What are men to rocks and mountains?

by yoongiyoongi

Summary:

A marriage between an alpha and omega can only be evidenced by a bitten claim. When Jungkook unexpectedly rejects Namjoon on their wedding night, the alpha must figure out how to not let his second marriage eclipse even his first as the bigger disaster.

-or-

A marriage between an alpha and omega can only be evidenced by a bitten claim. When Jungkook unexpectedly rejects Namjoon on their wedding night, the omega must figure out how to keep his second alpha from learning anything about his catastrophic first.

Notes:

+ longtime readers, i know what ur thinking... "oh great, this is what the president of finishing fics in a timely and orderly manner needs: another wip to her god damn name" and ur right..... ur so right...... but i swear to you... this is the last one... i *am* going to finish at least tmoo and double take this year, i AM!!!!!!!!!!!

+ many thanks to my best friends for this one; without u, i would be dead

+ fic title comes from mother jane austen, iykyk

Chapter 1: One

 

 

 

The omega was a vision of paradise. 

Namjoon swept his eyes away as quickly as he had cast them upon his betrothed mate.  The pair sat beside one another, hands folded over their laps and expressions serene. 

The wedding party carried on around them, but the only sight before Namjoon’s eyes was of twinkling stars.  One star showed him petal pink lips beset with a deep cupid’s bow.  Another showed him a sweet, rounded nose.  A third showed him a pale scar on a charmingly full cheek.  The final star showed him no less than a galaxy of even brighter stars, swirling around in a set of eyes that had to be a figment of his imagination. 

Namjoon wanted to brave a second glance only to confirm that the first one had been true. 

But he kept his eyes trained forward; he would have a lifetime to gaze with pure devotion upon his mate’s lovely features, he consoled himself. 

(It was hardly a consolation, though.  He counted his blinks.  At his first wedding, Namjoon had also thought he would have a lifetime to rest his eyes upon Seyoon, but they’d had less than a year of marriage before death had knocked upon their door.)

Namjoon turned his chin and gazed at his new mate again, filling his eyes of him. 

It had only been said to him once, at the time of the betrothal—his mate’s name.  His name was Jungkook.  Namjoon could scarcely wait to say it aloud. 

Red silk rippled beside him and Namjoon looked down.  Jungkook was fidgeting with his hands, his fingers locking in knots around one another.  Althewhile, his expression remained serene.  Namjoon thought of swans gliding gracefully across glass lakes—refined and unperturbed on the surface, feet flapping restlessly underneath.  One day, though not today, Namjoon knew he would be able to reach out his hand and place it over both of Jungkook’s.  Could get his mate to stop fidgeting and calm him down. 

Namjoon’s mother approached.  It was time for the two to participate in the bedding ceremony. 

The hands beside Namjoon froze. 

 

 

❧

 

 

Jungkook could feel the eyes of the alpha lingering on him.  

Doing as his mother taught him, Jungkook looked straight ahead and kept his features masked.  His worst habit had always been that he had restless hands, but today they were folded elegantly upon one another over the scarlet silk of his wedding hanbok. 

He kept his chin lifted and counted his blinks. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t say ‘the alpha.’  This was now his alpha.  Jungkook had yet to look upon his face.  He’d kept his gaze downcast the entire wedding ceremony.  Nobody could report to his family that he’d been impudent.  (But, he considered, nobody here knew his family.)

Jungkook could feel the eyes of his alpha back on him.  It was his duty as an omega to hope that what his alpha saw pleased him, but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to have qualms about it now.  They were already married.  His alpha would have to accept him; it was an alpha’s duty to—to—

(Jungkook had previously had an alpha who had not made it his duty to accept him.  He had not been a good husband to Jungkook, for as short of a while as he had been one.  Would this alpha be like him?  So desperate to escape the wretched solitude of his paternal home, had Jungkook leapt out of the wok and into the fire?  Caught in these thoughts, he scarcely noticed his fingers were beginning to gnarl into one another.)

Lilac silk came into his line of sight.  His mother-in-law knelt before the newlyweds.  Jungkook did not let himself flinch. 

“Come,” she said softly, to her son, “It is time to conclude the night.  Only the bedding ceremony remains.” 

Jungkook flared his nostrils as his alpha’s scent spiked with arousal. 

 

 

❧

 

 

Jungkook’s new bedroom was large and airy.  It was larger than the bedroom he had grown up sharing with his sister, but smaller than the palatial suite the Wang family had given him.  Luckily, he preferred smaller confines. 

He and his alpha laid side-by-side on a feather-stuffed mattress together, encased in an ornately carved wooden bedframe.  Across the room, behind a large slotted panel, stood the town magistrates.  One dozen of them. 

They would not leave until they had witnessed a successful conjugation of the newly married alpha and omega. 

Jungkook knew this was not his alpha’s first marriage bed.  But his alpha did not know that neither was this Jungkook’s.  Did not know that the omega had already been mounted and claimed by his first alpha.

Nobody in the Kim family did.  They never would have agreed to the marriage if they had known; no alpha would.  The entire Jeon family had taken an oath to keep the secret buried forever. 

But Jungkook’s heart was battering in his chest because how—how could he keep it a secret any longer.  His new alpha was to bed him within moments and, surely, he would discover the secret.  Jungkook’s plotting mother had gotten him this far, but he feared he’d disappoint her now—so close to the culmination of all her schemes to salvage her son’s life. 

The alpha made the first move. 

Jungkook watched with wide, helpless eyes as the alpha lifted his head from their pillow and glared down the elders crowded behind the panel. 

“Miserable, old perverts,” he huffed under his breath.  Then, he took the silk blanket laid across their laps and lifted it up until it fell over both their heads. 

Distantly, Jungkook heard the elders grumble. 

“They could easily come and verify the bite in the morning,” Namjoon whispered, turning to face Jungkook, “But they insisted on a full bedding to my father.” 

These were his husband’s first words to him, and they were such strange ones.  Whatever he replied would be his own first words to his husband.  Jungkook wanted to say ‘it is tradition’ but he found himself immobile.  From the singular beam of light breaking through the darkness of the sheet over their heads, Jungkook could see that his new alpha was handsome. 

More than handsome—he was beautiful. 

It terrified Jungkook; his first alpha had had the face of a saint.  Had had a broad smile and pretty eyes that glittered like jewels and all of the others omegas had been so jealous of Jungkook—so, so jealous.  They’d told him the night before his wedding that he’d always gotten the best of everything in life.  It wasn’t fair he should also get a husband so handsome. 

But Jungkook’s alpha had been far from the saint Jungkook had first mistaken him as. 

And now Jungkook had another alpha’s breath hot on his skin who rivaled even the first for beauty.  Overtook him, forthrightly.  If this new alpha was twice as beautiful as Jungkook’s first, would he also be twice as evil?

The alpha lifted a hand.  He placed it on Jungkook’s hip. 

Jungkook’s entire body trembled—eyes streaming with tears and a whimper escaping his throat before he could stop himself. 

The alpha froze. 

 

 

❧

 

 

During Namjoon’s first bedding ceremony, he had been a bundle of terrific nerves.  The eyes of the village magistrates had been fixed upon him and Seyoon as they laid motionless beside one another. 

“Alpha,” Seyoon had whispered under his breath, “Your omega is ready for you.”   He had reached a hand over to Namjoon under the sheets; Namjoon had gripped it with supernatural strength. 

“Omega,” Namjoon had whispered back, eyes wide as he stared up at his bedframe’s canopy, “They’re watching.” 

“I know,” Seyoon had replied.  “But magistrates are betas.  Pay them no mind.  You must mate and claim me.”

“I—I can’t,” Namjoon fretted. 

“You must.”

Namjoon shook his head.

Seyoon had taken a long breath.  “Do you know what happens to me if my alpha rejects me on our bridal bed?”

Namjoon finally rolled his head over to look at Seyoon for the first time since their marriage ceremony.  He was so pretty, with bright eyes and a kind countenance. 

“Please, alpha,” Seyoon said, so kindly, “Claim me.”

“I’ve never—”

“Neither have I,” Seyoon laughed breathily.  “But start with putting a hand on my hip.”

So Namjoon put a hand on his omega’s hip. 

“Good,” Seyoon smiled.  It reached his eyes.  He whispered, “Now try kissing me.” 

So Namjoon had.  And it had been the sweetest moment of his life.  Everything else followed naturally from there.  Namjoon wasn’t utterly hopeless, Seyoon reported pleasantly in the morning to his new dongsaengs, running light fingers up and down the new bite mark on his neck.  Namjoon had blushed and let everybody tease him to no end.

Throughout their short marriage, Seyoon had always known what to do.  But Namjoon was alone now and he was back to being a terrified and witless alpha—because he’d turned to his new omega and put a hand on his hip and the omega had started convulsing and sobbing.  Jungkook rolled over in bed until his back faced a horrified Namjoon, curled himself into a tight ball, and wept ceaselessly. 

Namjoon touched the omega’s shoulder.  The poor thing’s scent putrefied.  Namjoon removed his hand. 

He took a deep breath, got out from under the sheets, stepped out of his bedframe. and walked toward the slotted panel. 

“Get out,” he snapped at the magistrates.  “Leave.” 

Several of them fled toward the door at once. 

“We cannot report the marriage as consummated by law under these circumstances!” one of them protested, beard white and down to his waist. 

“He’ll wear my bite as a claim,” Namjoon retorted, “It’ll be plenty of evidence.” 

“But he doesn’t wear it yet,” the magistrate sustained, not moving from his spot. 

Namjoon rounded on him.  “And so then what will you do?  Report the Kim family to His Majesty for conducting a bastardized marriage?  My omega has noble blood.  Won’t the emperor ask who let such a miscarriage against his honor transpire?”

Another magistrate—with a graying beard down to his chest—tugged on the sleeve of the white-bearded one toward the doorway.  “Come now.” 

“Leave,” Namjoon repeated to the magistrates still hovering.  “You’re distressing my mate.” 

The eldest magistrate cast one look between Namjoon and the omega still hidden underneath the silk blanket, heaving sobs.  “I will come back to confirm the bite.” 

“The Kim gates never close,” Namjoon bowed, nodding tersely. 

The magistrate stiffly nodded back.  “Overprotection, perhaps, will suit you well, Alpha Kim.”  He paused.  “This time.” 

Namjoon set his jaw, curled his fists at this sides. 

All the betas departed the room at once. 

Namjoon slid the door shut before the last of them barely had his heel out the threshold.

He returned to his bed.  Crouching beside Jungkook’s side, Namjoon gently lifted the heavy blanket off his omega.  He trembled like an autumn leaf.  Jungkook kept his face hidden behind his hands, but Namjoon could see that he was burning red all over. 

“They’re gone,” he consoled him.  He risked brushing Jungkook’s hair away from his forehead.  The omega flinched at his touch, scent spiking with panic once more. 

Namjoon withdrew his hand just as quickly. 

“What can I do?” Namjoon asked softly. 

Jungkook wouldn’t look at him.  He drowned himself in a fresh wave of sobs.  Namjoon sat beside him and said nothing.  He was desperate to soothe his omega, but he was helpless.  He didn’t wish to touch him again, and his scent would do nothing to calm Jungkook until the omega was claimed by him. 

Namjoon’s eyes flickered to Jungkook’s scent gland.  Across it was a faded burn mark.  An injury from some years ago (the matchmaker had advised the Kim family prior to marriage) when she’d come with a portrait of the omega.  “But it does nothing to deter from the beauty of his face,” she’d assured Namjoon and his mother, unrolling the scroll with his likeness painted across it.  The three of them sat in a corner of the Kim courtyard, the rest of the rambunctious family nowhere to be seen.  “He shines like a winter moon,” she simpered.  “You’ll never have seen a more beautiful omega.” 

And Namjoon hadn’t taken his eyes off the scroll for a single moment it had been in the matchmaker’s hand.  He’d been hypnotized. 

Namjoon’s mother had invited a dozen matchmakers to their home, had shown her son a hundred portraits of omegas—each lovelier than the last—in the two years since her son’s widowerhood.  Namjoon hadn’t spared more than a passing glance to any of them before offering a swift rejection. 

The alpha refused to remarry.  His brothers married, but he stayed tormented. 

And then a matchmaker from the south brought Jeon Jungkook’s portrait through the open gates of Kim house. 

Namjoon could not deny before his mother that the portrait of the beautiful omega had given him pause.  But it did not mean he was willing to consider remarriage. 

And then the matchmaker spoke, “Of course,” she sighed deeply, rolling the scroll back up (Namjoon’s heart clenched), “You will not want this omega for your son,” she said to Namjoon’s mother. 

“Why not?” Namjoon had demanded, his tone curt. 

“Because this omega has been married before,” the matchmaker shook her head. 

Namjoon’s mother was the one to sigh deeply now.  “That won’t do,” she said, sulking. 

“It’s a sad tale,” the matchmaker continued, looking forlorn.  “The omega comes from a noble family in Busan, you know.  His father is a court official.  Any children born to this omega would have royal favor and an eventual place in the imperial court.”

Namjoon saw his mother’s ears perk up. 

“A year ago,” the matchmaker told them, “He was married to General Wang’s eldest son.”

“General Wang?!” Namjoon’s mother gasped, hand flying to cover her mouth.  “Wasn’t his son the one who…”

“Yes,” the matchmaker nodded, “The very one.  I was at the wedding.  Everybody there marveled at the scale of it, you know.  The Jeons spent a fortune.  They gave the Wangs twelve horses as part of the gift exchange, did you hear?  General Wang’s son was the handsomest alpha I’d ever seen in my life.  And marrying an omega as beautiful as this one?  You’d never seen a pair more perfectly suited, I tell you,” the matchmaker stressed.   “But somebody must have cast a spell of evil.”  She frowned dramatically.  “The poor groom was called away the very night of his wedding—so committed to serving king and country that he left an omega as tempting as this one unclaimed—and—and, well, you know the rest,” the matchmaker concluded.  She heaved another loud sigh.  “How one omega could go from being the luckiest in the kingdom to the most wretched soul alive within the span of a day truly was something to behold…” 

Namjoon listened to the tale with his heart in his eyes. 

“How long have you been searching for a match for him?” Namjoon asked the matchmaker. 

She eyed Namjoon suspiciously.  “The family gave me his portrait just last week.”  Then, “The omega doesn’t know they’ve done so.  He has vowed to never remarry but,” the matchmaker flicked up an eyebrow, “He cannot live at home for the rest of his life and be a burden upon his parents, now can he?”

“The Wangs returned him home?” Namjoon questioned, thunderstruck.

“But of course,” the matchmaker said, “It wasn’t as if they owed an unclaimed omega anything.  If their son had claimed the omega before he’d died, then they would have been obligated to shelter him for life as pack.  But, as it were…”  The matchmaker pursed her lips.  “As it is, most people think he must be cursed.” 

“That’s a ridiculous thing to say about him,” Namjoon argued.  “He’s an innocent victim of circumstance.”

Namjoon’s mother looked with concern at her riled son. 

But Namjoon was locked in a stare-down with the matchmaker. 

His mother put a hand on her son’s knee.  She turned to the matchmaker with a resigned expression and explained, “Since he was a pup, my Namjoon has had a habit of bringing home dying plants or injured animals or misshaped fruits and appointing himself their guardian angel.”

The matchmaker smirked.  She handed the scroll with the Jeon omega’s portrait painted upon it to Kim Namjoon. 

He snatched it out of her hands without hesitation. 

“The family cannot offer you bridal gifts,” she informed Namjoon and his mother.  “Their fortunes have taken a downturn since the wedding.” 

“We would never ask for any,” Namjoon glowered at the matchmaker. 

“You—you will tell the Jeons that this would be a remarriage for both families, yes?” Namjoon’s mother asked nervously. 

The matchmaker waved her off.  “The Jeons will take your offer.  Beggars cannot be choosers, after all.”    

“What is the omega’s temperament like?” his mother asked next, hopeful.  “Is he—”

The matchmaker clicked her tongue.  “Don’t worry about that!  Like all noble omegas, he was raised to abide by the four virtues.  He won’t give you any trouble.  Well, not if he knows what’s good for him.”  She laughed shortly.  “If he gets himself cast off by another alpha, it’s the gallows for him—beautiful or not.” 

Namjoon’s mother sat up straight, shocked by such a statement uttered in her own courtyard.  Her son put a hand over hers and squeezed it in reassurance. 

Namjoon watched as the matchmaker collected all of her scrolls and departed through the Kim gates as cheerfully as she had entered.  Watching her disappear down the grove, Namjoon considered that he might one day respect the matchmaker for bringing Jungkook into his life, but he would always despise her and those of her ilk for everything else. 

 

 

❧

 

 

Jungkook woke up in the morning to a heavy head.  Disorientated, he jolted up in bed when he opened his eyes and did not recognize his surroundings.

The sun shone from a different direction, the silk atop his lap was far too luxurious for his own home, the wooden carvings around this bedframe were worthy of a prince…

His heart almost beat out of his chest before he remembered—he was married yesterday.  This was his new home. 

His nostrils unexpectedly flared. 

Turning his head, Jungkook saw his new husband propped against a cushion in a corner of the room, sleeping with his head against the wall and arms folded across his chest.  Well—pretending to sleep, if his alert scent was any indication. 

Jungkook’s hand flew up to his neck.  The skin over his scent gland was unbitten.  Part of him had been sure the alpha would have bitten him in his sleep.  Jungkook almost wished he had, because it would be better than the situation they faced now: an entire family behind the doors of their bedroom who would be expecting a mating bite on Jungkook’s neck. 

“You didn’t bite me,” Jungkook said softly, looking at his hands in his lap.  He traced his fingers over the elegant brocade on the silk. 

The alpha made no noise.  “I don’t believe in that.” 

His voice was deep and steady.  Jungkook longed to hear kindness in it. 

“Your family,” he whispered, “They’ll…”

“Are you a good liar, Jungkook?” Namjoon asked. 

Jungkook’s blood went cold.  His heart stuttered at the first sound of his name out of his alpha’s mouth.  But what a brazen question to accompany it!  Why was he asking that—

“Because,” Namjoon continued, “I’m going to need you to lie as if both of our lives depend on it today.” 

Jungkook turned to his alpha, blinking owlishly. 

His alpha’s handsome face went still for a moment, as he locked eyes with Jungkook’s sallow one. 

“If asked upon, you have to tell my mother that I tried to mate you last night but that I was,” Namjoon sucked in a breath, “Unsuccessful.” 

Jungkook was lost.  “Alpha?”

Namjoon stood up.  Jungkook tightened his muscles. 

“Do you mind if I come closer to you?” Namjoon asked him.  “I won’t touch you.” 

Jungkook looked up at the alpha’s face.  His eyes drooped and his skin was pallid.  He did not appear to have slept all night.  The family would say this omega had diminished their son’s radiance within a day.  Jungkook’s stomach clenched thinking about if he would be made to pay for the alpha’s miseries later. 

When Jungkook did not answer the question, Namjoon remained where he stood.  Didn’t move a step closer. 

“Tell my mother—and my brothers and anybody else who should ask—that I was not able to fulfill my connubial duties to you last night,” Namjoon told him, very seriously.  “Tell them you submitted yourself and I accepted your submission, but that I was unable to mate and claim you as an alpha should have.  I will tell my father myself.” 

Jungkook flushed red all the way down his neck.  “How—how can I say so when…”

“I will command you to say it if you do not promise me so yourself,” Namjoon put forth. 

Jungkook had been close to asking himself ‘what kind of alpha was this? willing to accept such humiliation?’ but at the threat of being commanded, Jungkook was reminded that an alpha was always an alpha, and would always use the tools at their disposal to have their will done. 

“I will say as you please, alpha,” Jungkook vowed, eyes downcast. 

“I—I—,” Namjoon began again.  Jungkook cast a quick glance at his face only to see it morphed into an expression of unfiltered wretchedness.  “I believe saying so will protect you.” 

And Jungkook nodded, because he understood.  “But alpha is asking me to disgrace him to shield my own omega,” Jungkook warned.  “It is not done.”

Namjoon half-smiled.  “I can handle a little teasing from my brothers and the others.  You bring no shame upon me by heeding as I say.” 

Jungkook nodded again.  Then, earnestly, he looked back up at Namjoon and whispered, “I promise to be a worthy omega.  Y-you can mate me tonight; I will be good for alpha.” 

“You are already a worthy omega,” Namjoon told him.  “By simply being as you are.” 

Jungkook vehemently shook his head, fists curling around silk.  “I did not let alpha t-touch me on his wedding night.” 

“Our wedding night,” Namjoon amended.  Then, brightly, “The matchmaker told our family that you have received plaques of recognition from the imperial household for your singing.” 

Jungkook was taken aback by the sudden change in topic. 

Namjoon smiled at him, letting it reach his eyes.  Jungkook saw for the first time that his new husband was a dimpled one. 

“I’m afraid that information has spread and all of my dongsaengs will demand a performance at some point,” Namjoon warned him.  “I’ll be helpless to stop it.” 

Jungkook tucked his chin against his chest and blushed.  He played with the hem of his own robe.  “I can only sing if alpha allows.” 

Namjoon shook his head, still smiling.  “I fear my wishes and desires will stop mattering the second you step out of this room and meet my brothers,” Namjoon teased.  “As it were,” he added gently, “I would love to hear you sing.  Sometimes we hear songbirds in the mountains, and those are always our favorite days.  Otherwise it’s too quiet here.” 

Namjoon deepened his smile. 

Jungkook almost readied his own first one to offer back. 

And then there was a loud banging on the paneled door of their bedroom that had the omega jumping a foot in the air (and pulling a defensive growl out of Namjoon at his omega’s distress). 

“Open up,” an even deeper voice demanded from behind the door.  “I can smell you’re awake!”

“You can’t keep him locked up forever!” a secondary voice chirped.

“Yeah, save something for tonight!” a third voice boomed.

“Kim Namjoon, put some clothes on!” a fourth voice dictated, “Let us meet your fabled Jeon Jungkook!”  

“Only if he’s decent and able to walk though,” a fifth voice smirked.  A flood of giggles erupted behind the door. 

Namjoon looked at Jungkook with slumped shoulders. 

“Cannot say I did not warn you,” Namjoon sighed. 

Jungkook just looked at the door with horrified disbelief. 

 

 

❧

 

 

Namjoon bought the two of them enough time to change into hanboks and appear presentable.  When Jungkook slipped a silk collar around his neck, Namjoon asked him to remove it.  There would be no point in that now. 

Jungkook’s scent was anxious and unhappy when Namjoon slid their bedroom door open; even though they were unmated, it still made Namjoon’s alpha unhappy to be near a distressed omega. 

The moment Namjoon slid open his bedroom door, his brothers pounced. 

They had desperately wanted to be at the wedding ceremony, but their mother had ordered them all to keep away from Jungkook.  She feared her sons would only scare the timid omega, who she thought would have other preoccupations to contend with on his wedding day without needing to be burdened by her sons and their overabundance of energy—well-intentioned as it (often) was. 

And Namjoon could see from the way Jungkook seized at the sight of all of his brothers that his mother had been correct. 

“You look like shit, Namjoon-ah,” one remarked upon right away.  An alpha.  He grinned wickedly.  “But maybe it suits a groom to look like he didn’t sleep a wink after his wedding night, hm?” 

“Namjoon-hyung!” the omega with the deep voice intoned, “Did you at least let your new mate sleep?”  He turned his round eyes upon Jungkook at last.  He burst into a massive smile—one of the biggest ever seen—when Jungkook immediately lowered his head and bowed deeply to him.  “Oh—he’s definitely from the capital.  And so beautiful!  I thought that matchmaker was full of sh—uh, I didn’t believe that portrait could be true, but it was.  Hello, Jungkook-ssi,” he bowed back.  “I’m Taehyung—the maknae,” he introduced himself.  Jungkook’s eyes settled on the bitten claim on his neck.  “And this is my alpha, Yoongi,” he said brightly, pulling the cuff of a stolid alpha next to him.   

“Hello,” Yoongi nodded in greeting.  Jungkook bowed even deeper to him. 

“I’m Hoseok,” one of them said next, an alpha.  He smiled luminously at Jungkook.  “The second-eldest.”

Jungkook bowed again, deeper than before. 

“And I’m his omega,” the small one next to him beamed.  “Jimin.  But Jimin-hyung to you,” he winked. 

Jungkook bowed once more, deeply.  He didn’t miss the indent of teeth on Jimin’s neck either.

“I’m the eldest,” the tall, good-looking alpha in the back introduced himself.  “Seokjin.”

For the eldest in the family, Jungkook bowed as deeply as he could without falling forward.  Namjoon would’ve told him it was unnecessary, but his brothers would have enjoyed that far too much. 

“He’s a captain in His Majestry’s service,” Taehyung explained.  Jungkook took this to mean that Seokjin was unmated. 

“Did you catch all that?” Jimin asked helpfully.  “It’s Jin-hyung, Hoseokie-hyung, Joon-hyung, and then Taehyungie,” he said, counting on his fingers.  “And then you, me, and Yoongi-hyung are married in,” he concluded happily. 

“Give him a day or two and I’m sure he’ll get it himself,” Yoongi-hyung assured. 

“We came to get you both for breakfast,” Hoseok enlightened.  “Eomma and abeoji are waiting for us already.  They said to let you two stay in, but—”

“But our patience ran out,” Jimin smiled, eyes turning into crescents.  “It’s just too exciting having a new brother.”   

“Eomma told us not to eat you on the way to breakfast,” Taehyung grinned at Jungkook, “But I think we’re already failing.”  Then to Namjoon, “Hyung, he’s soooo cute.  He looks like a—” 

“He’s right there, Taehyung,” Yoongi murmured.

Jungkook, blushing, glanced up to see Seokjin’s eyes flitting around his bare neck.  He felt Namjoon stiffen at his side.  Maybe the alpha needed to hold on to Jungkook somehow, to feel grounded, and maybe Jungkook needed the same—because when Namjoon instinctively reached over and put his hand on Jungkook’s back, he didn’t flinch.  Jungkook relaxed at this touch.  

Jungkook immediately began chastising his omega for trusting an alpha again so quickly, but then, he remembered, there was even less point in resistance.  He’d promised himself to Namjoon that night.  Leaning into the alpha’s touch could hardly serve him wrong now. 

“Come,” Seokjin repeated, “Let’s eat.  Eomma and abeoji have been waiting for us all.  We don’t want Jungkook-ssi to think us mountain men are intent on starving him.”

Jungkook did not question that the alphas and omegas of the house were seemingly to eat a meal together, facing one another around the same table.  Was this how it was done in the north, or was it just the family he married into that was treating something so bizarre as banal?  His parents had taught him nothing of mountain-dwelling northerners and their customs.  Never in their wildest dreams would they have ever imagined their son having cause to traverse beyond Nakdong River, let alone halfway up the Taebaek Mountains.  But here he was.  As of yet, everything was living up to its reputation. 

Namjoon kept a hold on Jungkook all the way to the breakfast table.  Jungkook paused at the threshold of the room to bow in greeting to Namjoon’s parents before entering.  All the brothers tiptoed around him, smiling into the sleeves of their hanboks.  When Namjoon’s parents caught sight of Jungkook and his unclaimed neck, both of their panicked gazes flew to Namjoon’s averted one. 

 

 

❧

 

 

After a surprisingly quick and quiet breakfast, Namjoon’s father immediately dismissed all his other children from the table.  The servants cleared their dishes—Jungkook catching sight of them ogling at his neck—and then only Jungkook, his alpha, his mother-in-law, and his father-in-law remained. 

“Explain,” Namjoon’s father glared at his son. 

Namjoon remained impassive.  “Last night—”

“And don’t lie to me, Namjoon,” his father demanded.  “I know you dismissed the magistrates.  Yet I said nothing because I thought you would at least have a mating bite to show for it.  But this—,” he said, gazing upon an ashamed Jungkook—“is intolerable.  Do you realize what could happen to your omega if people learned of this?  What would be said?”

“We’ll already have to speak with the servants,” his mother fretted quietly.  “They can’t say a word.”  She leaned over and asked the newly wedding pair, “What happened?  How have you not claimed him?” she besought of her son with wide eyes.

“I—I wasn’t able to,” Namjoon said, looking at his lap. 

His father was incredulous.  “How do you mean—?”

“Jungkook presented himself to me as an omega should, and I accepted his submission,” Namjoon said, “But I was not able to fulfill my duties as an alpha toward him.”  He looked at his father.  “I am ashamed of myself.”

Jungkook burned with his own shame, sitting next to his alpha as he lied to his own mother and father for the omega’s honor.  If Namjoon had told them the truth—that Jungkook’s omega had rejected the alpha on their bridal bed—the Kims would have sent him packing home.  Rejected from two families, Jungkook knew his life would have drawn shortly to a close after that.  He had seen it happen to others for less. 

Namjoon’s father considered the facts.  “We tell nobody of this,” his father said in hushed tones.  “You both will mate tonight and then the matter dies here,” he instructed.  “Nobody will be any the wiser.  The magistrates won’t return this way until the next moon.”

“Why wait until tonight?” Namjoon’s mother proposed.  She looked between them, eyes round and worried.  “You ought to take care of the matter as soon as possible.” 

“Well, if it were so easy…” Namjoon treaded lightly. 

“Is there a reason you failed yourself last night?” his father asked him sharply.  “I know you have endured loss, Namjoon,” his father said, querulous, “But I demand you put it behind you.  You carry this ghost with you everywhere, but at least leave it outside of your bedchambers—”

“Father,” Namjoon interjected just as sharply.  “Enough.”

Had Jungkook’s own brother ever spoken to their father with that tone of voice—alpha or not—Jungkook knew he would have been backhanded halfway across the room.  And yet Jungkook’s father-in-law’s scent barely registered a flicker of annoyance.  What sort of father was this?  What sort of son?  And which between them was less filial—the contentious son or his forbearing father?

But one thing was similar between Jungkook’s father and his new father-in-law: both ignored the presence of the youngest omega at the table. 

“Take responsibility,” Namjoon’s father bit back, “Before it’s too late.”  He finally cast a pitying glance at Jungkook before turning back to his son with an expression full of ire.  “You won’t be the one to suffer for your mistakes.”  Then, “I thought you would have some experience thinking that through by now.” 

And Jungkook’s alpha’s scent spiraled into despair. 

 

 

❧

 

 

There was nothing to do but return to his bedroom with Jungkook.  When Namjoon arrived back—hands off of Jungkook this time—he was scarcely surprised to see his five brothers sprawled across his brand new, fine silk cushions by the open window.  Lily pads floated upon the moss green pond in sight.   

“How did it go?” Yoongi asked. 

“Don’t spare any details,” Taehyung demanded. 

“Why aren’t you mated?” Seokjin asked straightaway. 

Namjoon went and stood in front of Jungkook, allowing the omega to duck his face behind Namjoon’s broad shoulders. 

“I couldn’t get it up last night,” Namjoon shrugged. 

There was silence for a moment.  And then:

“Are you serious?!”

“No fucking way!”

“Jungkook-ssi, it’s not too late… I’ll help you run away…”

“Kim Namjoon!  You godforsaken family embarrassment!”

“Hyung!  Did you try hard enough?!”

“Yes I tried hard enough!” Namjoon snapped back. 

Jungkook was slowly wilting behind him.  Namjoon reached a hand around his back and turned his palm up.  Jungkook took it (Namjoon’s heart soared) and squeezed. 

“These things happen,” Yoongi tried to rationalize, once all of them had caught their breath.  “We should—be kind.”

“They’ve never happened to you,” Taehyung pointed out.

“Well,” Yoongi said, smug, pulling Taehyung in to lean across his chest, “Some of us are more alpha than others, Tae-baby,” Yoongi said, kissing his temple.  “What can hyung say?”

“Hyung can say a lot,” Taehyung grinned back, settling into Yoongi’s chest.  “You should ask Yoongi-hyung for advice, Joon-hyung.”

“No, I don’t think I will ask my dongsaeng’s husband for advice, Taehyung,” Namjoon glowered. 

“Oh, come on,” Yoongi claimed.  “We were friends for ten years before that.”

Namjoon turned his nose away from him. 

“You could ask your own brother if you’d like,” Jimin smiled, eyebrows raised.  “He certainly knew how to fulfill a wedding night,” he added, turning to Hoseok with a devilish grin.  Hoseok leaned over and kissed his mate’s nose.

“Speaking of your fulfilled wedding nights,” Namjoon squinted, “Don’t you all have children to go take care of?”

“They’re napping,” Hoseok said.

“They’re with the governess,” Jimin addressed.

“They’re at school,” Taehyung informed.

“They’re two,” Yoongi reminded, tickling Taehyung’s side.

“Oh, yes, then whatever Jiminie said,” Taehyung laughed. 

Namjoon rolled his eyes. 

“I think it’s dangerous for your omega,” Seokjin said seriously, “For you not to have mated him yet.”

Namjoon swallowed loudly. 

“So take a long bath or drink a ginger tea or eat some oysters—but do something,” Seokjin advised.  “Before anybody learns of it.”

“Well if you would all get out of our bedroom,” Namjoon said, voice tight, “Maybe we could be doing something about it.”  (Jungkook’s scent panicked; Namjoon hoped none of them caught it.)

“Oh,” Jimin said, jumping up, “Don’t let us stand in the way of a good thing!”  He helped Hoseok up and said, “C’mon, hyung, why don’t you go remind me just how good of a time we had on our wedding night?”

“Which time was your favorite, Jimin-ah?” Hoseok teased, pressing his nose against Jimin’s throat as a hand curled around the omega’s waist.

“Hyung,” Jimin slapped his alpha’s chest, “No bragging in front of Joon-hyung!  Too soon!”

“Good luck, Joon,” Hoseok wished him, patting his brother’s shoulder as he chased after Jimin’s sweet scent through the door. 

“You can do it,” Yoongi cheered Namjoon.  To Jungkook he said, “You’re perfect exactly as you are, Jungkook-ssi.  Don’t let him talk you into anything.”

“Hey,” Namjoon growled.

Yoongi grinned with sharp teeth at Namjoon’s posturing.  “Oh, I haven’t seen this from you in years.  Welcome back, alpha.” 

“Hyunggg,” Taehyung suddenly sulked, “Don’t be mean to him; it’s his wedding week still.  Also it’s not fair Jiminie’s out there halfway to a knot and you’re here teasing Joon-hyung.” 

Yoongi wrapped an arm around Taehyung’s waist and mumbled into his ear, “Then I’ll have to give you two knots to make up for it, won’t I?”

Taehyung nodded feverishly, dragging Yoongi out of the room with both hands. 

Seokjin sauntered out by himself, offering Namjoon a solitary salute as he slid the door shut behind him.  “Have fun.”

In the room alone, an excessively stunned Jungkook entreated of Namjoon, “Do—do they always speak so freely?”

“They were being rather restrained today,” Namjoon told Jungkook with a wry smile, “On account of you being so new.  Do you see why my mother didn’t let them near you last night?”

“It—it isn’t seemly for omegas to talk so openly of—of these—such vulgar things,” Jungkook said, frowning.  “But their alphas allow it?”

“What good comes of shame in these matters?” Namjoon told Jungkook.  “Besides, there’s no shame between brothers.  We are all mated.”

“Seokjin-hyung is not,” Jungkook reminded.

“Jin-hyung has no interest in being mated,” Namjoon told him.  “He joined the military to escape the expectations.” 

“My first alpha was a soldier,” Jungkook said, looking away.  “He still married.” 

Namjoon was surprised to hear Jungkook speak so candidly about his previous alpha; he had somewhat convinced himself Jungkook would never mention the man—that maybe the memory pained him. 

“I was told your first alpha was a hero,” Namjoon addressed.  “I cannot imagine how difficult the time you have lived since has been, to have had everything taken from you in the manner in which it was.” 

Jungkook listened in silence.  And then he put nothing forth afterwards; no acknowledgement of Namjoon’s condolences.  Namjoon winced, imagining himself sounding repulsive to Jungkook. 

“I will do everything I can, Jungkook, to make your life here a happy one,” Namjoon pledged.  “I vow it with my life.” 

Again, Jungkook said nothing. 

Namjoon began to ramble.  “I admit, I’m nervous to stand in the shadow of somebody like your first alpha.  A martyr for the kingdom, and the son of such an esteemed General and confidant of the Emperor—and here we are up in the mountains with our modest estate, and now you’re so far from home, but—but I do promise to be a good man and a good alpha and, if we are so blessed, a good father to our pups.  I will be all of those things.  I will, I know I will.”  Namjoon paused, running a hand across the back of his neck.  “I suppose the only way for you to trust me when I say these things is for me to prove it.  But I intend to earn your trust.  With time.” 

Jungkook took a deep breath. 

 

 

❧

 

 

After the Wang family had returned Jungkook back to his paternal home, he came to learn true misery. 

Before his marriage, Jungkook had been the beautiful omega son of a wealthy nobleman.  He had grown up adored, well read, and happily.  His omega sister and he had spent their youth running around their poetry and painting and singing tutors, stealing horses out of the stables to ride through the family orchards, or wasting afternoons hunting seashells with their governesses—peeling peaches and laughing as their poor alpha brothers wasted away memorizing scholarly scrolls and sword fighting.  His sister married when Jungkook was seventeen.  She married an alpha near the western border and Jungkook never saw her again, though he had received happy letters of her well-being after she’d delivered each of her children. 

By nineteen, Jungkook’s father had half the imperial court asking for Jungkook’s hand.  He graciously dodged each offer.  His patience paid off when General Wang finally heard of the divine omega son that the Jeons refused to part with.  General Wang made his case to the Emperor, and the Emperor himself played matchmaker between the Jeons and the Wangs. 

At twenty-one, on the day of his wedding, Jungkook was loaned a ruby headpiece from the Empress herself.  The Emperor gifted the bolt of blood-red silk from which Jungkook’s wedding hanbok had been made.

But his wedding had been a year ago, and Jungkook sat in his courtyard now wearing simple cotton the color of fog as a beady eyed matchmaker talked to his parents of a man in Jeolla who was willing to pay the Jeons any sum they desired for them to send their son—and all his fabled beauty—to him.  Jungkook’s father chased the woman from their gates with an iron bar in hand.  

Last week, some other matchmaker had proposed a fishmonger from Seoul for Jungkook.  To be fair, he was a very rich fishmonger.  Jungkook’s father had struck that one across the face for the sheer insolence. 

It had been a year of such.  Matchmakers came, each offer worse than the last.  And the offers that did appeal to the Jeons were reneged upon when the matter of a family gift exchange arose. 

The Emperor had felt betrayed by the Jeons when the omega son of theirs he had arranged for the Wangs had brought a curse upon the family.  The Jeon family lands had been seized (taking with them their only source of income) and their ancestral estate heavily taxed.  Their sons did not lose their places in the royal academy and Jungkook’s father was not banned from showing his face at the imperial court, but the punishment coursed through the family all the same.  They had been reduced to paupers.   Jungkook’s mother sold her jewels to pay for her sons’ education and then there really was nothing left to the family name.  There was no knowing how long they’d be able to keep the estate; it was the only thing remaining to be sold.

And Jungkook felt so much shame. 

When the Wangs had returned Jungkook—unceremoniously dumped him at the gates of Jeon house the dawn after the news of his alpha’s death had broken through Wang palace—his parents couldn’t make heads or tails of what the world had come to. 

Jungkook had a claim bite—burning bright and red.  And the Wangs had still disposed of him? 

Jungkook’s mother moved fast in saving her son’s fortunes.  A medic was called and leeches were set all along the planes of Jungkook’s skin.  The alpha’s blood had to be removed while it was fresh.  And then a welder was called in the secrecy of night.  Jungkook’s parents held him in place—rag in mouth—as the welder branded hot iron over the open bite along his blemished neck.  The scar took three months to heal and another three months to fade. 

Not an hour after Jungkook’s father had banished that first matchmaker that morning, another one waddled through their open gates.  Jungkook ran a hand over his dull robe as he greeted the visitor without any color to his voice.  He sat them down for tea. 

When Jungkook’s parents sat down, the matchmaker told them of a handsome alpha from up in the mountains.  The second-born son—“But the first has vowed to be an eternal bachelor, so the second-born’s children are who stand to inherit everything!”—of a ludicrously wealthy family nobody had ever heard of.

“Kims?  What is their money in?” his father had asked.

“Amethyst mining,” the matchmaker informed.  “They run mines deep in the mountains.  Their amethysts are worn by the Empress herself.”

“What’s the catch?” Jungkook asked, blowing the steam from his tea. 

The matchmaker sized him up.  “I showed him your portrait,” she told Jungkook, looking pleased with herself.  To Jungkook’s parents, she said, “The alpha couldn’t take his eyes off of it.  I’d never seen a man so enraptured with some ink and paper.  Of course I told him your son shines as bright as a winter moon in real life as well.”

Jungkook was unmoved.  Comments about his own beauty had stopped stirring him a year ago.  

“They have agreed to the match?” Jungkook’s mother asked.

“They have,” the matchmaker said.  “And they demand no gift exchange.  The family is wealthy; I have seen the estate myself.  Such a grand estate hidden all the way up in the mountains for nobody to see, but what a sight it is!  A courtyard as big as I’ve ever seen, apart from the palace.  Camellias as big as melons,” she motioned with her hands, “Blooming everywhere, in every color.  Their children are all well provided for, the servants all well dressed and groomed, the surrounding lands are well maintained, and they have a stable and a chicken coop the size of this courtyard alone.  Also, the alpha is fine-looking.  Golden skinned and well-proportioned with keen eyes and a sharp wit.  He’s no fool.  He will follow his father into the mining business.”

Jungkook’s parents thought it all too good to be true, but they harbored hope.  Jungkook did not. 

“I won’t marry him,” Jungkook said bluntly.  “I won’t marry any of them.”

“Jungkook-ah,” his father pled, “Please.” 

Jungkook knew his parents worried about what would happen to him once they passed.  And, given the frequent inopportunity of grains around the estate, he knew that day was zeroing in on them.  But—still—he’d rather die alongside his parents than far away living in luxury with some bumbling mountain-dwelling alpha.  What would Jungkook have in common with a country bumpkin, anyway?

“The alpha would be a worthy one to you, Jungkook-ssi,” the matchmaker attempted to entice.  “Your horoscopes are a perfect match.  You each have the same sense of life and spirit.  I called you cursed and he bared his teeth at me.”

“So he’s a brute?” Jungkook deduced. 

“He’s an alpha,” the matchmaker stated.  Her glare was no less menacing than Jungkook’s mirroring one. 

“How old is he?” Jungkook’s mother asked, putting a hand on Jungkook’s forearm in an attempt to settle her son. 

“Twenty-six.  Maybe twenty-seven.”

“How does the inheriting son of a wealthy family find himself unmarried at that age?” Jungkook’s father posed, mistrustful.

The matchmaker sat up straighter.  “The catch,” she finally revealed, “Is that this alpha was also married once before.  He is a widower.” 

“Ah,” Jungkook’s father sighed.  “What happened?”

