm until he was draped over his hunched back.
“Shoot sorry sorry, I’m not threatening you sweetheart, I just—Innie-ah, that’s messed up. If someone did that to one of our omegas, Chan would…”
“Yeah,” Innie agreed, apparently unperturbed that he’d suddenly been yanked into what had to be an uncomfortable position. He slowly shifted until Minho slid off his back and he could stand straight again, leaving them brushing shoulders. Minho wondered how he was so used to adhering to irrational omega instincts, he seemed to know exactly how to right himself without making Minho’s everything scream in protest, knew to stay close, knew to stand slightly behind him, wasn’t getting angry or offended that he’d been manhandled. “Full pack-alpha mode.”
Changbin also, wasn’t challenging Minho. Distantly, he realised that logically Jeongin was his packmate, he had every reason to fight Minho for him, to force Minho into submission like other alphas would, to growl at him and grip his throat and dig his fingers into Minho’s scent glands until he cried and then leave him curled up in the snow and take his pup away.
Instead, Changbin came closer again, held his hand out, wrist upwards in a show of submission no one had ever given Minho before. “Here you are, baby,” He said easily, like this was nothing, like omegas were just as good as alphas, so gentle. No one had been this kind to Minho in years. “It’s okay, look, I’m just a beta, I’m not going to take Iyen-ah from you. You like him? He’s a good boy, isn’t he?”
Minho purred in agreement, and Changbin immediately cooed, turning his head to the side and pressing a hand over his mouth. Innie rolled his eyes beside him, nudging Minho to suggest he take the offered hand.
Minho did, drawing it towards his nose to sniff carefully. Oh, he was a beta, what a nice scent, he smelled like moss and earth and forest, very grounded. Mm, this one was Minho’s too, he was sure of it.
Changbin didn’t seem to be prepared for Minho to drop his hand and briskly insert himself beneath his chin, rubbing his hair on the underside of his throat until he smelled of vibrant citrus too. “Good pup,” He assured his new beta, stroking his chest. And what a nice chest it was. His fingers twitched with the urge to squeeze. Just a little bit.
“Binnie?” Jeongin asked, sounding confused.
“I don’t know…” Changbin murmured back. “He’s fully under, he’s just doing what his instincts tell him to. I smell like you and the omegas so maybe he thinks I’m safe now. For…for an omega to be acting like this with a pack he doesn’t know though, it’s concerning. Chan would be worried. He shouldn’t be comfortable with strangers, I think…I think it means that he might not have let himself slip for a long time, his instincts are latching onto the closest unthreatening person in a desperate effort to be comforted.”
“Let’s take him to Chan then!” Innie said, a little desperately. “The company building is right there, we can just—”
“My nest.” Minho whispered so softly he could barely hear it. His head was pounding, his fingertips were losing feeling. He wanted to take his packmates back to his nest now so he could wrap them up properly.
“Where do you live?” Changbin asked, and Jeongin whined softly.