“The family is cagey about it,” the matchmaker puckered.  “But the alpha’s omega was murdered.  Brutally.” 

“Did he do it?” Jungkook asked without hesitation.  “Kill his omega?”

“He did not!” the matchmaker protested indignantly.  “You think I bring my clients matches with murderers?  Jeon-nim, chastise your child!” 

“Jungkook-ah,” his father half-heartedly reproved him, “Please.”

Jungkook found even his father’s newfound mild-manners depressing.  If Jungkook had insulted a guest in his youth—even by accident—his father would have had no qualms in raising a hand upon his child then and there.  But Jungkook was the only one of the children who had never had a hand raised upon him by their father, as far as he could remember.  And he doubted his father would begin now, frail and defeated as he was. 

“Do they know about…Jungkook?” his mother asked.  Jungkook could see the wheels spinning in her head already.  Her hands were back in her own lap, fingers knotting together.

“They know exactly what you said to tell them,” the matchmaker nodded.  “Listen,” she said, looking between the three Jeons with a shrewd eye, “You will not get a better match in all of Korea.  You have seen all there is.  Take this offer and be grateful it was presented at all.” 

And so the Jeons accepted the offer.  Jungkook’s protestations had meant nothing in the end.  His mother threatened to kill herself—drink poison right there in the courtyard—if Jungkook did not get on the saddle with the matchmaker and marry the mountain man up north. 

Jungkook had been primed to fight since the moment the matchmaker had sat down—but he was not prepared for the sight of his father falling to his knees beside Jungkook’s mother and begging his son to save himself. 

“Let us die knowing you were saved, Jungkook-ah,” his father wept, hands clasped.  “Our youngest… we loved you most, aegi-yah—you know this.  Repay us with peace of mind, now.  Go with the woman and save yourself… save yourself.  Let us know our maknae won’t die as hungry and humiliated as we will.  Please.  Please.”   Jungkook’s father put his temple to the earth of their courtyard.  “Go with her.” 

So Jungkook did.  Gathered what few precious belongings remained to him and went and sat on the woman’s wagon without further protest.   

Jungkook arrived to his own wedding the following week in scarlet silk borrowed from the matchmaker—loaned to who knows how many omegas before him—and one trunk of all he owned in the world. 

During the entire journey, the matchmaker had only told Jungkook over and over again how lucky he was to have had this match fall in his lap.  Jungkook had heard that said to him before.  He considered rolling off the wagon and trying to run away every couple of miles on the journey, but in the end he stayed put. 

And now he stood married to Kim Namjoon, who was telling Jungkook that he felt inadequate to be married to him. 

Kim Namjoon—who was promising that with time and understanding, he would be a good husband and alpha and father of their children.  Who was asking Jungkook to believe that he could trust the alpha one day. 

Jungkook took a deep breath. 

“You are my husband,” Jungkook said to Namjoon.  “Of course I will trust you.” 

Namjoon shook his head.  “But I want you to trust me because you think I am trustworthy—not because you feel bound to it.  If you trust me because I have earned it, then you will live safely.  And I can live with a clear conscience.” 

Jungkook found that reasoning interesting—and confounding. 

“Your first omega,” Jungkook asked quietly, “Did they trust you?”

Namjoon swallowed.  “He did.”

“You spoke so well of the pain I must feel,” Jungkook expressed, “But what of your sorrows?  I knew my alpha for barely any time.  You were wed for over a year.” 

The alpha hesitated.  “I think I would prefer it if we did not talk of my past again,” Namjoon said clearly. 

Jungkook raised his eyebrows at Namjoon’s directness.  Then he said, “I think I would like the same.” 

Namjoon nodded.  “I will respect your wishes.”

“As will I.”

 

 

❧

 

 

Despite what Namjoon’s mother had said, Jungkook’s alpha did not try and mate the omega after breakfast.  Instead he ushered Jungkook out of their cloistering bedroom and offered a tour of the estate grounds.  They passed the bedrooms, the sitting rooms, the tea room, the kitchen, the flowering courtyard, the front gate, the stable, the chicken coop, the orchards, the farmlands, the stream, and then they stood atop a hill as Namjoon proudly showed Jungkook a splendid view of the mountains he’d grown up in the crutch of his entire life. 

The air was so clear and pure. 

“Do you prefer mountain air to sea air yet?” Namjoon teased. 

Jungkook offered him his first smile—something small and wistful.  “Your home is beautiful.” 

“It is your home now too,” Namjoon affirmed. 

And Jungkook could hardly believe that. 

Jungkook remembered standing before the high, imposing gates of the estate just two days ago.  It was as grand of a home as the matchmaker had boasted; Jungkook did not know the mountains were capable of it.  This house and estate, in Busan, would rival the glory of princes.  It was a chilling feeling, at the time, to consider that Jungkook had arrived to marry the son of such a house.

But once the gates had opened that very first time, the knot of Jungkook’s fingers had loosened.  The kind face of his mother-in-law, appearing in the foreground of camellias the size of melons, managed to put him at ease.  She guided him into the house and spoke with him so softly.  As it was a second wedding for both parties, they bypassed all the superstitions.  Their ceremony was straightforward.  Jungkook had not raised his gaze from his own feet the entire wedding.  All he’d seen of his alpha was hems of sapphire silk. 

It was only now that he could lift his eyes and look around at all he had been forfeited to. 

When they returned to Kim house, he looked upon everything: the wide hallways, the painted panels, the spacious rooms, the hanging scrolls, the pretty archways, the cobbled stone, the potted plants, the creeping vines, the flourishing flowers, the toy horses scattered everywhere, the forgotten pots of ink on writing tables, the beautifully embroidered cushions.  The small details that would become the rest of his life. 

Dinner was a quiet affair.  Namjoon’s siblings were still mice before their formidable father, which Jungkook was grateful for.  He still did not have a mating mark and he knew his in-laws were all too conscious of it as he sat and ate their meat and rice in silence.  

The meal soured in his mouth given that it felt undeserved. 

After dinner, Namjoon and Jungkook retired to their bedroom.  

Jungkook hid behind a panel painted with waterfalls and slipped into a white nightgown.  He had not been assigned a maid for his care, and he hesitated to ask his alpha if he ever would be.  Namjoon did not appear to use a servant for his own dressing and undressing.  When he stepped out from behind the panel, he was surprised to see Namjoon wearing his own nightgown.  The alpha had changed out in the open, but Jungkook had not paid attention.  

Jungkook dimmed all the flames in the room.  He brought one tray of candles near the bed and let them flicker. 

Slipping into the sheets, he laid quietly next to his alpha, heart hammering. 

The alpha’s scent sweetened first.  Maybe he thought it would help Jungkook’s omega be at ease.  But it only set Jungkook’s skin further on fire, waiting for the alpha’s touch to come next. 

“Have you ever been in love?” Namjoon asked Jungkook. 

Jungkook’s breathing hitched.  “No.” 

“When you’re in love,” Namjoon tried to explain, “The act of coupling is one of pleasure.” 

Jungkook shuddered. 

“But like this,” Namjoon said, looking between them, “I don’t think either of us would find pleasure in it.  I know what is believed of alphas by omegas, but I have no interest in touching an omega who does not wish to be touched by me.” 

“I—I want you to touch me,” Jungkook lied. 

“You wish to not have your prospects ruined by me,” Namjoon empathized.  “But I won’t let them be.  You do not need to submit yourself to me in—in that way for you to have my protection.  Even if I am not your alpha, I am your husband.”

“An alpha and a husband are one in the same,” Jungkook tried. 

Namjoon shook his head.  “I think I’m proof otherwise.  Regardless, I will care for you as your husband.”

Unwelcome tears sprung up in Jungkook’s eyes.  “So you’ll never mate me?” he asked. 

“I’ll mate you when we both are ready for it,” Namjoon assured, tilting himself to face Jungkook.  “The second it feels right, we can—”

“But I want you to mate me tonight,” Jungkook pled, quickly wiping his eyes. 

Namjoon hesitated.  “But now I do sincerely find myself unable.  Perhaps I am not as ready as I thought.” 

This confused Jungkook; Namjoon could see that it did.  After all, what sort of alpha hesitated in mating an omega willing him to? 

“I think I’ll need a little bit of time,” Namjoon confessed.  “To feel worthy of being your omega’s alpha.” 

“Your father said you were to mate me tonight,” Jungkook reminded, face pale. 

“I’ll handle my father.” 

“But—but what will he do to me?” Jungkook stuttered.

Namjoon’s eyebrows wrinkled.  “He’ll do nothing.” 

Jungkook looked away from Namjoon and tried hard not to scoff.  “An omega that he thinks his son’s alpha rejected—he won’t tolerate me in his home if you do not mate me.  And he’ll throw me out by the arm himself if he learns the truth of it,” Jungkook added in a quiet voice.  “Alphas do not take kindly to omegas who will not submit to them.”

“Who told you all of that?” Namjoon asked. 

Jungkook looked back at him, large eyes glassy.  “It is all known.” 

“Not in the mountains,” Namjoon shook his head.  “Nobody here thinks such.  You southerners really…”  Then, smiling, “I think you’ll find that omegas are leaders and alphas their devoted followers in these parts.” 

“But your father gave you an order.” 

“And so I am to listen?” Namjoon asked.  “Without question?”

“Are you not his son?” Jungkook asked, eyes narrowed. 

“A rational son listens to a rational father,” Namjoon recited, lifting up a corner of his mouth.  “My father taught me that, back in his more rational days.” 

“He is your pack alpha,” Jungkook said at last.  “A filial child would—”

“You have met my brothers,” Namjoon reminded him.  “Fealty has never been one of our pack’s highest concerns.” 

“Then what has been?” Jungkook retorted. 

“You know,” Namjoon turned his head back to look up at the ceiling, smiling to himself, “I was worried you would be a mute and meek little omega when I saw you.  But you have fire in you.  I’m happy to know it, even if I’m on the burning end for the rest of my life.” 

Jungkook’s scent ruffled at the accusation.  It widened Namjoon’s smile. 

“The fact of the matter,” Jungkook put plainly, “Is that I live in a state of peril so long as I am unmated.” 

“That’s not a fact,” Namjoon contended.  “My family will never say a word against you.”

“But the magistrates could arrive at any moment and report our marriage as illegitimate.  And then what happens to me happens to me, but your family will face censure by the high court.  How can I allow such to happen on my account?”

“Another fact of the matter,” Namjoon pointed out, clicking up an eyebrow, “Is that your omega does not wish to be mated by me.” 

“That isn’t true!” Jungkook immediately disagreed, angering.  “My omega is obedient, and we wish that alpha would—”

“Would?”

“W-would—,” but Jungkook faltered to a stop. 

Namjoon lifted himself up on his elbow and faced Jungkook.  He leaned forward until he was a few inches from the omega’s face.  Jungkook stayed still, looking at him cross-eyed and breathing fast.  But when Namjoon lifted a hand with the threat of laying it on Jungkook, the omega’s eyes widened and mouth opened to whimper and whine and he scampered out of the bed as quickly as he could be propelled away.  

Namjoon sighed, seeing Jungkook on all fours looking back at him with wet eyes from halfway across the bedroom. 

“Come back, Jungkook,” Namjoon implored.  “I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t know why th-this happens,” Jungkook was crying, sitting down.  “I can’t control it.” 

“My alpha hasn’t earned your omega’s trust,” Namjoon explained simply.  “Your omega must know that my alpha is not worthy of it,” he added, resigned.  “We will need time.”

“We don’t have time,” Jungkook cried, frustrated.  “If my omega will not submit on its own, alpha could make it.  You could hold me down and—”

“Jungkook-ssi,” Namjoon growled, voice deepening.  “You will never suggest such a thing to me ever again.” 

Whining, Jungkook slid even further away from Namjoon and their bed. 

Namjoon took a deep breath, calming and cursing himself.  “You come into bed,” he said a moment later, tossing the sheets off his body.  “I’ll sleep by the window tonight.” 

Jungkook kept his gaze downcast as Namjoon went and fashioned a mattress for himself out of the cushions by the large window.  They did not speak to each other again for the rest of the night.  Jungkook did eventually return to bed, and, some hours later, he did mercifully fall asleep.  Once he had—once his jagged breathing tempered into an evenly beating heart—Namjoon turned to face the stars and let himself follow suit. 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2: Two

Notes:

+ HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII :D r u ready for the slowest burn of ur life

+ I realized after I wrote this that namkook getting married on the first day of spring does NOT match up with the it being apple/pear harvesting season like 3 days later but ummm just go with it alskdjflajdsf I didn’t wanna go back and change everything rip my bad to everybody who only reads bts fics for the agricultural edification of the korean peninsula

+ many thanks to my angel sophie and my dearest adri

 

 

When Jungkook woke in the morning, he could tell his alpha was not present within their bedroom.  Slowly, he lifted himself onto his elbows and looked around.  Only a hint of the alpha’s scent still lingered, coming from the same direction as six haphazardly piled cushions by their window.  

Rising from bed, Jungkook scrubbed himself clean, changed into a fresh hanbok, brushed his hair, and then sat with his hands folded upon his lap in front of a small vanity mirror.  Long gone were the days of maids fussing over how to pin his long, shining hair.  They used to bicker over whether the ruby-encrusted silver suited him best or the gold-studded jade—and Jungkook would roll his eyes and stick a pin dangling with gleaming pearls into his hair himself and get on with his morning. 

Looking over his shoulder around the empty bedroom, he had no idea how he was to spend his day. 

There was a knock.  Turning toward the sound, Jungkook stood at once and bowed deeply when he saw his mother-in-law quietly slip his bedroom door open.  She smiled at Jungkook as she slid the door shut behind her, as gently as she had entered. 

Jungkook quickly arranged two cushions by the window, nerves on fire as he thought about whether his mother-in-law would question why the cushions were stacked altogether to begin with. 

Thankfully, she asked nothing. 

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, neither eager to broach it first.  Jungkook wondered that perhaps they were each made of the same nervous constitution. 

She looked out toward the bright face of the pond outside their window when she said, “I want to ask forgiveness for my son.” 

 Jungkook kept his head bowed, dumbstruck. 

His mother-in-law folded and unfolded the sleeves of her hanbok as she spoke, head also bowed.  “I—I don’t know what you must think of him.  I don’t know, with frankness, what I would think if I were in your position.  It is your third day in this house and you do not yet wear the claim of the alpha you married—whom you came all this great way for.”  She paused.  “I cannot know what the matchmaker told you of our family, but I imagine that she informed you that Namjoon was a widower?”

At this, Jungkook nodded. 

“I had instructed her that she was to tell you,” his mother-in-law explained.  “Namjoon’s first omega, Seyoon, passed under circumstances of—of unspeakable sorrow.  Did the matchmaker tell them to you?”

Jungkook shook his head. 

His mother-in-law exhaled, relieved.  “We will not speak of it, then.  It is not auspicious to speak of such things before a newlywed, in your bridal chambers.” 

Jungkook nodded. 

“However,” she continued, softly, “It is a pain that Namjoon still carries.  After Seyoon passed, he told me he felt as if his blood had gone black.  He said it would never revert.  You must be able to imagine, uniquely, the despair one feels when their mate passes.  My son feels it to this day; he feels he failed Seyoon as a husband, a mate, and an alpha.  But you would understand, Jungkook, that he isn’t to blame for the will of the universe, is he?”  His mother-in-law reached out and placed a hand over Jungkook’s wrist.  He looked down at it. 

Jungkook nodded, slowly. 

Now she said what she had come to say.  “You are not bound to my son until he claims you.”

Jungkook listened, motionless. 

“If—if…  Should he not claim you—should he not be able to… what are your intentions?  Will—will you leave us?”

Jungkook’s gaze shot up with astonishment.  Before him, his mother-in-law met him with wet, rounded eyes.  He put a hand over hers. 

“Have you been worrying yourself with this, eommanim?” Jungkook asked her, just as softly as she had spoken with him. 

“He’s an honorable alpha,” his mother-in-law said, wiping her eyes with her free hand.  “I wanted to tell you that.  And I know any mother would tell you so, but my Namjoon really, really has always had a noble heart.” 

“He is,” Jungkook agreed with her.  “He is honorable.”

“He has no malice toward you,” she assured Jungkook, shaking her head.  “No dishonest objectives.  I ask that you give him time—that you please trust him and our family to not dishonor you.  We would never—these were not our intentions in wedding you to our son.  Please don’t think that this is some cruel game.  He just needs time…”

Jungkook took both of the poor woman’s hands in his own when he spoke.  She was almost shaking from nerves.  “Eommanim, I am married to your son.  My only intentions are to stay at his side until death, even if he never mates me.”

“He will mate you!” she expressed at once with newfound alertness, shocked at Jungkook’s speech.  “Please don’t say such a thing—for your own sake!”

“I won’t,” Jungkook corrected himself immediately.  “I won’t say such things.”

His mother-in-law took a calming breath.  “Namjoon’s father is speaking with him this morning, as well.  We will have this sorted out without wasting time.  The matter concerns the entire family.  If the magistrates came back…”

“Hyung is an obedient son,” Jungkook comforted his mother-in-law, thinking it the only comforting thing he could reliably tell her (though he knew it to be a bald falsehood). 

“Alphas take these things so much more lightly,” his mother-in-law shook her head, scolding nobody.  “Doesn’t he understand this is a matter of life for omegas?  And to think Namjoon always excelled in studies above his brothers.  He was recommended to be a scholar, you know, but we couldn’t bear the idea of sending him to the capital for ten years.”

“Did hyung want to pursue being a scholar?” Jungkook asked, curious. 

“No,” his mother-in-law sighed.  “He said if he became a scholar then he’d be made a court official, and then his life would be wasted giving unheeded advice to an overripe, overstuffed, overindulged fool of an emperor.”  And when his mother-in-law realized what she had said aloud—her face went stark white as her eyes went fully wide.

But Jungkook bent his head down and smiled. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” his mother-in-law whispered.  “Namjoon’s n-never even said as such!  I’m exaggerating!” 

Jungkook looked back at her with a glint in his eyes, squeezing her hands.  “I have met His Majesty,” he whispered, leaning toward his petrified mother-in-law conspiratorially, “And he is exactly as hyung describes.” 

His mother-in-law’s hands flew up to cover her mouth.  

Without warning, the bedroom door slid open once more.  Hoseok-hyung stood at the doorframe (Jungkook immediately bowed to him) and looked at his thunderstruck mother. 

“Oh, no,” he grinned widely, “What have you told her?  Eomma doesn’t handle shock well.” 

“Nothing!” Jungkook’s mother-in-law declared at once, snapping her mouth shut.  “Jungkook has been trained in the four virtues; he knows perfectly well what is within bounds of morning conversation,” she stated firmly.  “Nothing he says would be with the intention of shocking me.”  She nodded with finality.  “You on the other hand,” she said, narrowing her gentle eyes at her son, “Are a different story.  Why have you come seeking me all the way in the bridal chambers?”

“Jiminie and Taehyungie want to take their new dongsaeng to the orchards,” Hoseok informed his mother.  “And they sent me to fetch him.”  Hoseok turned and said to Jungkook, “They are with the children, who are dying to meet their newest uncle.” 

“I would be honored to meet the children, hyungnim,” Jungkook bowed again to Hoseok. 

“Southerners really do have the best manners,” Jungkook’s mother-in-law fawned at him, overjoyed at his simple displays of respect.  When she smiled, Jungkook observed two small dimples crest her face.    

“You shouldn’t have raised mountain beasts, then,” Hoseok-hyung teased her.

His mother sighed in defeat.

“I haven’t heard a single echo of a child since arriving,” Jungkook declared.  “I have yet to know of any southern children this tamed.”  He beamed at his mother-in-law and Hoseok-hyung, and—impressed by his easy diplomacy—they each beamed back. 

 

 

❧

 

 

Namjoon rode saddleback beside his father as they leisurely trotted toward the village early in the morning. 

At the first peek of sunlight, Namjoon had woken up and dressed himself as quietly as possible; Jungkook had just barely fallen asleep some hours ago and the alpha hadn’t been keen on awakening the poor omega.  He’d noiselessly slipped through their bedroom door with a sincere wish in his heart that he could have begun his day not with the sun, but with a sighting of the omega’s moonlike face.  But Jungkook kept himself invisible—buried under the silk sheets, as if safeguarding himself from the outside world. 

Yet there were no threats to Jungkook inside their bedroom; there was only Namjoon. 

When Namjoon arrived to the stables, his father didn’t waste a second.  “Is it done?” he demanded of Namjoon.  Looking at his father, Namjoon saw how pallid he appeared.  His eyes were colorless and heavy—and could a person truly grow so many white hairs in just three days?

Namjoon took a deep breath.  “No,” he said.  And then he avoided his father’s gaze as he swung himself onto his favorite horse.  Silently, his father followed his lead.

They made it past the family gates and down the long grove leading toward town before his father broke the silence. 

“Do you not care for the omega?” his father wondered, his tone thoughtful.  “Is he not to your liking?  Is that why?”

Namjoon shook his head.  Looking away from his father’s long face, he regarded the splendid vista of mountains before him, second to none in the early spring sunlight.  “It isn’t that.  By every measure thus far, he is the perfect mate for any alpha.”

“A thoroughbred,” his father commented.

Namjoon threw him a scathing glare.  “He isn’t a horse.”

His father appeared amused and uncontrived.  “You children have never spent time in the south.  You don’t know how they speak of these things down there.  Marriage is chattel trade to them.  If I called your mate a thoroughbred to his face, I wager he’d be pleased by the charge.”

“I wager he wouldn’t,” Namjoon mumbled. 

“If he is pleasing to you in every way,” his father continued, “Then I still do not understand how he stands unclaimed.  If he has defects that you are shielding, then these are family matters, Namjoon-ah.  You cannot put it all on your shoulders.”

“I fear—I fear what if I am not pleasing in every way to him?” Namjoon admitted aloud.  “I do not know if he is aware of what happened to Seyoon.  But when he learns of it, I fear he will be disgusted by me.  Any omega would.”

“Namjoon,” his father began sharply.  “You—”

“And Jungkook was married to the son of the emperor’s first general,” Namjoon interrupted immediately.  “He probably thought he would spend his life in the capital, roaming about the palace draped in silk and living as nothing short of a young prince. But now he’s up here in the mountains married to a merchant and—and how can I compare to his first alpha?  A war hero and martyr, when I—I…”

“There’s nothing you fall short in—nothing.  Besides, who says the omega wanted to marry the same man twice?” his father asked, puckering his mouth.  “Who says he does not prefer the quiet of the countryside to the racket of the city?  Have you asked him?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes at his father’s attempt at optimism.  “No young omega would choose the mountains to the sea,” Namjoon dismissed.  “Remember how adamant Taehyung was that he would move to Seoul or Busan for marriage?  The mountains have nothing of the world to see.” 

“The mountains had Min Yoongi,” his father drawled.

“Yes, and now they can’t seem to get rid of him,” Namjoon quipped.

His father clicked his tongue at him. 

“Is that what plagues you, Namjoon-ah?” he asked.  “That you don’t have noble blood to offer your omega?”

“I don’t have noble deeds or noble blood,” Namjoon rejoined.

“Your grandmother on your mother’s side had noble blood,” his father pointed out.  

“And she was outcast from her line for running away with a merchant,” Namjoon reminded.  “We can’t even claim it.” 

“Your grandfather was a great man.  Your grandmother lived a long and happy and wealthy life with him; she made the right choice.  Your great-uncles lost everything when the emperor began to disfavor their clan.  That is the truth of noble life.  They live like cowards succumbing to the will of one capricious man and his corrupt princelings, and then they make a misstep only to have their dignity stripped by the very same hands they spent kissing on their knees.”  His father exhaled shortly.  “Your mother said your omega’s family was also punished, when that first alpha died.”

“Jungkook,” Namjoon mumbled.  “Don’t call him ‘omega’ like that, aeboji.  Makes you sound more backwards than you are.”

“How would I know his name,” his father grumbled back.  “When you and your mother decided on him without me knowing his name…”  With a sigh, he smoothed his own wrinkled forehead.  “But I hold nothing against him, you’re right.  As it were, Jungkook has noble blood,” his father reminded.  “It’s dangerous.  Not claiming somebody of his pedigree could be seen as a slight upon the emperor.  Our family cannot jerk him around.  He needs to be claimed, Namjoon,” his father said again, graver than ever.  “Before a magistrate comes sweeping his long beard around.” 

“If it were so easy,” Namjoon sighed, “I would have done it already.  I feel like I’m talking in circles.” 

“Because you have no solution in mind!” his father chastised, wagging a finger at him.  “You’re making yourself run around in circles.  If your omega is found unclaimed, you implicate the entire family in a terrible crime.  So what is your plan to prevent that from happening?”

“We can only be found out if anybody comes looking,” Namjoon said. “I’ll keep Jungkook out of town and near the house.  Outsiders will be forbidden in his presence until he is claimed.”

“You’ll turn away every guest at our gate?  For how long?”

“As long as it takes,” Namjoon said shortly.  “I don’t see any options otherwise.  I won’t force things between us.” 

“I’m not asking you to force anything,” his father defended.  “There is just… a natural order…”  

“I know there is,” Namjoon retorted, shorter than before. 

“Well, that’s a relief,” his father remarked derisively, looking away.  

Namjoon huffed to himself.

“Spend time with him,” his father suggested.  “Take him to the orchards, show him the mountains, read to him at night.  Your eomma and I used to practice her letters at night.  That was how we became close.  Take the time to know Jungkook, and affection will follow soon enough.  His situation is just as desperate as ours; he will readily take any lead you offer him.”

Namjoon gave no response.  

His father only added, “Your mother and I did not force you to remarry.  You chose to.  And if now you are telling us you cannot claim your second omega for the consuming thoughts of your first, it would fill me with a shame beyond belief, Namjoon.  There is an innocent stranger in our home who came here with his own hopes, dreams, and expectations.  Did you think of that before making this decision?  Or were you only thinking of your own selfish desires?  You are to lead the entire pack one day, and this is what you have to show for yourself?  How could you even bring yourself to face me this morning?”  After a stark pause, his father delivered the final blow:  “Jungkook’s fate will be no different than Seyoon’s, should you carry on like this.”  

At that, Namjoon pulled on the reins of his horse.  Without a single glance toward his father, he turned around and galloped back home alone. 

 

 

❧

 

 

In the end, Jungkook didn’t get a chance to meet the children.  As he approached their quarters at Hoseok’s side, Jimin and Taehyung came out of the nursery and quietly shut the door behind them.  The children had laid down for naps—blessedly. 

“It’s perfectly cloudy this morning,” Jimin brought up.  “Should we visit the orchards, Jungkook-ssi?”

Jungkook bowed.  He would do as his hyung commanded. 

“I think ‘command’ is far too strong a word,” Jimin grinned back at him.  “If I ever ‘command’ you to do anything, please, feel free to tell me to take ahold of myself.”  His grin widened. 

“Hyungnim has the right to command me as he pleases,” Jungkook said instead.  “I am the youngest in rank.” 

“What rank?” Hoseok asked honorably. 

Jungkook looked at him, rather blank. 

“You’re the newest in rank,” Taehyung corrected Jungkook, “But as Namjoon-hyung’s mate, you supersede all of us in rank.  You’ll be our pack omega one day.  Are you being too modest to mention so?  You can command Jimin as you please,” he teased.  “If there was a rank,” he added deferentially, nodding to Hoseok. 

The three exchanged smiles and Jungkook felt quite lost.  Every family he had ever witnessed had a strict code of conduct and chain of familial command.  Though his alpha was to one day be head of family, thus indeed making Jungkook the future head omega of the pack, he hardly felt a strong claim to the position.  He felt so new and powerless.  In his eyes, Jimin was the family’s lead omega amongst the brothers. 

After settling that they would visit the orchards, the four of them walked through the courtyard together and down the front path, toward the gate.

“I’d love to see you command Jiminie around, Jungkook-ssi,” Taehyung continued with a mischievous smile.  “Hobi-hyung’s terrible at reining him in and everybody else is too scared to try.  Let’s see if he listens to you, his ranking brother-in-law.” 

“Your husband certainly doesn’t lack for trying,” Jimin quipped to Taehyung.

“He has experience suppressing tyrants,” Taehyung replied, nose in the air.  He looked pleasantly around at all the blossoming spring flowers surrounding them.  Then he buoyantly told Jungkook, “Yoongi-hyung’s father was the Commander of the Northern Forces, appointed by His Majesty in his first year as emperor.  Hyung trained as a solider as well, for some time.”

“He and Jin-hyung were stationed together for years,” Hoseok added.  

“Then they would have lived in Busan,” Jungkook realized quietly.

“Yes!  For just about a year, I think,” Taehyung told him.  “I desperately wanted to visit but nobody let me,” he pouted.  “How did you like growing up in the capital?  It must have been so exciting!”

Jungkook took a short breath.

“Hmm,” Jimin suddenly hummed, almost one foot past the gate.  He rummaged in his pocket until he pulled out a silk collar the color of ivory.  Turning toward Jungkook, Jimin leaned over and tied it around the fellow omega’s neck.  “We shouldn’t take the risk of you being seen without a bite,” Jimin instructed thoughtfully.  “Nobody would assume you aren’t bitten, so a newlywed collar is the perfect excuse for now.” 

The collar smelled as foreign from Jungkook’s alpha as possible.  

“Except it smells like Hobi-hyung,” Taehyung said, though Jungkook was who wrinkled his nose first.  Hoseok also grimaced just behind Jimin’s shoulder. 

“Is it necessary, Jimin-ah?” he asked his mate.  “Nobody will be in the orchards.  And if Namjoonie sees it…”

“I know,” Jimin sighed, pursing his lips, “But it’ll have to do, and Namjoon-hyung will have to understand.  He needs to smell of an alpha, and a stranger won’t know one your scents from another’s.  Jungkook-ssi, you’ll need to carry a collar with you outside of the house until you’re bitten.  Taehyung, carry one on you for him as well.  We must all take precautions.” 

“You are all quite forward thinking about everything it seems,” Jungkook observed in a small voice, eyes downcast.  “An omega could never wear another’s omega’s alpha’s scent down south, not without blood being drawn on at least one end.”

Jimin half-smiled.  “Perhaps we were too forward at our first meeting yesterday,” he teased.  “Namjoon-hyung told all of us off for making you uncomfortable.  He says you aren’t used to such—careless ways of speaking.  We aren’t always like that!  We were as nervous as you were, I think, but hiding it behind our own stupidity.”

“Well said,” Hoseok agreed, nodding.

“We are quite stupid,” Taehyung also nodded.

“Will you forgive us?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Jungkook blushed.  “You may speak as freely as you choose in your own home.” 

“Ah,” Taehyung smiled, “But you deserve some peace of mind in your own home as well.  We’ll remember that going forward, yes?”

“And if we forget,” Jimin grinned, “How lucky that you have an alpha so willing to remind us.” 

Jungkook blushed an even deeper pink.  Could his alpha really have scolded all of his hyungs and dongsaengs for his sake? 

“Shall we continue on?” Hoseok asked, breaking his train of thought.

Jungkook nodded, trying not to wince at the scent rising from the collar with each step he took.  Hoseok-hyung had a lovely, summery scent.  It was only while smelling it did Jungkook realize his alpha had a heavy, wintery one. 

Within minutes, they were at the entrance of the orchards. 

It was as if stepping into a dream.  Trees as far as the beholder could see—sturdy, and tall, and furled of lush, green leaves—greeted Jungkook’s full eyes.  There were endless rows of neat, parallel groves.  The land seemed to go on forever, extending perhaps up until the foothills of the mountains in the horizon.  And the scent… it was pure intoxication. 

Jungkook stopped in his tracks and approached the nearest tree.  Its leaves were dark and silken, fluttering on a branch nearly laden to the ground with plump, shining apples. 

Beside him, Taehyung reached up and snapped an apple off the tree.  He bit into it and nudged Jungkook with his shoulder.  “Take one.” 

Jungkook did.  When he bit into it, the juice streaming down his chin, he marveled at once that he’d never had a fruit so sweet.  It was a fleeting thought but he thought it anyway: a moment of gratitude to have been alive, and eating an apple made of pure honey.  Looking at the massive tree and its hundreds of apples, Jungkook’s sore heart wishes he could have sent some to his mother and father. 

Jimin and Hoseok collected a few apples for their children, and Taehyung picked pears for his own.  In the meek sunlight, Jungkook saw violet gemstones glittering upon their hanboks.  Could those be real amethysts?  Surely no family was rich enough for that…

“We’ll be harvesting the apples next week,” Hoseok told Jungkook.  “It’s one of the reasons abeoji and Namjoonie went into town; we’ll need workers.  We harvested the pears a few weeks before your wedding, but we always keep a tree for ourselves.  And when it’s summer, you’ll see the melons and yuzu and persimmons on the other side.  In July, the children love to pick berries.  Their grandfather gives them a coin for each bucket they fill, and then they go into town and buy candy floss.”

The further they walked into the orchards, the more Jungkook was mesmerized by them.  He would have easily fallen lost in their depths.  What a fortune, he considered, to be masters of something as grand as this.  The palace in Busan did not have orchards this splendid, nor did any of the surrounding lords or land barons.  It was beyond ordinary riches—it was simple, good fortune.        

“How lucky,” Jungkook said to Taehyung and Hoseok, “To have grown up with such an orchard.  I never would have left it as a child.” 

“Taehyungie never did,” Hoseok teased.  “He still doesn’t.  And neither does Yoongi.  They’re the only two people alive who think tangerines can be grown in the mountains if they just put their minds to it.”

“Hyung likes tangerines most,” Taehyung frowned, “But they won’t grow.  And we’ve tried.” 

“My family orchard was tangerines and grapes and melons,” Jungkook told them, recalling it fondly.  It would have been a less than an eighth of this size, and yet the people of Busan still used to covet its enormity.  “If I had known Yoongi-hyung had an affinity for them, I could’ve—,” and he was about to say ‘could have brought them for him by the barrels.’  But then Jungkook remembered his family did not own the orchards anymore.  They did not own anything. 

“When your parents visit,” Jimin proposed brightly, “We’ll have them do us the honor.” 

Jungkook nodded kindly.  He bit into his apple and chewed, hoping his hyung would one day forget the idea. 

They walked on in tandem, Jungkook listening with care as his hyungs explained all the work that went into maintaining the orchard.  It was what consumed most of their mother’s time.  Jungkook presumed they meant to inform him that one day it would consume most of his as well.  He found himself eager for the task. 

Sucking in a breath, he asked generally, “What is Namjoon-hyung’s favorite fruit?”

“Apples,” Jimin told him, smiling widely. 

Jungkook took another bite of his own, blushing for whatever silly reason.  

“What’s yours?” Taehyung asked back. 

“Pears,” he replied.  

“Seyoon-hyung’s was pears too,” Taehyung said. 

“He used to make a great spiced pear tea for us all,” Jimin reminisced. 

Jungkook could only nod in acknowledgement that he had heard them.  He scarcely knew what to say. 

“Has Namjoon-hyung mentioned Seyoon-hyung?” Taehyung asked Jungkook, blunt as anything. 

Jimin and Hoseok tensed around him, but neither reproached him for asking. 

Of course, Jungkook considered, they would all be curious.  He’d been married for days now and remained unbitten.  The risk hung above all of their heads, and their children.  There must be a reason for the delay and perhaps his hyungs thought it was this one, the same as their mother had assumed.

Jungkook shook his head. 

The three seemed somewhat disappointed by this. 

“Namjoon and Seyoon also had an arranged marriage,” Hoseok told Jungkook, walking with his hands folded behind his back.  “It was strange to us, when Namjoon chose to marry for familial honor and not for love.  Our parents chose Seyoon with the single-minded idea that whomever Namjoon married would need to one day be the perfect head omega of our pack.  We didn’t know what to expect.  But Namjoon and Seyoon fell in love as much as any of us had.  I don’t think even Namjoon expected that.” 

“He didn’t,” Taehyung confirmed, walking with his arms crossed tightly against his chest.  They’d begun to return back toward the house now.  “He thought he would be simply content with Seyoon-hyung, but he was shocked when he found himself truly happy.  And then Seyoon-hyung… passed away and it took a great toll on Namjoon-hyung.”  He paused.  “But he is better now, Jungkook-ssi.  He smiles and laughs and sometimes tells jokes and plays with the children… so—so we all thought he was ready for it, when he announced he’d remarry.” 

“I think he is,” Jimin held.  He looked at Jungkook kindly.  “But I also think—I think maybe hyung became overwhelmed with past memories when he found himself truly remarried.  Am I right?” he asked a mute Jungkook.  “But Namjoon-hyung is so… resilient.  In a few days, he will have overcome the worst of it,” he brightly assured Jungkook next.  “Maybe your new life together begins in earnest then.” 

This left all four of them quite thoughtful.   

Then Taehyung looked directly at Jungkook and said with an anxious expression, “But—but I don’t know if you can begin your life until you know what really happened to Seyoon-hyung…”

“Taehyung,” Hoseok interrupted sharply, eyes widening. 

“Hyung—he should—”

Suddenly, they all turned to face the sound of wild galloping catching up on them.  It was Namjoon on his steed.  He tore through the grove until coming to an abrupt halt just behind them, dirt flying everywhere as his horse’s hooves dug into the soft earth.

Catching sight of a stunned Jungkook, Namjoon looked relieved to no measure.  His chest was heaving dramatically underneath his cape.  

“You shouldn’t have taken Jungkook out of the house,” Namjoon turned toward and chastised his siblings at once.  “What were you thinking!?”

“It’s just the orchards,” Taehyung replied, undaunted, looking around at the empty groves.  “Nobody can even get in here but the household.”

“It’s a risk!” Namjoon retorted, high on his horse.

“He has a collar on,” Jimin pointed out. 

But Namjoon had already noticed.  His narrowed eyes were locked on the strip of silk with a fiery glare.  He looked away, nostrils flared.  Jungkook’s hand flew up to touch it.  Shame pooled in his gut.  If Jungkook was ill at ease by the scent of an already mated alpha pressing against his gland, he feared to think of how his own alpha was bearing it.  How had he let himself so easily be talked into the idea?  ‘Foolish’ was an understatement. 

Taehyung and Jimin covered their noses at the burning smell of an agitated alpha’s equally agitated scent.  Jungkook slipped the collar off at once.  Jimin took it from his hand and stuffed it back into his own hanbok, nary a word spoken or glance shared between them. 

“He needed some fresh air, Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok-hyung tried to appease, clearing his throat.

“The courtyard is open,” Namjoon nearly growled, eyes trained on the ground. 

“He’s been cooped inside for days, hyung,” Jimin supplied.  “And now look at the rosy glow on his face after getting some sun.” 

Jungkook looked at Namjoon and Namjoon looked at Jungkook.  The omega had no idea if he did have this supposed ‘rosy glow’ upon his face, but Namjoon quickly looked away from his features with a pink tinge to his own.  His scent settled into something more neutral.

Jimin’s distraction efforts were successful. 

Completely flustered, Namjoon could only say, “Getting overheated is a concern.  The sun is too high for omegas to be out without cover.” 

“Yes, it is!” Taehyung piped up at once.  “Our dearest Jungkookie was just telling us how faint he feels in this heat.”  Namjoon whipped his gaze back toward Jungkook at once, scanning his face for signs of unease.  Taehyung continued, “Hyung, we’ll walk back.  But why don’t you let your husband ride back with you?  He should lay down as soon as anything; I fear the mountain air is still too thin for him.” 

And then Jimin had his hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and was walking him toward Namjoon’s horse.  “This is for your own good,” he whispered into Jungkook’s ear.  Aloud, he exclaimed, “He knows how to ride side-saddle!” 

Namjoon didn’t hesitate.  He slid off his horse and helped Jungkook climb atop in his place.  To Jungkook, safely holding the reins, seated with perfect posture, he dutifully said, “I will walk back with you.  Are you comfortable?”

Jungkook nodded, dazed. 

“Get on the horse with him, hyung,” Taehyung instructed Namjoon.  “If you’re going to walk him back then we could’ve done that as well.”

“You’ll be slower than us like that!” Jimin complained.  “Your omega is suffering!”

Namjoon threw the pair a dark look.  Giggling, they both hid their faces behind Hoseok until Namjoon turned back around. 

“Do you wish to ride ahead?” he asked Jungkook sincerely.  “If you feel ill, I can run alongside the horse until we reach the stables.”

Jungkook quickly shook his head.  He couldn’t do that to the poor alpha.  And he actually didn’t feel ill at all; in fact, he’d never said a word.  Taehyung and Jimin had plotted this scheme themselves.  Perhaps they thought the alpha would sit on the horse with him; that their bodies would press together.  Jungkook had seen mates sit atop horses like so on the capital streets on occasion.  His mother would always be sure to tell him that people had lost all the shame they used to have; she called it a public indecency. 

Of course Jungkook’s alpha would not be indecent. 

“Walking would be best,” Jungkook said gently.  “Galloping might be too unsettling.” 

“As you wish,” Namjoon nodded.  He tugged his horse’s reins and the two of them set off on the dirt path back toward the house.  Looking behind him just once, Jungkook saw the gloating faces of Taehyung, Jimin—and even Hoseok-hyung—waving the two off. 

 

 

❧

 

 

“When did abeonim and yourself return from town?” Jungkook asked Namjoon, braving conversation a few silent minutes later.  Namjoon noticed that Jungkook kept his hands white-knuckled around the reins.

“My father went to town alone,” Namjoon told him truthfully.  “I went for a ride in the valley.  When I returned home, I couldn’t find you and—,”  And I panicked. 

When he’d returned from clearing his head in the valley, he’d hoped to spend the remainder of the morning with Jungkook.  Perhaps take him to the valley and show him where he typically spent his happiest days.  Maybe they could begin to spend them there together. 

But when he’d returned home, it was to an empty and scentless bedroom.  He scurried through the halls until a servant told him that several of the young masters had headed down the pathway toward the orchards—his newly wedded omega amongst them.  It was silly, perhaps, but Namjoon jumped back on his horse and charged down the dirt pathways at breakneck speed, as if he’d suffocate on air if he couldn’t see Jungkook before him at once.

And when he’d seen him again, standing under the warm sun, squinting up at Namjoon with a heavenly pink coloring his round face, Namjoon wondered if he’d always been so lovely. 

“The hyungs wanted to show me the orchards,” Jungkook told him in a small voice.  Namjoon noticed his feet shift underneath his long hanbok.  His toes turned toward one another, as if also bowing in shame. 

“You’re free to do as you please,” Namjoon spoke up at once.

“I shouldn’t have left the house without your permission,” Jungkook whispered, looking down at his lap, knuckles whiter than ever. 

“No!” Namjoon refuted loudly.  The horse came to an unexpected standstill at his shout, and Jungkook lurched forward.  He might have fallen off the horse entirely had Namjoon not shot forward and held him in place by his hips.  Jungkook held Namjoon’s shoulders to keep his balance.  When he realized how intimately Namjoon was touching him back, Jungkook drew his hands down and pushed Namjoon’s off of his. 

Namjoon jumped a foot back at once, face burning red.  Jungkook gripped the reins again and ordered the horse to carry on, as if nothing had happened.

They walked in total silence for the remainder of the way. 

It was silently killing Namjoon that inflected in Jungkook’s sweet, rich scent—currently startled with panic—was an undercurrent of Hoseok’s.  It did not belong there.  Namjoon curled his nails into his palm until he just about drew blood.    

When they arrived at the stable, Namjoon disappeared to some corner or the other.  Jungkook wandered around the grounds aimlessly, hoping to clean the hems of his dirtied hanbok before any of the dirt set in place.  In the past year, as servants left the Jeon estate one-by-one, he’d become quite skilled at learning how to launder his own clothing.  A small dip by the far grounds of the house led to a creek.  Jungkook crouched over it as the water ran by, cold and clear.  He bunched up the front of his hanbok, dipped it in the cool water, vigorously scrubbed the light gray cotton against itself, and then repeated the process along the entire hem.  Soon, his hems were as good as new, and he was pleased he could avoid having to change his clothes for dinner.   

He left the creek and went to stand by the side of the house alone.  His damp hems would have to dry before he returned inside. 

Jungkook smelled his alpha in the wind before he saw him.  Standing with his back flat against the wall, Jungkook nodded at Namjoon as he turned a corner and walked towards him, seeking permission with his eyes as to whether he was allowed to approach closer.  

“Your scent,” Namjoon exhaled, breathless.  His heavy eyes fell upon Jungkook’s neck, lingering.  “I—”

Jungkook’s heart thudded.  His hands gripped around the sides of his hanbok, gathering it between his fingers.  Blood rushed in his ears.   Was the alpha going to scent him?  He—he didn’t want—

“Can you wash your neck?” Namjoon nearly begged, eyes dewy and unmoving from Jungkook’s scent gland.  He finally lifted his gaze and met Jungkook’s round and nervous one.  “Please.”

Jungkook nodded at once.  He slipped away from the side of the house and returned down to the creek, not looking back at Namjoon.  He crouched down, cupped water between his palms, and splashed it against his neck, rubbing at his scent gland over and over again.  He washed it once, twice, thrice.  Taking the hem of his hanbok, he wiped the water away. 

When he looked down, he saw that in his rush to acquiesce the alpha’s request (or maybe in his rush to create distance between them), he’d stepped over the hems of his hanbok.  They were covered in dirt again.  He sighed, taking them in hand and looking at them with a forlorn expression. 

“I will take you back to our room,” Namjoon suggested, standing a safe distance behind Jungkook.  He sounded as if a weight had been lifted off his chest, his voice light and pleasant once more.  “You can change before dinner.” 

Quietly, Jungkook stood up and nodded his downcast head.  Wordlessly, he followed Namjoon back through the house. 

A servant pulled Namjoon away to attend to something, and so the alpha gestured for Jungkook to carry on without him. 

When Jungkook arrived to their bedroom, sliding the door firmly shut behind him, he saw a large, new vase of white flowers at the foot of the bed.  They perfumed the air gorgeously.  Jungkook approached the vase—which came up to his knees—bent down and buried his face in no less than an entire field of lilies of the valley. 

Jungkook stared at the flowers for a long while, losing himself in the beauty of their delicate blooms. 

Then, standing up, he walked toward where his alpha slept at night, by the arrangement of pillows by the long window.  From within the deep, hidden pockets of his hanbok, he extracted three, small, perfect apples.  He left them there. 

 

 

❧

 

 

On his fourth morning as a married man, Jungkook was dispersing incense throughout their bedroom as Namjoon awoke gently.  Muttering prayers under his breath, Jungkook walked around the room in a hanbok of lovely petal pink.  Namjoon watched with half-opened eyes as his husband’s long hems swept past where he slept by the window.

He rose slower than usual, wishing he could stay in that moment.

For two years now, Namjoon was accustomed to choosing his own hanbok each morning.  Pale grays, demure blues, forgettable neutrals.  This morning, arisen from bed to prepare for the day, he saw a long neglected spring green jeogori folded neatly atop his dressing table.  In the absence of a servant to dress him, the responsibility to choose and prepare Namjoon’s daily clothing fell upon his omega now.  The color of the jeogori was far too bright; he hadn’t worn anything akin to it in years, save for his sapphire wedding overcoat some days ago.  How far had Jungkook dug into his cabinet to find this?

Wordlessly, Namjoon changed into it. 

Jungkook waited patiently for him to dress so that they might depart for breakfast together.  When Namjoon appeared from behind the dressing screen—self-consciously running a hand over the fine cotton—Jungkook’s gaze appeared to brighten. 

“You have so many colors in your dressing cabinet,” Jungkook explained, keeping his eyes on Namjoon’s jeogori, “I’ve been paralyzed by the choices.  But this color seemed appropriate for the day, given that we woke up without dew on the windows.”  He exhaled, half smiling.  “Spring has arrived.” 

Namjoon nodded.  “Do you like spring?”

“Very much.” 

“As do I.” 

Jungkook nodded. 

“Y-your pink suits spring as well,” Namjoon observed in return.  More than anybody else I’ve ever seen.  He did not say this to Jungkook, but Namjoon could not imagine another color that would suit the omega as well as that particular shade of blushing pink—save for the bridal red he had first seen him in. 

“It reminds me of the magnolias back home,” Jungkook replied, smoothing the front of his own jeogori with his hands.  “They bloomed by the groves near the sea.” 

“We have them the same here,” Namjoon reliably informed.  “I’ll take you to the mountains when the time for them comes.” 

Jungkook nodded again, smiling slightly.  “Thank you.” 

The gentle moment between them was disturbed by Seokjin, who banged upon their door to announce that everybody save for the pair of them was congregated around the breakfast table already.  “And you’re still newly married enough to be interesting, so I’d soak all the attention up now while it’s still fresh,” he advised from behind the door. 

When Jungkook slid the door open, Seokjin caught sight of Namjoon first and dramatically shielded his eyes at the sight of him.  “Namjoon-ah!” he exclaimed, squinting and blinking profusely, “Is—is that—are you wearing color?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes at his hyung’s antics. 

Jungkook looked back at Namjoon with a confused expression.  But he said nothing. 

When they arrived for breakfast, every pair of eyebrows shot up at Namjoon’s uncharacteristic choice of apparel.  Surely, Namjoon grimaced, Jungkook would notice. 

However—mercifully—nobody said a word about it.  Hoseok cast sideways glances at him, and Taehyung grinned into his bowl of soup throughout the entire meal, but nobody said a word. 

Looking down at his breakfast, Namjoon found that he wasn’t particularly hungry.  Before bed the night prior, he’d eaten three entire apples—the sweetest ones of his entire life.  Next to him, he made sure Jungkook was eating well.  When he saw he was, he decided to follow suit. 

 

 

❧

 

 

That night, Namjoon changed out of his hanbok by the glow of candlelight.  Jungkook had instructed his alpha to leave his clothing in a pile; he would sort it in the morning.  Instead, Namjoon carefully removed his clothing and folded it into as neat of squares as he could and laid it by Jungkook’s own petal pink hanbok. 

Beside Namjoon’s dressing cabinet was Jungkook’s chest.  That chest, and its contents, contained all of Jungkook’s worldly possessions.  Jungkook must have forgotten to close it earlier, for it sat with its lid wide open.  Namjoon peeked inside, out of sheer curiosity. 

Inside was one extra pair of shoes, one set of white funeral garments, and exactly two other sets of robes—one light blue, one light gray.  Namjoon recognized them each because Jungkook had worn them in the two days prior.  Namjoon recognized the pink robe from that morning as well because it was what Jungkook had worn the first day after their wedding.  There were some boxes at the bottom of the chest which Namjoon assumed were small pieces of jewelry.  It contained nothing else.  He shut the lid of the chest. 

 

 

❧

 

 

The following morning, Namjoon woke up to the smell of sandalwood incense and the sight of Jungkook in light blue.  He looked lovely. 

For today, he had laid out a pale yellow jeogori for Namjoon.  Namjoon hadn’t even known he had owned it. 

After breakfast, Namjoon announced he had abrupt business in town.  His father only nodded.  Nobody else questioned him, and he briskly walked toward the stables and headed out on horseback before anybody could think to. 

In town, everybody who caught sight of him bombarded him with overflowing congratulations at the news of his marriage.  He almost emptied his pockets offering tokens of appreciation to each well-wisher. 

The local tailor operated out of a modest-sized store in the heart of town.  Bobbins of thread and bolts of silk decorated his walls, and the small boy he kept as an aide offered Namjoon a cup of tea before he was even fully through the door. 

Catching sight of Namjoon, the elderly man shooed out the two young girls who had been dallying over spools of ribbons in the corner of the store.  To his young aide, he instructed, “Do not let another customer enter so long as Kim-nim is gracing us.” 

The boy nodded.  Namjoon handed him a coin.  The boy grinned before running off.

“You shouldn’t spoil him,” the tailor reprimanded, bowing deeply. 

“Should I extend the same lack of generosity toward yourself?” Namjoon teased. 

“Oh, no,” the tailor joked, a twinkle in his eyes, “With me, you should be as generous as the gods themselves have been unto you and your father.”  He winked. 

Namjoon settled into business.  “I am here to order five sets of hanboks for my newly wedded omega.” 

“Seven is an auspicious number,” the tailor commented. 

“Seven sets of hanboks,” Namjoon nodded.

The tailor motioned toward his wall of beautiful silks.  “Take your pick, Kim-nim.  I cannot imagine cost is an issue…”

“It isn’t,” Namjoon confirmed.  “I want the best.” 

The tailor immediately pulled down a bolt of unassuming lilac silk.  Unrolling it for Namjoon, he held the fabric up toward the window.  “Hidden threads,” he revealed, watching as Namjoon saw the plain lilac material come alive with silver lotuses blooming under the spell of light. 

“I’ll take it,” Namjoon said at once, wide-eyed. 

“Your omega will adore you for it,” the tailor assured, setting the bolt aside.  Next, he pulled down a deep pink cotton that he told Namjoon never left the wearer hot, even on summer’s cruelest day.  At that description, Namjoon ordered one in deep pink, rich cerulean, sky blue, daffodil yellow, and rosy apricot. 

“I’ll take the last one in silk,” Namjoon decided. 

“Patterned silks are all the rage these days with omegas,” the tailor told him.  “Which color remains…”

“Green,” Namjoon relayed straightaway.  “I’d like spring green.” 

“Spring green?” the tailor hummed to himself, facing his wall of fabrics. 

“He reminds me of spring,” Namjoon mumbled entirely to himself and his entwined fingers. 

The tailor rolled out a striking bolt of spring green silk before him, patterned delicately with swirling dragons. 

“This is my most expensive bolt,” the tailor told Namjoon with an elongated sigh, running his hand over it as he smoothed it out.  “A shaman blessed this silk, Kim-nim.  Whosoever wears this silk will be blessed with a lifetime of luck and prosperity.  Without doubt, your omega will never lack in either regardless, but, still…  You are the first customer I have considered selling this to…”

Namjoon was well aware of this tailor and his old tricks—Taehyung had fallen victim enough in his youth, always wearing fabrics blessed with wisdom to all of his school exams (only to return home with disastrous results)—but Namjoon also couldn’t tear his gaze away from the beautiful silk.  In his eyes, it belonged only on Jungkook. 

“I’ll take the entire bolt,” Namjoon stated without hesitation.  “Dye and cut strips from this silk to make the ribbons for the other robes.  I want a piece of this on each of his jeogoris,” Namjoon specified.  

The tailor didn’t miss a beat.  “And for the buttons?” he questioned next, blinking owlishly at Namjoon.  “Pure gold for your omega?”

Namjoon shook his head.  “Amethysts.  From our stock.” 

“On all of them?”

“All of them.”

“Of course, Kim-nim,” the tailor bowed deeply.  “We will work tirelessly—ceaselessly—day and night for—”

“Will they be done within a week?” Namjoon interrupted eagerly. 

The tailor bowed even deeper.  “Two days.” 

Namjoon smiled at once—satisfied to no measure. 

 

 

❧

 

 

The next morning, Jungkook wore his light gray hanbok again and spent almost the entirety of the day with Taehyung, teaching the children how to hold a writing brush.  They were lovely.  Taehyung and Yoongi had twin daughters, each with Yoongi’s feline eyes and Taehyung’s gregarious smile.  Hoseok and Jimin had two sons, one nearing the age of five (the eldest of the group) and his younger brother of around three, constantly trailing after his hyung with his own baby cousins in tow.  The children were thrilled to meet their new uncle, whom they each greeted with a painting of a flower.  Jungkook cherished them greatly; children were blessings.  He sat with the twins in his lap for hours, listening to them babble to themselves in a language he and the boys had yet to learn.   

By the evening, Jungkook was frowning to himself.  When Namjoon asked him for the cause of his dejection, Jungkook showed his husband the ink stains on the hems of his jeogori.  He’d tried for the better part of an hour to remove the stain, but he feared it had set.  Smiling to himself, Namjoon told Jungkook to leave it to the servants. 

The following morning, Jungkook returned to his petal pink.  After breakfast, Namjoon caught sight of Jungkook sneaking his grey jeoguri bunched in his arms as he snuck across the courtyard and back toward the small stream near the side of the house.  Yoongi was who casually passed by Namjoon and asked if he was aware that his omega was crouched over the stream, hand scrubbing his jeogori all by himself.  Namjoon was well aware. 

That evening, Jungkook appeared much more pleased by the course of his day.  Namjoon asked if there was any particular reason, and Jungkook said not especially.  

Hanging to dry over their silk screen in the corner was an ink-free gray jeogori.  

Namjoon watched from across the room as Jungkook sat and brushed out his long hair with a simple wooden comb.  In town, Namjoon had passed by a shop that sold bejeweled combs—decorated with stones arranged in flower patterns, or dotted with pearls along the handle.  Would Jungkook care for one of them?  But something about the simplicity of that wooden comb suited Jungkook far better than the ornamented ones.  His dark hair fell past the long line of his neck like a sheet of black silk. 

Namjoon’s father had yet to say anything to him these past two days about Jungkook.  In fact, they hadn’t spoken much since their argument.  But Jungkook’s neck spoke for itself.  Save for that faint scar running along its base, it remained smooth and unblemished.  The entire family still eyed it warily.  He could feel his mother’s nerves fraying day by day, though she said nothing.  

They slept apart and Jungkook tossed and turned as much as he always did, but Namjoon had grown accustomed to it.  Once the moon began to dip in the sky, Jungkook would settle and find sleep in those latest hours of the night, earliest hours in the morning.  And Namjoon would do the same. 

 

 

❧

 

 

Excitement awoke Namjoon the following morning. 

All throughout breakfast, Namjoon kept casting glances toward the gates of Kim house—waiting for the tailor or his boy to walk through them at any moment.  

When one finally did, Namjoon jumped up from the chair he had been occupying in the courtyard all afternoon and ran toward the boy.  Jungkook raised a hand over his eyes in the sun as he tried to understand for whom his husband was as good as wagging his tail like a puppy.  

Namjoon accepted the wrapped parcel from the boy and sent him on his way with another coin pressed into his palm.  Catching sight of Jungkook, Namjoon waved him over as he headed back toward their bedroom (ignoring the curious gazes of Jimin and Seokjin, both tending to the courtyard garden together). 

Once inside their bedroom, Namjoon strode over to the bed and set the package down upon it.  Turning to Jungkook, he announced, “It is for you.” 

Slowly, Jungkook approached the bed.  He pulled apart the ribbon and wrappings until he stood silently over a heap of seven brand new sets of hanbok.  He whipped his gaze toward Namjoon. 

“Do you like them?” Namjoon asked, smiling, with his hands folded behind his back. 

“They’re silk,” Jungkook whispered, returning his gaze to the lilac one at the top of the pile. 

“Two are silk,” Namjoon said.  “The rest are everyday cotton.  The tailor said the cotton is woven in such a way as to not be suppressive in the heat.  It should make our summers more bearable for you.” 

Jungkook continued to look down at the clothes without further speech.  He lifted the lilac jeogori up and ran his eyes over it.  Turning it toward the window, Namjoon watched as Jungkook realized flowers bloomed upon the silk when it danced under the light.  The omega silently laid it back upon the bed.  He went through each of the items as such, tracing his fingers over the silk ribbons or silently admiring the amethyst buttons.  At the bottom of the pile was Namjoon’s favorite item. 

Lifting up the spring green silk, Jungkook looked directly at Namjoon when he observed, “Dragons.”

“A shaman blessed that silk with luck and prosperity,” Namjoon told him, cheeks gently coloring.  “But I chose it for its color.”

Jungkook regarded the color.  “Light green is your favorite?”

“I saw it as spring green,” Namjoon told him readily.  He sucked in a breath and continued, “And we wed on the first day of spring, so, to me, you are an everlasting springtime.”

And now Jungkook was who flushed coral pink down to his neckline.  He turned away from Namjoon, halfway burying his face into the beautiful silk in his hands.       

“This has been a burden I placed on you,” Jungkook deflected, “By not bringing bridal gifts as I should have.  My parents should have married me with enough silk to last a lifetime, I know this.  If they could have, hyung, I want you to know that they would have.  They would have given me enough silk to last three lifetimes.”

“You misunderstand me,” Namjoon anxiously put forth at once.  He did not like the crease that was appearing between Jungkook’s eyebrows.  “I ordered you these clothes because—because—”

“Because it was shameful that I had so few?” Jungkook wondered.  He set the green silk down over the others.  “Before I—I—when I was still a pup, I could go months without slipping into the same hanbok twice.  I had a real keenness for it… going with my mother and choosing the ribbons and trims and embroidery work myself.  I used to want each of my sets to have flowers embroidered along the hem of my sleeves—flowers to match whatever was in bloom in the gardens at the time.”  He twisted his lips in a wistful sort of way.  “I’ve lost all those interests now.  Does it irk you that I married you with so little to my name?”

“No!” Namjoon held firmly.  “Never so!  We told the matchmaker that you were to bring no bridal gifts, and I am grateful your family heeded.  My family and I are responsible for you now, in every way—and I can promise we are much less capricious than kings and emperors.”  Softening his defensive tone, he confessed, “I ordered these sets because I thought you would look radiant in happier colors.  The same as you’ve been thinking for me.” 

At that, Jungkook finally looked back at him, eyes raking over the violet jeogori he’d chosen for Namjoon that morning.  And then looked just as quickly away.  “You own too much gray and blue.”

“So do you,” Namjoon weakly smiled back.  “The only color you have is the petal pink.  I hoped to add to your collection, as humbly as I could.” 

Jungkook nodded receptively.  Then, with a mischievous little smirk, he commented, “If this is your idea of humble, Namjoon-hyung, I might go blind were I to see what you consider ostentatious.” 

Namjoon shied at the thought.  “You’ll wear them?” he asked Jungkook hopefully.  

Jungkook nodded.  “I’ll save the silks with care, but which of the cottons would you like me to set aside first for tomorrow?”

Namjoon pointed to the daffodil yellow. 

“I noticed every hanbok worn by the family is detailed with amethyst buttons,” Jungkook remarked, taking the yellow hanbok in hand.  “Is that common in the mountains?”

Namjoon shook his head, mildly embarrassed.  “Hardly.  But my father insists upon it for our pack clothing.  It tends to signal to those in town to whom they are speaking.”

“Ah.  Well, I’ve never been strong at introducing myself,” Jungkook nodded, appreciative.  “I’m grateful that now I won’t have to.  The buttons will speak for themselves.”  He looked up at Namjoon and gave him a gentle smile.  Within that smile, Namjoon understood Jungkook and his pride came as close as they could to thanking him.  It was more than enough for him; he accepted it wholeheartedly. 

 

 

❧

 

 

In the morning, Namjoon awoke to the scent of floral incense and the sound of quiet humming.  Turning on his side, he smiled to himself when he found Jungkook the cause of both.  

Jungkook, who sat by the vanity mirror, smoothing his hands over his daffodil yellow hanbok and smiling down at his lap.  Namjoon caught sight of the smile in the mirror—the way the corners of his husband’s mouth gently lifted, creating small and shy dimples he’d never seen before.  He was too beautiful to withstand.  Closing his eyes, disbelieving his fortune, Namjoon asked the spirits for a thousand such mornings and a thousand such smiles. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

+ i think by chapter 8 they'll finally hold hands !! but don't get too optimistic......

+ also i think i accidentally make vmin like the little namkook matchmaking fairies in every single ot7 fic that i write asdkjklfdj i'm sorry (no i'm not). hang up redial will course correct this ❤

Chapter 3: Three

Notes:

+ hi :D i missed you guys.... feels good to be back, feels right.... okay for public accountability reasons, i will be publishing the next chapter of 'hang up, redial' after this as soon as i can and then... AND THEN..... long suffering tmoo readers... ur time to suffer will be upon you at long last...... rly thrilled for us as a community (misery enjoyers)

+ 'sentinel' enjoyers i have not forgotten about her but... i will be testing ur patience i'm so sorry

+ rly wish i had some cool and happy namkook to offer u guys but all i have is a link to namkook's 2020 helsinki coffee date for $15

+ i hope everybody enjoys this chapter!! i had a very nice time writing it!!

 

 

Thunderstorms descended upon the mountains that day and laid siege.

When Namjoon entered their bedchambers at night, Jungkook was already tucked away in bed underneath his heap of blankets.  But he wasn’t asleep.  He laid still, listening to the raging thunderstorm outside.  

Namjoon changed out of his hanbok—carefully laying it aside for Jungkook—and into his nightgown.  He blew out the two candles Jungkook had left glowing for him and made his way toward his makeshift bed by the windows.  Slipping under his singular blanket, he shivered a little bit.  It was a cold night, made colder by his proximity to the windows.   

For almost an hour, the two of them laid wide awake.  Every few minutes there would be a thrash of thunder, and, to match it, a panicked leap in Jungkook’s scent.  His almost-mate was not enjoying the thunderstorm whatsoever, Namjoon deduced sadly.  Jungkook flopped around in bed, the sheets rustling as he tried to bury himself deeper into them the more it stormed, and yet Namjoon could still make out every terrified flick of Jungkook’s scent whenever thunder crashed around them.  

Namjoon wondered if his scent was reacting to Jungkook’s.  The last thing Jungkook needed was probably the discomforting scent of an agitated alpha surrounding him, but that was all Namjoon had to offer.   

Turning to his side, facing the bed, Namjoon wished he could reach an arm out and pull Jungkook close to his chest.  He wished he could turn Jungkook around to face him, press the omega’s worried temple against his own broad shoulder as he ran his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, and whisper to him that the storm wouldn’t hurt him.  Namjoon wouldn’t let it.  Maybe Jungkook would throw his arms around Namjoon and cling to him tightly, breathing in his calming scent as a tonic for his leaping heart.  Namjoon would run his thumb back and forth over Jungkook’s own scent gland until he felt his grip go lax with sleep.  Then Namjoon would wrap his arms around Jungkook and keep him pressed against his chest all night, falling asleep himself only when he knew Jungkook already had.

That was how it was supposed to be between them, and Namjoon wished that that was how it was.  He clenched his outstretched hand into a fist, not realizing when he’d extended it.  

They’d already inadvertently spent the entire day apart (Jungkook with Taehyung and Jimin calming the children through the worst of the lightning, and Namjoon with his brothers shepherding the horses to cover and mitigating any incoming damage to the estate all afternoon), so this short distance felt extra torturous to Namjoon now.  He’d scarcely seen Jungkook’s face all day—despite that morning’s promising start.

A deafening crack of thunder ripped through the night.  The ensuing lash of lightning had a whimper escaping the mound of blankets on the bed.  It was grinding Namjoon’s heart into pulp.  

Jungkook’s scent was miserable.  He was spiraling straight toward despair.  

Enough was enough, really.  Namjoon lifted himself up on his elbows and threw his blanket off of him.  He didn’t know what he could do to help but he couldn’t just lay th—

“Are you awake?” came a soft voice, almost lost in the loud patter of echoing rain.  

“Yes,” Namjoon replied gently, freezing in place.  “I’m sorry about the storm.” 

“I can’t sleep.”  He sounded exhausted.  

“What can I do for you?  Tell me anything.”  

He was silent for a long moment.  Namjoon wondered if maybe he’d asked the wrong question.  Maybe Jungkook would be too shy to tell him what he needed.  Maybe he didn’t need or want Namjoon to do anything except listen.  Maybe—

“Could you sleep here?” 

He asked so quietly Namjoon was sure he’d misheard it.  Hoping he hadn’t, he stood up immediately and walked over toward the bed.  He knelt down beside it.  Jungkook remained hidden underneath the rose-embroidered blankets, not moving at all.  

“I think that was the worst of it.  It should be over soon,” Namjoon tried to comfort.  

At that very moment, the loudest crack of thunder Namjoon had ever heard in his life shook the very foundation of their house.  The walls vibrated.  Just behind him, he heard scrolls fall off their posts and vases roll along the floor. 

Jungkook’s scent was petrified.  

Namjoon didn’t get into bed.  He didn’t even touch the wooden frame of it.  Jungkook hadn’t asked for him to come into the bed.

When the rain lulled again, Jungkook exhaled loudly.  “I don’t know why I’m so scared of it.  I have been since I was a child.” 

“It’s alright.  It is scary.  I hate loud noises, too.”  

Namjoon could just make out the motion of a nodding head.  

If he could have it his way, he’d slip into bed, wrap his arms and legs over the blankets, and nestle his weight against Jungkook just like that.  If the thunder and lightning were to touch him, they’d have to get through Namjoon first.  

“You have a nice scent,” Jungkook mumbled faintly.  “It’s… I liked it.”  Then, even quieter, “When I first smelled it.”    

“What is my scent like right now?” Namjoon asked, glad Jungkook couldn’t see his neck flushing red. 

“Strong.”  

“In a bad way?” he worried.  He mindlessly ran his fingertips over his scent gland.  

Jungkook shook his head again, after a moment’s deliberation.  

“I’ll bring my pillows over and sleep just right here,” Namjoon told him.  

“Thank you.”  

Quickly, Namjoon folded up his pitiful excuse for a bed and carried it in his arms over to the side of Jungkook’s bed.  He set everything down and laid in it as speedily as he could, hoping to return his scent’s natural state back to Jungkook without a second to spare. 

Once he had his blanket up to his chin again, he closed his eyes and basked in the proximity of Jungkook’s own scent to him.  During the day there was never enough occasion to linger in Jungkook’s company like this.  Every encounter they shared never left enough time for Namjoon to memorize every bit of Jungkook until he became a second nature.  Tonight was a first start.  

“What did you do when you were younger?” Namjoon asked, staring up at the dark ceiling.  “And it stormed?” 

“I’d sneak into my sister’s room,” Jungkook confessed.  “And hold onto her all night like a doll.”  He shifted around in bed until Namjoon could tell he was facing him, underneath the blankets.  “After she married, my governess would come stay with me when she sensed storms hovering over the sea.  When I was too old for that, I just endured them alone.  Same as everybody else, I suppose.”  

“Well, we have each other now,” Namjoon replied thoughtfully.  “So there’s no reason to endure them alone.”  

Jungkook hummed once.  Then asked, “Do you think everybody else is asleep?  I don’t hear the children crying.”  

“We don’t let the children sleep in the nursery alone during storms.  They’ll be with their parents.” 

Jungkook seemed to sit with that.  After a few moments, he said, “Do you ever think about how lucky you are, hyung, to have been born a part of your family?  I’ve never met another like it.”  

“Are you starting to feel at home?” Namjoon asked at once, face warming of its own accord as he bypassed the compliment.  He turned his head to face Jungkook’s direction.   

But if Jungkook meant to reply, he fell asleep before he could manage it.  Within a few more moments, his breathing evened and the mound of blankets rose and fell in a steady pattern.  Maybe it was the happiness and serenity of the moment, pervading into both of their scents, which had soothed Jungkook into an easy sleep.  That was what Namjoon wanted to believe.  

When a snap of thunder later in the hour made no effect on Jungkook’s sweet, slumbering scent, Namjoon finally let himself relax as well.  He turned fully onto his side, body facing Jungkook, and exhaled a sigh of relief as his tired eyes slipped shut.  

He slept like a log until morning.  

❧

 

 

Namjoon awoke late the following morning.  Jungkook had already dressed and departed their bedroom, but not without laying out Namjoon’s clothes for him.  He dressed quickly when he arose and could see the lateness of the hour in the color of the sunlight before meeting his family around the breakfast table.  

Jungkook looked up at him with bright eyes—a sharp contrast from the heavy lids of mornings prior.  He was dressed in his light gray hanbok, which suited the day perfectly.  The weather was dreary but warm.  He’d dressed Namjoon in a bright sky blue, maybe as a personal supplication.

Despite how well-chosen his attire was, Namjoon tried not to be disappointed that Jungkook wasn’t wearing one of the hanboks he had chosen for him, as Jungkook had yesterday.  It had pleased his alpha more than he realized it would to see Jungkook wear clothing he had provided for him.  

Once Namjoon sat down, both his mother and Jungkook sprang up to offer him a bowl.  Realizing at the same time what the other was doing, each froze in mid-air and looked toward the other with wide eyes.  

Namjoon’s father reached forward and gently tugged at his wife’s sleeve.  She quickly sat back down with a blush spread across her flustered expression.  

“As you were,” she motioned to Jungkook, smiling to herself.   

Jungkook nodded.  With a face as colored as a peach blossom, he ladeled stew into a bowl and scooped rice into a dish, placing them both in front of Namjoon before also sitting back down as swiftly as he could, head bent.  

From the corners of his eyes, Namjoon could see all five of his brothers grinning into their own bowls, exchanging amused glances with one another.  

Thankfully, they didn’t say a wor—

“Isn’t this what you’ve wanted for years, eomma?” Taehyung asked across the table, barely stifling a massive grin as he looked over at his mother.  “For him to finally be somebody else’s problem?” 

“Taehyung-ah!” their mother exclaimed with a gasp.  “How could you say so?!” 

The other four burst into a fit of laughter.  

Clearing his throat, their father wryly wondered, “If the matter of Namjoon is settled at long last, could my poor self hope to be a renewed focus of your attention again after thirty-some years?” 

Flustered anew, their mother (refusing to make eye contact with anybody) replied, “There’s the grandchildren to think of…” 

Nodding in understanding, their father only sighed and said, “How could I forget the grandchildren…” 

At this, even Namjoon smiled.  From the corner of his eye, he could see Jungkook doing the same.  Leaning forward, he mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ for the meal (and for his parents) and began to eat.  Maybe their cook had been in an especially good mood that morning, or maybe it was something else, but Namjoon thought it was one of the most delicious breakfasts of his life.  

❧

 

 

“Namjoon-ah!” 

Turning around on his way to the study, Namjoon came face-to-face with his mother.  Taking him by his elbow, she steered him into the study room and slid the door shut behind them.  

“I know,” Namjoon immediately rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.  “I know what you’re going to say.  Eomma, we—” 

“You don’t know what I’m going to say!” his mother admonished, pursing her lips.  “Besides, as for that matter… the roads are untraversable for the foreseeable future.  We’re safe as long as the storms hold.” 

Reprimanded, Namjoon took a deep breath and let her speak.  

Softening her expression, his mother took a deep breath of her own and said, “Something about Jungkook’s demeanor worries me.”  

“How so?” Namjoon asked, brows furrowing.  

His mother sighed, looking off to the side.  “You’ve been to the south…  As have I…  Southern omegas…” she trailed off to find the best turn of phrase.  “Don’t they always seem a heartbeat away from a flinch?”  

Namjoon blinked.  He knew his mother to be overly compassionate his entire life, but not even he predicted she’d make such an appalling observation—let alone voice it to him.  

“Jungkookie’s very tense,” his mother continued.  “Which, if I were in his position, I would be as well,” she mumbled, fingers twining against one another restlessly, “My poor son…  But it’s more than that,” she stressed to Namjoon, furrowing her brows in turn.  “He walks on eggshells.  I think he’s terrified of us.”  

“He’s scared we’ll turn him out,” Namjoon confirmed, not making eye contact with his mother.  

His mother frowned deeply.  “Of course he is.  I would hope you’re doing everything possible to dissuade him of that awful notion,” she stated firmly.    

“I am!” Namjoon defended himself.  “He’s stubborn, though.”  

This seemed to lift the weight off his mother’s brow somewhat.  “Oh?” she asked hopefully.  “How stubborn?”  

“Quite,” Namjoon almost smiled. 

“Give me an example.”  

Namjoon thought about it.  “The children spilled ink on his hanbok a few days ago.  He tried to scrub it off himself over and over again in our room until I told him to leave it to the servants.  But the next day, he snuck off with it to the stream and didn’t return until it was good as new.  He hung it up in our room to dry for me to see—proud of himself, I’m sure.” 

His mother smiled.  “He’s spirited.  I thought so, when we spoke.  He spoke to me so kindly, Namjoon, I thought he was the sweetest southerner I’d ever met, and I wept all night that night thinking about a single misery befalling him.” 

Namjoon tried not to grimace at all of his mother’s accidental grim implications.  Attempting to reassure her, he said, “He… opens up more and more each day.”  

His mother closed her eyes and nodded.  “Good.  Good.”  Then, eyes flying open, she lamented directly to Namjoon, “He set your meal for you at breakfast!”  

Namjoon ran a hand along the back of his neck.  “Yes…” 

“He doesn’t need to abide by traditions like that on our account,” his mother impressed upon him.  

“I know, I know,” Namjoon mumbled.  “I didn’t tell him to do it.” 

“I know that, but your scent shifted all the same,” his mother indicted, a displeased turn to the corners of her mouth.  

Namjoon’s neck burned with embarrassment.  “Eomma…” 

His mother charged forward with her real mission.  “You’ll let him know there really is no need?  It’s best to set expectations early.  I don’t want him to think he needs to uphold southern traditions to please us.  All we ask is that he be happy and live in harmony within our family.  And if he ever has cause to be anything but happy with us, we will come together as a family and resolve any causes for unhappiness in his favor.  The same as we do for all you children.  And as your father’s always done for me.  Your grandparents too—bless their souls.”  She peered up at Namjoon so earnestly as she spoke.   

“That…” Namjoon began awkwardly, looking away again.  Then, facing his mother, he complained, “How can I tell him that he—what he should and shouldn’t do…?  Can’t you tell him?” he entreated.  “Shouldn’t this be a matter between… the family omegas?” he tried to convince.

His mother appeared affronted by this.  Slapping her son’s chest, she only huffed, “Be a leader!” before picking up her robes and leaving the family study just as hastily as she’d run toward it.  

Namjoon buried his face in his hands and groaned.  

❧

 

 

Later, bustling into the study unannounced as Namjoon sat composing a scroll to the regional governor, Jimin came and crouched directly before Namjoon’s writing desk.  

“Are you writing something deeply important?” Jimin asked, tone casual. 

Namjoon nodded, not looking up.  “I have to report to the governor I’ve married.” 

“But then won’t he visit?”

Namjoon’s scribbling continued uninterrupted.  “Eventually.  But I don’t think so soon.  We hosted him for your wedding three months after the fact, and almost six months after Taehyungie’s.”  

“Is that enough time?” 

“Yes,” Namjoon replied, a little clipped in tone.

Jimin hummed.  

Namjoon finally looked up at him.  Jimin was being too nonchalant.  

“Where’s Jungkook?” Namjoon asked, eyes slowly narrowing.  He looked toward the open screen door, expecting Jungkook to come trailing in.  

“Ahhhh,” Jimin exclaimed, eyes widening innocently, “Funny you should ask…” 

Namjoon loudly set his ink pen down.  He immediately stood up.  “Where is he.” 

“What makes you think I know?” Jimin challenged. 

“Hoseok!” Namjoon called out suddenly.  

Jimin narrowed his eyes back, crossing his arms.  

“Eomma!!!” Namjoon called louder.  

Jimin rolled his eyes.  “He wants to make plum tea for everybody after dinner, but the kitchens don’t have enough plums harvested.  So I said I’d go to the orchards with him except the children are driving me mad so I can’t anymore.  He’s waiting by himself by the—” 

Namjoon had slipped his shoes on while Jimin spoke and was already halfway to the gate before he could finish his sentence.  

❧

 

 

Jungkook’s eyes widened with growing surprise as Namjoon approached the front gate, looking discomposed.

“Your Jimin-hyung can’t make it,” Namjoon explained, coming to a halt.  He ran a hand through his long hair to set it.  “The children are detaining him, so he sent me.  I hope you don’t mind.”  

“I… I wasn’t expecting Jimin-hyungnim,” Jungkook told him slowly, folding his hands together in front of his hanbok.  “Taehyung-hyungnim asked me to wait by the gate for him.  He said you requested that we two go to the orchards and collect plums for your breakfast tomorrow.”   

Namjoon only blinked at Jungkook.  

“Maybe Taehyung-hyungnim consigned Jimin-hyungnim, who has now unknowingly saddled you with your own task,” Jungkook conjectured (with a small smile).  “Shall we?” he then asked, casting a glance toward the gate.  “Before the sun starts to set on us.”

Namjoon vigorously nodded.  He jumped forward and opened the gate for Jungkook to pass through.  They walked side-by-side toward the orchards together.  

Namjoon’s heart was beating out of his chest.  Often, he had no clue whether his dongsaengs were his life’s greatest blessings, or the inevitable cause of his premature death.  Regardless, he would pick excellent plums for both of them.  

“We could pick apples if you prefer them,” Jungkook suddenly proposed, eyes looking toward the line of trees ahead of them.  

Namjoon smiled.  “You’d defy your hyungs’ edicts?” 

Jungkook smiled to himself.  “Hyung likes apples best.”  

Namjoon liked that he was a hyung to Jungkook, and not a hyungnim.  Maybe Jungkook didn’t realize he’d split a difference.  But Namjoon had come to learn that Jungkook was careful and thoughtful, so he knew Jungkook did.  It was a small, fragile intimacy and Namjoon kept it nestled against his chest.

“What do you like best?” 

Jungkook twined his fingers together.  “I like everything.” 

“Everybody has favorites.”  

“Yoongi-hyungnim’s are tangerines,” Jungkook deflected, not looking at Namjoon.  “We used to grow them by the shipfuls at home.”  

“What else did you grow?” 

“Grapes.  Melons.  Peaches,” Jungkook recalled fondly.  “As big as two fists put together,” he said, curling his hands into two fists and pressing his knuckles together.  

“Our peaches might not be so large, but they’re sweeter than southern peaches,” Namjoon assured him.  “They grow on the mountains, closer to the sun.”  

“Busan peaches are the best,” Jungkook shook his head stubbornly.  

Namjoon grinned.  “Have you ever had a mountain peach?” 

“No,” Jungkook said simply, looking at him at last with round eyes.  “I don’t need to have to know ours are better.”  

Namjoon was endeared.  “It’s true that sometimes we just know what we know.”  

Jungkook nodded his head firmly, satisfied.  Then, turning to face Namjoon, he observed, “You never attempt to change my mind on matters.  I noticed it the first time we spoke, the day after our wedding.”  

“No,” Namjoon disagreed, looking away with a heating neckline.  He mumbled, “I can be persistent when I find cause to be.”  

“I know,” Jungkook agreed, coy in tone, “You’ve threatened to command me, if you’ll remember.  Also the day after our wedding.”  He flitted his gaze away from Namjoon and back toward the approaching orchard.  

Out of a nauseous mix of shame and embarrassment, Namjoon found his tongue transform into unliftable stone.  

Out of a miraculous sense of graciousness, Jungkook pushed the topic of conversation along in a different direction.  Crossing his arms, he looked at the muddy ground when he asked, “Have your parents said anything to you about it?” 

Namjoon crossed his hands in front of himself.  “Not the past few days.”  

Jungkook nodded.  “What do you think they’re thinking?” 

“I think they’re grateful the rain has made the roads too waterlogged to travel upon,” Namjoon confessed truthfully.  “It’s bought us some time.”  

Jungkook finally looked up at the gray sky.  “Do you think we have more time, hyung?” 

Namjoon looked over and stole a glance at Jungkook’s round eyes, catching a faint glimmer of sunlight in them where there probably wasn’t any.  “I do,” he lied.  “I think we have time.”  

Jungkook dropped his gaze from the sky and accidentally met Namjoon’s.  Both whipped their heads away with startled expressions.  

“My mother says you needn’t be so formal,” Namjoon suddenly proclaimed, clearing his throat.  “There’s no expectation for you to—uh—serve me my breakfast.  Um.  For example.”  He continued rambling, “We certainly haven’t raised Taehyung to be a traditional omega so there’s no expectation for you to be.  We ourselves are hardly exemplary alphas, no less.  She would like me to impress upon you that your only requirement as a member of the family is to try and live in harmony with all and to always be happy.  And to let us know if you ever find yourself not happy so that the family can intercede.  That’s all,” he finished quickly.  

Jungkook sucked in a quick breath.  “Does everybody think I’m too old-fashioned?  Am I a nuisance?” 

“No!” Namjoon lost his breath gasping at once.  He stopped walking as he turned to look at Jungkook with wide eyes.  “Never!  Nobody’s said any such thing!  They adore you!” 

“They probably think I’m too southern,” Jungkook frowned.  “Life in the capital is nothing like life here.”  

“I know,” Namjoon said, eyebrows knit with concern, “I’ve visited, albeit shortly.  But we don’t think any such thing!  Of course it’ll take time for you to see how we do things as a family, but that has nothing to do with you being southern.  Nothing at all!” 

“Setting your meals for you, walking behind your lead, choosing your hanbok, obeying your wishes…” Jungkook frowned at his feet, “These are things I grew up daydreaming about doing for my alpha.”  

Namjoon didn’t know what to say.  He found the entire sentiment jarring and bewildering; he’d never heard of a relationship like that between alpha and omega up in the mountains.  Only in ancient folktales.  Even then he found it strange and perverse.  “And what do alphas down south dream of doing for their omegas?” he thought to ask.    

“They go to war for us,” Jungkook replied at once.  “They train as young boys and spend their entire lives as soldiers.”   

“What else?” Namjoon probed.  

Jungkook blinked.  “What else must they do?  Their entire lives are sacrificed.  The least omegas can do is—” 

And Namjoon wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what Jungkook had to say.  “Not every alpha becomes a soldier,” Namjoon winced.  He continued walking down the path, gesturing for Jungkook to follow alongside him.  “What about them?” 

“Scholars and politicians and merchants all keep the kingdom functioning,” Jungkook noted diplomatically.  “Each a noble profession.”  

“But none so much as a soldier,” Namjoon discerned, hands crossed behind his back now.  

Jungkook only hummed.  

“A kingdom cannot run without its soldiers, scholars, and merchants,” Namjoon repeated, “But the roots of those soldiers, scholars, and merchants would be in disarray without omegas.  Society would collapse without omegas.  One, singular alpha is hapless without the omegas in his life to guide him, so imagine a nation.” 

For a few dozen steps, Jungkook walked as if he’d been stunned.  Recollecting himself, he asked with his widest set of eyes yet, “Is that what they teach in the schools up north?!”  

Namjoon looked at him and grinned.  “Just the good ones.”  

Jungkook snapped his gaze away, looking quite serious.   

After a few more silent moments, once the grove turned lush and the orchard began to appear,  Namjoon changed the topic of conversation entirely.  What were Jungkook’s favorite foods made with each type of fruit?  Were there any southern delicacies?  Did he know how to make them?  

Jungkook answered everything politely and kindly, but he avoided Namjoon’s direct gaze and his previous spiritedness did not return in their time together at the orchard.  On the way back to the house an hour later, Jungkook walked with arms crossed as Namjoon carried half of his body weight in plums, peaches, pears, and apples.  

Namjoon commented that the sunset itself looked like a ripe peach and Jungkook agreed without looking up from the hems of his muddy hanbok.  

❧

 

 

It stormed again that night.  The thunder was as merciless as the night before.  Before either needed to say a word about the matter (Namjoon himself had been convinced the previous night’s sleeping arrangement was a one-time special dispensation), Jungkook laid out Namjoon’s various pillows and blankets parallel to his own bed again.  He slipped under his blankets silently after he finished.  

Today, he didn’t bury himself under his sheets.  He let his soft, rosy face peek out.  Namjoon felt Jungkook’s gaze lingering on his form as he stood behind a silkscreen and changed into his nightgown.   

He looked at his discarded hanbok.  On one hand, he and his mother were telling Jungkook he needn’t wait on Namjoon’s needs.  But on the other hand, Namjoon knew he’d mourn privately and for forever if Jungkook terminated his tentative tradition of choosing the alpha’s hanboks each morning.  His alpha enjoyed obeying the omega’s wishes.  

Maybe southerners were onto something.

Through the screen, Jungkook must’ve read his glum expression.  At the very least, he’d understood his scent.  

“I chose sky blue for you today because I was hoping I could tempt the clouds with it,” Jungkook’s voice carried over to Namjoon softly.  “Tomorrow we could go bolder.  Aquamarine?  Sapphire?” 

Namjoon folded up his hanbok with a smile.  “We double our chances if you do the same.” 

A small giggle.  “You did bring me a happy blue.”  Then, “I’ll wear it.”  

Namjoon’s heart soared.  He stepped out from behind the screen with a candle in hand.  “If this works,” he grinned back, “I’m going to set up a shrine—an altar—in your honor.  We’ll pray in colors going forward.”  

Jungkook blushed a rosy pink.  “That’s too much for me.”  

“It’s not enough,” Namjoon teased.  He kept his eyes on Jungkook for as long as he could.  With a heavy heart, he blew out the candle and then got into his bed beside Jungkook’s.  

Again, they each laid wide awake as the rain pattered like rocks against the window of their bedroom.  Namjoon laid on his hip, facing Jungkook’s direction in the dark.  He thought about how strange Jungkook’s mood had become earlier, in the orchard.  The way he hadn’t smiled, the way he’d put up a wall between them.  

Namjoon bit the tip of his tongue.  Perhaps he should not have said what he had about southern alphas.  Jungkook had clearly not taken it in stride.  Why should he, Namjoon contemplated.  Jungkook’s father and brothers were southern alphas.  If a southerner ever made a passing comment about northern omegas, Namjoon knew it’d ruffle every feather along his back.  He sighed.  

Just as he was about to mount an apology, Jungkook parted his lips.  

“Hyung,” Jungkook began softly (he always began his sentences softly).  

“Yes?” Namjoon prompted eagerly.  He wished he could see which of Jungkook’s expressions accompanied this soft tone.  Were his eyebrows scrunched?  Lips pouted?  Lips pursed?  Eyes wounded? 

“What if an omega likes serving their alpha?” Jungkook asked.  

Namjoon opened his mouth—

“In the south,” Jungkook continued, “Omegas took great pride in it.  Our entire lives were centered around it.”  

“I know they were,” Namjoon admitted.  “I think… if the desire blossoms from selfless love, there’s nothing to be said.  There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for those we love.  But if the origins are borne of obligation… that’s no way to spend a life.”  

Jungkook inhaled.  “At some point, even love can transform into obligation.  What should an omega do then?” 

“I wouldn’t presume to tell an omega what to do,” Namjoon replied.  

“You already do,” Jungkook pouted, mumbling.  

Namjoon smiled softly.  “I only speak for this family.  There is no sense of obligation on any omega in this family to spend their life in servitude—to either their alpha or their children.”   

“But then who serves the alphas and the children?” Jungkook asked at once.  

“The servants.”  

“And what do the omegas do?  We have servants in the south, too.” 

“You’ve seen what they do.  They do as they please.”  

“And if there were no servants?” Jungkook posed.  “Then who would serve?” 

“Well, Jin-hyung and Yoongi-hyung would cook for us—” 

Jungkook gasped. 

“Hobi would keep the house from falling into disarray—” 

Jungkook covered his mouth. 

“And I think I’m best with the childrens’ education.”  

“And what would Taehyung-hyungnim and Jimin-hyungnim do?” Jungkook asked, scandalized.   

“Everybody has to contribute for a family to function.  Jimin’s good with figures.  He’d manage the household expenses, which he already does.  Taehyung’s domain would be the orchards and the animals.  And we’d send him into town anytime we needed anything because he somehow always manages to get things for free…” 

“You’re not answering me seriously,” Jungkook groused.  

“I am,” Namjoon pled.  

“What if I—what if I enjoy—,” Jungkook tried to begin.  He cut himself off, sounding frustrated.  “If you don’t need me,” he asked instead, a sharp cut to his words, “Then why did you marry me?” 

Namjoon didn’t reply.  

Jungkook continued, “If you don’t need me to serve your meals, or choose your clothes, or check if you’ve eaten, or see that you’re cared after… if you don’t need me for anything, then why am I here?  What did you drag me up into the mountains all the way from the sea for?  If you could do it all for yourself?  Or if the servants could do it?  Why marry me?” 

Lightning lashed outside.

Why did Namjoon marry Jungkook?  

Namjoon thought back to that day in the courtyard, sitting in front of that wicked matchmaker holding Jungkook’s likeness painted on the scroll in his hands.  A face that shines like a winter moon.  Behind that face, a tragedy as immiserating as Namjoon’s own.  Maybe it was foolish, but within Jungkook, Namjoon saw another broken piece like himself.  He thought if their jagged edges came together, maybe they’d be pressed whole again.   

He’d overlooked the fact that life was rarely so amenable.  

“I like when you choose my clothes,” Namjoon told him quietly.  

Jungkook gently exhaled.  “I like when you wear the clothes I choose.” 

“I like when you wear the clothes I bought you.  It makes me feel bonded to you,” Namjoon admitted.  “Though we aren’t yet.”  

“When I choose colors for you to wear, I don’t feel as if I’m serving you.  I choose them because it makes me happy,” Jungkook explained.  

“I know,” Namjoon expressed.  “I can feel that.  It’s why I like wearing whatever you lay out for me.  It makes me happy, too.”  

“I want to keep doing it,” Jungkook finally confessed in his smallest voice yet.  

“Jungkook,” Namjoon murmured, lifting himself up onto his elbow, “If it makes you happy, I hope you pick out my hanbok every day for the rest of our lives together.  I’d wear anything you chose for me.  I’ll never say a word.  Promise.  Anything.”  He paused.  “Above all, I want you to be happy with me.”  

Jungkook chose his next words carefully.  “You may not want anything from the omega you mate, but I have expectations from my alpha.”  

The rain was the only sound between them until Namjoon said, “Tell me.”  

“You have to protect me,” Jungkook whispered, voice cracking as he spoke.  “That’s it.”  

Without another word, Jungkook turned around and faced his back to Namjoon.  He laid like that for only a moment before pulling the blankets over his head and disappearing from sight completely.  

Namjoon dropped his elbow and laid on his back, staring vacantly at the ceiling.  Jungkook’s scent remained steady until he fell asleep a silent hour later.  Namjoon stayed awake much longer.  

‘You have to protect me.’  

If it weren’t thrashing lightning outside, Namjoon would’ve left their bedroom and gone for a long ride in the night on his horse.  

‘You have to protect me.  That’s it.’  

One thought turned over in Namjoon’s mind over and over again: what would Jungkook think of this pathetic alpha of his if he learned that the only thing Namjoon couldn’t do for Seyoon was protect him?  

Thunder roared outside their windows into the early morning and Namjoon heard all of it.  

❧

 

 

As always, Jungkook awoke first in the morning.  He pulled the heavy blankets off his head to be greeted with another dull, bleak morning.  In a way, it was good.  The storms were buying them time.  

Rolling over toward his gently snoring husband, Jungkook rested his face on the side of the bed as he watched Namjoon sleep.  Nobody needed to know it, but this was his favorite part of the day.  

Like this, he could sit and breathe in his husband’s strong scent for as long as he’d like.  He’d close his eyes and memorize it.  He’d have the type of daydreams he’d had as a young omega—when he imagined what it would be like to wake up in the mornings wrapped in the arms of an alpha who had sworn to love, cherish, and protect him with his body and life for as long as they’d live.  He and the other omegas used to relentlessly beg their omega tutors and governesses into telling them what it was like to be married to an alpha.  Jungkook had been the most persistent of them all.  Almost all of the older omegas were reduced to blushing giggles when they’d tell their younger counterparts that the best part of having an alpha was waking up soaked in the scent of their mate.  It drove alphas mad, they grinned, to wake up with an omega drenched in their scent laying in their arms.  Ten, twenty, thirty years did nothing to diminish how wild it made alphas to be nestled against an omega who smelled of them.  All the students used to listen with bright, wide eyes—brightest and widest amongst them Jungkook’s.  He’d marry an alpha like that—an alpha who would do anything for him.  For whom he’d be the top priority, and whom Jungkook would make the center of his own life.  

A soldier.  In Jungkook’s fantasies, he always married a soldier.  Somebody strong and brave and noble.  With a courageous heart and a mind as sharp as a blade.  

But now he was on his second marriage, in the mountains, and his alpha slept alone on the floor.  

Jungkook wanted to tell Namjoon how sorry he was, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.  What sort of omega let their alpha sleep on the cold, hard wood while he slept warm and safe in a feather bed?  The kind of omega whose alpha let them, he supposed.  Not all alphas were so patient.  

Would he ever wake up entwined in Namjoon’s arms and suffused with his dreamy, wintery scent?

Jungkook sighed and opened his eyes.  There was no doubt the alpha would let him.  The problem was Jungkook.  Which was why Jungkook did what he was doing now: leaning as close to  Namjoon as he dared and letting his scent settle over him.  

The alpha’s scent had never once perturbed him.  It was rich and strong and Jungkook was prepared to let it be a source of comfort.  

The alpha’s face had never repulsed him either.  Far from it.  Jungkook’s eyes followed along the sharp line of his husband’s jaw, the soft plunge of his pink lips, the delicate flutter of his eyelashes, the dark twitch of his brows, the perfect slope of his nose…  His Namjoon-hyung’s face reminded Jungkook of a golden sunset; he could gaze upon it with honeyed eyes forever.  

The alpha’s touch was the only point of contention.  

Slowly—begrudgingly—Jungkook rose from bed, looking away from his sleeping husband with a mournful expression.  

During his bath, Jungkook thought that it was kind hearted of his hyung to try and convince Jungkook that he expected nothing of him.  The Kims were idiosyncratic, bordering on eccentric, in family structure.  Jungkook did not deny the magnanimity it took to tell him nothing was expected of him as an omega of the clan.  But they couldn’t mean it; the words were insincere.  Who expected nothing from a spouse?  Who expected nothing from a future head omega of the family?  They’d expect obedience, virtue, loyalty, and children.  

Jungkook expected things from Namjoon so why couldn’t Namjoon admit that he expected things from Jungkook too?  And what of things Jungkook expected for himself?  He wanted an alpha who was strong; he wanted an alpha who could protect Jungkook and their children from this capricious world.  

After his bath, Jungkook put on the hanbok he’d chosen for himself.  The striking cerulean Namjoon had bought him.  Trimmed in green silk and festooned with amethyst buttons.  The color brought out a flush to his cheeks he noticed, as he combed his long hair in the mirror.   

Last night, his alpha had said he liked it when Jungkook wore the clothes he’d provided for him.  He also said he liked that Jungkook chose his robes.

For Namjoon, he laid out matching aquamarine robes.  Trimmed with spring green silk and adorned with the same amethyst buttons.  

He left a trail of jasmine incense behind him as he departed their bedroom, Namjoon still blissfully asleep on the floor.  

Jungkook went straight to the nursery, which is where he’d gone most mornings since his marriage.  Taehyung and Jimin were already dressing the children.  Jimin’s eldest would’ve already been with his tutor, but the toddler and Taehyung’s twins kept them occupied well up to breakfast time.  Wordlessly, Taehyung handed Jungkook a fussy twin and her robes (after casting a quick glance at his bare neck) and Jungkook got to work dressing his niece (after giving her a morning kiss).  

“Hyungnims,” Jungkook asked thoughtfully later, as they each tried to feed a toddler their breakfast, “What should I do with all my free time?  Namjoon-hyung says I shouldn’t—” 

“You should do whatever you’d like, especially if it’s something Namjoonie-hyung says you shouldn’t,” Taehyung proposed at once.  “Makes marriage more interesting.”  

Jungkook smiled faintly.  He’d come to expect such an answer from his brother-in-law.  “Your hyung says I shouldn’t wait on him hand and foot.  It isn’t expected of me.”  

“It isn’t,” Jimin nodded firmly.  

“But then what do I do all day?” Jungkook pouted.  “I don’t have my own children to tend to.  If I don’t look after my husband, what’s my purpose?” 

Taehyung and Jimin both looked at Jungkook curiously, first out of the corner of their eyes and then they each turned to look at him with bewildered expressions.  

“What did you do before you were married?” Jimin asked, returning his focus back to his son.  

Jungkook thought about it.  “I used to read all day long.  I’d write long letters to my sister.  I’d go to the sea with my friends, or we’d have parties at home.  I rode horseback or practiced sword fighting with my brothers.”  

“So do all that here,” Jimin shrugged as if it were the simplest thing.  “Jin-hyung will teach you sword fighting if you ask him.  Actually, tell him Namjoon-hyung’s forbidden you from learning and Jin-hyung will make you a master at it by dinner,” Jimin suggested mischievously.  

“I’ll take you horseback riding through the orchards anytime you ask,” Taehyung offered brightly.  “Though Jimin’s the master rider.”  

“No horseback riding for me for the next year,” Jimin informed coyly.  

Taehyung and Jungkook’s gazes both fell upon his inconspicuous stomach at once.  Jimin only nodded.  “Time to make a respectable hyung or oppa out of him,” he only said, lifting his youngest son and planting a kiss on his head of jet black hair.   

“You’re very lucky, hyungnim,” Jungkook congratulated, reaching out and squeezing Jimin’s hand.   

“I hope it’s an omega,” Taehyung whispered to Jimin, covering his daughter’s ears.  “These alphas are draining our youth.”  

“I hope so too,” Jimin whispered back, covering his son’s ears in turn.  

Jungkook covered his niece’s ears as well and teased Jimin, “If it is another alpha, I doubt your husband will take issue with indulging you until it is the omega you wish for, hyungnim.”  

Taehyung and Jimin’s eyes widened with delighted scandalization.  

“Oh no!” Taehyung almost wept, facing Jimin.  “Namjoon-hyung was right!  We’ve been an awful influence on him!” 

Jungkook grinned until his cheeks hurt.

❧

 

 

Namjoon arrived late to breakfast again.  Jungkook watched him come down the long hall, scurrying quickly as his bright blue robes billowed behind him.  Once he was seated around the breakfast table, Jungkook had resolved that he was not going to jump up and set Namjoon’s meal for him.  He’d been forbidden, he sniffled to himself.  

But once Namjoon sat down and turned to look toward Jungkook with a warm smile that reached his beautiful eyes and formed two perfect dimples, Jungkook automatically set down his spoon and hiked himself up onto his knees to start scooping his husband his breakfast.  His Namjoon-hyung was hungry—probably famished!  

He set all the bowls down in front of Namjoon with a red tinge to his ears but a swelling burst of affection in his heart.  The swelling only increased the more and more Namjoon ate the breakfast Jungkook had laid out for him.  

Interestingly, he noticed today when Jimin immediately refilled Hoseok’s rice bowl not twice but thrice throughout breakfast, and Taehyung kept a vigilant eye on Yoongi’s plate as well.  More interestingly… the affection was returned.  Hoseok kept giving Jimin all the pieces of egg that landed on his plate, and Yoongi picked out all the things Taehyung must’ve detested in stew before handing him a fresh bowl.  Toward the end of breakfast, Namjoon leaned over toward Jungkook and asked if he was pleased with the plum tea?  He’d asked the kitchens to make it just for him.   

Jungkook turned away from Namjoon and nodded (blushing deeper than a thousand plums himself).  

❧

 

 

After breakfast, rain began to pour in iron sheets.  Everybody retreated to their bedrooms and all hopes for the day were dashed.  

Jungkook assumed that Namjoon would spend the day reading and he was correct; no sooner did Jungkook slide the door shut behind themselves than Namjoon pulled out a trunk of scrolls from the far corner.  He offered Jungkook the first pick, but Jungkook refused.  

“I feel too restless to read,” he told Namjoon.  

Namjoon was understanding.  “You could write?” 

That suited Jungkook better.  Namjoon gave him a fresh scroll, ink, pen, and braved a quick jaunt to the study to fetch a suitable writing desk.  Once everything was arranged, Jungkook sat down, tucked in his sleeves, and immediately began drafting a letter to his parents.  

But he got less than a few sentences in before he lost steam.   

“Is something wrong?” Namjoon asked, looking up once he heard Jungkook set down the ink pen.   

“I have nothing to say to them,” Jungkook frowned, looking at the mostly blank scroll.  

“What’ve you written so far?” Namjoon asked.  

Jungkook pitifully read aloud: “‘Dearest father and mother, I write to you from high in the mountains.  My health is well and offers no cause for concern.  It has been one week since my’ and that’s all I have.”  

“A strong start,” Namjoon praised.  

“I didn’t know if I should say ‘marriage’ or ‘wedding’,” Jungkook pouted.  

“Marriage,” Namjoon decided.  

Lifting the ink pen, Jungkook neatly finished the sentence.  He set it back down with a sigh.  “Now what?”  Lifting the scroll, he showed his efforts so far to Namjoon across the room.  “Look how much room is left…” 

The real issue, in Jungkook’s mind, was how to tell his parents that he was married but not yet mated…  It would be a lie by omission, but need Jungkook mention that life-threatening hiccup to his poor parents?  Were their burdens not overwhelming enough?  They’d never think to assume Jungkook wasn’t mated.  The situation he and Namjoon found themselves in was likely the first in all of history…  

“You have beautiful handwriting,” Namjoon exclaimed with wonder, bringing Jungkook back into the present.  Standing up, Namjoon crossed the room to come and further inspect the scroll.  “Your form and proportion are near perfection for each character,” Namjoon praised.  

“My tutors always praised my penmanship,” Jungkook blushed, setting the scroll back down.   

“The scribes at the capital don’t write as well as you do,” Namjoon effused.  

Were it anybody else, Jungkook would’ve kept up an appropriate ruse of modesty and deflection.  But with his husband, perhaps he was allowed to express his true feelings?  Jungkook took the small leap.  “If omegas were allowed professions, I think I would have excelled as a scribe.  My writing is neat, to be sure, but I’m also fast.  I have the stroke hierarchy down to a precise science, hyung,” he told Namjoon with bright eyes.  “I used to watch my father’s scribes work and it frustrated me to no end that I couldn’t just do it all myself.  I could’ve done the work of five alphas alone,” Jungkook shook his head with nostalgic frustration.  “They used to go from left to right, then top to bottom and then horizontal to vertical!  It was a mess!  I told my father once that he ought to dismiss them all—or at the very least let me preside over their efforts until they improved—but, naturally, my brothers asked what I could possibly know about the subject.  But let me tell you, Namjoon-hyung, I knew a lot.  I still do!” he finished indignantly.  

Turning to look up at his husband, Jungkook froze when he saw the expression on Namjoon’s face: curious, endeared, and thrilled.  

“You’d be a scribe if it were permitted in the capital?” Namjoon asked with a glimmer of excitement.  

Jungkook looked away and quickly shrugged.  “If I could have.  Why not?” 

“Would you like to be a scribe up in the mountains?” 

Jungkook’s breath hitched in his throat.  He shook his head.  “How would that work?  I can’t leave the house until we’ve mated.”  

“You could scribe for the family business,” Namjoon continued.  “Our correspondence piles up by the day.  Too many other matters call my father’s attention for him to respond, Hobi has the most illegible handwriting in the kingdom, Yoongi-hyung’s is somehow worse—or he pretends it is—and Jin-hyung has sworn off any involvement with the family business.  Taehyung doesn’t have the patience for it, though he’s eager to help.  My mother doesn’t have any interest in it.  The only person who helps is Jimin because he has a natural talent for writing letters but the boys are older now and he hasn’t had time the past few months.  So it’s just me… and I’m trailing through at a snail’s pace.  Given the sensitive nature of some letters, I don’t wish to solicit a stranger’s services. If you’d like to offer your talents, I’d be grateful.”  Then, thoughtfully, he added, “Only should you please.  And for as long as you should please.  This doesn’t have to become a lifelong punishment, should you say yes today.”  

Jungkook didn’t know what to think.  A noble omega with a profession?  He certainly couldn’t include that in the letter to his parents.  Superficiality aside… he was flattered by the immediate and immense faith that Namjoon appeared to have in him.  But more than that, he was excited by the very prospect of it.  It was a soothing circumstance to Jungkook: being left alone with a writing desk, ink, and a pen to write all day long.  He’d passed many a day like this before marriage, as a young omega.  A frequent complaint of his mother’s had been Jungkook’s undignified ink-stained fingers and the speckles of black to be found along the hems of all his best robes.   

Without looking at Namjoon, Jungkook wondered, “Could I see a sample letter of correspondence first?”  

Within minutes, Namjoon was spilling a dozen scrolls he’d dashed off to collect from his study for Jungkook.  He explained each one: “This is from a tax collector who wishes to know the best time to visit us after the new year…  This one is a magistrate hoping we’ll sell him jewels below market rate for the occasion of his daughter’s wedding…  Most of these are general business inquiries… but sometimes there’s something that requires a diplomatic touch.  Like the magistrate.”  

“What would you say to the magistrate?” Jungkook asked Namjoon, reaching for the scroll.  

“What would you?” Namjoon tested.  “It’ll be your responsibility.”  

“It’s best to give magistrates what they want if they aren’t asking for much,” Jungkook considered after a short pause.  “They aren’t worth the torpedo they create in the wake of their bruised egos.”  

Namjoon was pleased.  “You’re going to fly.  And I look forward to seeing how others will fare when they find themselves on the burning end of your fiery wit.  I’ve never enjoyed suffering alone.”  

Jungkook smiled to himself, already neatly organizing all the scrolls beside himself.  “Will you monitor the first few I write?  I’d appreciate it if you would, hyung.”  

And Namjoon did.  He stayed shoulder-to-shoulder beside Jungkook all afternoon long as they sat, spoke, and wrote.  Lunch was brought to their room and they took a short break to eat before returning to the task at hand.  Remarkably, neither Jungkook’s hands nor legs cramped from hours of sitting and writing.  Namjoon’s company was an all-cure.  

Jungkook enjoyed this time with his husband.  He learned how Namjoon thought, how he spoke to those beneath him and how he spoke to those above him (much the same), how patient he was, and how much he wanted Jungkook to find purpose and peace of mind with this new responsibility.  And it really did please Jungkook.  He could scarcely think of an afternoon better spent than in Namjoon’s company as he spoke softly into Jungkook’s ear and praised him all afternoon long for his intelligence, diplomacy, and fastidiousness.  Jungkook was a very very happy man by dinner.  

At dinner, Namjoon informed his family of Jungkook’s achievements of the day.  Most relieved of all was Namjoon’s father, who often harped upon Namjoon to be more prompt in answering letters.  

“I’m gladdened that the effect of your marriage has been of a positive influence upon our son,” Jungkook’s father-in-law said to him.  “May it last a hundred years.”  

This small reassurance had Jungkook smiling around his spoon well into the meal.  

“You’re a thoroughbred through and through, Jungkook,” his father-in-law added.  

Jungkook was deeply heartened by such a serious compliment—

“He’s not a horse,” Namjoon mumbled to his side under his breath. 

“Not a horse, hyung,” Jungkook whispered back to Namjoon, unable to hide his pleasure.  “A thoroughbred.”  Turning to his equally pleased father-in-law, Jungkook bowed and expressed sincere gratitude.  (He looked up in time to see almost six pairs of eyes rolling around the table, which he didn’t understand.  He shrugged.)  

After dinner, Taehyung cast a curious glance toward Jungkook.  As everybody departed for bed, Taehyung pulled Jungkook into the nursery without a word between them.  

Standing face-to-face, Taehyung slipped the collar of Jungkook’s hanbok to the side.  

“Ah,” he sighed, appearing disappointed.   

Jungkook immediately pulled the collar back over his unclaimed neck, bewildered by Taehyung’s action.    

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung apologized.  “I thought that, maybe…” 

“No,” Jungkook denied, unable to keep Taehyung’s gaze, which was still drifting toward his unblemished neckline.  “We haven’t.”  

“But you smell so much of him,” Taehyung explained with round eyes.  “It was all we could notice at dinner.”  

Humiliation the color of bright red crawled up Jugnkook’s back like an eight-legged tarantula.  Was that why everybody had been so forward with their praises of him?  They thought they’d mated at last?  

“It was the first time you both smelled of the other so strongly,” Taehyung further elaborated.  “I think I just… let my hopes expand.”  

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Jungkook mumbled, looking down.  “We would tell the family if we had.”  The peril of discovery hung over them all—even the children.  Jungkook’s gut twisted in the shame of it afresh.  He and Namjoon must appear to be wasting precious time in the family’s eyes.  

Instead of apologizing again, Taehyung wrapped Jungkook in an all-encompassing hug.  “I want you to be safe,” he whispered.  

Jungkook hugged Taehyung back just as tightly and tried not to cry.  He knew how to spot love when it was presented.  

❧

 

 

When Jungkook entered their bedroom, Namjoon was already present inside.  It wasn’t raining that night, though the better part of the day had been wasted on storms.  

Without the rain, perhaps Namjoon wondered if he was still welcome to sleep beside Jungkook’s bed.  Jungkook noted that Namjoon sat reading by candlelight in the corner, attempting to appear completely unaware of the fact that he ought to be laying his bed out.  

Jungkook disappeared behind the silkscreen to change into his nightgown.  Without the rain, there really was no need for Namjoon to sleep in such close proximity to Jungkook anymore.  Namjoon’s scent had carried Jungkook through the worst of the thunder and lightning but tonight’s weather was as clear as a spring lake.  

On the other hand, Jungkook considered…  

On the other hand, Jungkook saw Taehyung’s wide eyes float in front of him.  I want you to be safe.   And they both knew the only way for Jungkook to be safe was if he let Namjoon crawl into his bed and sink sharp alpha teeth into his soft omega neck.  

Jungkook shivered.  

He folded his hanbok and deposited it back into his newly overstuffed trunk.  Jungkook had ten sets of hanbok now and the trunk's hinges could not contain them all.  Ought he ask Namjoon for a cabinet of his own?  

But what if he asked Namjoon for a cabinet, filled it with all of his fine cottons and silks, and then one day Namjoon tried to mate him, realized that Jungkook was not the immaculate southern omega that was promised to him—he was corrupted, sullied, spoiled—and then the Kims would have one more thing to dispose of alongside a faultless Namjoon’s second attempt at a spouse?  

It was best not to ask for a cabinet.  For anything, really.  He would make do.

Stepping away from the silkscreen, Jungkook headed straight toward Namjoon’s blankets and pillows.  He carried them toward his bed and arranged them beside him once more.  Namjoon would sleep here, rain or not.  He would sleep here because Jungkook had become accustomed to drifting to sleep in the veil of his heady scent and, though sacrifice was a part of life, this was not a necessary one.  And he would sleep here because it was what Jungkook wanted.  He—he enjoyed being close to his husband. 

And Namjoon clearly didn’t mind.  His scent was light and buoyant when he slipped into his bed for the night some minutes later.  He was just about to blow out the candle he’d brought over with him, but Jungkook rolled over until he was resting his head on his arms along the bedframe, looking at Namjoon.  

Surprised by Jungkook’s sudden proximity, Namjoon left the candle flickering.  Wide eyes locked on wide eyes.  

Jungkook broke eye contact first with a shy smile.  “I don’t know how I’ll sleep,” he whispered.  “I’m excited for tomorrow.”   

“First thing I’m doing tomorrow is ordering you the best pens and ink from town.  And taking your measurements for a custom writing desk.  Mine’s too tall for you, it won’t be comfortable days on end,” Namjoon said, sounding every bit as bashful as Jungkook.  

Jungkook cast his gaze back on Namjoon, but to his lips this time.  He saw them formed in a beautiful smile.  He exhaled softly, just staring.  

He basked in the equal warmth of Namjoon’s gaze on him.  He could feel it roaming slowly over every bit of his face.  

“You don’t have to—,” Jungkook started. 

“But I want to,” Namjoon interrupted.  

Jungkook blushed.  

Namjoon smiled wider, cheeks dimpling.  He looked so beautiful in the candlelight.  Jungkook felt like a moth to a flame.  He wanted to embrace Namjoon wholly, just to see if the fire would burn or not.  Against better judgment, he was convinced the flame was harmless this time.  

“Should we talk about something serious?” Jungkook proposed. 

Namjoon silently nodded.  He also crossed his arms and rested his chin at their juncture.  He kept his eyes only on Jungkook.  

“It’s been a week,” Jungkook began gently.    

“Yes,” Namjoon whispered back, expression unaffected.  

“It won’t rain forever.”  

“No.”  

Jungkook sighed.  “I know what needs to be done.  I know the peril I put the entire family in.”  His voice faltered.  “I—,”  But he couldn’t speak further.  A lump caught in his throat and his eyes glazed over with fresh tears.  

Namjoon’s scent spiked up at once and it succeeded at helping to put Jungkook’s heartbeat at ease.  He took deep breaths until he calmed himself.  

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon whispered.  

Jungkook’s chin trembled at the endearment: the first one between them.  

“Jungkook-ah, nothing will happen to you, and nothing will happen to our family.”  

Jungkook closed his eyes and buried his face in his arms so Namjoon wouldn’t have to witness him crying.   

Namjoon added, “You said I had to protect you, and I will.  I’ll protect everybody.”  

“But how can you?” Jungkook wept, shoulders pinched.  “If I…” 

A silence stretched between them for several long moments, the only sound that of the flickering candle.  

“A week isn’t enough time within which to trust somebody,” Namjoon quietly stated.  “Let alone love.”  

Love.  Now there was a new word in their marriage.  

Jungkook sniffled.  Without lifting his head, he told Namjoon his darkest fear: “If I want to live, I need you to bite me.  If I let you into my bed, it will be for that.  Namjoon-hyung… could you ever believe it was love under those conditions?  Is it allowed to be?” 

“Well I won’t let you die over something as silly as my romantic heart,” came Namjoon’s quick, easy rejoiner.   He said it with what sounded like a smile.  It was ridiculous.  

Jungkook laughed wetly.  

Namjoon’s scent returned to ease.  

“Hyung,” Jungkook complained, lifting his red-rimmed eyes, “You really don’t answer me seriously.”  

“I do,” Namjoon maintained, eyes widening with earnestness.  “I mean every word.”  

Jungkook pouted his bottom lip.  He leaned forward until he was halfway toward hanging off the bed frame.  “I’m sorry you’ve been sleeping on the floor for a week.”  

Namjoon shook his head.  “It’s been good for my back.”  

“Ah,” Jungkook half-smiled, cheeks still tear-stained, “So you wouldn’t sleep up here if I asked?”  

And Jungkook fully giggled at the excited flounce in Namjoon’s scent at the very mention of the idea.  The alpha had completely frozen.

“Maybe someday you’ll choose me over your back,” Jungkook teased (but not looking at Namjoon directly as he did so; that would’ve immobilized him in return).  Deciding he’d had enough fun at his poor husband’s expense, Jungkook said kindly, “I like you sleeping near me.  Your scent keeps me calm all night long.  I didn’t realize how poorly I slept those first few nights until two nights ago, with you beside me.  Even if we’re not mated yet, I still like it.”  Then, in an almost inaudible whisper, he admitted, “I’ve never liked an alpha’s natural scent before.  Not even once.”   

And his Namjoon-hyung definitely heard him, because his scent sweetened like a blooming flower all at once, filling the entire room with his happy scent.  Jungkook closed his eyes and breathed it in deeply, head filling with the comforting desire to fall asleep—safe and warm.  

“Can I wipe the tears off your face?” Namjoon suddenly asked, voice as light as a petal.  

Jungkook’s eyes flew open.  He found Namjoon up on his elbow, less than a foot away from his face.  

Without a doubt, Jungkook’s scent had betrayed his true wishes back because Namjoon reached a hand forward and wiped the lingering tears off of Jungkook’s cheeks with a swipe of his thumb on each side.  When he was done, he kept his hand cupped against Jungkook’s face, eyes locked on each other once more.  

“You—,” Namjoon began with a sharp inhale.  “You have Taehyung’s scent on you.  Can I—?” 

Jungkook’s nostrils flared and heartbeat spiked.  If Jungkook had learned anything about his husband, it was that he did not easily tolerate another scent inflicting Jungkook’s.  

He didn’t know how Namjoon intended to rid him of Taehyung’s scent.  Would he scent him?  Climb into his bed and over his body and press his nose against his intimate scent gland?  Would he stay there?  Would he, perhaps, wonder about the curious scarring along Jungkook’s neck… right where an alpha’s mark should go…. 

Namjoon withdrew his hand immediately.  

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, looking flushed.  “That was too much to ask.”   

Jungkook realized his scent would’ve betrayed him again—this time for the worse.  

“H-how?” Jungkook asked, barely keeping composure.  “How would you scent m-me?”  

Namjoon quickly extended his reddened neck.  He swiped his thumb against his own gland and then raised his hand toward Jungkook for him to observe.  “Just a small touch.”  

At that, Jungkook’s fast breathing began to even out once more.  That was nowhere near the heights he’d let his imagination run away with.  How could he even think, in retrospect, that Namjoon-hyung would propose anything indecent to him.  He wasn’t that type of alpha, Jungkook reminded himself for the thousandth time.  He wasn’t that type of alpha, even if Jungkook often found himself that type of omega.  

Silently, Jungkook nodded.  He bent his neck incrementally to the side and sharply averted his gaze toward the far wall.  It was over in a second: Namjoon swiped his thumb quickly against Jungkook’s scarred scent gland and then withdrew his hand.  

Jungkook didn’t realize he’d held his breath until he gasped at the next one.  

Embarrassed at himself, he rolled away from the edge of the bed without a farewell glance imparted at Namjoon and flopped onto his back at the center of the bed.  His heart raced out of his chest but—but he breathed the easiest he had since dinner.  He could still feel the warm press of where Namjoon’s hand had touched him, and he could smell Namjoon’s scent on him as strongly as if the alpha had embraced him in his arms.  Jungkook felt a flutter in his stomach.  He bit down on his bottom lip to regain control of himself.  

One touch— one touch from Namjoon and Jungkook’s heart was galloping out of his chest, his skin was alight all over, and his mind was floating off toward the heavens.  

What was happening to him?  Why was his body reacting like this?  What did it mean?  

Namjoon blew out the candle and the room went pitch black.  

“Good night, Jungkook-ah,” the alpha wished him.  “Sleep well.”   

Jungkook said nothing in return.  He could scarcely regain control of his breathing, let alone his voice.  

But he didn’t remember agonizing for long.  In fact, that was the last thought he remembered of the night.  He fell asleep like an anchor falling to the bottom of a sea, and awoke to birds and bright sunlight—feeling none the wiser.  

❧

 

 

When Jungkook awoke in the morning, it was to a bright day.  Beams of sunlight streamed through the edges of the paneled windows and Jungkook smiled at the sight.

Rolling over onto his side, he rested his eyes on an even more welcoming sight: his sleeping husband.  

He laid his cheek against the wooden bedframe and just stared at Namjoon, breathing heavily and evenly.  The alpha was so young and innocent.  

Jungkook began remembering last night.  He recalled that Namjoon promised to protect him.  Before he’d scented Jungkook along the base of his neck… 

Another series of flutters erupted in Jungkook’s stomach.  

Why did those keep happening?  What did they mean?  Why was a simple recollection making him lightheaded?  Maybe he wasn’t eating enough.  

With a quiet groan, Jungkook slipped out of bed.  He changed into the rosy apricot hanbok Namjoon had gifted him after his quick bath and left a sleeping Namjoon to wake up in a cloud of chrysanthemum incense and lovely peach jeogori to change into.  

Two steps into the nursery that morning and Jungkook froze.  

Yoongi and Hoseok looked up at him at the same time.  They were dressing the children.  Yoongi had three pairs of socks in his hands and Hoseok had an outfit thrown over each shoulder.  

“Googie-samchon!” Jimin’s son pointed at him, bursting into a toothy grin.  He came running over toward Jungkook, followed by one of Taehyung’s waddling twins.  

“Koo!” she squealed brightly.  

“Are Jimin-hyungnim and Taehyungie-hyungnim alright?” Jungkook asked without delay, crouching down to return the childrens’ good morning hugs.   

“Of course,” Yoongi replied with a shrug.  “Why wouldn’t they be?” 

Jungkook looked around as if the answer to that question should be obvious.  

“Ahhh, today’s the eighth day since you’ve been married,” Hoseok realized.  “So Taehyungie and Jiminie have always been in the nursery when you’ve come in.  But we alternate every week in dressing the children.  Yoongi-hyung and I are your companions for this week,” he grinned jovially.  

“I don’t think you’re accustomed to seeing alphas handling their own children,” Yoongi observed with gentle curiosity (but curiosity nonetheless).  “But such is the way of mountain men.”  He rolled socks onto the feet of his fussy toddler as he spoke.  Lifting her up, he kissed her once on the cheek and she immediately settled against her father’s chest.   

“It is uncommon in the south, hyungnim,” Jungkook mumbled back.  ‘Uncommon’ was generous.  It was simply not done.  Tending to children was an omega’s pleasure and purpose.  

“Could you get that one into his day clothes, Jungkook?” Hoseok asked Jungkook, looking sternly at his son standing with his arms wrapped around Jungkook’s leg.  “He’s quite active this morning.”  

“He’ll settle after milk,” Yoongi assured.  And then he procured a bottle from a nearby tray and handed it to Hoseok along with the twin in his arms.  Yoongi came forth and scooped up his other daughter, who’d begun pulling at the strings of the rug for entertainment, and began to feed a bottle to her.  “Good girl,” he said once she began to quietly drink, kissing the top of her head as well.   

Tearing his eyes away from the sight of the two alphas cradling babies in their arms, Jungkook finally looked down at his nephew.  Lifting him up, Jungkook let him babble all he wanted as he changed him into his new clothes.  He felt hot around his neck being in a room tending to children without another omega present.  But he could scarcely leave without his prejudice appearing obvious.  Taking a deep breath, Jungkook realized it was just that: prejudice.  His education had taught him prejudice was a vice.  He finished changing clothes and then accepted a bottle of milk from Yoongi-hyung.  He sat with his two hyungnims and fed his nephew while rocking him in his arms, just the same as he’d done with Taehyung and Jimin.  

“The weather’s finally nice enough for them to go into town at least,” Hoseok-hyung was saying to Yoongi by the time Jungkook sat down and crossed his legs.  “Otherwise it would’ve been a wasted week for them, too, like it was for us last week.” 

“I actually finished the cabinet despite the weather,” Yoongi told him, appearing pleased.  “Upended our bedroom a bit but Taehyung didn’t mind.”   

“You finished it?” Hoseok asked him, stunned.  “How fast was that?” 

“Four days.”  

“Wow!  I can’t wait to see it.”  

“You built a cabinet, hyungnim?” Jungkook asked, just as surprised as Hoseok-hyung had been. 

“I did,” Yoongi turned to him and replied, pleased with himself.  “More of a wardrobe, to be fair.  You should see it soon enough.”  

“Where will it go in the house?” Jungkook asked.  He tried to think of where there was necessity for one.  Perhaps the study?  

“Your Namjoon-hyung asked me to build it,” Yoongi told him.  “So I imagine it’ll go in your bedroom.”  

Hoseok smiled down at the baby in his arms.   

Jungkook looked down as well with red-hot ears.  Despite that, he found himself smiling and blushing furiously.  

They made lighter conversation for the next ten minutes.  Once the children had finished their milk, they were in a rush to run around in the gardens and expend all their fresh energy.  By breakfast, Jungkook found he had enjoyed the time spent with Yoongi-hyungnim and Hoseok-hyungnim.  Parenthood appeared to occur to them as naturally as it did to Taehyung-hyungnim and Jimin-hyungnim.  They were all gentle, patient, and doting parents.  It was a bizarre revelation to make about the alphas, but a welcome one.  Jungkook supposed he should’ve been less surprised, given all he’d come to learn about the Kim clan and these ‘mountain men.’  

Was he becoming a mountain man?  Or would he be a southerner his entire life?

At breakfast, after Namjoon asked Jungkook how the children had fared that morning, Jungkook let a series of silly images fill into his mind while he chewed on his meal: Namjoon rolling socks onto a thick-ankled baby, Namjoon soothing a fussy toddler with light kisses, Namjoon bouncing a dimply baby in his arms as he fed them milk from a bottle… 

It was only after Namjoon began to throw curious, furtive glances in Jungkook’s direction that Jungkook redirected his mind toward a more appropriate lane of conjecture for a breakfast table.  Such as his husband commissioning a wardrobe for him.  Jungkook closed his eyes and smiled around his chopsticks.   

❧

 

 

After breakfast, Jungkook carried the correspondence scrolls from their bedroom back into the study.  It was to be his quarters for the day.  His father-in-law had his own private study so Jungkook was assured by his husband that he’d be entirely uninterrupted as he worked.  

Ironically, the first interruption to his day was that same husband.  

Jungkook had answered two scrolls within the hour and was just about to begin a third when Namjoon slid the study doors open and looked at Jungkook with an exceptionally proud expression, eyes crinkling as he smiled wide.  

Jungkook’s heart leapt at the sight of him.

“I’m on my third scroll,” Jungkook informed him with satisfaction.  He set his pen down lest it bleed.  

“You really are the perfect man for the job,” Namjoon smiled.  “But I’ve come to do something despicable: distract you from your duties.”  

“Oh?” Jungkook asked coyly.  

“The horses are itching for a ride after being cooped up for so long.  Would you like to visit the valley with me?” 

And Jungkook did something equally despicable in return: he accepted the proposition without hesitation.  

❧

 

 

“Who is that?” Yoongi squinted, standing in the courtyard and looking toward the horizon, beyond the Kim gates.   

Seokjin, who had the best eyesight of them all, exclaimed, “That’s Magistrate Song!”  

“Fuck!” 

“Yoongi-hyung!  The kids!” 

Yoongi looked at his wide-eyed twins before entreating, “Don’t tell appa I said that.”  

“Ball!” one of the girls repeated back with a beam. 

“Ball,” Yoongi exhaled.  “Yes, I said ball…” 

“This is very, very bad,” Hoseok shook his head with onsetting panic.  “There’s only one reason he’d show up unannounced…” 

“A plan,” Seokjin snapped into focus, “We need a plan.  Abeoji and eomma are away for the day, Taehyung and Jimin are still in town… where are Namjoon and Jungkook?!” 

“They went horseback riding.” 

“They need to stay horseback riding!” Seokjin declared with a half-crazed shout.  “They cannot come wandering through those gates while Song is here.”   

“I’ll go find them,” Hoseok volunteered at once.  He deposited his son into Seokjin’s arms before running straight toward the stables at full speed.  

“Alright, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin exhaled, hugging his nephew tightly, “Time for the performance of a lifetime.  Let’s pretend everybody’s sick and bedridden.”  

“I have a better idea, hyung,” Yoongi replied calmly.  He looked directly at Seokjin and said: “Let’s get him drunk.”  

❧

 

 

The strong valley wind cut across Jungkook’s face and whipped through his long hair as he and Namjoon raced through the long grass together.  They hadn’t intended to race their horses.  It began when Jungkook galloped ahead of Namjoon to feel the wind.  Then Namjoon strode ahead of Jungkook.  Then Jungkook quietly pulled on his reins to speed ahead of Namjoon.  Then Namjoon kicked his stirrups and charged ahead.  And then, with an exasperated laugh, Jungkook urged his horse to chase after Namjoon.  

Before they knew it, they were laughing and shouting as they tore through the valley together, only ever letting one get a few feet ahead of the other before they’d catch up.  

It was the most fun Jungkook had had in well over a year.  

❧

 

 

“No, no, Captain Kim,” Magistrate Song protested congenially, “Of course I believe the other is just as intelligent!” 

“But you have to let her prove it!” Seokjin protested just as congenially back.  Turning to his other niece, he instructed her, “Can you show Magistrate Song you can count just as high as your sister?” 

The toddler nodded happily, two fingers in her mouth.  Around them, she began babbling, “One… two… three… three… five…” 

“Kids these days,” Seokjin shook his head with pride.  “They’re so much smarter than we were at that age.”  

“Without doubt, without doubt.  Endowed with marvelous perspicacity and intuition,” Magistrate Song tittered politely, looking flummoxed to find himself in his current predicament.  The other Min twin had counted, painstakingly, up to thirty before she’d exhausted her young abilities.  It had taken ten minutes… 

“Six… seven… nine… no…. Ten?” 

“Why don’t you start over!” the girl’s uncle suggested cheerfully.  

She nodded her little pigtails.  

Magistrate Song sighed to himself.  “Captain Kim,” he turned toward his host and began with optimism, “I had hoped to speak with Kim Namjoon-ssi and his omega.  I had a simple matter of registration to—”  

“My darling!” Kim Seokjin chided his niece instead, wholly ignoring the magistrate’s request.  “You skipped ‘four’ again!  It’s one, two, three, four, five!  From the top!”    

“Yes, samchon!” the girl obeyed.  “One… two… three… five…” 

Magistrate Song pursed his lips.

❧

 

 

After racing up the side of a long hill, Namjoon slowed down to a trot once they reached the peak of it.  He hopped off his horse and came over to hold Jungkook’s hand as he slid off of his.  Jungkook squeezed Namjoon’s hand tightly, feeling the warmth of blood under his skin.   

“Your nose is so red!” Namjoon teased, looking at Jungkook with a new sense of familiarity.   

Jungkook blushed further, his cold cheeks heating up.

They let their horses graze the grass and take in their fill of it.  Namjoon walked toward the edge of the hill and Jungkook followed his lead.  From that vantage, Jungkook saw a spectacular view of the distant mountains.  The summits closest to them were covered in lush greenery, but the rocky ones furthest in the distance stood in sharp contrast.   

“When they’re snow-capped in the winter,” Namjoon pointed toward them, “It’s the most beautiful sight in the entire world.  And in the autumn when the trees change colors, we’ll come back then too.  It looks like the entire valley is on fire if you come at sunset.”  

Jungkook could only imagine it.  “Then we’ll have to come at sunset, hyung,” he told Namjoon, looking at him.  

When Namjoon turned to look back at him, he was also smiling shyly to himself.   

❧

 

 

“Here we are!” Yoongi announced loudly, returning to the courtyard with a crate in his arms.  He found Seokjin and Magistrate Song exactly as he’d left them: sitting in the courtyard chairs surrounded by blooming flowers and listening to Yoongi’s daughter tediously recite every number she was vaguely aware of.   

Magistrate Song appeared to have life restored to him at the sight of Yoongi’s return.  Behind him, the childrens’ nanny ushered all three of the toddlers away from the men with a promise of candied ginger.  

“You’re blessed with such… brilliant children,” the magistrate flattered with a thin smile.  

“They take after their Seokjin-samchon for wit,” Yoongi assured, setting down his crate on the courtyard table.

“Ah, what have you brought us, Min-nim?” a successfully distracted Magistrate Song asked with glee (delighted by no end at the sight of the retreating children; thirty years of education and he still had no idea why people chose to have them).  

“This is my homemade makgeolli,” Seokjin informed the magistrate with self-satisfaction.  “Aged three years already.”  

“What a treat!” Magistrate Song exclaimed, greedy eyes not lifting from the shiny glass bottles.  

Yoongi and Seokjin exchanged a glance.  

“Hyung,” Yoongi mildly whined, “You’ve been saving these for three years.  Don’t you think you should offer us a taste?” 

“Is three years enough?” Seokjin asked facetiously.  “I thought makgeolli needed five years to fully mature.”  

“You’re mistaken, Kim-nim,” Magistrate Song informed him with a raised finger.  “Makgeolli is at its finest in its third year.  The flavor is at the peak of its powers.  You’d do yourself a service to have it at the bloom of its precious youth.  What use is there in spoiled petals?” the magistrate asked sagely.  

“No use at all!” Seokjin agreed at once, slapping the magistrate on his back.  “Yoongi!  Pour it up!” 

And Yoongi didn’t need telling twice.  He pulled out the three glasses he’d hidden in the crate and whipped out a tall bottle of makgeolli to start unsealing it.  He poured three generous measures in each glass and handed one to his hyung and one to his guest.  The magistrate needed no further encouragement to drink.  The man downed his drink and smacked his lips with satisfaction in less time than it had taken Yoongi to pour him his drink.  

“Excellent work, Captain Kim!” he effused, face already beginning to color pink.  “Excellent, excellent work!  Why, the Emperor’s stock isn’t this del-delicious!” he exclaimed with round eyes (and a hiccup).  

“Magistrate Song!” Seokjin beamed at him with a wide smile (and full cup), “You flatter me!”  

“No such thing!  No such thing!” 

“If you really enjoyed it, then you must have some more!” Yoongi offered graciously.  “Only the best for our distinguished guests…” 

“Oh, the honor is all m-mine,” Magistrate Song blushed, bowing his head slightly (and extending his empty glass toward Yoongi fully).  

Yoongi gladly poured him another heavy measure.  

❧

 

 

Hoseok was a genuinely hopeful person.  He believed in positivity and he believed that good things happened to good people.   

Such as, in this very moment, he hoped that he would quickly find Namjoon and Jungkook in the valley that he knew Namjoon often horseback rode in.  There was a peak he knew Namjoon was fond of standing at and sightseeing from.  His only concern was that Namjoon was fond of going to that peak alone, typically to ruminate about the miseries of life.  Would he take Jungkook there?  

Hoseok could only hope so.  The mountainside was so expansive and far-reaching that if Namjoon wasn’t where Hoseok thought he was, there really was no hope that he’d find him otherwise.  

He kicked his stirrups and felt sorry for his poor horse, but speed really was of the utmost importance today.   

Magistrate Song traipsing through their front gates unannounced did not bode well.  Their father had been right: the rain would protect the family but the rain would not last forever.  Two days of sunlight and dried roads and they found a magistrate at their doorstep.  One who had walked all the way from town, no less.  

Best case scenario: Seokjin-hyung and Yoongi-hyung handled the magistrate with diplomacy and tact, buying the family more time.

Hoseok ran the worst case scenario in his head: Magistrate Song refused to budge until he was presented of Namjoon and Jungkook and their mating bite.  The family could only stall him for so long.  And then they would have to procure the newlyweds for the magistrate sooner or later.  But the family could not procure mating bites where there were none.  What would happen in that scenario…  Hoseok imagined their father would attempt, maybe successfully, to bribe Magistrate Song.  It was a grim business.  Should Song prove immune to gold…  Either the entire Kim family would be sentenced for failing in their duties to an unclaimed omega married into their home, or Jungkook would be punished for sharing space with an alpha he was not mated to.  There was also the possibility that the magistrate could press both charges.  Jungkook’s status as a nobleman also threatened Imperial censure as well, likely for generations to come. 

He rode faster, almost reaching the hillside he believed he’d find Namjoon at.   

Hoseok found himself once more glowering at the power that these imperial magistrates had come to wield over families the past ten or so years.  Inflicting the north with the perverse rules and customs of the south.  The Emperor was a small-minded and conservative man and his ilk was spreading his philosophies throughout the empire like waste water in a crystal clear lake.  

Against his better judgment, a small part of Hoseok’s frustration was also aimed at Namjoon.  Were this an internal family matter, there would be no chagrin toward Namjoon or even his mother whatsoever.  But what of the four small children in their family?  Had they thought of their fates when they arranged this marriage?  And now his mate carrying a fifth...  Hoseok's alpha had been rattled for a week, though he had tried to mask it as best as he could.  It wouldn't be good for Jimin to be around his anxious scent.  Yet he couldn't stop thinking about how he was powerless in protecting Jimin and his unborn pup from the consequences of this dire situation; he hadn't slept a full night since the day after Namjoon's wedding.  Marrying a southern omega to a northern alpha… what had possessed everybody?  

Jungkook was a lovely person.  Despite that, the danger that his unclaimed presence put the family in was palpable.  Why weren’t the two of them mated yet?  None of the siblings had bought the excuse Namjoon had presented to them the day after his wedding.  He didn’t know if their parents did.  But they all thought the delay in claiming would be a day or two at longest.  It had been over a week now.  Even Hoseok’s hope was wearing thin.   

The fear was that the two did not like one another.  It was what the siblings had decided upon grimly when left to their own conjecture.  Jungkook seemed evasive and Namjoon appeared moody.  The five of them couldn’t believe they hadn’t spoken up prior to the marriage to discourage Namjoon from making the same mistake twice.  

Everybody wanted Namjoon to be happy—but was he?

Yet in the past few days they had reconsidered their initial conclusion.  All five of them had grown immediately attached to Jungkook’s sweet nature.  Namjoon appeared the same.  Most confoundingly, Namjoon and Jungkook behaved… as if in the early stages of love.  The shy glances, the permanently blushed cheeks, the coy turns of phrase, the cabinet, the hanboks, the fruits, the plum tea, the lingering scent of incense and omega all over Namjoon in the hallways…  

Maybe all hope wasn’t lost, he’d told Jimin privately.  

Jimin told him that he believed it was Jungkook who needed time.  Namjoon was putting himself on the line providing it for him.  

That had earned Namjoon all of Hoseok’s sympathies.  He would’ve done the same for Jimin a thousand times over.   

Hoseok suddenly caught sight of two familiar spotted horses grazing the tall grass and his shoulders relaxed.  Riding up the hill, he caught sight of two familiar figures sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and talking and laughing in one another’s company.  Just then, Jungkook laid his head on Namjoon’s shoulder as Namjoon gently said something to him.  Both of their contented scents wafted in the mountain air around Hoseok.  

He exhaled all at once, dissipating the stone that had been solidifying inside his chest over the past hour.  

Maybe there was much hope to be had, actually, he half-smiled.  

❧

 

 

“And that —,” Magistrate Song hiccuped, “Was how I bought the old Lee estate for a quar-quarter of the value!” 

“Sounds illegal…” Seokjin muttered under his breath. 

“What was that?” the red-faced magistrate asked, eyes narrowing. 

“Sounds ingenious!” Yoongi clarified loudly.  

“Ahhh… well.”  The magistrate preened.  

“Your business acumen is beyond our pitiable understanding,” Seokjin praised, refilling the magistrate’s cup for the seventh time.   

“You’d think merchants like us would have something to offer you in the ways of the world, but you have us outmatched,” Yoongi agreed, helping Magistrate Song steady his hand as he lifted his cup up to his mouth (and almost missed by an inch).  

He downed the drink with an extraordinarily pleased expression.  “I don’t cl-claim to be a clever man,” Magistrate Song continued to hiccup, eyes barely open.  He tapped his bald head.  “I simply have the fore-foresight of a tur-turtle.”

“Another drink, magistrate?” Yoongi asked pleasantly.  

“Oh, if you in-insist,” the man smiled, livening up at once.  He lifted his empty cup.   

After finishing his eighth drink with a wet chin and giddy squeal, he looked between Yoongi and Seokjin with quick eyes.  “Do you know some-something?” he asked.  

The two shook their heads. 

The magistrate reached forward and grabbed Yoongi by his forearm before breaking into a high-pitched giggle.  He whisper-exclaimed, “I forgot what I came here for!”  And then he threw his head back and laughed loudly and raucously.  

Yoongi and Seokjin joined in just as loudly.  

“I’ll open another bottle!” Seokjin proposed at once.  

“Good, good, go-good!” the magistrate giggled, clapping his hands together.  “The day is young!”  Then, sighing happily, he stated, “This is the greatest fam-family in the kingdom!  I m-must tell the Emperor!”  He shot a finger straight into the air.  

“Two bottles!” Yoongi cheered.

❧

 

 

“Namjoon!” 

Namjoon whisked his head back with total surprise.  He was shocked to see a ruddy-faced Hoseok standing amidst the long mountain grass.  

“Hob-ah?”  

Jungkook would’ve turned to look back but he couldn’t.  At the recitation of his name, Namjoon had instinctively reached forward and locked both of his arms around Jungkook, protecting him by caging him between his arms, pressed against his chest.  He’d done it before Jungkook had even registered somebody stood behind them.  

Now that he knew they were in no immediate danger, Namjoon loosened his grip around Jungkook.  With a short cough, he held Jungkook by his shoulders and helped him sit upright again.  

Jungkook couldn’t possibly imagine which of them was burning a brighter scarlet around their necks.   

Namjoon stood up at once.  “What are you doing here?” 

Jungkook turned his face to look back at the pair now, sitting alone on the ground.  Hoseok-hyung took Namjoon by his arm and led him toward his horse.  There, he quietly told him something.  The cold ripple in Namjoon’s warm scent wiped the soft smile off Jungkook’s face.  He stood up, arms crossed.  Namjoon looked back at him with concern.  

The two alphas spoke for another few moments and then Hoseok-hyung handed Namjoon a sack, mounted his horse again, and quickly galloped away.  

Namjoon approached Jungkook.  The two stood atop the high hill alone again, surrounded by the green grass and golden sunlight.  The color in both of their cheeks had yet to subside.  

“There’s a magistrate at home.”  

Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat.   

“Hobi says to stay away until early evening.”  He lifted the sack.  “He brought rice cakes and fruit.”  Dropping the sack, Namjoon added, “He said they’ll take care of it themselves.”    

Jungkook was petrified.

What if they can’t?  What if they get in trouble?  And if we do survive today, what happens tomorrow?   

But Jungkook didn’t ask any of it.  

“You’ll protect me, hyung?” Jungkook only asked.   

Namjoon’s heart swelled in his chest.  Jungkook could see it and sense it.  

“Yes,” he only replied.  

Jungkook extended a hand forth.  “Finish telling me that story.”  

Namjoon looked at Jungkook’s open palm.  He slipped his hand against it.  Jungkook squeezed.  They returned to where they had been sitting before and Namjoon finished telling Jungkook that long story about his youth he’d been in the middle of.  Jungkook leaned his head against Namjoon’s shoulder as he peeled a pomegranate for both of them, wishing he could hand feed the fruit to Namjoon.  Instead, he dropped the seeds into the alpha’s palm, secretly enjoying the warmth of Namjoon’s skin against his fingertips each time they touched.  

 

 

 

Notes:

+ i promised hand-holding in chapter 8 but did it in chapter 3 so WHO KNOWS how spicy chap 4 will get (they'll make prolonged eye contact for the first time) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 4: Four

Notes:

+ namkookers who else is feeling like a puppy with zoomies after yesterday

+ i hope u guys like it :D i think they're cute

+ thank u to adri for finding all my typos. if u find a typo, adri left it there to keep u on ur toes

 

 

 

Jungkook and Namjoon returned home well after nightfall.  

The moon hung high and yellow above them as they slid off their horses and walked them to the stable.  After quietly slipping through the front gate, they saw the courtyard was eerily silent and abandoned.  On clear nights like these, the family tended to congregate there for tea and the day’s gossip—but not tonight.   

Without thinking much about it, Namjoon took Jungkook’s hand in his own.  Jungkook squeezed his fingers around Namjoon’s and let his husband lead him toward their bedroom.  

Jungkook’s gaze fell down to where he and Namjoon had matching mud splatters staining the hems of their peach and apricot hanboks.  The alpha hadn’t said anything to him about having matched the omega for the past three days in a row.  Maybe he liked it.  Jungkook tried not to be too pleased with himself.  He squeezed Namjoon’s hand tighter.  

As they passed Jin’s room, Namjoon paused.  Their hyung’s  door was slid ajar and candles illuminated the room from inside.   

“You’re back,” Jungkook heard Jin-hyungnim say from behind the screen.  

Namjoon nodded solemnly.  

Jin-hyungnim said nothing further.  

Namjoon gently let go of Jungkook’s hand.     

Jungkook excused himself at once.  “Is it alright if I go ahead and get ready for bed?”  

Namjoon turned and looked at him as if it were a slightly ridiculous question.  Repeating it back to himself, Jungkook realized it might be.  To his husband, anyway.  

“Of course,” he nodded to Jungkook, gaze softening when he took in Jungkook’s frozen expression.  “You can always do as you please.”  

Jungkook had no reply to that.  He quickly walked around Namjoon and toward their bedroom, chin tucked against his chest as he scolded himself for being such an easy blusher.  

As he slid their bedroom door open, he heard Jin-hyung’s firmly slide shut. 

Once inside their bedroom, Jungkook collapsed onto the floor on all fours.  He pressed his temple against the cold wood and shuddered out an exhale.   

For Namjoon’s sake, Jungkook had kept his composure in the valley.  He kept his head on his husband’s shoulder and stared out at those lush trees and stony mountains—but his insides had been ablaze with acute despair.  He had kept his hands gripped around his husband’s arm, holding on for both of their lives.  What if this was their last evening together?  Their last moments?  What if the family couldn’t shake the magistrate?  What if they returned back too soon?  Too late?  And they found themselves separated, torn away from the other?  What if Namjoon was punished?  Made an example of?  What if the Kim family lost their heir because of him?  Their fortunes?  Their land?  What would happen to the children?  Jungkook kept his head on Namjoon’s shoulders for hours, grateful that his husband couldn’t see his face.  Breathing in the alpha’s steady scent had been his only saving grace.  

But now—back in their bedroom—Jungkook let himself spiral in the few moments he had to himself.  He still couldn’t cry; Namjoon would be back quickly.  

In the valley, he had kept thinking over and over and over and over again that if he could just get home—back to their bedroom, back to his bed—he’d do it.  He’d have Namjoon mate him and put an end to everybody’s suffering.  

But now he was back in their bedroom and he couldn’t do it.  He still couldn’t do it… 

The door behind him slid open.  

“Jungkook-ah!” Namjoon whisper-exclaimed at once, sliding the door quickly shut again.  He was kneeling down at Jungkook’s side immediately, wrapping an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders.  “Why are you…  Come, sit up.”  He tried to pull Jungkook up, but Jungkook didn’t budge.  Instead, he buried his face in his hands and wept shamelessly.  Sobs coursed throughout his entire body as he shook and wept and wept and wept.  Namjoon kept his arms around him and let him cry. 

When Jungkook’s heaving sobs ultimately settled, Namjoon gently lifted Jungkook up off the floor again and this time Jungkook let him.  He stood up onto his feet and let Namjoon help him sit down on the edge of the bed.  

Namjoon kneeled beside him on the floor and Jungkook wiped his face with the back of his hand as he vehemently refused to make eye contact with the alpha.  

Namjoon rested a hand on Jungkook’s knee.  It felt grounding.  He sighed and said, “Jin-hyung said nothing happened.  Magistrate Song came to verify our mating but they got him so drunk that he forgot what he came for by sunset.  Jin and Yoongi took him back to town in our carriage, and nobody in town inquired about any of it either.” 

“Is everybody upset with us?” 

“No.”  

“But the magistrate… he’ll come ag-again,” Jungkook whispered, sniffling.  

“He won’t,” Namjoon told him.  “He’s visiting the capital for two months beginning tomorrow.  It was why he came today.” 

“Then another will come,” Jungkook resolved miserably.  

“It rains again tomorrow,” Namjoon replied.  “The harvesting has been delayed because of it but it’ll start after that.  The magistrates don’t bother with us during these weeks.  We have time.”  

Jungkook broke into a fresh sob, leaning forward to hide his face in his hands.  “It won’t rain forever,” he barely managed to whisper, between wet cries.  

Namjoon lifted his hand from Jungkook’s knee and ran a comforting hand down his back.  He let Jungkook cry for as long as he wanted.  It was true that he couldn’t do much in the way of anything else.

There was a rap on their screen door.    

“I ordered tea for you,” Namjoon comforted.  He left Jungkook’s side for a moment and then returned with a tray.  Setting it down, he poured Jungkook a steaming cup and then held it out for him. 

Jungkook paused his crying to stare at Namjoon.  

He’d never been served tea by an alpha in his entire life.   

Stupefied, Jungkook slowly took the cup from Namjoon.  With his other hand, he wiped his face.  Namjoon appeared pleased that Jungkook wasn’t crying anymore, at least.  He poured himself a cup as well and crouched next to Jungkook as he waited for it to cool. 

“Sit on the bed, hyung,” Jungkook mumbled, not looking at him. 

Namjoon shook his head.  “I’m fine.”  

They sipped their tea in silence.  It was plum.  

After he finished his first cup, Namjoon immediately poured Jungkook a second.  Jungkook was flabbergasted.  So much so that he could find nothing to say to express it, so he stayed wide-eyed and silent. 

By the end of his third cup, Jungkook felt closer to being a human again.  The clouds looming over his mind parted and he began to think clearly.  There was no way out of their predicament without time, and everybody was doing everything they could to buy it for them.  

But what time they did have couldn’t go to waste.  Jungkook held his warm, empty cup between his palms.  

Outside, a sudden rumble of thunder sounded from the distance.   

Jungkook whipped his gaze toward Namjoon, who was already looking at Jungkook.  He smiled at him.  

“There’s time,” Namjoon assured.  “There’ll always be time.”  

Jungkook blankly nodded.  Maybe time was on his Namjoon-hyung’s side.  Maybe it always had been.   

That night—candles extinguished, nightgowns donned, beds slipped into—Jungkook slept at the very edge of his bed.  His fingertips curled around the wooden frame as he laid quietly and listened to rain fall all over the mountains around them.  When he was sure Namjoon was asleep, Jungkook lifted his head and peered over toward him.  He couldn’t see anything except his shadow in the dark.  

Though this was the closest Jungkook had ever gotten to him at night, it suddenly felt like a wider distance than ever before.  

Would it be so bad if the alpha slept in the same bed as him?  Jungkook’s stomach fluttered at the idea of their hands touching one another’s as they slept.  More than anything, Jungkook thought he’d feel safer if he could feel Namjoon’s warmth and heat closer to him, less than a few inches away.  Always protecting him.   

He fell asleep with his cheek pressed against the wooden bedframe, his left arm dangling off the side of the bed.  

His hand inches from his husband’s. 

❧

 

 

It rained for days.  

Everybody agreed it was bizarrely unseasonable and yet nobody questioned the fortuitous anomaly.   

The following morning, Jungkook woke up first and slowly unpeeled his cheek from the cool wood of the bed frame.  He sat up slowly and rolled his neck from side to side, unknotting his neck.  Eyes closed, he was relieved to hear the gentle patter of rain on the roof above him.  When he finally looked down at Namjoon, he almost jumped out of his skin.  

“Good morning,” Namjoon greeted, smiling widely.   

Jungkook’s face flushed pink immediately.  He looked away from Namjoon at once, a beautiful warmth creeping down into his neckline.  The room burst with the omega’s sweet scent and Namjoon thought he should’ve been waking up earlier far more often.  

Jungkook was always the first to awaken between them, but today Namjoon was.  He’d turned over in his sleep an hour ago and briefly opened his eyes to check if Jungkook was still asleep—only to see his husband’s slack, sleeping face peeking over the bed frame.  His hand inches from his own.   

Namjoon had propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look at Jungkook’s angelic face and hadn’t gone back to sleep.  

“You’re up early,” Jungkook mumbled, rubbing his neck. 

“How did you sleep?” 

Jungkook looked down at the bed frame.  “Well, I suppose.  I didn’t wake up once.” 

It was welcome news to Namjoon.  Before falling asleep himself, he’d worried Jungkook would toss and turn restlessly for hours and hours.  He tended to after days like yesterday.  

“It hasn’t stopped raining since last night,” Namjoon told him.  

Jungkook took a deep breath.  “What will you do today, then?  If you can’t go into town as you’d planned.”  

“I can catch up on correspondence with you,” Namjoon suggested.  “You take one desk, I’ll take the other.”  

And Jungkook smiled to himself, still facing away from Namjoon.  But Namjoon saw how his cheeks curved up and eyes fluttered.  Jungkook nodded once.  He pulled the covers off of himself and disappeared behind the silkscreen.  

Namjoon laid back down and thought about falling asleep for another hour.    

And then Jungkook started humming.  Very quietly, from a room away.  It was the tune of an old folk song—about a maiden who sang to the moon wishing for it to bring her good luck.  The moon rewards her faith and devotion by sending a star down in the form of a doting husband.  

Namjoon closed his eyes and listened carefully.  

When Jungkook came back, Namjoon pretended he’d fallen fast asleep.  

❧

 

 

After a quiet family breakfast—where nobody mentioned the events of yesterday—Namjoon met Jungkook in the writing room.  Wordlessly, he dragged Hobi’s desk from the corner until it was right next to Jungkook.  When he sat down, his knees touched Jungkook’s.  He scooted a few inches away.  

Jungkook said nothing.  He continued calmly writing, carefully holding back the sleeve of his hanbok with each dip of his pen in the black ink.  He swept away at his scroll.  

When he finished, he finally acknowledged Namjoon’s presence with a beaming smile in his direction.  “My apologies, hyung.  If I paused midway I would have lost my train of thought and I was writing a really terrific sentence.”  

Namjoon basked in Jungkook’s bright smile.  “Let me hear it.”

“This is to that impertinent woman who asks if we aren’t overpricing our jewels because she’s seen amethysts at the market for less than the price of an apple,” Jungkook reminded. 

“Ah, yes, yes.  What is your rebuttal?”  

Jungkook dramatically cleared his throat.  He read aloud, “Madam—I, too, have been to market recently and witnessed firsthand the sight of small, violet-colored baubles less than the price of apples.  When I asked the vendor what these little mysteries were called, he informed me: grapes.’”  And then primly crossed his arms.  

Namjoon laughed—loudly.  

“It’s what she deserves!” Jungkook defended himself.  “Stupid questions get stupid answers!” 

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon kept laughing, almost doubled over Hobi’s desk.  

“What would you have said?” 

Namjoon recovered himself just enough to say, “Nothing half as clever nor funny.”  Then, overwhelmed with appreciation, he complimented, “You really are just as good at this as you said you’d be.”   

“Thank you,” Jungkook accepted, just as prim (yet triply pleased).  He set that scroll aside to dry and picked up another.   

Following his lead, Namjoon took a scroll from the pile and began unrolling it to read.  

“This person wants to tour the amethyst caves,” Namjoon scoffed.  “To see if they are ‘as natural to the mountains as we claim.’  Well if they weren’t, where else do they think we’re pulling them from?” 

“This person wants us to make an exact replica of the necklace made for the Empress four years ago,” Jungkook rolled his eyes.  “As if that’s not treason.”  

Namjoon shook his head.  “I swear there used to be letters of actual importance before.”  

“Those ones are boring, though,” Jungkook teased, rolling up his sleeves afresh.  “Besides, I already answered them all.” 

“What are you going to say to that one?” Namjoon asked, eyebrows raised. 

Jungkook looked at him with a sparkle in his eye.  “Only that if they could just obtain the Empress’s written and sealed permission, we’d be happy to oblige such a simple request.”  

Namjoon fought back a big smile.  “You’re unrepentant.” 

Jungkook smiled angelically.  “What are you going to say to yours?” 

“I wasn’t going to respond.  It’s idiotic.” 

Jungkook shook his head.  “I can see why abeonim was having issues with you, hyung.” 

Namjoon leaned back on the heels of his palms and broke into that big, dimply smile.  “Ah.  But the difference between me and my father is that he delegated this job to the wrong man, and I did the exact opposite.” 

Jungkook looked away from him with another creeping blush.  “You’re quite the flatterer, I’ve learned.”

 Namjoon shook his head.  “Only to you.  I’ve learned.”  

Jungkook looked at him over his shoulder.  He appeared as if he were going to say something, and then thought better of it.  He returned to his scroll with a pleased flounce in his flowery scent, writing away.  

Namjoon sat up straight again and picked up another scroll.  Jungkook pressed his knee against Namjoon’s, all the while pointedly not looking at him.  He scribbled on.  

Namjoon read his new scroll with a smile at the corner of his lips.   “A gold tradesman from the west wants to know if Kim Namjoon-ssi has remarried.  If not, he has an omega as ‘pure as jade’ he’d like to propo—” 

Jungkook dropped his pen, leaned over, and took the scroll from Namjoon’s hand before he could finish reading it aloud.  He tossed it beside him and muttered, “I’ll answer it.”  He picked up his pen and continued scribbling, expression clouded.  

Meanwhile, Namjoon was astonished.  His hands were still midair, though the scroll had disappeared.  

Jungkook continued writing, hunched over the desk. 

Leaning against the desk, cheek in palm, facing Jungkook, Namjoon asked, “What will you say?” 

“I’ll be cordial,” Jungkook glowered. 

Namjoon grinned.  “No, you won’t.” 

And a tiny smile that Jungkook failed to suppress was all the evidence Namjoon needed that he would be right.  

Sitting up straight again, Namjoon picked up another scroll.  “Ah.  It’s my aunt—father’s youngest sister, she lives near Busan—asking how the weather has been,” he relayed happily.  Jungkook’s scent warmed.  “And if we harvested more apples or peaches this year.  She must not know about the weather we’ve been having…”  

Namjoon picked up his own pen and began writing.  He found he really liked the gentle pressure of Jungkook’s knee against his own.  Occasionally, Jungkook would save Namjoon’s sleeve from bathing in the ink pan, and Namjoon would ask Jungkook his opinion on diction.   

It was a well spent afternoon.  One of the best in years.   

❧

 

 

After dinner, the family sat out in the garden pavilion as they enjoyed warm tea surrounded by the rain.  Their mother fretted it was a recipe for getting sick, but her children promptly pretended they couldn’t hear her over the sound of the refreshing rainfall.  

It took less than five minutes before Taehyung dragged Yoongi by both hands to go dance in the rain with him.  Yoongi was vehemently opposed to the idea, but he was further opposed to the idea of Taehyung catching a cold alone.  Less than a minute later, Jimin pushed Hoseok out into the rain as well.  The alpha was very displeased that Jimin was exposing himself to potential sickness, but Jimin outran him in circles around the pavilion until dashing off toward the main house.  Hoseok chased after him with a yelp.  

Seokjin shook his head.  “These kids.” 

“Exactly!” his mother frowned, watching the four run around.  “They’ll catch pneumonia!” 

“Not a care in the world, eomma.”   

“Look how sensible Jungkookie is,” their mother praised, looking at Jungkook fondly.  He stayed dutifully at her side, safely underneath the pavilion.   

“Namjoon would fling him out into the rain if we weren’t here,” Seokjin agreed solemnly.  

“No I wouldn’t!” Namjoon disagreed at once. 

“Hasn’t he been pretending to be a saint since he’s gotten married?” Seokjin teased their mother.  “I don’t remember him being this docile and domesticated before.”  Jungkook smiled at his lap; Namjoon’s scent ruffled.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” their mother admonished Seokjin.  “Namjoon’s always been the best behaved of them all,” she confided in Jungkook, nodding pleasantly. 

Namjoon was appeased by this.  Jungkook’s tiny smile widened.   

“I’m telling Hobi you said that,” Jin told his mother out of the corner of his mouth.  

“Seokjin-ah,” their mother turned and whisper-hissed to her eldest, “Stop lying!  What will Jungkook think!” 

“I’m making Namjoon look better by comparison!” Jin defended himself back (also whisper-hissing).

Jungkook positively grinned at the familial antics.  It was sweet.

“Eomma!!!!” came a cry from the house.  

They all looked over to see Taehyung standing drenched in the distance, waving their mother over.  “The babies are crying for you!” 

“They’re awake?!  But I put them all to bed myself!” she gasped, standing up. 

“Maybe they all conveniently woke up at the exact same time,” Seokjin put forth. 

Their mother quickly ordered Seokjin to grab the large umbrella and walk with her back to the house.  Seokjin obediently did as he was told, throwing Namjoon a wink over his shoulder as he departed the pavilion with their mother.  

Now only remained Jungkook and Namjoon, surrounded by the pattering rain and light wind.   

Jungkook thought about how just a week ago, being alone with the alpha would’ve sent lightning straight through his chest.  Yet now there existed an earned comfort between them; Jungkook knew where his husband’s heart was at all times.  

Was Jungkook’s heart equally as transparent to Namjoon?  Gazing upon his husband sitting beside him in the lavender hanbok Jungkook had laid out for him that morning, he hoped so.  

“Tell me about what happens during harvesting, hyung,” Jungkook turned to Namjoon and entreated.  “Everybody in the house is eager at the prospect of it.  Is it really so eventful?”  They sat on cushions under the pavilion roof, side-by-side, facing the direction of the house in the distance.  Surrounding them were the verdant gardens, made lusher by the rainfall, and behind them was the rushing stream. 

“It’s great fun,” Namjoon began explaining, looking at his hands wrapped around his knees.  “About a hundred workers from the surrounding villages come and pick all the fruit off the trees for as many days as it takes.  Then we keep what we need for the winter, the workers take as much as they can, and then we take it into town and give away the rest.  People travel from all over the mountains on the days they know we’re harvesting.” 

“You don’t sell it?” Jungkook asked, eyes wide. 

Namjoon shook his head.  “My grandparents were against selling it.  We have no need to.  And we have one of the only plots in the mountains where fruit grows as well as it does.  We should share that fortune, especially if we want it to keep coming back to us.  Besides, if we don’t harvest it, it overripens and wreaks havoc.”  

The Kims grew more and more curious the more Jungkook learned of them.  They also rose higher in his esteem.  

“But it’s everybody’s favorite time of the year because the orchards become nothing short of a fairground for a week,” Namjoon smiled, nostalgic.  He took a deep breath.  “We can partake in it next year,” he proposed hopefully, delivering his decision with care.  “If you’d like to.”

And Jungkook nodded readily.  Of course it was out of the question for them this year, with him needing to stay out of sight.  He ran a self-conscious hand over his faded scar, lost in thought… 

Suddenly, a cold draft passed around them.  Jungkook wrapped his arms around himself as he shuddered.  

“It’s getting cold out,” Namjoon noted at once.  He looked ready to stand up.   

But Jungkook shook his head.  “It was just a draft, it’s fine.  I like being out in the rain.”  

Still, Namjoon nestled a touch closer to Jungkook.  It helped warm him.  But now his other shoulder felt colder.  What if he wanted it warmer?  If Jungkook took his husband’s arm and wrapped it around his shoulder, what would happen?  He’d leaned against Namjoon’s side for hours yesterday.  Surely an arm was within bounds… 

As if reading his mind, Namjoon draped his arm around Jungkook’s shoulder, over his lilac hanbok.  “It’s cold,” he mumbled to nobody.  But contrary to his words, Jungkook noticed the warm shift in the alpha’s scent.  

Heart leaping, Jungkook leaned against Namjoon and nestled his head against his shoulder.  The same as he had in the valley.  He listened as Namjoon took a long breath in, until his heartbeat settled.  

Like this, they sat in complete silence for a while.  Jungkook had nothing he felt compelled to speak about with Namjoon; he was wholly enraptured by the beautiful scenery around them and the strong scent of the happy alpha beside him.  The quiet rain fell like liquid silver on the emerald green grass and brought all the sunset-colored flowers around them to life.  It was an exceedingly tranquil moment in time.   

Soon, the sky darkened and the rain began to fall heavier.  

“Should we make a run for it?” Namjoon asked Jungkook softly, thunder finally rumbling somewhere overhead.  “Before we’re really trapped?” 

Begrudgingly, Jungkook nodded against Namjoon’s shoulder.  

Namjoon helped him stand up and together they made a run for it.  Giggling under their short breath the entire way from the pavilion back to the house, Namjoon held Jungkook’s hand as they sloshed through the wet grass together—not a care in the world about their hems or their hair—until they finally stopped to breathe once they were past the courtyard and under the safety of the wooden awning.  

“Do you think eommanim saw us?” Jungkook panted, looking around with a bashful smile.  

Namjoon raised his hand and wiped away the wet tresses of hair that were getting in Jungkook’s eyes.  He shook his head.  “It’s just us.”  

Jungkook felt another inexplicable flutter in his stomach—warmer this time.  

Looking down, he realized with a startle that he and Namjoon were still holding hands.  How had he been touching another person and been completely unaware of it?  

Even more curious yet—he hadn’t immediately withdrawn his hand from Namjoon’s upon the realization.  

“Shall we go to bed?” Namjoon asked him.  Gently, he squeezed Jungkook’s fingers.  

Unable to speak, gaze fixed on where dewy skin touched dewy skin, Jungkook nodded.  

Silently, Namjoon turned around and led them to their bedroom.  Equally as silently, Jungkook held onto Namjoon and let himself be led.  

Awkward feelings of self-consciousness began to creep up for Jungkook once they were confined to their bedroom again.  Suddenly he found it much less easy to tease and laugh with Namjoon as he had outside.  Slipping behind the silk screen, he changed into his nightgown quickly.  He unpinned his damp hair and brushed it out, hoping to help it dry.   

As he nestled into bed, Namjoon disappeared to change.  

Laying in bed, Jungkook’s heart thudded in his chest.  

He wanted his Namjoon-hyung to lay in bed with him, but he didn’t know how to say it.  The bed was so large and wide.  If Namjoon took up his own side of it, Jungkook would barely notice.  They needn’t touch.  Before, he’d felt a restlessness at the idea of Namjoon being near enough to touch.  Now he felt a restlessness when Namjoon was more than an arm's length away… 

Before he could even begin to think of a way to broach the topic, Namjoon returned.  He slid into his makeshift bed and blew out the candles after wishing Jungkook a good night.  

Jungkook laid pouting for at least an hour—practicing his speech for tomorrow night—before he fell asleep.  

❧

 

 

It poured all night and well into the morning.  When bleak streaks of sunlight made their way into the nursery the next day, Taehyung’s twins jumped out of Jungkook’s arms and bolted toward the door.  

“Garden!” they squealed, looking up at Taehyung with a doubly lethal set of pleading, feline eyes.  “Appa!  Garden!” 

Jimin’s eldest son came forth and gallantly slid the door open a few inches for his cousins.  Before he could get further than that, Jimin scooped him up.  “It’s raining,” he told the children. 

“Rain stop!” one of Taehyung’s twins exclaimed.  She pointed to the window.  

“Googie-samchon,” Jimin’s son called in Jungkook’s direction, attempting to twist out of his father’s hold.  “Outside,” he pled, frowning.  

Jungkook melted.  He missed the sight of his nephew’s ever-present heart-shaped smile already.  “Jimin-hyu—” 

Jimin crossed his arms and held firm.  “Not a chance.”  

Jungkook turned toward Taehyung.  “Taehyungie-hyungnim…”

Taehyung looked between his baby-faced brother-in-law and the three actual babies in the room.  He sighed.  Turning to Jimin, he said, “They’re right… It did stop raining…” 

“Oh!” Jimin rolled his eyes, “Let’s let them start handling the estate taxes next!” 

“Five minutes!” Taehyung declared as sternly as was possible for him to the children.  “Five!” 

Four excited squeals (three children, one uncle) reverberated throughout the room, and even Jimin broke into a reluctant smile.  Assuring both hyungs he’d have them back at the first sight of a raindrop, Jungkook ushered all three babies to the gardens by himself.  Once outside their nursery, all three ran ahead at full speed toward the wet grass. 

“You’d think we keep them prisoner in here!” Jimin exclaimed with hands on his hips, watching the kids bolt off on their little feet.  

“They take after me,” Taehyung informed proudly.  “I hated being indoors growing up.” 

“I quite enjoyed it,” Jimin replied.  “I still dislike getting my clothes dirty.” 

To Jungkook, Taehyung confirmed the fact.  “Next week, during the harvest, you’ll see him running back to the house to change his hanbok three times a day.” 

With a neutral smile, Jungkook decided now was as good as any of a time to tell them.  “I’ll be at home to witness it, hyungnim,” he assured politely.  

“No…” Jimin said, slightly squinting, “You’ll be in the orchards with the rest of us.”  

Jungkook incrementally shook his head.  “I will join the family next year.” 

Before Jimin could speak further, Taehyung cut him off.  “Did you prefer being indoors or outdoors as a child?” he asked, returning to the original subject.  

Jungkook didn’t waste the opportunity.  

“I cared less about being inside or outside and more about who I was with,” Jungkook explained.  “I’d do anything if my sister was with me, whether it was hunting for seashells or reading for hours.” 

At that, Jimin beamed broadly. 

“What?” Jungkook asked, catching his hyung’s gloating expression.  

“Nothing,” Jimin continued grinning.  “I just happen to know an alpha who thinks the exact same way.  ‘Rain with friends is better than sunshine alone’ I think he said once, right Taehyung-ah?” 

Taehyung nodded sagely.  “You know, Yoongi-hyung and I were just talking about how we don’t think there are two people alive better suited for one another than you and Namjoon-hyung.  Just seeing you two side-by-side feels right, and it did from the first moment.  Even the way you two look at each other when you think none of us are paying attention is attuned to one another.  Namjoon-hyung’s always looking at the back of your head as if he’s going to find the answers to life spelled out there, and you’re always looking at his hands as if—” 

“You two are very similar,” Jimin shortly agreed, curtailing the rest of Taehyung’s mortifying observations.   

Jungkook blushed a vibrant pink all the way down his neck.  

“Were you also born in September?” Taehyung asked jubilantly.  “I’ve heard people born near each other often share similar qualities.” 

Funnily enough, Jungkook had often heard the same.  It had never occurred to him to ask Namjoon when he’d been born.

“I—I was,” Jungkook admitted, flushing further.  “Was hyung?” 

Both hyungs nodded with ill-concealed smiles.   

Jungkook covered his hot face with both hands and quietly squealed. 

❧

 

 

“Are you ready for bed?” 

Jungkook looked up from his scribbling with a gaping mouth and blinking eyes.  He had scarcely realized how hunched he was over his writing desk until he caught sight of his handsome husband leaning against the doorframe and immediately sat up (and closed his mouth).  

“A-almost,” Jungkook stuttered, returning to his writing with what must have been his hundredth blush of the day.  Taehyung and Jimin had teased him endlessly that morning, then Yoongi-hyung had pointed out at lunch that they’d all seemed to have been eating Jungkook’s favorite meals for the past several weeks now and Jungkook had stayed beet red for the better part of the hour (as had his husband), and then in the afternoon Namjoon had brought persimmons for them to share just as Jin-hyung was passing by the writing room and he’d opined that it had been ages since Namjoon had brought him fruit to share, and then Hobi-hyung had wandered in looking for some persimmons he’d picked for Jimin and—and needless to say Jungkook desperately wished he could be a sanguine and refined omega like his sister and mother, but alas.  He’d blushed ruby red throughout it all.  He couldn’t imagine what his scent had betrayed of him to his hyungs.  

And now here stood his husband so openly asking if he was ready for bed.  Jungkook felt a long familiar heat creep up the side of his neck, quickly inflaming his cheeks.   

“I can wait,” Namjoon replied easily.  He came inside and sat cross-legged against the door.  

At the threat of being watched so candidly like this, Jungkook quickly set down his pen in his ink and left his half-finished letter be.  Shooting up, he brushed off the creases on his green hanbok and stated, “I’m ready.” 

Namjoon stood up just as quickly, grinning.  “That was fast!” 

Jungkook nervously smiled back.  

He followed Namjoon to their bedroom.  

When they stepped inside, Jungkook immediately sensed something was different about the interior.  And when he looked around, he saw—

“A cabinet?” Jungkook marveled, walking toward it automatically.  

Standing right beside Namjoon’s large cabinet was now an even larger, even more ornately decorated one.  It was made of shining wood, trimmed with gold, set with brass handles, and decorated in majestic carvings of flower blossoms hanging low over mountain peaks.  

“Yoongi-hyung made it for me,” Namjoon revealed.  

In the commotion of the past few days, Jungkook had forgotten that Yoongi-hyung had already divulged as much to him.  But he was happy to have let it slip his mind.  This was a wonderful surprise.  

“It’s stunning,” Jungkook praised, eyes taking in every fine detail.  He noticed now that only the right panel of the cabinet was carved with blossoms and mountains.  The left panel depicted elegant cranes flying over the sea.  

“It’s yours,” Namjoon told Jungkook, standing a step behind him. 

Jungkook whisked around to face him, surprised to find themselves practically face-to-face.  “What?  Hyung, I don’t—I don’t have enough clothes for a cabinet this large.  I—you—I could have made do with a bigger trunk, maybe, but… it’s not necessary,” he finished in a small voice, looking down at the ground.  

Namjoon raised his hands and held Jungkook by his shoulders.  “But how could a lone trunk have fit everything?” 

“It would’ve been more than enough,” Jungkook mumbled.  

Namjoon brought a hand over and lifted Jungkook’s face up by his chin, until they met eye-to-eye.  Jungkook’s breathing hitched as he took in Namjoon poring his gaze all over his face.  

“You told me you used to have a great penchant for being dressed in finery.” 

Jungkook was embarrassed the alpha remembered that.  “Th-that was before—that was when I didn’t have other cares in the world.”  

“Why should you have other cares in the world now, Jungkook-ah?” Namjoon asked, eyes glimmering.  “When my family and I are here to protect you from them?” 

Jungkook’s breathing felt as if it stopped for a moment.  That paradoxical fluttering sensation returned deep in his belly.  He leaned in closer to Namjoon, their faces almost touching.  His gaze fell down to Namjoon’s lips, how beautifully they curved upwards when he spoke.  Especially when he said such wondrous things… 

“Could you open the cabinet for me?” Namjoon asked softly. 

Jungkook blinked and stepped back half a step, out of Namjoon’s hold.  Disorientated, he nodded.  

Turning around, wondering if Namjoon could notice the back of his reddened neck in the candlelight, he slowly opened one panel of the cabinet.  He gasped.  He whisked open the second.  

He didn’t know why he expected the cabinet to be empty, but it was the furthest thing from it.

From floor to ceiling, one side of the massive cabinet was filled to bursting point with hanboks.  Shelves upon shelves of new hanboks…  Jade trimmed with gold ribbon, midnight blue piped in periwinkle, blossom pink laced with berry pink, lavender bordered with silver, mauve embroidered with ivory—and so they went on and on, well above Jungkook’s head.  There had to be over two dozen, exactly half of them in fine cotton and half of them in pure silk.  In the candlelight, the gold and amethyst buttons sparkled like stars.  

And the other side of the cabinet…  From the top hung two fur overcoats for winter.  There were also matching fur hats and tall fur boots as well.  Beneath them was a box filled with four new pairs of shoes, each brilliantly colored and stitched with a different flower motif.  Carefully, Jungkook slid open each compartment drawer comprising the bottom half of the cabinet.  His eyes widened with each successive drawer.  They were filled with hairpins, ornamented combs, necklaces, earrings, ribbons, brooches, rings… everything fit for a prince.  Taehyung and Jimin did not dress this ostentatiously, but trinkets such as these used to be a part of Jungkook’s daily wear.  Though nothing from his adolescent collection had been as luxurious as what he gazed upon now.  He blinked in disbelief.  Every single item was exactly to Jungkook’s taste.  The glittering gold jewelry was light and fine, the combs were gilded in jade and set with gems, and the hairpins dangled with pearls.  How could Namjoon have known his tastes so precisely?  

Jungkook picked up a hairpin.  It was heavy.  He recognized solid gold when he saw it.  Turning the pin over in his hand, adoring the little pearls decorating it, he thought of his parents back in Busan.  When he had left, they were barely managing to scrounge up enough money each week to eat.  His mother would have nothing left to sell by now.  

How terrible would it be, he wondered, if he secretly sent a single hairpin back to his parents?  His younger brothers were still in school, and a misplaced hairpin would mean nothing to the Kims.    

“What are you thinking?” Namjoon asked.  There was an edge of nervousness to his voice.  

Jungkook gripped the pin in his palm—and then he set it back in the drawer, exactly from where he had picked it up.  

This moment was exactly what his parents had wished for him when they had sent him up to the mountains to marry a strange alpha, sight unseen.  And yet not even his parents could have ever expected for Jungkook’s luck to bloom as fruitfully as it had.  

Wiping a stray tear away, Jungkook turned back toward Namjoon.  He couldn’t look at him.  “How do you know my tastes so exactly?” 

When the alpha replied, Jungkook could hear the smile in his voice.  “That part was simple.  I looked at each item and bought whichever reminded me of you best.”  Then, “How do you like the surprise?” 

Looking at the ground between them, Jungkook truthfully answered, “Very much.”  

“I’m glad.” 

“You like providing for me,” Jungkook observed quietly.  

“I’m your husband,” Namjoon replied steadily.  

“Not even princes are dressed this finely,” Jungkook deflected. 

Namjoon considered that.  “They would be if they were married to me, but they’re not.  You are.”  

The warm flutters in Jungkook’s belly multiplied.  

“If I had courted you before we married, Jungkook-ah, all this is nothing compared to what I would have done for you.  Especially once I had come to learn you enjoyed these sorts of adornments,” he smiled, satisfied.  “Still, I figured it wasn’t too late to try and make up for it now.  It’s only what is due to you, as my…”  He didn’t finish the thought. 

The warmth inside Jungkook spread like wildfire.  

“I’m not your alpha yet, but…” Namjoon continued, taking a step toward Jungkook, closing the distance between them.  “One day you’ll let me be.  You should know I’m prepared for it.”  

Heat spread up Jungkook’s chest, wrapped around his heart, and rattled it.  He swallowed, feeling Namjoon inch even closer.  He could feel the warmth of his body near his own.  His fingertips were aching to reach up and touch him, let them hold one another.  This alpha was a worthy one.  Every part of his body was screaming it to him.    

Instead, Jungkook uttered, “I haven’t done anything to deserve this kindness.”  

Namjoon immediately clicked his tongue (as Jungkook knew he would).  Once more, a finger came underneath Jungkook’s chin and lifted up his dejected face.  But he couldn’t meet Namjoon’s gaze this time, so he didn’t.  

“I don’t know your entire heart yet,” Namjoon murmured, “But I know enough, Jungkook-ah.  I only think the best of you.”  

Jungkook could hear himself breathing.  Why was his heart beating in his ears?  Why did he want nothing more than for Namjoon to bring his arms around him and embrace him in his warmth?  Why was his body telling him that there was nowhere safer for him than being held against the alpha’s chest?

I only think the best of you. 

Could Namjoon-hyung really think the best of him forever?  Even after he learned all of the secrets Jungkook kept wound up tightly in his heart?  

But that was a silly question.  Namjoon would never learn those secrets.  Nobody would.  

There was one secret Jungkook could tell his husband, though. 

“Every day I feel lucky that we’re married, hyung,” Jungkook whispered, not looking at Namjoon.  He still felt his hand under his chin like a searing brand.  “Every day I’m grateful to that matchmaker for bringing me here to you.” 

Attuned to him as ever, Namjoon brought his arms around Jungkook and pulled him in for the first embrace of their marriage.  Without a second thought, Jungkook raised his arms and held Namjoon back just as easily.  His cheek rested against Namjoon’s shoulder as Namjoon leaned his head against Jungkook’s.  

Closing his eyes, Jungkook basked in the moment.  Namjoon’s arms were around him and his omega felt at peace.  He felt protected and understood—and adored.  A weight the size of a mountain felt like it slipped off Jungkook’s shoulders and crashed onto the ground around their feet.  He buried his fingers into Namjoon’s back as he held onto him tighter.  

“I’ll always be here for you.  I’m not going anywhere,” Namjoon vowed gently.  A quiet moment later, he added, “I’m lucky it was you, too.”     

And could that be true?  Jungkook didn’t think so at all.  

“What?” Namjoon asked tensely, still holding onto him.  “Your scent wilted.”  

Miserably, Jungkook mumbled against his chest, “You’re not lucky.  Any other omega would be mated to you already.” 

Namjoon sighed, but his scent was pleased.  He mumbled right back, “I would be unlucky with any other omega because I’d still be thinking about you.” 

Jungkook huffed, half-blushing.  “How could you be thinking about me if we’d never met?” 

“Your portrait.  I thought about it day and night until you showed up at last, wondering if you could truly be real,” Namjoon admitted to him.  

Jungkook pouted.  “So I was just a pretty face?” 

Namjoon sighed again, laughing this time.  He pulled them apart just enough to look at Jungkook as he tried to assure him.  Shaking his head, he said, “Who believes in what a portrait looks like?” he teased.  “I was prepared for anything.” 

“So then why did you think of it?” Jungkook asked, curious.  

“Even if the rest of your face looked nothing like the portrait, I couldn’t stop seeing your eyes in my sleep.  From that portrait, I felt like you were somebody upon whom I could depend on for some understanding in this life.  And I readied myself to be the same sort of person for you in return.” 

Jungkook could think of nothing adequate to say, so he said nothing.  He expected that the deep flush running up his neck was answer enough for Namjoon.  

“Were you shown a portrait of me?” Namjoon asked, smiling again. 

Jungkook shook his head, eyes trained down.  

“Ah.  Were you disappointed?” Namjoon wondered. 

Jungkook shot his head up with furrowed brows.  “Disappointed in what?” he inquired huffily.   

Namjoon gently shrugged.  “I’m not the most handso—” 

“Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook cut him off sternly, steam practically coming out of his ears, “I shouldn’t like to hear the rest of that sentence.” 

Strangely, this only made Namjoon grin wider.  “I wouldn’t care, you know, if nobody in the entire kingdom thought I was handsome,” he began. 

Jungkook pulled his arms back toward himself and crossed them against his chest, frowning deeper. 

“But,” he continued, smiling softly now, “I should like it… if my husband did.”  

It was impossible, Jungkook thought, for him to color any deeper than he did at that moment—completely disarmed by Namjoon’s charming honesty.  A ridiculous smile overcame him as he tried to look anywhere around their bedroom save for directly at his handsome husband.  

And, once more, Namjoon brought his hand underneath Jungkook’s chin and lifted it until their gazes met at last.  Jungkook’s breathing felt short all over again, overwhelmed at the dizzying display of Namjoon’s perfect face taking him in.  

Secretly, Jungkook liked that Namjoon took control of him like this.  He knew he’d never confess things himself, but he was bursting at the seams to say them and so he appreciated Namjoon’s help in guiding him along.  It was harder for him to hide behind his thoughts when he was eye-to-eye with his hyung like this—and his hyung had quickly come to learn that.  

“I saw thousands of faces growing up in the capital, Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook told him, pupils dilating with each word he spoke, leaning incrementally closer to Namjoon.  His gaze fell down to his husband’s full lips.  “All shapes and sizes.  But I didn’t know what they called a handsome face until I saw yours.”  It was the total truth.  He flicked his gaze up at Namjoon. 

It was entertaining to see his dignified hyung be the blushing one between them for once.  Jungkook finally smiled at the sight of it—his hyung looking askance as his gorgeous dimples appeared at long last.  

“It’s not good to lie, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon mumbled, sounding pleased nonetheless.  “No matter how much I enjoy hearing it.”  

Jungkook was affronted.  “I was taught to never lie to my husband!”  

Namjoon huffed a short, incredulous laugh.  “Were you taught to tease him ceaselessly?” 

Jungkook tilted his head.  “Only to please him.  Are you pleased with me, Namjoon-hyung?” 

At this, Namjoon leaned close, close, close—until he was right at the shell of Jungkook’s ear.  Quietly, he whispered, “Very.” 

A shiver ran down Jungkook’s spine and he immediately jumped back a step from Namjoon, disconnecting their embrace.  Awkwardly, he looked down at the ground between them, running a hand over the back of his neck.  

“I—I’ll ready myself for bed,” Jungkook muttered, cheeks aflame.  

He slipped behind the silkscreen to avoid Namjoon having to witness him blush an even deeper red.  He retained some pride.  

Confronting his overwhelming cabinet—still disbelieving his good fortune—he looked between the five new nightgowns.  After quick deliberation, he chose the one dotted with little pearls along the cuffs of the sleeve.  It was the most beautiful one, and made of purest white.

As he changed his clothes, he found himself blushing all over.  His face, his neck, the skin over his stomach—everything alighting with warm flutters of joy.  He couldn’t stop thinking about how long he’d stood in Namjoon’s embrace, nor about how strong the alpha’s arms had felt around him.  As he thought about it again, his face flushed anew.  

When he stepped back into Namjoon’s view, the room filled with the alpha’s rich, natural scent.  Jungkook’s previous attempt at sparing Namjoon the sight of how red he could get was in vain; his face burned a thousand degrees in front of his husband now.  

Jungkook quickly walked over to bed and buried himself under the blanket as speedily as he could, mortified.  With a small cough, Namjoon went to change.  

Breathing in and out, Jungkook tempered his breathing within a minute. 

It was time to put his plan into action.   

If inviting Namjoon to bed depended on Jungkook gathering up the courage to say something, then they’d sleep apart for a lifetime.  Without wasting a second, he threw the sheets off of himself and got out of bed.  He quickly rolled up Namjoon’s pillow bed and threw it into the corner of the room.  Then he returned to bed and sat on the left side of it, staring at the silkscreen innocently.  In the candlelight, he could see Namjoon’s dim silhouette… his frame was illuminated vaguely, but just enough for Jungkook to admire how broad he was.  

When his husband emerged from behind it, Namjoon froze.  He looked at where his bed used to be—and then his gaze darted over to Jungkook, sitting with his hands folded over his lap in bed.  

“Do you want me to sleep in a different room?” Namjoon blankly asked.  

Jungkook was aghast.  “No!” he exclaimed, offended.  Wasn’t this obvious enough?!  Apparently not.  “No… I…”  With a heaving sigh, he lifted up the corner of the blanket next to him and tossed it aside.  Then he looked at Namjoon again, expectantly.  

Namjoon was completely rooted on the spot.  His scent didn’t flicker a bit. 

“You don’t have to,” the alpha said. 

Jungkook bit the tip of his tongue.  He felt close to foolish tears; this wasn’t going how he had expected.  

What could he say to Namjoon?  That it felt safer if he was closer?  That he wanted to feel the warmth of his body beside him?  That Jungkook wanted to breathe his scent in all night?  That he liked him?  That he was a good alpha?  That they were married and this was the least they could offer each other?    

But he couldn't get himself to say anything.  So he nodded once and slunk into bed, turning his back toward Namjoon and hiding under the covers.  Rejection wrapped around his heart like ivy, poisoning it.    

He kept his eyes scrunched shut and breathing as even as manageable as he listened to Namjoon pick up his pillows and rearrange them back beside the bed.  At least he didn’t return to sleeping by the window, Jungkook consoled himself miserably. 

The candles went out and everything went black for the night.   

❧

 

 

In the morning Jungkook stood for a long time in front of Namjoon’s cabinet before deciding what to set out for his husband to wear.  He himself was wearing the gray hanbok he’d brought with himself from the south, having fished it out of his own trunk first thing in the morning.  Maybe it was a spiteful decision, but it was his.  He could scarcely look at the cabinet full of gifts from Namjoon without his stomach turning, let alone open it and put something from it on his back.  Despite an entire night of thinking about it, he couldn’t figure out what about his gesture had alienated Namjoon from him.  He already knew he’d spend the rest of his day in the same canals of misery.  

He pulled out the darkest hanbok Namjoon owned—something between a mix of storm gray and midnight blue—and left it out for the alpha.  He could wear it if he chose.  

The nursery was as lively as ever once Jungkook entered.  His nieces and nephews were already running circles around their fathers, though those fathers didn’t seem to mind much.  

Once the children were dressed and being fed, Yoongi turned to Jungkook and directly asked, “Why is your scent so wretched and joyless this early in the day?”  

Jungkook and Hoseok were both thrown off by the question. 

“I feel like there were gentler ways to have phrased that, Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok pursed his lips. 

But Jungkook didn’t mind the inquisition.  In his sad state, he somewhat welcomed it.  He looked down at the twin in his arms and offered her a forlorn smile where she offered him a bright one.  

In the week he’d cared for the children with Yoongi-hyung and Hoseok-hyung, he’d come to know them very well.  While he didn’t think sharing everything that happened between himself and Namjoon with their brothers was proper, he was desperate enough to seek their judgment on the prior night’s events.  He had nobody else.  

“Can you keep a secret?” Jungkook asked quietly.  

“Yes.” 

“Of course.” 

He took a quick breath.  Then divulged: “Namjoon-hyung sleeps on the floor.” 

“Okay…” 

“Out of habit, or…?” 

“For my sake.  Because I needed him to,” Jungkook whispered, neck aflame. 

“That’s understandable.” 

“Good on him.” 

“But last night,” Jungkook continued slowly, refusing to look up at his hyungs, “I—he could’ve slept in our bed.  With me.  But he didn’t.”  Jungkook blinked very, very quickly.  “He slept on the floor.” 

“I see.” 

“Ah.” 

“Did he say why?” 

Jungkook shook his head. 

“Why do you think he did that?” 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook answered, voice cracking.   

“Did you ask him?” 

He shook his head again. 

Both hyungs softly sighed. 

“In marriage, it’s best to ask.” 

“It really is.” 

Jungkook nodded receptively.  

“But it’s also best to explain yourself.” 

“Helps a lot.” 

“Would you like for us to speak with Namjoon?” 

Jungkook chewed on his bottom lip as he considered the offer.  Looking up at last, gazing between Yoongi’s worried eyes and Hoseok’s concerned frown, Jungkook entreated, “Will you… tell me what he says?” 

They both duly nodded.  

“We’ll go immediately,” Hoseok stated, setting his son’s finished bottle to the side,  “If you’re unhappy, I can only imagine what Namjoon’s going through.” 

And at that, Jungkook’s frown—sadly—deepened.  

❧

 

 

Just when Namjoon thought his situation couldn’t get any worse, Yoongi and Hobi came rushing into the study as well.  They quickly slid the door shut behind them and crouched around Namjoon at his desk, joining Jimin, Taehyung, and Seokjin.  

“What are you all bothering him about?” Yoongi asked a visibly vexed Jimin. 

“We’re not bothering him!” Jimin exclaimed, arms crossed. 

“We’re investigating!” Taehyung added.  “Passionately.” 

“He’s keeping a secret!” Jimin accused, pointing at Namjoon. 

“He can’t have secrets?” Yoongi asked, incredulous. 

“Not from us!” Taehyung told Yoongi, with sad, rounded eyes.  Yoongi melted on the spot. 

“Well…” Yoongi softened, a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “Maybe he’ll tell us later…” 

“But he’s sad now,” Taehyung frowned. 

“Jungkook is out in the courtyard with all the children,” Hoseok suddenly informed Jimin and Taehyung, “If you two wanted to keep him company.”  He grimaced.  “He seems like he needs it.”  

Jimin looked at his husband with grave concern.  “Why?  Is something wrong?” 

Namjoon wilted at the question.  

“Well…” Hoseok began slowly.  “He seems about as in good of a mood as Namjoon.  Except he’s all by himself.”  

Without a second to lose, Jimin and Taehyung stood up and headed toward the door.   

“We’re not dropping this!” Taehyung informed with a glare. 

“Look after him,” Jimin said to the remaining three before sliding the door shut. 

Now it was just the alphas in the room. 

“Thank you,” Namjoon mumbled to Hoseok. 

Hobi nodded. 

“You smell miserable.  We could smell it all the way from the nursery, and not just because it’s lingering all over Jungkook, too.  What happened?” Yoongi asked Namjoon. 

Seokjin answered for him: “Jungkook’s upset.” 

“Why?” 

“He won’t say, but he says it’s his fault.” 

All three of his older brothers crouched in closer to him, waiting to hear more.  Namjoon groaned and put his face in his hands.  It was all so humiliating.  

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” Yoongi soothed him.  

“Don’t be miserable, Namjoon-ah,” Hobi consoled.  “It doesn’t suit you.  Not anymore.”   

Namjoon stared at the hems of his deep blue hanbok—the color of a storming night—and thought that misery suited him too well.  It must be why it hardly left his side.  

“Come on now, Namjoon,” Jin encouraged.  “Let hyungs help you.  Tell us what happened.”  

Namjoon mumbled, “Jungkook and I sleep apart.  I used to sleep by the window but then when he became scared of the storms, I started sleeping on the floor next to the bed—my scent calmed him.  It helped him sleep.  Helped me sleep, too.”  

His hyungs listened in silence.  

He continued, “But last night… he suddenly wanted me to sleep in the bed with him instead and—and I just froze.  I couldn’t do it.  He’d picked up my pillows and put them in the corner and sat in bed waiting for me to join him, but I just stood there.  And when Jungkook realized I wasn’t going to… he just… his scent just soured in despair and he buried himself under the sheets and I haven’t seen his face since.” 

“So where did you sleep?” Jin asked. 

“On the floor, next to the bed again.”  

“You don’t look like you slept,” Hoseok observed. 

Namjoon rubbed his temples.  “I don’t think Jungkook did very well either.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Namjoon-ah,” Yoongi comforted him.  

“Hyung…” Namjoon exhaled.  “I hurt Jungkook.  It–it would’ve taken a lot for him to build up that courage last night and I just…”  He trailed off.  

“Why do you think you panicked?” 

“I spent all night thinking about that,” Namjoon replied carefully.  

“Tell us what you can.” 

Namjoon wasn’t particularly comfortable with any of it.  These were his hyungs, but this part of his life he kept close to his chest.  

The real answer was that the last time he’d shared a bed with an omega was the night before Seyoon was killed.  The memory had come flooding back to him and filled him with ice cold dread, immobilizing him completely.  

Before his marriage to Jungkook, Namjoon had changed everything about his bedroom.  He’d had a new bed constructed, new scrolls on the walls, a different silkscreen, different vases, a new cabinet.  Nothing was the same as it had been in Seyoon’s time.  Jungkook had never touched anything that was once Seyoon’s.  Except Namjoon. 

Slowly, gaze downcast, Namjoon asked his brothers, “Do you think Seyoon is waiting for me in the otherworld?” 

“Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin exhaled softly.   

“Because if he is,” Namjoon continued, hands clenching and unclenching into fists, “then I don’t know what to do.” 

When he did finally burst into long overdue tears of frustration, his three brothers huddled around him in an all-encompassing hug and told him to let it out.  To just let it all out, at last. 

❧

 

 

If anybody noticed that Namjoon and Jungkook both had red-rimmed eyes at breakfast, not a word was spoken about it.  The sky was dreary and overcast, matching the family’s mood perfectly.    

“Will it rain?” their mother asked, peeking toward the long windows. 

“If we’re lucky,” their father quipped.  He looked up at Namjoon as he said it.  Namjoon could scarcely keep his gaze.  

Jungkook’s scent decayed next to him, but just a touch.  Even he was becoming enured to such depreciative observations.  

After breakfast, Namjoon asked Jungkook if he cared for another horseback ride with him.  While the day was still dry.  Namjoon braced himself for rejection (assuming Jungkook’s choice of apparel that day was his silent repudiation of the alpha), but Jungkook surprisingly agreed.  He said a ride would do well in clearing their heads.  

So they rode back toward that same valley, toward that same awe-inspiring view as before.  Namjoon chased after Jungkook’s horse the entire time; the omega refused to be caught up with.  He was a far more excellent rider than Namjoon.  It was obvious now that Jungkook had a competitive streak that he kept concealed, only deploying his full abilities when he had a point to prove.  Namjoon gripped the reins of his horse and tried to catch up with his husband, eyes leaking tears and his own hair whipping across his face.  It was that same fire within Jungkook that Namjoon liked most; the one he hoped he’d always be on the burning end of.   

Once at the peak, Jungkook didn’t wait for Namjoon.  He slid off his saddle all by himself and went and sat by the edge alone.  Namjoon slowly approached him moments later, when he’d caught up.  He sat silently beside him.  Their knees did not touch today.  Jungkook did not lean against Namjoon’s side this time.   

Staring out at the endless landscape before them, Namjoon couldn’t help but feel small in comparison to the largess of life.  What was he compared to these rocks and mountains?  They would be here forever, and he could be gone tomorrow.    

“You didn’t sleep well last night,” Namjoon said, breaking the terse silence between them. 

“You’d only know that if you didn’t sleep well yourself,” Jungkook replied softly.  Namjoon heard the mild pout in his voice, and he was sure it was on his lips as well.  

Teasing was a good sign, Namjoon told himself.  He continued: “I want to tell you what I was thinking about, last night.  When…” 

Jungkook didn’t say a word.  He waited for Namjoon to go on.  

So Namjoon asked, “Do you think your first husband is waiting for you in the otherworld?” 

Jungkook’s scent spiked with a dreadful panic, as Namjoon feared it would.  But he had to ask this; he had to know. 

“I—I don’t—,” Jungkook stammered, face completely red.  

But Namjoon kept his calm.  “Because I think Seyoon is waiting for me.  And if we live a long and happy life together, Jungkook-ah—which I know we will—then I don’t know what I’ll say to him when I get there.” 

Jungkook was silent for a very long time.  

“I didn’t love my first alpha,” Jungkook eventually said, deathly quiet.  “So you are all I would have in that next life, hyung.”  

Namjoon felt a crush of fresh tears.  

Jungkook continued, “But greed isn’t a virtue.  So if I get you in this life, Seyoon-ssi can have you in the afterlife.”  Jungkook wiped a tear off his cheek, turning away from Namjoon.  “I won’t say a word.”  

And Namjoon turned away from Jungkook as well to wipe his own face.  

“You really…” Jungkook began, chin wobbling, still not meeting one another’s gaze.  “You really are a strange alpha,” Jungkook resolved.  “There are alphas who neglect the well-being of the omegas they’re mated to in this life, and you… you’re thinking of your mate in the next.”  Jungkook wiped his cheeks again.  He nodded, “It’s how it should be.”  

Namjoon had nothing to say for himself.  Jungkook crept his hand toward Namjoon’s and gave him a reassuring squeeze.  Tenderly, Namjoon wrapped his fingers around Jungkook’s hand and kept it there.    

Later, they rode back home in silence.  But side-by-side.   

❧

 

 

At nightfall, Jungkook was nervous about turning in for bed.  Since that morning, he hadn’t even returned to their bedroom once.  Just the sight of that bed made him recoil.  Last night’s humiliation—as unintentional and misplaced as it was on Namjoon-hyung’s behalf—still made his skin crawl and nerves burn.  

“Look at the moon,” Namjoon came up from behind and whispered in Jungkook’s ear after dinner, as they passed through the halls.  Jungkook shivered with a smile before casting a glance up at the sky.  The moon was silver and enormous.  

Jungkook was completely transfixed by it and the surrounding twinkling stars.  

“Would you like to stargaze?” Namjoon asked.  

The idea was a tempting one, but… “It’s so cold,” Jungkook turned and said, disappointed.  “Maybe once it gets warmer at night.” 

“Southerners,” Namjoon shook his head and clicked his tongue, grinning.  “This is warm.” 

Jungkook was aghast.  “It’s near freezing!” 

“It is what it is,” Namjoon shrugged.  “Let me get a blanket.”  

And with a fur blanket in one hand and Jungkook’s hand in the other, Namjoon led him toward the front gardens, near the stone bench.  They sat together with the blanket over their laps.  After thirty seconds of sitting, the only noises were crickets, distant howls, and Jungkook’s chattering teeth.  

Namjoon sighed.  “Alright, Busan boy,” he admitted, resigned, standing up, “This was a terrible idea.” 

“Bu-but we-we d-di-didn’t se-see any sh-shoot-shooting st-stars,” Jungkook chattered, arms crossed tightly against his chest.  The tips of his nose and ears were completely ruby red.  Namjoon had barely even felt a breeze, meanwhile.  

He tugged an unsuspecting Jungkook up off the bench and wrapped the entire blanket around him, ensuring maximal warmth.  Then he wrapped his arms around Jungkook for additional warmth, and marched him back toward the house.  

❧

 

 

Inside their room, Namjoon ordered Jungkook to sit on their bed and recuperate his warmth.  As Jungkook did so, Namjoon went into the omega’s cabinet and sought out the warmest nightgown he’d ordered.  Finding the wool one, he brought it back and handed it to Jungkook.  “I only ordered you one wool one because that’s all I have, but I think you might need a few more at this rate,” he explained with contrition.  “Thicker ones, at that.  And some sleeping socks.  And a cap.”  

Jungkook took the soft nightgown with frozen fingers and genuinely asked, “How will I survive winter here…” 

“I’m wondering that myself,” Namjoon half-smiled.  “But I’ll make it my primary goal to get you through as unscathed as possible.  I don’t care if I have to stoke a fire in this room all night.”  

Pleased at this response, Jungkook went and changed into his nightgown.  When he returned, Namjoon left to do the same.  When Namjoon emerged, Jungkook stood exactly where he’d left him.  Jungkook looked toward Namjoon with knotted fingers. 

“You can sleep where you’d like, hyung,” Jungkook told him, eyes rounded with sincerity.  “I won’t think anything of it.”  

Namjoon flushed a little behind his ears.  “I—I think you might need some extra warmth tonight.  You’re still cold around the edges.”  

Jungkook flushed right back, bringing his hands up to touch his frostbitten ears.     

“So,” Namjoon continued, “If you don’t mind, I’ll sleep in bed.”  

Jungkook immediately shook his head.  “No, I don’t mind.”  

Namjoon weakly smiled back.  He gestured toward the bed.  “You first.”  

And Jungkook went and laid on the left side at once, which Namjoon knew he was partial to.  Once underneath the sheets, he poked his head out to see if Namjoon was truly going to follow suit.  

And Namjoon did.  It felt strange—there was no denying it—but he went and lifted up the silk blanket on the right side of the bed and slipped right in.  He almost groaned for his back when he felt the soft feather mattress underneath him for the first time in weeks.  How funny that his own bed should feel so foreign now.  

But it wasn’t his bed, it was theirs.  

Ought he turn his face to the side and look at Jungkook?  Was that expected?  Was that too forward?  Was Jungkook looking at him?  He couldn’t tell; he was several feet away.  Had this bed always been so enormously wide? 

But despite his misgiving, two things were for certain: firstly, he could feel Jungkook’s body heat even from this distance.  It warmed the sheets and spread across the space between them.  And secondly, the omega’s scent was a happy one.  Comfortable and content.  That put Namjoon’s entire mind at ease.  If Jungkook’s scent was so light and pleasant, he had to assume his own was mirroring it.  Would Namjoon be able to fall asleep like this, when all he wanted to do was stay awake and breathe Jungkook’s happiness in?  He couldn’t believe how diametrically opposed this night was to the previous one—mercifully.   

“Good night, Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook whispered.  He blew out the candles at his side and the room went dark.  

“Good night, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon whispered back, just as giddy.  

In the dark, he felt braver.  Turning toward Jungkook’s side, Namjoon curled his arms against his chest and closed his eyes.  He heard the sheets rustle and he smiled to himself when he realized that Jungkook was facing him as well.  

Would they ever close the gap between them?  Namjoon didn’t go to sleep thinking about it.  He fell asleep wondering if he ever appeared in Jungkook’s dreams, the way Jungkook starred in all of his.  

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

+ they held hands!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY HUGGED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY'RE SLEEPING IN THE SAME BED *OPRAH CHEERING/CRYING GIF*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S A WHOLE NEW WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

+ we're going harvesting next time :D who knows what will happen in the apple orchards.... (more hand holding, probably... be serious)

Chapter 5: Five

Notes:

+ hello hi how has everybody been :)

+ i deeply deeply love and cherish the readers of this fic. u guys are the strongest people alive. i said 'slowww buuurn' and u said 'okay boss!!!!!'

+ i hope u enjoy this lil update!! i copied and pasted it from google docs so i'm sorry if there's some wonky formatting... does anybody know the name of the extension that stops that from happening rip

 

 

Bright, golden sunlight awoke Jungkook the following morning.  

Blinking his eyes open one at a time, he brought a hand up and shielded himself from the sun.  It would appear they had mistakenly left a window shade hanging ajar overnight.  Bringing his covers up around his face, Jungkook heaved over to his other side with a soft grunt.  

He almost leapt out of his bed when he came face-to-face with—

“Good morning,” Namjoon whispered hoarsely, trying not to smile.  He also blinked weakly as the strong sun kissed the highpoints of his face.  

Jungkook could say nothing, eyes dilating to the size of lily pads.  

Suddenly it overwhelmed him—Namjoon’s thick, wintery scent.  Pine and berries and earth…  It perfumed the air and their bedsheets heavily.  Jungkook unthinkingly closed his eyes and buried his head under their blanket before slinking back down into the mattress.  

Here, alone with himself, the scent was more concentrated.  Breathing it in with his eyes closed made Jungkook’s muscles relax again.  His spine all but melted into the feathers underneath him.  He could easily be lulled back asleep for hours like this…   

Had he ever slept as comfortably in his life as he had last night?  He hadn’t tossed or turned even once. 

His first night sharing a bed with an alpha—with his husband.  Jungkook brought his hands up to check if his cheeks were as fiery as they felt to him.  They were about doubly so.  He sighed, content regardless. 

“Did you sleep well?” Namjoon asked from outside his cocoon.  

Jungkook simply nodded his head, uninclined to interrupt his basking session by speaking or showing his face.  He took in another deep breath.

Namjoon softly laughed.  “It looks beautiful outside today.  A good omen for the harvest.”  

Jungkook hummed in agreement.  

“I look forward to whichever color you’ll choose for me.  I think we’ve exhausted the blues,” he teased.  

Jungkook’s face heated further.  A smile crept across his face until it reached his eyes.  

Namjoon took a long breath.  “Your scent—”

And then Jungkook whipped the sheets off of himself.  He’d boil himself alive if he kept this up any longer, he reasoned.  Not looking at Namjoon, Jungkook stepped out of bed and walked toward the silkscreen, mumbling, “I ought to… help see to the children.” 

Jungkook slipped behind the screen, but not before catching the amused flicker in the alpha’s own scent.  His husband enjoyed teasing him, he deduced.  He bit his bottom lip to keep from making a sound.  

With a calming exhale, Jungkook stood before his mammoth, majestic cabinet and opened it with both hands.  He took a moment to marvel at all the beautiful hanboks before him, his heart swelling with each passing second.  

He knew exactly which one he’d lay out for his Namjoon-hyung.  There was one the color of golden bell flowers that Jungkook had been saving for a clear, bright autumn day such as this one.  For himself, he pulled out something similar.  It was sunflower yellow, and, upon further inspection, Jungkook saw that the pink amethyst buttons upon it matched the delicate flowers that were embroidered along the sleeves and around the collar.  

After he bathed and dressed, he returned to his wardrobe.  Opening the smaller compartments, he scanned over the jewelry before choosing a long golden pin for his hair.  He sat at the vanity as he finished adorning himself.  

When he was satisfied, Jungkook took an incisive look at himself in the mirror.  He turned his face from side-to-side, trying to understand why he looked different today.  It wasn’t just the sudden presence of jewels… it was something else.  He blinked over and over again.  Today, after more than a year, he thought he looked like himself.  What he used to look like before his first marriage, when he had just been an omega unto himself.     

Standing up, he returned to the main portion of their bedroom.  When he entered, Namjoon was sitting up in bed.  The alpha’s mouth fell open at the sight of him.  

Jungkook—whose face had just begun to recover its natural color from half an hour ago—erupted into another violent blush.  Without meeting his husband’s gaze again, Jungkook bolted toward their bedroom door and slipped through it into the hallway, a hand pressed against his smiling lips.  

❧

 

At breakfast, Jungkook could scarcely look at his husband.  Each time their knees touched in the jostle of things, he thought he was about to suffer a near heart failure.  

So he tried to focus on other distractions.  

Like how the sleeves of his hanbok fell exactly at his wrist bone.  How had his hyung known his measurements so well?  Even the halo of his bottom hem only swept across the floor as he walked.  Jungkook hated when his hems dragged.  How had Namjoon-hyung made it so perfectly for him?  

Eating his breakfast quietly, Jungkook stole a glance at the alpha.  He looked magnificent in gold.  In a fair life, his Namjoon-hyung would have been born a prince, Jungkook thought.  He had met the imperial princes and they were not as he thought alphas of their rank and honor ought to be.  But his Namjoon-hyung was.  Tall, broad, kind, intelligent…  And strong.  Very strong.  Last night when they had held one another in an embrace, Jungkook had held onto his hyung’s arms and he had been surprised to feel nothing underneath his hyung’s loose robes save for tight cords of muscle.  He was certain those muscles extended up his husband’s arms and along his shoulders, his back, his chest, his legs…  Jungkook had had no idea his hyung was keeping such strength hidden… 

Namjoon coughed.  Jungkook whipped his gaze back toward his bowl of stew.  

“I–I should help father with, uh, that task he asked after,” Namjoon suddenly muttered aloud, standing up from the breakfast table.  

Jungkook jumped up just as quickly.  “Eommanim requested for me to meet her in the kitchens once I’d eaten,” he murmured generally.  

With a nod, Namjoon walked away in one direction.  With a bow, Jungkook rushed away in another.  

Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jimin remained behind, seated around the breakfast table—agog.  

Jimin let out the longest exhale of his life.  Looking between all four, he exclaimed, “Did you all smell that?” 

“Sure did,” Yoongi confirmed, waving away the air around his nose. 

“It was impossible not to,” Taehyung stated, eyes wide.  “I thought I was going to explode!” 

“That was…” Jin considered politely, “Strong.” 

“Definitely the strongest yet,” Hoseok agreed.  “Though to be fair, it has been getting stronger and stronger each day.” 

“Yes, but the difference between yesterday and today is oceans apart,” Jimin contended.  “Do you think they slept in the same bed?” 

“They had to have,” Hoseok figured.  “They must have talked through their differences.” 

“I think they really like each other,” Taehyung said dreamily.  “Really, really like each other.”  

Yoongi agreed with his husband, squeezing Taehyung’s knee beside him.  “They’re remarkably similar in nature.  I’m not as sure they’ve come to that conclusion themselves, yet, however.” 

“We tried to tell Jungkook that yesterday,” Taehyung told him.  “But all he did was blush and look away.”  

“Maybe they both need a push,” Jimin immediately schemed. 

“At this rate, a shove would do,” Jin shook his head.  “It’s been weeks.” 

Jimin had already thought about it carefully.  In fact, he’d been doing nothing but talking Hoseok’s ear off about it in bed the past few nights (in between discussing baby names).  Jimin’s point of view was this: Namjoon and Jungkook were perfect for one another.  They were practically the same exact person as far as he was concerned.  A matching set of dolls made in a perfect pair.  On the bright side, each was compassionate, patient, and wore his (open, willing, receptive) heart on his sleeve.  One the less bright side, each was also fiercely guarded and stubborn as a bull.  

Well!  They needn’t focus on the less bright side!  This was his excellent husband’s advice to him, anyhow.  

“Then let’s give them a shove,” Jimin proposed to the table.  “A real one.”  

“How?” 

“At the harvest,” Jimin decided.  He looked up at the sky.  “There isn’t a cloud in sight for days.  Abeonim will declare it for tomorrow, I know he will.” 

Yoongi was hesitant.  “Let us not do anything to make Namjoon’s life harder.  He’s anxious enough as it is.” 

“Everything we’ve done has only brought them closer,” Taehyung comforted, facing Yoongi.  “We won’t cross the line.  And—really, hyung—the one thing that would make Namjoon-hyung’s life the easiest would be to finally have a real mate.”  

“And Jungkook’s,” Hoseok added.  “I’d just like to know what he’s like when he isn’t tightly wound up with fear.  He has a lovely smile.”  

“Like a bunny’s,” Jimin agreed, smiling to himself.  

“What did you have in mind?” Yoongi asked Jimin. 

Jimin’s smile turned sly.  “Have you ever noticed that our Namjoon-hyung has quite the possessive streak?  He’s always hated eyes and hands on anything he deemed his.” 

The alphas all grimaced deeply.  

Only Taehyung conspiratorially smiled back.  “I’m curious as to whether our angelic little Jungkookie’s is just as appalling.  I have a guess.”  

“Well,” Hoseok commented to Jimin, “Time to see if they’re as alike as you say they are.” 

“I’m sure your plan would work wonders,” Jin appraised, “But if you’re aiming to use the harvest as a means to your ends, I highly doubt that Namjoon is going to let Jungkook step one foot outside of this house while unmated.” 

But Jimin had already considered that little snag in his scheme.  Confidently, he stated: “Leave that to me.” 

 

 

❧

 

 

Jimin caught Jungkook sitting in the courtyard, reading correspondence.  As he approached, Jungkook set aside his scrolls and greeted his hyung with a pleasant smile. 

“You look extra beautiful today, Jungkook-ah,” Jimin told him at once, admiring his new clothes.  “Gold suits you.”  

“It suits Namjoon-hyung best,” Jungkook corrected, deflecting the praise.  

“Did hyung finally get around to your wedding gifts?” Jimin asked, sitting down beside Jungkook.  “I like the earrings as well.” 

Jungkook nodded, tops of his cheeks tinging pink.  “He filled an entire wardrobe.” 

“Just one?” Jimin tsked.  “Tell him you need at least three.” 

Jungkook blushed, breaking into a wide smile.  “I’d tease him as you say, hyungnim, but I’m afraid he would sincerely comply.”  

“It’s good to keep these alphas on their toes,” Jimin told him, nodding primly.  “After what Taehyung and I have put them through, they’d expect nothing less.  You have nothing to fear.”  

“Yes, hyungnim.” 

Jimin really did adore Jungkook a great deal.  The young omega was the most polite and gracious person Jimin had ever met, and it truly did inspire him in the thought that southerners were much different creatures.  But, despite it all, he still preferred northern charm.  And directness.  

“Do you have a parasol for the harvesting tomorrow?” Jimin asked next in conversation.  “The sun can be brutal for that long.” 

At this, Jungkook’s gaze fidgeted away from Jimin’s own.  “Tomorrow?” 

“Yes.  It’ll begin tomorrow and should last a week.”  

Jungkook hesitated.  “I ought to stay indoors.” 

“But don’t you want to see the harvest?” Jimin asked at once, indignant.  “It’s the most fun we have all year!” 

“Of course I’d enjoy seeing it, but—” 

“But what?!” Jimin demanded jovially.  “What could possibly stop you then?” 

Jungkook swallowed.  “Hyungnim—”

“You should really call me ‘hyung’ now, I insist.” 

“Hyung—” 

“Yes, dongsaeng?” he replied sweetly.

Jungkook’s eyes widened.  He brought a hand up and traced around the hem of his neckline with his fingers.  Jungkook had the stiff collar of his undergarment pinned high and tight around his neck.  He dropped his voice and whispered, “I’m… unmated.  How can I leave the house like this?”  

Jimin took Jungkook’s other hand between his own and pet it.  “Is that your only concern?” 

Jungkook blinked.  “Of course.” 

Jimin smiled at him.  “Then leave it to me.”  

And before Jungkook could say anything further (such as that he and Namjoon had already agreed upon waiting for next year), Jimin sat up and dashed off.

 

 

❧

 

 

Barging into the writing room, Jimin proclaimed, “Jungkook wants to watch the harvesting in the orchards tomorrow,” without so much as wasting a breath on a preamble.  He came and sat directly in front of Namjoon’s writing desk.

“Out of the question,” Namjoon replied at once.  He didn’t even lift his gaze from the scroll he was scribbling upon to spare Jimin a derisive glare.  

“But Namjoon- hyungggg,” Jimin whined immediately, “He wants toooooo.” 

“He and I have already discussed the subject.  We will be attending next year.” 

“Well I just spoke to him two minutes ago and he wants to go this year.” 

At that, Namjoon did look up with an irritated quirk in his brow.  He met Jimin’s round, desperate pair of eyes staring back at him—like a lost kitten. 

“What did he say exactly?” Namjoon asked.  “ No embellishments.” 

“He said he knows it’s the most fun we have all year and he’d love to be able to be there with all of us to witness it as a family,” Jimin immediately embellished.  “He wants to see it.  He stays cooped up like a chicken inside this house all day, hyung.” 

“That’s not true!” Namjoon argued.  “We horseback ride!” 

“He’s from the capital!” Jimin contended back.  “He must be bored out of his mind here!” 

“The estate will be crawling with strangers during the harvest,” Namjoon pointed out, lips pursed.  “The last thing that Jungkook needs, Jimin-ah, is dozens of eyes on him.” 

“On his neck, you mean,” Jimin added. 

“Yes,” Namjoon replied, clipped.  

“I can’t believe you’d deny your newlywed mate something as simple as a day in the orchards,” Jimin pouted at him, crossing his arms.  

Firstly, they weren’t mates.  But Namjoon would never say that out loud and he narrowed his eyes in vexation because he knew Jimin knew as much.  Secondly, he’d deny Jungkook nothing that were within his power to give him!  The accusation alone set him aflame!

“I’m doing this for Jungkook’s own protection,” Namjoon growled.  “As a husband, that is my sole responsibility to him.” 

“Well, I think an alpha who was inclined to please his omega would find a path in achieving both: giving Jungkook what he wants, and keeping him safe,” Jimin sniffed, nose in the air.  “If I were an alpha, for example, and my omega wanted to do something as harmless as sit in the orchards with the rest of the pack omegas and the children and eat fruit all day as he watched the harvesting, I think it would be a stain upon my honor were I not able to acquiesce such a harmless and humble wish!” 

“And I presume your omega is a bitten one in this scenario?” Namjoon disdained to ask. 

“No!  They’re not, actually,” Jimin retorted.  “But do you know what my solution would be for that?” 

“Desperate to know.” 

Jimin smiled brightly, tilting his head to the side.  He pulled something out of his pocket and dangled it in front of a stunned Namjoon.  “Hyung, I would just take a beautiful silk collar like this one and press it against my neck until it smelled so much like me that they’d know my scent three villages over.  Then I would tie it myself around my lovely omega’s neck so that every single alpha in the orchard knew that that omega was mine.  That he belonged to me—the future pack alpha of the mountain Kims.”  Jimin narrowed his sharp eyes.  “That is what I would do, Namjoon-hyung.”  

The back of Namjoon’s neck was burning red.  “That—”

“It’s a perfect plan,” Jimin challenged him, gaze deadset.  He leaned over Namjoon’s writing desk.  “He’s a southerner, hyung.  Everybody knows you married a southerner.  He looks like a southerner, even if somebody didn’t already know.  Use it to your advantage!  Southerners are known to wear collars the entire first year of marriage.  They don’t let anybody see the bite while it’s fresh—save for that omega’s alpha, of course.  Everybody knows that’s how they do it, even if they’ve never seen it.”  Jimin paused to observe the wheels turning in Namjoon’s head.  He continued, “Hyung, if you let him walk around openly with your scent trailing after him, that is more than enough protection.  Nobody would dare question our family.  And, more than anything, nobody has any reason to even suspect something is amiss,” Jimin added in a low voice.  “Who in their right mind would ever think you two aren’t well and truly mated?  Only the family knows.  Eomma says Jungkook is so careful in keeping himself covered around the servants that not even they are any the wiser.” 

All of Jimin’s assumptions were correct, Namjoon granted him that.  But…

“It’s still a risk,” Namjoon ultimately said, not looking at Jimin. 

“It’s not,” Jimin stressed.  “Nobody knows and nobody will ever know.  Hyung, there’s no reason for anybody to ever even think he isn’t bitten by you underneath that collar.  It wouldn’t occur to a single person,” he pressed.  “Think about it yourself: would you ever see a newlywed omega with a collar and assume they weren’t mated?  Add to that the fact that Jungkook blushes like a rose anytime you’re so much as an arms length near him and the matter is as good as settled!”  He sighed sharply and added for finality: “He’s a nervous wreck who lives in perpetual fear.  We should do what we can to divert him from how afraid he is of everything, Namjoon-hyung.  Please.”

Jimin took the collar in his hands, bunched it up, took Namjoon’s open hand, and pressed it into his palm.  He closed his fingers around it.   

Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek, deep in thought. 

Jimin was an unstoppable force.  “And might I point out that should Jungkook not be present at the harvesting, everybody from the village will only ask where he is.  That will raise the suspicions of a hundred people more than any silly collar could.  They all want to see your southern omega, and all their families are waiting at home to hear about your southern omega.  What will you tell them?” 

Namjoon was irked.  He did not want the eyes of a hundred strange alphas on Jungkook under either circumstance.  He set his jaw.  

“And,” Jimin continued for good measure, “If we were to say that your newlywed omega is missing from the festivities due to weak health, do you know what would happen?  Where everybody’s mind would go?  We’d have baby clothes pouring in like an avalanche by the end of the week—”

Just then, their mother swept into the room.  

A reddened Namjoon swiftly hid the collar in his side pocket.   

“Namjoon-ah,” she began brightly, “Taehyungie says Jungkookie wants to watch the harvesting as well.  Do you still have that telescope from the capital your father brought you?  Some five or six years ago?  If Jungkookie stands at the very top of the gate by the stables, I think he could have somewhat of a view with that telescope.” 

Namjoon was deeply chagrined.  “Eomma,” he stated patiently, “I will not have my husband standing on an old gate with a telescope in hand.” 

His mother frowned, crestfallen.  “But there’s nowhere else he’d see the groves from...”  

Namjoon avoided Jimin’s smug expression and boldly proclaimed, “He should watch from the orchards with all the other family omegas.”  

His mother’s eyes widened.  “But–” 

“I’ll give him a collar,” Namjoon explained, ears red.  “He’s… southern.  Nobody will think twice.”  

“A collar?!” his mother exclaimed.  “Your father will not approve of that.  I don’t approve of that!” 

“Desperate times, desperates measures,” Jimin opined.  

But their mother appeared unsure.  

“It’s more suspicious if he isn’t there, eommanim,” Jimin added, helping Jungkook’s (and Namjoon’s) cause.  “Taehyungie and I won’t let anybody near him except the family.  It’s very likely nobody will even be able to tell he’s wearing a collar.  This is only a precaution,” Jimin promised his petrified mother-in-law.  “We’ll sit far back in the shade and just watch.  Our alphas can play guard.”  

Quietly, their mother nodded.  Jimin was immensely pleased.  

Namjoon less so.  

“Hyung,” Jimin turned and chastised him after their mother had left, taking in his pallid expression, “Sometimes you should think about everything that could go right in a situation.” 

Namjoon met Jimin’s gaze.  He groaned, “What could possibly go right with this?” 

Jimin beamed.  “Your omega might have a lovely time and have only his alpha to thank for it.” 

And that shut Namjoon right up.  

 

 

❧

 

 

Immediately, Namjoon went searching for his father.  Not one foot through the door and his father informed him that tomorrow would be the ideal day to begin the harvest.  He asked Namjoon to ready himself to head into town with himself and Hoseok to inform the villagers. 

With an acquiescent nod, Namjoon turned on his heel toward Jungkook.  

Namjoon cleared his throat upon entering their bedroom. 

Jungkook was sitting by the open, sunlit windows.  He sat trimming his writing brushes in the beautiful golden sunlight—wearing his beautiful golden hanbok to match.  He’d been telling (complaining to) Namjoon for two days now that the stray, stuff bristles on his brushes were completely compromising his faultless penmanship.  Namjoon had suggested ordering in a new set for Jungkook, something befit with white jade handles and made with the softest lamb hair, but Jungkook had shook his head with determination and told Namjoon that taming errant brushes was a passion of his.  By the time he’d plucked out all the pesky, offending bristles by hand, his entire set would be as good as new.  Namjoon couldn’t hide the endeared smile on his face as Jungkook had spoken of it, eyes sparkling.  

Still, Namjoon had already sent a servant to town that morning to order a set of jade writing brushes from the nearest port city.  Just in case.  

Upon hearing Namjoon enter, Jungkook looked up at him with a smile.  They held their gazes.  Namjoon still couldn’t get enough of the sight of him.   

“How are the brushes?” Namjoon asked, walking over.  

“Some better than others,” Jungkook sighed, looking back down at them as Namjoon crouched beside him.  “They were as good as new when you gave them to me, but I’ve worn them down in less than ten days…” 

“You’re a very serious scribe,” Namjoon commended him.  “You need brushes worthy of you.”  

Jungkook only blushed, picking out another stray bristle to distract himself.  Namjoon looked down at the strewn brushes as well, but he didn’t really take in the sight of them. 

“Jungkook-ah,” he began. 

A pleased flounce in Jungkook’s floral scent.  “Yes, hyung?” 

“I wanted to discuss something.” 

Jungkook froze immediately, scent acidifying.

“It’s nothing bad,” Namjoon assured him just as quickly. 

But Jungkook didn’t unfreeze.  He waited for Namjoon to continue.  

“My father’s set the first day of the harvest tomorrow,” Namjoon said.  “You—” 

“I am to stay indoors and out of sight,” Jungkook nodded to himself.  “I understand, hyung.  Nobody will see me until the family returns.”  

“I’d never leave you home alone.  I’d stay behind with you,” Namjoon noted firstly.  “But rather… I wanted to ask whether we should both attend instead.” 

Jungkook whisked his head toward Namjoon.  “But how can I?” 

Namjoon wrapped his arms around his knees as he stayed crouched beside him.  “First tell me if you’d prefer to stay at home or if you’d rather enjoy watching the harvesting.”  

Jungkook seriously considered it for almost a minute.  He answered, “I’d rather be with the family.” 

Namjoon smiled.  “Then it’s settled.  No man left behind.”  

“But how?” Jungkook asked, eyebrows furrowed.   

Namjoon stared straight back into Jungkook’s lovely round eyes as he spoke.  “You’ll be surrounded by pack.  Taehyung and Jimin won’t let anybody near you, and I’ll also be right at your side.  So will Hobi, Yoongi-hyung, Jin-hyung, as well as my parents.  We’ll set the children on the ankles of anybody who gets too close,” he teased. 

Jungkook appeared appreciative, but still apprehensive.  “But it’s a risk.  Anybody could spot my neck…” 

Namjoon inhaled.  “Yes, that is what I wanted to discuss.  I have a solution for that.” 

From his pocket, Namjoon pulled out a long strip of silk.  Pure white, printed with swirling clouds.  Jungkook eyed it with an impossibly widening gaze.  

“That’s a collar, Namjoon-hyung,” he whispered. 

Namjoon nodded.  “If I douse this in my scent and tie it on you tomorrow—this one exception only—would you let me?  Nobody would think twice, and it would keep you safe.” 

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek for a long, long moment.  “But… if I wear that… then people here will think that you’re the type of alpha to put a collar on his omega.  I don’t want northerners to think poorly of you for my sake, hyung.  This is your reputation.”  He looked at Namjoon.  “I could always see the harvest next year, just as you said.”  

“Do you mind that it’s a collar?” Namjoon asked him in return. 

Jungkook shook his head at once.  “I…” he blushed.  “If my alpha puts a collar on me, what more could I want?” 

Namjoon’s heart nearly came to a stuttering stop.  Jungkook’s shy demeanor and warming scent and flushing cheeks were one thing, but his soft utterance of ‘my alpha’ felt momentarily incapacitating.  Namjoon took a deep breath, only wishing the expression were true.  “I had an inclination you would feel this way.”  

“I know you all hate the sight of them up here,” Jungkook admitted, scratching the side of his warm neck, “But it does feel strange to me to be a newly married omega and without a collar.” 

“This is just for the ruse,” Namjoon told Jungkook as straightforwardly as he could manage.  “Once we are properly mated, I should not like to see a collar on you again.  Mating bites are nothing to be ashamed of anymore.” 

“Yes, hyung,” Jungkook agreed.  “You know, even down south, some of the… less traditional couples refuse to use them.  It’s not unheard of to me.”  Then, slyly, he added, “But I’ve learned that northerners prefer for everybody to see their handiwork, versus covering it up.”  

And whatever Namjoon would have responded with disappeared from the tip of his tongue.  

Looking back down, a smile playing at the corner of his lips, Jungkook asked, “Do you promise you’ll be at my side all the time we’re out of the house?” 

“I do,” Namjoon vowed at once.  

Jungkook nodded.  “Then I should probably lay aside something to wear… for both of us.”  He looked up at Namjoon and smiled from ear-to-ear.  Namjoon thought the sight of his husband, just as he was in that moment, made the glowing sun around them appear dim by comparison.  

 

 

❧

 

 

The harvest was all anybody could talk about during dinner.  Namjoon, Hoseok, and their father had returned just in time to eat with the family, letting them know that the villagers would arrive an hour past dawn and to be dressed and ready to greet them in the orchards.  Their father left his children to eat as he went to check on the kitchens.  The servants were already running around preparing both a massive breakfast and lunch for the villagers tomorrow, supervised by the pack omega.  

Jungkook considered that that would be his duty one day, as Namjoon-hyung’s omega.  He looked forward to the challenge of it already.  

“What are you all excited for most?” Hoseok-hyung asked the table, sitting down next to Jimin.  Jungkook tried to suppress a smile as Namjoon seated himself down next to him, immediately pressing their knees together.  

Everybody had already finished dinner save for the two newly arrived alphas, but all seven of them remained sitting for the company.      

“Plum wine!” Taehyung piped up.  

“That takes months to brew,” Yoongi squinted.  “There won’t be any tomorrow.” 

“But we’ll get the plums for it tomorrow,” Taehyung pouted back at him.  

Yoongi was contrite.  Wrapping an arm around Taehyung’s waist, he murmured to him, “I’ll make sure we pick the best ones.”  

Taehyung dropped his head on Yoongi’s shoulder and smiled.  Yoongi wrapped both arms around Taehyung now, letting him rest against his chest.    

Across the table, Jungkook looked upon the pair fondly.  And, if he were honest, a touch enviously.  Their easy warmth and open nature toward one another were still foreign concepts to Jungkook, who had grown up around stiff upper lips and invisible affection, but he knew what he wanted for himself when he saw it.  

Jungkook drew his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees, solacing himself with thoughts of Namjoon putting his arm around him under the pavilion, and the embrace they shared last night.  He sat quietly with a soft smile as he listened to all his hyungs laugh and tease one another about the day to come.  Beside him, his Namjoon-hyung ate his dinner and listened, just as quietly. 

 

 

❧

 

 

After dinner, everybody retired to bed.  Jungkook went to the writing room and finished a few unimportant scrolls he’d been letting languish for the past few days.  If he didn’t respond tonight, they’d be delayed a week.  An hour later, he returned to their bedroom and found Namjoon reading by candlelight in the corner.  

Standing in front of his cabinet, Jungkook opened it and once more took stock of the magnitude of it.  His heart swelled anew.  

If tomorrow was as warm and sunny as today had been, then a light cotton would be best to wear.  But… if all the villagers were going to be seeing their future head omega for the first time, would it not be more seemly to wear one of his finer silks?  Or would that appear too ostentatious…?  Yet would a light cotton signal that he was indifferent to the villagers’ interest in him?  And what of the color…?

His conundrum was partly—and surprisingly—solved by Namjoon.  

“You should wear pink tomorrow,” Namjoon turned toward him and said from the window.  

Jungkook felt his face warm and a smile overcome him out of nowhere.  He faced his shelves of hanbok when he asked, “Any particular reason as to why?” 

“Do I need a reason?” Namjoon wondered back.  

Jungkook grinned, hiding behind the cabinet panel.  He spotted the hanbok his eye had been repeatedly returning to over and over again and pulled it off the shelf.  It was a light silk colored of rose petal and trimmed with ivory lace—which would match his collar perfectly.  Stepping away from the cabinet, he held it up for Namjoon’s approval.  “Will this do?” 

Namjoon looked between the hanbok and Jungkook with a shy smile, seeking his validation.  “Beautifully so.” 

If Jungkook didn’t know any better, he’d think his alpha were partial to the sight of him in pink.  He recalled the light pink hanbok he’d worn in the early days of their marriage—how Namjoon’s gaze always seemed to trail after his hems a little longer on the days he was dressed in it.  Maybe he wanted to tease his husband about it. 

“Do I look best in pink, Namjoon-hyung?” Jungkook asked innocently.  

The alpha’s scent panicked.  Jungkook’s smile widened.  

“You appear to advantage in every color,” Namjoon answered diplomatically, neck coloring red.  

Jungkook pouted.  “So pink isn’t my color?” 

“Well, I never said that…” 

“Do you think the villagers will approve of me?” 

Namjoon swallowed.  “Yes.” 

“What do they think a southerner should look like?  I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.” 

“Disappointing them would be impossible,” Namjoon stated so surely.  

“How so?” 

“Because all they know about you is that you’re a beauty.” 

Jungkook looked away from Namjoon with a heated flush of his own.  He retreated back toward the obfuscated safety of his cabinet.  “And who told them that?” he murmured.  He looked for jewelry to match his attire.  

“The servants spread the word,” Namjoon informed him, voice deep.  “They—some of the villagers mentioned it to me when I went to the village today.” 

Jungkook’s interest was piqued.  “And what did you say?” 

“I told them they were to only ever speak of their future pack omega in the most respectful terms achievable, or they weren’t to speak at all,” Namjoon muttered, mostly to himself.  

Jungkook’s heart leapt.  His hyung was incorrigible.  His smile widened.

Collecting himself, he thought, “Perhaps I should wear something more muted then.  A vibrant pink might draw undue attention.” 

A quick, agitated flicker in Namjoon’s scent made itself known to Jungkook.  He found that interesting.  What had agitated his unagitable hyung?  Jungkook peeked around his cabinet, just with one big eye.

“You should always wear what pleases you best,” Namjoon sulked, hiding his face behind his book now.  “I suggested pink only because you hadn’t worn it for a great many days.  Ever since the rains began again.”  Then, a little less sullen and a lot more forward, he glowered, “As for undue attention, you needn’t worry.  You won’t be out of my sight tomorrow.  Not for one second.”  

Jungkook was pleased that the alpha remembered the promise he’d made to him.  The idea of wearing anything other than pink floated quickly away from his mind.  What replaced that idea was one telling him that his hyung should match him in wearing pink tomorrow.  His gaze drifted naturally toward Namjoon’s own wardrobe, currently sitting with both doors shut.  Jungkook preened at the knowledge that his husband would refuse him nothing.  

He set his pink hanbok aside along with matching jewels and shoes.  The last piece of his ensemble—a lace collar—his husband would give him in the morning.  Jungkook shivered at the thought of it.  

Quietly, he changed into another new nightgown and walked to bed.  He could feel Namjoon’s gaze on him as he slipped under the blankets.  

Within a few seconds, Namjoon yawned into his book.  Within a few minutes, he had also changed for bed and slipped in beside Jungkook.  But he didn’t dim the candles.  

Jungkook laid blinking at the ceiling for two long minutes, gathering his courage to speak.  He couldn’t be sure, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his husband was doing the same.   

With a deep breath (taking in a heavenly, wintery scent), turning toward Namjoon, Jungkook asked him, “What’s your favorite part of the harvest, hyung?” 

This was new.  They’d never held a conversation in bed before, the way married people did.  But earlier that day, Jimin-hyung had told Jungkook in passing that he often talked his husband to sleep every night and Jungkook had found that enviable.  Of course his Jimin-hyung had been teasing his Hoseok-hyung, but Jungkook had thought it was sweet.  Would his voice ever be so comforting and familiar to Namjoon-hyung that it could lull him to sleep?  Would Namjoon-hyung’s voice ever be able to have the same effect on him?  Currently, just the anticipation of him speaking raised every hair on Jungkook’s arm. 

Namjoon turned to face him and Jungkook adored the way the candlelight twinkled in the alpha’s dark eyes.  

“I just like being with everybody,” he answered, resting his head on his forearm.  ( Oh, Jungkook thought.  His hyung’s voice was even deeper in bed.  A little softer around the edges.)  “Spending the entire day with the family and without another care in the world… it’s relaxing to me.”  

Jungkook nodded against his pillow.  It was funny to hold a conversation like this, two heads a couple of feet apart from each other in bed, but Jungkook enjoyed breaking the new ground.  They had to one day; why not today?  As anxious as he was, and as much as his fingers remained knotted against one another underneath the blanket, Jungkook was determined to do this.  

“Which fruit do we start with first?” he asked brightly. 

“We go softest to firmest,” Namjoon stated, just as lively.  “First thing to go will be the grapes.” 

“I love grapes!” 

Namjoon beamed.  “I—We’ll save an entire crate for you then.” 

“I can’t eat an entire crate, hyung,” Jungkook teased, eyes crinkling as he smiled.  “So will apples be last?” 

“Pears or peaches,” Namjoon said.  “We’ll decide as we go.  The trees are different each year.”  

“I look forward to trying a mountain peach,” Jungkook remembered.  

“We’ll do our best to compare,” Namjoon teased. 

“And if you don’t?” he challenged. 

“How do I know you aren’t exaggerating what a southern peach tastes like?” 

Jungkook scoffed.  “Hyung, if you’d ever tried one, you wouldn’t forget it.” 

“That’s how I feel about northern ones.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jungkook sniffed. 

Namjoon could only laugh. 

“Will apples be the second day, then?” 

“Second day is typically plums.” 

They went fruit by fruit and the next morning, Jungkook couldn’t remember when he had fallen asleep.  Likely it had been mid-sentence.  

 

 

❧

 

 

Jungkook arose earlier than usual—the butterflies in his stomach awakening him with a jolt.  He was met with soft, early morning sunlight.  Each bird that chirped the arrival of dawn that day was his friend.  

Apart from the sunlight and the birdsong, the wintery scent of a content alpha also washed over him.  But Jungkook couldn’t turn to look.  If he did, he’d bask.  And if he basked, he’d never leave bed.  

He bathed, dressed in pink, and had the entire room suffused with incense by the time Namjoon began to stir.  

Jungkook felt a warm feeling in his chest at the sight of his sleeping husband.  They’d spoken for what had felt like the better part of an hour last night.  Jungkook learned that he’d never had the fortune of meeting anybody as intelligent and good-natured as Namjoon-hyung.  He couldn’t stop smiling, no matter how much he tried to divert his thoughts elsewhere.  

Sitting at the edge of their bed, loathing to disrupt his splendid view, Jungkook gently shook Namjoon awake.  

“Hyung,” he whispered.  “Namjoon-hyung, wake up.” 

Namjoon’s eyes shot open with a start.  His head immediately turned toward where Jungkook slept, arm reaching out for him.  When he saw that Jungkook wasn’t there, Namjoon whipped his head toward—

And then he came face-to-face with a wide-eyed and wide awake Jungkook.  

Namjoon exhaled with relief.  “You’re usually not awake this early.” 

Jungkook ignored the fresh flurry of butterflies in his belly.  How aware of his habits was his husband, truly?  Was Jungkook foolish for thinking the alpha didn’t pay much mind to his comings and goings? 

“You ought to wake up, hyung,” Jungkook repeated, averting his gaze.  “We have to be in the orchards with our parents within the hour, and there’s still breakfast to eat.” 

“You go on to breakfast,” Namjoon said.  “Don’t stay hungry for my sake.  I’ll come soon.” 

Jungkook sulked.  He did not want to eat breakfast alone.  “I want to wait for you.  I enjoy eating together.” 

Immediately, Namjoon made to get out of bed.  Jungkook stood up and gave him way, trying to hide the smile at the corner of his mouth.  

Faster than ever, Namjoon returned bathed and dressed.  Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off his husband, who looked resplendent in mauve pink this morning.  The color gave him a youthening effect, bringing about the natural flush of his cheeks.  It belatedly occurred to Jungkook that this was perhaps why that same husband preferred him in pink… 

Namjoon held Jungkook’s hand on the way to breakfast.  Jungkook hid his smile behind the sleeve of his other hand, walking one step behind his alpha.  It was ridiculous, but the house was deserted this early so nobody could see them.  The servants were preoccupied and none of the other hyungs were awake.  Jungkook let himself revel in the moment. 

They ate breakfast in contented silence.  

Slowly, their hyungs filled in around them.  They endured every teasing comment about their matching hanbok with insurmountable grace—though Jungkook knew both of them blushed a ferocious pink each time.  Neither looked at the other to confirm.  

After they’d eaten, Jungkook followed Namjoon’s lead toward the orchards.  They took a head start above the others.  

Halfway there, once they had walked into a thicket, Namjoon pulled Jungkook’s hand and they stopped walking.  Jungkook looked at Namjoon curiously.  

Then, Namjoon slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out the collar.  

His heart skipped a beat.  The moment it was out in the open air, Jungkook was shocked at how much it smelled of Namjoon’s scent.  Like a pure concentrate.  It all but made his gums ache.  

“I might have gone a bit overboard,” Namjoon admitted, catching Jungkook’s glazed expression.  “I slept with it on.  For a few hours.”  

Jungkook dropped his jaw.  “You… you wore my collar?” 

Namjoon appeared unperturbed.  “How else would I have gotten my scent on it?”  He had asked the question with full sincerity.

Jungkook was speechless.  Northerners were a different breed of man, without question.  The alpha had worn his collar.  Had let it touch his scent gland… an alpha.  And then discussed it after the fact as if it were wholly natural!  

But Namjoon had done something so unspeakable for his sake.  For his omega’s protection and safety.  And so, Jungkook had no choice but to suppose, that was the natural essence of an alpha, was it not?  

Realizing Jungkook likely wasn’t going to respond to his question, Namjoon just continued.  “Shall I tie it on you?” 

Jungkook fervently nodded his head at once, a touch desperate.  

Namjoon took a step forward.  Jungkook’s skin prickled, nerves afire with anticipation.  He held his breath as Namjoon’s long fingers slipped the silk around his neck and tied it at the base of his throat.  Each brush of Namjoon’s warm fingertips against his scent gland had Jungkook gasping for air, breath shuddering.  His eyes slipped shut.  

The scent of the collar was far more potent and overwhelming than Jungkook could have imagined.  He felt his blood start to rush faster in his fingertips and his heartbeat race.  It felt as if Namjoon had buried his face against Jungkook’s neck with no intention of letting go.  It was that intimate.

“It’s not too tight is it?” Namjoon asked nervously, pulling his hands away once he’d knotted the silk into a bow around Jungkook’s neck.  

Jungkook swallowed, throat bobbing against the silk.  He shook his head.  

Opening his eyes, he saw Namjoon’s gaze fixed on his scent gland.  

“Is it covered up?” Jungkook asked him, tilting his head to the side.  

Namjoon inhaled sharply, pressing his lips together.  “Yes.”  

Jungkook nodded, lightheaded.  “Should we continue on?  Our parents will be waiting for us.”  

And Jungkook was the one to extend his hand toward Namjoon first this time.  Namjoon reached forward and took it, fingers lacing together.  Jungkook looked toward the ascending sun as he smiled to himself with great satisfaction.  

 

 

❧

 

 

Namjoon realized his mother must have forewarned his father about the collar laced around Jungkook’s neck because his father pointedly looked anywhere but at it as he greeted the pair of them in the orchard.  He just as quickly looked away, nostrils flaring in distaste.  

But the collar was having an opposite effect on Jungkook.    

In the few minutes since wearing it, Jungkook had not ceased smiling once.  Nor had he let go of Namjoon’s hand—tightly entwined around his own.  He even leaned against Namjoon as they stood together, waiting for everybody else to arrive.  

It was likely that Namjoon was doing a reprehensible job disguising how pleased he was by these new developments.  Maybe that was what was irking his father more than the silk around Jungkook’s neck.  But Namjoon could not care less; he held Jungkook’s hand back even tighter as he stood tall and upright.  He could scarcely smell Jungkook’s scent underneath his own covering up his gland, but if he could, he knew it would have been flourishing.  It always did when they held hands.  He wasn’t sure Jungkook was aware of that, and he didn’t want to apprise him of it either.  Shyness would win out with his husband.  

Soon, his five brothers arrived and the family assembled themselves into a neat line.  And then, not a moment too soon, the villagers began pouring in.  

Greetings and well wishes were exchanged with happy smiles and deferential bows.  Namjoon was well aware of every gaze that lingered over Jungkook.  Jungkook must have been as well.  After the first few dozen alphas and betas had walked past, Jungkook broke from the line and stood directly behind Namjoon.  He brought his hands up to Namjoon’s shoulders and peeked over his shoulders at the next batch of village alphas began making their way up the grove.  

Namjoon squared his broad shoulders and stood up straighter.  Jungkook leaned his chin against his back, silent.  

The greetings continued as usual—except now the alphas merely flicked a half-curious gaze at Jungkook before swiftly moving along, like the betas had been doing.  Half a face was not much to look at, hidden as Jungkook was behind him, and less so when the omega smelled so obviously and freshly claimed.  

Namjoon would have to give Jimin credit where it was due.  They hadn’t aroused even a hint of suspicion.    

“I think everybody’s arrived,” their mother clapped after twenty minutes, not having noticed Jungkook and Namjoon’s stances.  “Let’s head toward the groves.”  

As they walked over, Taehyung approached Jungkook first.  “Are you alright?” 

Namjoon turned to see Jungkook nod his head.  “I became nervous,” he admitted to Taehyung.  

“It’s a lot of eyes all at once,” Taehyung commiserated. 

Jungkook nodded.  He clenched his hands around the fabric of Namjoon’s hanbok that much tighter. 

Once Taehyung had rejoined Yoongi, Namjoon brought Jungkook a step forward so that they could walk side-by-side.  Jungkook let go of him and clasped his hands together.  For his own sake, Namjoon asked gently, “Jungkook-ah, are you alright?”  

Jungkook looked up at him with flushed cheeks.  In a quiet voice, he said, “It felt safer to stand behind you, hyung.  Too many alphas.”  Then, a beat later, “Too many scents.” 

And Namjoon belatedly—stupidly—realized that as an unmated omega, of course Jungkook would be overwhelmed by all the alphas in his vicinity.  Unlike Taehyung and Jimin who were single-mindedly attached to their own alphas’ scents, Jungkook was as much of a victim to his surroundings as Namjoon was—except the only unmated omega near Namjoon was Jungkook.  It was likely Jungkook retreated toward Namjoon’s neck, where his scent was strongest, for reprieve.  Or, Namjoon thought warmly, maybe he wanted to be comforted by a familiar (cherished) scent.  

To Namjoon, it was only more reason to keep Jungkook as far away from the alphas as possible.  He knew none of the villagers meant harm, but Jungkook’s protection was his most urgent concern of the day.  

“That was as close as you’ll have to get to anybody this week,” Namjoon assured him.  “I promise.” 

“They all greeted me so graciously,” Jungkook said, fraught.  “But I can’t stop myself from feeling unsettled.  Especially if you’re not beside me.  I–I haven’t been around anybody outside of the family since we’ve married.”

“The villagers are good people,” Namjoon agreed, “But there will be plenty of time to get to know them after we’re mated.”

“Will they think me rude if I keep to myself?” 

“I think they’ll have understood that you’re shy, as well as far away from home and your family.”  

Jungkook took a deep breath.  “I have to act mated, however.  Hiding behind my alpha at the sight of others would make no sense if I were mated.” 

Namjoon smiled softly, wrapping an arm around Jungkook’s back.  “They’ll only think you’re shy.  Or modest.  I promise.”  

Jungkook smiled weakly back.  “I guess being southern should come with some advantages in the mountains.” 

Namjoon agreed.  They walked on and congregated with their family again under a large ginkgo tree.  Underneath its shade, a picnic for the day had been arranged with blankets thrown over the grass and sitting cushions for everybody.  Jungkook soon began helping set up tea as the alphas went to convene with the villagers.  

Only Namjoon lingered behind.  

Facing him, Jungkook said, “You can go with the alphas, hyung.  I’m perfectly fine here.”  

It was true the tree was a good distance from the groves—and it was unlikely anybody could approach the omegas without one of the family noticing—but Namjoon didn’t budge.  He’d promised Jungkook he wouldn’t leave his side. 

“I’m fine as well,” he replied, standing over them with arms crossed.  

His mother tsked.  “Go do your duty!” she said, waving him off.  “We’ll call you when it’s time to eat.”  

“Don’t worry about little Jungkookie,” Taehyung teased his hyung with a twinkle in his eye.  He held Jungkook by his shoulders and grinned, “We won’t let anybody bite.” 

“Taehyung,” Namjoon growled.  

Taehyung and Jimin burst into peals of laughter as Jungkook blushed near maroon, looking away from Namjoon.  

“Taehyung-ah,” his mother admonished him, “Somebody will hear you.” 

A bellow was heard across the meadow.  “Kim Namjoon!” 

“Your father’s calling!” his mother announced.  “Go, go!” she waved him off. 

But Namjoon could only look between his father, standing with his arms also crossed at the edge of the orchards looking toward his direction, and the back of Jungkook’s head as he carefully helped lay out tea and honey cookies.  Perhaps sensing his distress, Jungkook whipped his head around to look at Namjoon.  

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, following Namjoon’s gaze toward where his father stood, “Will you be back in twenty minutes for tea?”  He looked back at Namjoon with round, expectant eyes.  

With an exhale, Namjoon nodded his head.  He would’ve bent down and ran his wrist along Jungkook’s neck were they alone, but they were decidedly not.  With a contrite frown, he jogged toward where his father awaited him, wondering if he could keep track of twenty minutes exactly in his head.  

 

 

❧

 

 

The alphas would not be joining them for tea.  Jin had raced over to deliver the disappointing news before just as quickly racing back toward the orchards.  

“We’ll see their sunburnt faces for lunch,” their mother sighed, taking it upon herself to pour tea for each omega.  “But that was expected.  I only brought four teacups.” 

And Jungkook noticed for the first time that she really had.  

“How did you know, eommanim?” Jungkook asked her, awed, taking his tea and sipping it at once.  

“It’s impossible to leave the orchards during the harvest,” Jimin said.  “It’s far too fun for them all over there.  They’re all probably chatting away and sharing all the news they’ve missed out on over the past year and filling up on grapes.” 

“Speaking of: do not accept any grapes that Jin-hyung gives you today,” Taehyung suddenly turned to Jungkook with a serious expression and stated.  “He picks the sourest ones and enjoys watching people’s faces pucker as they eat them.  You’re the freshest bait he’s had in years.  Even the children are wary.” 

Jungkook giggled.  “You needn’t worry, hyung.  Though Seokjin-hyungnim is my eldest brother, I could still never think to eat anything offered to me by an unmated alpha.” 

Taehyung sighed hopelessly.  Resting a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, he only said, “If being southern were a crime, you’d be in prison for a thousand years.”  

“Taehyung-ah,” Jimin scolded, amused nonetheless.  “Maybe it’s a stroke of luck that you’ve never been able to visit Busan.  I don’t think they’d know what to do with you.  Would they, Jungkook-ah?” 

And Jungkook had to nod his head in agreement.  Taehyung spoke so innocently and guilelessly for an omega that Jungkook knew his free-spirited way of being would chafe against the attitudes of those from the capitol.  Additionally, Taehyung wore his hair loose and shaggy with no ornamentation, and often had his hanbok pulled up at the sleeves.  He laughed loudly and broadly and smiled far too much for southern tastes.  No—Taehyung-hyung would be a terrible failure in Busan.  But the fact of it greatly increased his charm and endearment as far as Jungkook was concerned.  No southern omega had ever offered the kindness and warmth that his Taehyung-hyungnim had given him in three weeks.  Jungkook didn’t think he himself was capable of it, either.  

“Yet I think southerners could do well to learn from Taehyungie-hyung,” Jungkook said demurely, looking down at his teacup as he spoke.  “He is as a person should be.” 

“And how’s that?” Jimin asked, tickled. 

Jungkook chose his words carefully.  “He’s broad-minded and open-hearted.  He loves completely.”  

Immediately, Taehyung reached over and wrapped his arms around Jungkook, embracing him in a tremendous hug.  He leaned his head against Jungkook’s shoulder and warmly nuzzled him.  Jungkook froze for a second at the proximity but then… he relaxed into Taehyung’s touch.  He leaned his head, just a touch, against Taehyung’s. 

Jimin watched them with full eyes.  

“You’ve understood Taehyung well,” their mother said to Jungkook, appearing equally as touched at the sight before herself.  She rested her hand on Jimin’s.  “What do you make of our Jiminie?” 

Jimin immediately seemed embarrassed at the attention, his cheeks flushing a cool pink.  And Jungkook thought it was charmingly characteristic of Jimin-hyung to shy away from attention he hadn’t invited upon himself.  Jungkook could have seen Jimin-hyung faring better in the capitol with his refined appearance and manners, but ultimately he too would have failed.  Jimin-hyung’s fiery spirit and determined pursuit of justice would have met catastrophic ends.  Sometimes Jungkook thought Jimin viewed him as a heartbreaking specimen, but he wondered what his hyung would do if confronted with a thousand of versions of Jungkook.  He couldn’t save them all. 

Setting his empty teacup down, Jungkook said, “Jimin-hyung is as if safety and compassion were a person.  Where would the family be without him?” 

Their mother slightly gasped.  Tightening her hold on Jimin’s hand, she admitted, “I wonder that often.” 

Jimin reached over and hugged Jungkook from his other side.  Squeezed between his hyungs, Jungkook closed his eyes and let them overwhelm him with their affectionate, sweet scents.  

“There isn’t a mother alive luckier than I am,” their mother said, sitting with her hands on her lap.  She looked at them with such serene happiness that Jungkook could practically see the sight of the three of them wrapped up in each other through her eyes.  

“Well!  Isn’t this a sight for sore eyes!” came a call from behind them.  

Their mother looked at the intruder with a startle, and then a beaming smile.  “Oh-nim!” she exclaimed, standing up. 

The three omegas sat up and looked over their shoulders.  Jungkook saw an alpha some ten years older than themselves approaching with a wooden contraption in one arm and a bucket in the other.  From the strong scent of mandarin emanating off his sweaty brow,  Jungkook discerned the alpha was an unmated one.  Immediately, his gaze darted off toward the orchards.  He saw lots of people milling about, but no sight of his husband’s pink hanbok.  

The alpha greeted their mother warmly and nodded at the three of them, who had stood up to properly bow back.  His gaze locked on Jungkook for a moment longer than it did on Jimin or Taehyung, but nothing was said beyond a rushed introduction.  He looked away just as quickly as Jungkook did.  

“I’ve brought the press, as promised,” the man announced, looking between Jimin and Taehyung.  Jungkook had promptly stood behind them, hoping to disappear from attention.  “And some grapes!”  He lowered the bucket and Jungkook saw it was filled with shining green grapes.  

Taehyung was thrilled.  “To make juice?” 

“Of course!” the alpha beamed. 

Jungkook panicked.  He glanced toward the village alphas again, straining to spot his husband in the sea of gray and beige clothing.  

“Did you see Namjoon out in the grove, Oh-nim?” their mother asked the alpha, blinking far too often.  

The alpha looked back toward the grove.  “I didn’t,” he replied.  “What color is he in?” 

Their mother looked toward Jungkook for the answer.  He mouthed ‘pink.’ 

“Pink,” their mother replied. 

The alpha snickered.  “Our Namjoonie?  In color?”

“We should wait for the alphas to return,” Jimin piped up, “before we make juice.”  

The alpha waved a hand dismissively.  “Don’t you always say they ought to make their own?” 

“I do…” Jimin admitted, “But…” 

“Why don’t you go get them, hyung, and we’ll start cleaning the grapes?” Taehyung proposed instead.  

“I’ll help,” the alpha offered. 

“Nonsense!” all three omegas replied at once, voices high-pitched.  

“Show me once more how your invention works, Oh-nim,” their mother said, walking toward the alpha and placing herself between him and the family omegas.  The man was clearly not a threat to the family but Jungkook appreciated her protectiveness all the same.  Once more, he looked toward the orchards.  

While their mother kept their guest busy, Jimin and Taehyung heaved the bucket of grapes toward themselves.  They bent over it and quickly began plucking the grapes off their stems to prepare them for juicing.  Jimin grabbed a shell-shocked Jungkook by his sleeve and tugged him down beside them.  Taehyung thrust a bunch of grapes into Jungkook’s knotted fingers to redirect his attention.  Jungkook joined his hyungs in their task, but he was not pleased about it.  Every ten seconds or so, he threw a glance over his shoulder toward the orchards.  Every twenty seconds, he fidgeted with his collar.  He absolutely did not look up at the alpha under any circumstances.  

This was all his own rotten luck!  Why had he encouraged Namjoon-hyung to go off to the orchards!?  His hyung had reasonably wanted to stay behind with him, at his side, but Jungkook had been the one to encourage him otherwise.  He was an idiot and a fool! 

Once they’d plucked through the bucket, it was time to begin juicing.  Oh-nim filled his contraption with grapes and pulled the lever up and down until clear juice ran down the spout and into Taehyung’s awaiting empty teacup.  Their mother filled hers next and then Jimin.  And then Oh was standing up straight and looking expectantly at Jungkook.  

Jungkook’s eyes went wide.  He couldn’t possibly —

“I’ve got Jungkook’s cup!” Taehyung announced, picking it up from where Jungkook had set it down on the blanket.  He brought it before the spout, filled it with the fresh  juice, and then handed it to Jungkook.  

Jungkook looked at it between his hands, blinking.  He did not drink it.  He wouldn’t.  

“Don’t mind me saying this, Jungkook-ssi,” Oh commented, looking at Jungkook with a lopsided smile, “but you’re looking at it as if I’ve poisoned it.”  He grinned at Jungkook.  “I assure you I haven’t.”  

Jungkook pursed his lips.  Who was this man to stand before him and smile at him as if they were anything but strangers?  For all intents and purposes, this cup was poisoned.  

“Have a sip, Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung encouraged suddenly. 

Jungkook looked up at him with a betrayed pout.  Not twenty minutes ago had Jungkook told Taehyung that he couldn’t accept food from Seokjin-hyung, so how in the world was he going to drink something provided to him by a completely unknown alpha?  Why were his hyungs pushing him into such an impossible position?  

“Look there!” their mother abruptly pointed, sounding relieved.  Four heads whisked toward the direction of the meadow. 

“Is that Namjoonie?” Oh wondered, squinting to get a better look.  

And it was Namjoon.  He was a blur of pink as he sprinted toward them from the orchards.  In less than a minute, he was at Jungkook’s side—slipping a firm hand around Jungkook’s waist no less.  

“Are you alright?” Namjoon asked breathlessly, eyes only on Jungkook as his chest heaved from his sprint.  He slipped his other hand around Jungkook’s waist as well, holding him completely in his embrace now.  His fingers gently tightened. 

Jungkook felt lightheaded.  A sheen of sweat glimmered across his husband’s bobbing throat and over his gleaming brow…. 

“The wind carried your scent…” Namjoon explained, letting the sentence trail off as he wrinkled his nose while looking down at Jungkook’s collar.  

“I’m alright,” Jungkook mumbled, still clutching the teacup between his hands.  Pouting under his breath, eyebrows knitting, he added, “That was more than twenty minutes, hyung.” 

Leaning against Jungkook’s ear, Namjoon muttered a contrite ‘I’m sorry’ against the shell of his ear, letting him feel the warmth of his lips.

Jungkook felt the thrill of the alpha’s proximity shoot up his spine. 

“Ahem,” Jimin coughed.  “We’re still here.” 

Jungkook jumped at the reminder, having been lost in their little world, but Namjoon stayed perfectly still.  He kept Jungkook locked in his arms and his gaze fixed on his rosy, embarrassed face.  

“Newlyweds,” their mother sighed, turning to Oh.  “Those were the days.” 

“Would you like some juice, Namjoon-ah?” Oh asked Namjoon at last.  “I already gave your mate some.”   

Namjoon turned toward the alpha and blinked.  “What?” 

“Oh-nim brought his juicer for us again,” Taehyung said, pointing to it laying on the grass between them all.  “Just look at that thing!  He made us all fresh juice.” 

Namjoon put two and two together.  Once he did, Jungkook’s nostrils flared at the souring of Namjoon’s scent.  And he wasn’t alone; from the corner of his eye, he saw Oh subtly rub at his nose as he faced away from the pair.  

Namjoon turned to Jungkook and finally noticed the cup between his hands.  He froze. 

“How is it?” Namjoon asked, nonchalant. 

Jimin sighed dramatically.  “Jungkook wouldn’t know.  He refused to drink it.”  Suddenly sprite, he said, “But I think it’s delicious!  I think I’ll take a cup over to Hobi-hyung.  Could you make me some, Oh-nim?” 

“Of course!” Oh said, springing to action.  

“Why don’t we all take some for the alphas?” their mother proposed.  “And for whoever else should like any?” 

It was agreed upon and the party of four headed over towards the orchard together.  None of them asked if Jungkook and Namjoon cared to join them; the answer they’d receive was obvious enough.  Jimin and Taehyung winked at Jungkook over their shoulders as they trailed behind Oh and their mother, the bucket of grapes jostling between them. 

Namjoon held Jungkook so carefully in his arms.  He snaked one arm away from his waist and brought it up to take the teacup out of Jungkook’s hands.  He looked at the juice inside.  “You didn’t drink any?” 

Jungkook shook his head.  

“Why?” Namjoon asked. 

Jungkook bit his lip and said, “For a reason that wouldn’t make sense to a northerner.”  

Namjoon smiled.  “To your credit, Jungkook-ah, I’m beginning to understand all the poetry about southern charm.” 

He extended his arm away from them and poured all the juice out, letting the teacup fall on the soft grass afterwards.  

“Hyung!” Jungkook exclaimed.  “You could’ve drank it!” 

Namjoon clicked his tongue.  “Not a chance.”  

And the blush on Jungkook’s face deepened in color.  

“I brought something for you,” Namjoon suddenly said.  He dug a hand into the pocket of his hanbok and pulled out a glorious bunch of green grapes, shining like gems.  He gave them to Jungkook, and Jungkook accepted them between both hands with a blushing smile.  Namjoon was the only person he would have accepted such a gift from—and the only person he had been secretly expecting such a gift from.  His blush deepened.  

“Let’s sit,” Namjoon suggested, motioning toward the nearby cushions.  “Be comfortable.”    

They sat down over the blanket together and huddled close.  Namjoon’s shoulder leaned a little too close against Jungkook’s, and so Jungkook purposely pressed his knee firmly against his hyung’s.  

As ever, Jungkook did not take Namjoon’s proximity for granted.  After the desperation with which he had wanted his alpha at his side, it was impossible to.  His heart beat like a butterfly in the springtime—light and unburdened.  

It was a beautiful day.  The air was clean and cool, and the sky was a spotless blue.  The mountains surrounded them in strokes of gray and green, and birdsong surrounded them from all the countless trees.  Now that Namjoon was beside him, Jungkook enjoyed the sight of the flurry of activity across the meadow and how the genial chatter of the villagers filled the open valley.   

“Thank you for finding a way to let me see this today, hyung,” Jungkook found himself thanking Namjoon, eyes alight with open wonder.  Just ten minutes ago he had been cursing himself, but after a moment at Namjoon’s side, such commiserations were long forgotten.  

Namjoon turned to gaze at Jungkook but didn’t speak.  

A serene, wintery scent powdered the air.  

Hastily discomposed, Jungkook looked down and remembered the grapes in his hands.  They were all but too precious and too beautiful to eat.  

As Jungkook was about to pluck a grape, Namjoon stopped him. 

“Let me do it,” he offered, cupping Jungkook’s hand with his own, wider one.    

Jungkook silently nodded, stilling in place. 

He watched with bated breath as Namjoon plucked a grape and brought it up to Jungkook’s mouth.  Jungkook’s gaze flicked from the grape to his husband’s serene gaze.  Namjoon didn’t move a single muscle; he only looked back at Jungkook expectantly.  When he did move, it was to lower his gaze from Jungkook’s eyes down toward his lips… 

Jungkook obediently opened his mouth.  

Namjoon hand fed him the fruit.  He waited for Jungkook to chew and swallow before feeding him another.  And then another.    

Jungkook kept his awestruck eyes trained on Namjoon’s bare wrist the entire time.  He could feel Namjoon’s own gaze boring over him, but he refused to look up.  He couldn’t bring himself to.  But he knew it was hardly a discouraging deterrent for the alpha; Jungkook was pleased from his blushing head to his tapping toes.  His husband was likely basking in a glowing scent that was perfectly reflective of that.  

To be hand fed by one’s alpha was no small token of affection…  Jungkook could count on one hand the number of times he’d witnessed it occur in his lifetime. He could scarcely believe what was happening: he was sitting under the golden sun, over verdant fields dotted with white wildflowers, as his alpha hand fed him fruit he had plucked from the vine himself, out of his own palm.  

And the alpha’s scent was… it was warm and sunny.  Ripe winter berries and sweet, sappy pine.  Jungkook had been around Namjoon’s happiness before, but this scent was different in its depth and richness.  The alpha was very happy.  Deliriously so.  

It made Jungkook blush all the way to the tips of his ears.  He chewed slowly on each grape Namjoon gave him, prolonging the moment between the two of them for as long as he could get away with.  

When he noticed Namjoon was down to a few grapes, he took a deep breath and took the bunch back into his hands.  

“I—I’ll—,” he stuttered.  But then he shut his mouth.  

Wordlessly, he plucked a grape between his fingers, sharply averted his gaze, and held out his hand toward his hyung.  

What Jungkook expected was for Namjoon to take the grape from his hand into his own and eat it himself.

Instead, he felt Namjoon’s hand encircle his wrist.  He pulled it toward himself.  Jungkook’s eyes snapped toward him in shock when he felt Namjoon’s warm breath against his fingertips.  

Namjoon looked at him expectantly, mouth open.  

Obediently, once more, Jungkook hand fed the grape to Namjoon.  Then another.  And then the last.  Namjoon smiled as he chewed while Jungkook remained still as a statue, stunned at the turn of events.  

After he swallowed, Namjoon didn’t let go of Jungkook’s hand so easily.  He squeezed it gently between his fingers.  “Thank you,” he murmured.  He set Jungkook’s hand back onto his lap.  

For a moment, Jungkook thought he might faint.  He could feel his heart thudding in his ears as he reeled from the moment they had just shared.  On his tongue, all he could taste was sweet, tart grape juice.  

Moments later, he understood that Taehyung and Jimin had returned to their vicinity but he could scarcely hear what they were saying.  He didn’t register anything happening around him.  Instead his mind was whirring and heart was churning with feelings he’d never put names to before.  

 

 

❧

 

 

After the family ate a speedy lunch under the tree together, the servants arrived at the orchards with food for the workers.  Everybody went to assist them save for Jungkook, who stayed behind with the governess and the children (after once more reassuring an anxious Namjoon he’d be perfectly alright alone).  His nieces and nephews provided an excellent distraction for him as he tried to think about anything apart from that quick brush of skin against his lips from just an hour ago… the way Namjoon had smiled afterwards, dimples blooming and eyes crinkling.    

Jungkook was not happy to have his alpha away from him yet again, but he’d desperately needed some time to himself.  He needed to settle his heartbeat and clear his mind.  All of lunch, he’d kept replaying the scene in his mind over and over again, flexing his hand each time he thought of it, and Namjoon had thrown more than one furtive glance in his direction.  But it was impossible for him to redirect his thoughts.  His husband had fed him!  By hand!  It had been so sudden and unexpected and… lovely.  Jungkook had given Namjoon apples, and Namjoon had brought Jungkook persimmons… but this…

He’d never felt that many butterflies explode within him at once.  He didn’t think that many butterflies could exist in one person.

Once lunch was served to all, the alphas returned to the orchards as the omegas stayed with the children back near the tree.  From the governess, Jungkook learned that the omegas of the family tended to supervise the harvesting just as closely as the alphas did.  She was surprised to see them so detached from the process this year.  Jungkook could hardly tell her why such was the case, but he felt ashamed that his hyungs and mother-in-law were being deprived of their favorite time of the year for his sake.  Next year, he resolved, he would find a way to make it up to them. 

He blushed under his collar when he considered that next year, without doubt, he would truly be mated to Namjoon-hyung.  

 

 

❧

 

 

The omegas returned to the house once the sun set and busied themselves in helping send dinner down to the orchards.  It was hours and hours later when the family alphas finally returned—exhausted but happy.   

Jungkook had hot tea prepared and waiting for his Namjoon-hyung when he entered their bedroom near midnight.  As he had predicted, Namjoon was cold around the edges and sniffling as he spoke.  

“You’ll be bedridden for the rest of the harvest at this rate, hyung,” Jungkook chided him.  He’d already ordered Namjoon into his warmest nightgown and was shooing him to get into bed as soon as possible.  Their bedroom was drafty at nights now, but Jungkook was positive that tea would help warm them both before they slept.  He poured Namjoon a steaming cup with great pleasure.  

“Thank you,” Namjoon sighed with gratitude, accepting the cup.  Looking at Jungkook (and then briefly at his bare, collarless neck), he motioned for him to sit at the edge of the bed beside him.  Jungkook acquiesced.    

They sipped their tea in silence for a few moments. 

“I’m glad to be back at your side,” Namjoon spoke into his cup.  “I kept trying to get back to you all day but it felt like once I finished one task, the hyungs or my father found another.  It went on for hours.  It was torture—almost like they were trying to keep us apart, if I didn’t know any better.” 

Jungkook’s face warmed (from the tea or otherwise, he’d never say).  “You should always put your duty first,” he said quietly.  

Namjoon frowned.  “I know.  That’s exactly why I kept trying to get back to you, Jungkook-ah, you have to believe me,” he half-whined. 

Face aflame, Jungkook took Namjoon’s teacup and his own and set them aside.  He stood up and disappeared to change into his own nightgown, stomach fluttering.  

When he returned to bed, Namjoon had already lifted his corner of the blanket up for him.  Without looking at the alpha, Jungkook slipped into bed beside him.  

His hyung’s scent was sweet again.  Warm berries and fresh pine.  

Turning onto his side, Namjoon faced Jungkook.  “Tomorrow is plums.” 

Jungkook smiled to himself.  He did not turn on his side and face Namjoon in return.  “Taehyungie-hyung must be happy.”  

Namjoon hummed.  “Yoongi-hyung’s going to be a tyrant tomorrow.  I plan on staying out of his line of sight and I’ll keep you out of it as well.”  

Jungkook giggled.  “They really love one another.”  

“They’re a love story for the ages.” 

Jungkook quirked up an eyebrow.  He finally turned and looked at Namjoon.  “Are they?  Tell me.”  

Namjoon—having caught Jungkook’s full attention—smiled back at him.  He lifted himself up and propped his head on his palm, leaning closer to Jungkook.  

“Yoongi-hyung’s father was a military man,” Namjoon began, “So there were very few children he let his youngest son consort with.  He was mine, Hobi, and Jin-hyung’s playmate since childhood, but nobody quite ever realized the soft spot he had for Taehyungie in all that time, least of all Taehyung…”  And despite how tired Namjoon was, he didn’t spare a single detail in his storytelling to a rapt Jungkook.  

And despite how tired Jungkook was himself, he hung onto every word with full attention and nary a drooping eye.  They’d pay for it in the morning, but for now the moment was priceless.  

 

 

❧

 

 

“We should’ve worn light green yesterday,” Jungkook sulked in the morning, laying out a plum hanbok for Namjoon.  “We could have coordinated all of our clothes with the fruit of the day.” 

Namjoon suppressed a nearly irrepressible smile.  “I think the hyungs find enough to tease us about as is, Jungkook-ah.”  

Jungkook supposed that was true.  “Do you mind that the hyungs tease us?” 

Namjoon shook his head.  “Not a bit.” 

“What fruit is tomorrow again?” Jungkook asked. 

“Apples.” 

“Then we’ll wear yellow,” Jungkook beamed.  

Namjoon sighed, nodding.  “Yellow it is.”  

Jungkook was pleased.  His pastel purple that morning looked lovely beside Namjoon’s richer shade.  When his hyung had seen his chosen hanbok of the day, he had been the one to remind Jungkook of the amethyst hairpin that matched it.  And, after slipping the ornate hairpin on, Jungkook had been the one to remind his hyung in return that what he was really missing for the day was his collar.  

To Jungkook’s surprise, his hyung didn’t reach toward the white one from yesterday.  He slipped a lilac one out of the sleeve of his nightgown.  

“I saw you lay your clothes out last night,” Namjoon mumbled, not making eye contact.  “You like to match.”  

 

 

❧

 

 

Breakfast was quick (and packed with teasing).  All seven made their way to the orchards as they had yesterday and greeted all the workers just as cheerily.  Jungkook stood behind Namjoon again but had an easier go with managing the inundation of scents around him.  His hyung had left no fiber of the collar unspared that morning.  Jungkook could smell nothing but winter berries and pine.  It left him elated.  

Today, Namjoon stayed at Jungkook’s side under the tree for hours.  Their father had tasked Namjoon with settling the figures for yesterday’s harvest and the pair had stayed hunched over the accounting book together until lunch.  

After lunch the harvest continued.  The children came again and the day felt shorter than it had yesterday.  No strange alphas approached the omegas today, to Jungkook’s relief.  Taehyung was off in the groves for most of it, at Yoongi-hyung’s side, but Jimin remained by Jungkook.  

Namjoon returned for afternoon tea and then promised to be back again within the hour.  There was no hand-feeding of fruit today, with their mother and Jimin so closely at their side, but Jungkook did cut the plums Namjoon-hyung brought him into the shapes of swans to his husband’s immeasurable delight.  Namjoon picked off one little swan wing and fed it to Jungkook while everybody’s heads were turned before running back toward the orchards with a wink.  

There were fewer plum groves than there had been grape vines.  As such, harvesting ended before sunset that day.  The family bid the workers farewell and Namjoon accompanied Yoongi-hyung into town with the fruit.  

“I’ll be back much earlier than I was yesterday,” Namjoon promised Jungkook before heading out.  

“We can eat together when you get back,” Jungkook vowed in return.  

Namjoon nodded.  Before he set out toward the carriage, he reached over and tightened the bow of the loosened collar around Jungkook’s neck.  

Jungkook flushed.  There was nobody but family around anymore.   

Namjoon waved farewell and Jungkook waved back as well.  

Once the carriage had departed, Jimin approached Jungkook from behind and grabbed him by his shoulders.  “I thought Namjoon-hyung would convert you to our way of thinking but how am I seeing the sun rise in the west and set in the east instead?” he teased, eyeing Jungkook’s neck.  

Jungkook pursed his lips and touched his collar.  It hadn’t lost his hyung’s scent.  “It’s just for the harvest, Jimin-hyung.  I could never wear this up north forever.” 

“Would you want to?” Jimin asked slyly.    

Jungkook thought about it, and then shook his head. 

“You’d rather have the real thing, wouldn’t you?” Jimin grinned at him.  He poked Jungkook’s side.   

“Hyungnim,” Jungkook whined. 

“Do you know what’s better than hiding your mate’s bite under a pretty little collar, Jungkook-ah?” Jimin teased, lowering his voice.  

Jungkook shook his head minutely. 

Jimin answered with glee: “Having it out for the world to see.  Letting everybody know just exactly where your alpha’s teeth have been.” 

Jungkook swallowed.  His gaze drifted down toward his Jimin-hyung’s neckline, where Jungkook could make out an illustrious bite mark.  Faded dark pink.  Most bite marks faded light pink, but Jimin-hyung’s was dark pink.  Just how hard had Hoseok-hyung bi—    

“I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” Jimin smiled, an apology sparkling in his eyes.  He grabbed Jungkook by his hands and led him back to the nearby groves.  “Come help me find Hobi-hyung.  He’s gone and lost himself somewhere in all these trees.”  

Jungkook silently trailed after the hems of his hyung’s blue hanbok, missing his Namjoon-hyung’s purple one already.  

The groves were tall and long.  Jimin-hyung split left and Jungkook went right.  They searched for several minutes.  Jimin-hyung wandered away from sight and Jungkook continued straight.  More minutes passed.  Nearby, he thought he heard the rustling of branches.  And then Jungkook thought he saw the rust-colored hems of Hobi-hyung’s hanbok from that morning, just behind a hedge…

He followed down the grove.  

When he turned the corner—

He swiftly turned on his heel and pressed his back against the nearest tree, eyes blown wide and mouth hanging open.  Without a backwards glance, he dashed out of the orchards and back toward the house, alone.  

 

 

 

 

Notes:

+ nobody panic!!!!!!! i'm going to drop chapter 6 tomorrow :)

Chapter 6: Six

Notes:

+ hi :)

+ hopefully this wasn't too painful of a waiting period hehe

+ i know the fic description says this will have 10 chapters... well..... let's see alsdjfladjf (i envision myself accidentally crossing that limit.... i burned too slow to the sun... haven't even touched the main plot yet jfc i'm still setting up the chessboard)

 

 

Jungkook sat in their bedroom alone, rocking back and forth, biting a nail as he stared into the distance.    

This was the scene as Namjoon encountered it.  

And the scent in their room…  Namjoon couldn’t put his finger on it.  It didn’t raise his hackles but only just.   

“Have you eaten?” Namjoon asked straight through the door.  He slipped out of his shoes before entering their room and sliding the door shut behind him.  

“Hyung,” Jungkook said, looking over at him as if breaking through a trance, “You’re back.”  

Namjoon nodded.  “Have you eaten?” 

Jungkook shook his head.  He motioned toward the window, where he had arranged dinner for both of them.  Namjoon was immensely pleased at the sight of it.  

At this, Jungkook’s cheeks colored with a blush.  

Namjoon opened the windows as Jungkook took the lid off each dish.  They sat under the moonlight, listening to the passing stream, as they quietly ate in each other’s company.   

Toward the end of their meal, Namjoon finally asked, “What is it that’s troubling you so deeply this evening?” 

Jungkook looked up at him from his nearly empty bowl with wide eyes and stuffed cheeks.  He quickly chewed and swallowed.  

“I thought you’d be more forthcoming on a full stomach,” Namjoon explained himself, pouring more water in Jungkook’s cup.  Jungkook watched him do so with utter disbelief.  Namjoon did not comment upon it.  He handed the cup to the omega and watched with silent satisfaction as Jungkook drank from it, looking anywhere but at the alpha as he did so.  

Jungkook’s scent finally settled.  

“So?” Namjoon repeated, not letting the subject go.  “What’s on your mind?” 

Jungkook crossed his arms and legs and took a deep, deep breath.  “I have a question on my mind and I’ve been trying to determine who in the family is best suited to answer it.  In all likelihood, it ought to be Jimin-hyungnim or Taehyungie-hyungnim yet… yet I think, also, perhaps only a husband can answer it as I need it answered.” 

Namjoon froze mid-blink before immediately composing himself.  “I’m more curious than ever,” he said to Jungkook.   

Jungkook took a breath even deeper than the one before.  “Hyung,” he began, eyes rounded and lips frowning, “Why do people kiss one another on their faces?” 

Namjoon found himself stunned.  “W-what?” 

Jungkook fidgeted.  “I-I saw two people kissing earlier—” 

“Who?” 

“That scarcely—” 

“Taehyung and Yoongi-hyung?” 

“No!” 

“Hoseok and Jimin?” 

“It–it doesn’t matter!” 

Namjoon sighed.  “Those two will never learn to keep their hands to themselves.” 

But Jungkook’s focus was elsewhere.  His eyes were glazed over as he looked toward the open windows.  “I just…” Jungkook drifted off, lost in his own world.  “It was so… intimate.” 

“It is,” Namjoon echoed softly, following Jungkook’s gaze toward the window.  The moon shone silver and chirping cicadas filled in the ensuing silence around them.  His husband’s flowery scent was laced with nostalgia; Namjoon found that to be both a unique and curious sensation. 

“Why do people do it?” Jungkook asked point blank.  

And now Namjoon took a moment to think.  How should he reply to such a question?  As a friend would?  Or an alpha?  Or a husband?  Jungkook had asked him because he was his husband, so perhaps the answer to his own question was obvious.  

But he knew he was letting a thousand questions swirl around his head so that he could avoid thinking about just one: had Jungkook never been kissed?

He banished the thought to a cold, distant corner of his mind.  He locked it away at once.  He’d never ask it.  

“Kissing is an act of affection,” Namjoon answered simply.  

“I don’t understand it,” Jungkook blinked back.  “It isn’t as if kissing can create children.” 

Namjoon felt a hot flush around his neck.  “Well,” he demurred, “Not directly…” 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asked.  He was so clear-eyed and forthcoming.  Namjoon was shocked at his composure around the subject; where was the blushing omega he’d married?  But then Namjoon remembered their wedding night and the ensuing day.  Jeon Jungkook could hold his ground when he wanted to, and right now he really wanted to.  All because of kissing.  Jungkook furthered his question in Namjoon’s silence by asking, “Can kissing indirectly lead to children?!  But Jimin-hyung is already…” 

Namjoon inhaled at length.  He was just as forthcoming in return.  “Kissing often leads to or can precede intimacy… which can, of course, create children.  Kissing by itself can do no such thing.”

“But that’s my question,” Jungkook repeated, blinking with full curiosity again, “Why, then, do couples—” 

“It feels good,” Namjoon blurted out.  

A silence stretched between them for a moment.  Namjoon looked anywhere but at Jungkook, until he spoke. 

“Kissing?” Jungkook double-checked, eyebrows scrunched.  “Feels good?” 

“Yes,” Namjoon confirmed, inhaling again. 

Namjoon thought Jungkook’s next question would be ‘How?’ for which he felt wholly unprepared to answer.  Instead, it was much worse.  

“For the alpha?” Jungkook wondered. 

Namjoon was who blinked blankly back now.  “What?” 

“It feels good for the alpha?” 

Jungkook’s expression gave no inclination to the fact that he had said something so incomprehensible to his husband.  

Namjoon recuperated himself at once.  “There’s no reason it shouldn’t be enjoyable for both.”  He paused to consider, “Unless one is a bad kisser.”  

This deepened the little crease between Jungkook’s brows.  “You mean if the alpha is a bad kisser?” 

Namjoon almost smiled.  “That would undoubtedly dampen the fun.  But, you know, an omega can be as perfectly capable as an alpha at being an abysmal kisser,” he meekly attempted to tease.  

At this, Jungkook appeared confused.  His gaze skitted away, as if troubled with thought.

Namjoon debated with himself as to whether he should prod around for the cause of Jungkook’s bewilderment.  

But Jungkook turned to him, mouth opening and closing, and eventually asked, “How can an omega be a bad kisser if alphas are who do the kissing?”  He kept his gaze fixed on Namjoon, awaiting his answer.  

With his one question, Jungkook revealed more to Namjoon than hours of conversation could have accomplished.  The night stilled around Namjoon.  He found he couldn’t look at Jungkook as he attempted to think of a reply.  He lowered his gaze, looking down at his empty bowls.   

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

Earlier, in the grove, when Jungkook had unthinkingly turned a corner in search of Hoseok-hyung, he witnessed a shocking sight.  

His eyes had never flown so wide in surprise.  A short distance away from him, his Hoseok-hyung and Jimin-hyung stood in a passionate embrace.  Two blinks later, Jungkook whisked around and rushed off—vowing to forever pretend he had never seen a thing.  

But as he quickly raced out of the orchard and back toward the house—alone, hoping his husband would not catch sight of him as such—he couldn’t get the image of his two hyungs out of his head.  

Jungkook had never witnessed such… intimacy between an alpha and omega before.  How could his hyungs behave so scandalously?!  What if anybody apart from Jungkook had seen them?!  It was completely unbefitting two members of the finest family from all of the surrounding area, Jungkook determined, feathers ruffled.  Extraordinarily reckless and improper—to say the very least about it!  

And yet, the image was seared in his mind.  And worse, he kept revisiting it.

Jimin-hyung had had his arms wrapped around Hoseok-hyung’s neck, pulling the alpha down into his embrace.  Hoseok-hyung’s body was completely melted against Jimin-hyung’s, as if they were one person and not two.  Jimin-hyung’s fingers slipped through Hoseok-hyung’s hair, Hoseok-hyung’s hand was splayed possessively against Jimin-hyung’s belly, pulling him against himself.  And they were kissing.  Their noses touched, lips locked, eyes closed.  Completely lost to the world with their scents awash with joy.  They had no idea Jungkook was witnessing the scene.  When a small moan (of pleasure?) had escaped Jimin-hyung’s lips, Jungkook had turned on his heel and bolted.  

He didn’t stop to catch his breath until he was back through the estate gates.  The brilliant pink camellias surrounding the pathway to the house twirled in a dizzying state as Jungkook tried to reorient himself.  A servant asked if they should set dinner for him, but Jungkook requested that dinner for two be sent directly to his bedroom after learning that his Namjoon-hyung had not returned from town yet.   

It wasn’t long after that his husband did return—finding Jungkook in his disconcerted state.  

Throughout dinner, Jungkook could only wonder if he should ask his husband the question that was burning on the tip of his tongue.  He was desperate to know.  

Why did people kiss?  He couldn’t understand it.  What was to be gained from it?  What was the purpose?  How could two people engage in such a disreputable act outside of the privacy of a bedroom?  What else could be done by an alpha and omega outside of a bedroom?  What else could be done within one?  Why had Jimin-hyung made that noise?  An omega would never willingly allow themselves to be put upon in such a fashion, especially where they could be seen.  Jimin-hyung had known Jungkook was in the orchard with them, but Hoseok-hyung had not.  Could an alpha kiss an omega whenever they so pleased?  Would Namjoon-hyung ever— 

“What is it that’s troubling you so deeply this evening?” his husband asked of him, breaking his reverie.  

The kindness with which he asked the question had Jungkook embarrassed at his own thoughts.  His hyung would never leave him the victim of indecent exposure—right?  As of an hour ago, he never would’ve thought Hoseok-hyung capable of it either.  Then again, Namjoon had taken him by his hand just yesterday and made him hand feed him fruit for all the world to see.  What other limits would he push?  

And so he finally asked his husband to satisfy his own curiosity.  

But, despite their conversation, his curiosity was not satiated.   

His hyung said omegas could kiss an alpha.  Recalling the brief experience Jungkook had with his first alpha—granted there had been no kisses shared—Jungkook was certain his hyung was teasing him.  He was not in the mood to be teased tonight.  

Keeping his gaze firm, he asked, “How can an omega be a bad kisser if alphas are who do the kissing?” 

At that, Namjoon-hyung lowered his gaze.  That was an oddity.  

But before his hyung could answer him, as Jungkook knew he would, there was a knock at their door.  Namjoon stood up as quick as lightning.  He was at their door before Jungkook could so much as say a word.  

When his hyung pushed the pane aside, Jimin-hyung sat crouched on the other side.  His gaze flew past Namjoon and landed immediately upon a red-cheeked Jungkook.  

The more Jungkook’s face reddened, the wider Jimin-hyung’s grin spread.  

“Could I enlist your husband’s help with the children for a short while?” Jimin-hyung smiled up at Namjoon-hyung.  

“Ask him yourself,” Namjoon replied, looking back at Jungkook. 

Jungkook could only nod his assent.  He stood up and started stacking their empty bowls before both Jimin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung heckled him to leave them be.  Within the minute, he was escorted to the nursery with his still beaming hyung at his side.  

Once inside the nursery, Jimin-hyung slid the door shut and crashed himself against Jungkook’s chest—overflowing with peals of laughter.  

Jungkook was bamboozled.  

“Where are the children?” he asked, looking around the empty room. 

“Fast asleep with their grandmother.”

“I saw you hyung,” Jungkook informed him seriously in a low voice, eyes wide.  “In the orchard.”

“I know,” Jimin replied, still giggling.  “I told Hobi-hyung I think you saw us and ran off.  You should’ve seen his face.” 

Jungkook swallowed.  “Is he upset with me?” 

Jimin made a strange face.  “Why would he be?” 

Jungkook made just as strange of a face back.  “It was a private moment.” 

Jimin shrugged.  “It was just kissing.” 

‘Just kissing.’  Jungkook asked the first question that came to mind: “What does kissing mean?” 

“What do you mean?” Jimin asked, his smile returning. 

“Why do—why did hyung kiss you?” Jungkook asked.  Then, “If I am allowed to ask.” 

“He hadn’t kissed me all day,” Jimin replied with his biggest smile yet.  “Usually I kiss him in the mornings, but I must have been distracted this morning and he let me know that I had neglected to do so.  My poor alpha was suffering all day and I had no idea.” 

“Alphas suffer without kissing?” Jungkook deduced, perplexed and newly anxious.  Was Namjoon-hyung suffering?  They had never kissed.  (Secondly, he noted that Namjoon-hyung had been telling the truth: omegas could kiss alphas.)

Jimin scrunched his brows.  “I don’t know how to ask this… and forgive me in advance for my naivete…” he began slowly, “Do people kiss in the south?” 

Jungkook frowned.  “No.”  He thought the answer obvious.  

Jimin’s eyes bugged.  “What?!” 

Jungkook pouted.  “I’ve never seen it.” 

“Was—was ours the first kiss you’ve ever seen?!” Jimin wondered, equally as perplexed. 

Jungkook nodded, crossing his arms.  “I was talking to Namjoon-hyung about it before you came.” 

Jimin grimaced.  “Mortifying to know.  Does Namjoon-hyung know that was the first one you’ve ever seen?” 

Jungkook shook his head.  “He told me omegas could kiss, too, but I didn’t believe him.” 

His Jimin-hyung’s grimace deepened.  “What else?” 

Jungkook didn’t waste a second.  “Hyung, why do people kiss?” 

Jimin looked at him carefully.  “Did you ask Namjoon-hyung that as well?” 

“Yes.” 

“What did he say?” 

“I learned it doesn’t lead to children directly,” Jungkook relayed.  “Which I assumed, given that you’re already….”  He cast a quick glance at Jimin’s belly.  “Namjoon-hyung said people did it because it felt good.”  

Jimin inhaled slowly.  “That’s all true…” 

“But are there more reasons?” Jungkook asked eagerly, “Something he didn’t tell me?” 

“No,” Jimin replied, voice and gaze trailing off. 

Jungkook bit his bottom lip.  “Hyung,” he began again, “What does it feel like?  To kiss?” 

And now Jimin met his gaze again with a rounded, softened one of his own.  

“I didn’t ask Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook admitted, self-conscious.  

His hyung looked back at him so kindly and so sincerely.  He replied, “I can’t tell you what it’s like to be kissed, Jungkook-ah.  It’s something you’ll have to learn for yourself.” 

Jungkook did not like that answer.  He pressed his lips into a thin line.  

Appearing to take pity on him, his hyung hastily explained, “When you love somebody, to kiss them becomes a natural second act.  Something as easy and thoughtless as breathing.  You’ll understand when it happens to you.  It’s inexplicable until then.”  

Jungkook politely nodded.  His hyung bid him good night and then stepped aside to allow Jungkook to return to his bedroom.  When he did, Namjoon-hyung was already in bed, reading by candlelight.  

After changing into a nightgown,  Jungkook quietly slipped under their sheets and joined him. 

Namjoon pressed his book shut.  Jungkook scrunched his eyes shut.  

“How were the children?” his husband asked, voice as velvety as ever. 

“They’re with their grandmother,” Jungkook said, parroting Jimin.  

“Ah.”  Then, “So what did Jimin steal you away for?” 

Jungkook scrunched his eyes further shut.   

“Which fruit is tomorrow, hyung?” 

“Apples.” 

“Oh, yes.  We’ll wear yellow.” 

Namjoon hummed his assent.  

Neither said a word further and Jungkook fell asleep without meaning to.  

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

Namjoon rose like a bean sprout the following morning.   

He threw on an overcoat as he noiselessly departed their bedroom and made a beeline toward the room of the family member he trusted and admired the most.  

He rapped on their door.  

Hobi opened it some minutes later with blinking, bleary eyes.  

“I need to speak with Jimin,” Namjoon told him briskly. 

Hobi yawned.  “He’s still asleep.”  

“Can you wake him?” 

The reply came in the form of Hobi sliding the door shut in his face.  Namjoon sighed.  

But then, miraculously, the door opened again and there stood an equally tired Jimin, rubbing his eyes awake with his small hands. 

Namjoon didn’t give him a moment more.  He exhaled and launched into his practiced speech: “I know it’s not my place to inquire after any private conversation you and Jungkook may ha—” 

“Hyung,” Jimin cut him off, eyes suddenly alert and awake, sticking his head out and looking up and down the empty hall, “Come in.” 

Namjoon stumbled past their threshold, Jimin sliding the door tightly shut behind him.  Hoseok stood in the center of the room with his arms crossed at the pair of them.  

“You know you two are the biggest gossips in the entire family?” he accused. 

“No we’re not!” Jimin and Namjoon denied concurrently, feathers ruffled.  

“We’re exchanging information!” Namjoon contended. 

“I’m sure you are!” Hoseok rolled his eyes. 

“My forgetful husband, you’d still be unmarried if Namjoon-hyung weren’t so gifted at exchanging this kind of information with me!” Jimin combatted back.  “This is for the greater good!” he added, huffing.  

“What did Jungkook say?” Namjoon asked without wasting another second, turning to Jimin (as Hoseok grumbled to himself in the background about getting dressed). 

“He said he’d already talked to you about it,” Jimin relayed. 

Namjoon bit his lip.  “Anything else?”  

Namjoon could sense Jimin’s hesitation in revealing anything to Namjoon that Jungkook had said in his confidence, and Namjoon appreciated his integrity.  However, he’d also spend the entire day burning away in the flames of his own imagination if Jimin didn’t tell him something.  Jungkook had returned from their conversation together far more somber and pensive than he had been prior.  Namjoon had hoped that he and Jungkook could have shared another conversation before bed, as they had happily done so the night prior, but Jungkook had quickly fallen asleep without speaking much.  Had the omega’s scent not been as calm as it was, Namjoon would’ve banged on Jimin’s door last night.  He was shocked at his own patience, though it was quickly coming up short now. 

“Of course,” Jimin began slowly, “I’d never betray Jungkook’s trust…” 

“Never…” Namjoon agreed calmly. 

“But if I were to pass some of my own stray thoughts along…” Jimin carried on. 

“I’ve always held you in high regard, Jimin-ah…” Namjoon reassured. 

“Hyung,” Jimin inhaled, not meeting his gaze directly, “Did you know that southerners—according to my information—don’t kiss?” 

Namjoon blinked.  “I did not.” 

“Startling information to myself.” 

“It is…”  

Jimin continued, “And some southerners don’t even understand why a couple would kiss, or that a kiss can be initiated by either partner?” 

Namjoon was silent. 

Jimin added, with a grimace, “I have recently come to grapple with the idea that not every person… how do I say this…” 

“Just say it,” Namjoon encouraged.  He steeled himself. 

Jimin looked at Namjoon.  “I think he thinks intimacy is completely utilitarian.  It’s for children.  Hyung, I don’t think he knows a single thing about love or romance or affection or pleasure for the sake of it.”  Jimin paused.  “I think that’s why you terrify him.” 

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

“Poor hyung was at a loss,” Jimin recounted to Taehyung, later in the nursery.  Jungkook had yet to join them.  The pair whispered in the corner as the children sat and played with one another.  “There really wasn’t anything to say after that…” 

Taehyung didn’t dwell on the revelations Jimin presented him for more than a second.  Instead, he stated, “Well, the solution is simple at least.” 

Jimin was surprised to hear so.  “Is it?” 

“Yes!” Taehyung cheered.  “If he doesn’t know about romance, then he just has to learn.”  

Jimin still appeared at a loss. 

Taehyung explained, “You and I and Namjoon-hyung and everybody else in the world weren’t born understanding romance—we learned it.  We spent our afternoons reading about striking emperors and ravishing princesses and fearless soldiers.  It was only through reading about it that we came to know how to look for love in the real world.  I read every volume of The General Crosses the Valley the summer I fell in love with Yoongi-hyung.  Is it possible that Jungkook has never read a story such as one of those?”  

And Jimin—struck nearly silent by Taehyung’s genius—thought it very likely that his unfortunate dongsaeng had not.  

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

It was another glorious day.  The sun was high and bright, casting its brilliance over everything.  

Jungkook sat under the distant shade of a gingko tree, thumbing over his new, yellow lace collar as he watched his Namjoon-hyung preside over the harvesting in the apple orchards in his flowing yellow robes.  

“What about you, Jungkook-ah?” Taehyung leaned over and asked, waving a hand in front of his face. 

Jungkook snapped out of his reverie with a startle.  “What is the subject at present?” he asked, blinking profusely as he turned to find his two hyungs staring at him.  

“Your favorite novels as a young omega,” Jimin apprised. 

“I did not read novels,” Jungkook told them.  “They were strictly forbidden.  My father and mother deemed them unsuitable for my education.” 

“So what did you read?” Taehyung wondered. 

“Likely the same as yourself,” Jungkook assumed.  “Scrolls on virtue, morality, ethics, the principles of honor, etiquette, character refinement, and treatises on social fairness.”  

“Of course…” Jimin nodded, “But what did you read for your own pleasure?” 

“I found the scrolls on honor and fairness the most pleasurable, hyung,” Jungkook brightly informed.  “I revisit them as often as I can.”

“What about love stories?” Taehyung asked. 

Jungkook couldn’t help his pinched expression.  He was an echo of his father when he said, “What benefit could reading such vulgarities have upon an upstanding omega?  Besides, the emperor does not approve of young people reading anything that does not better the mind and serve the nation.” 

“Sure, they don’t do that… but they’re fun to read,” Jimin grinned mischievously.  

“They’d only inspire vanity and impropriety,” Jungkook replied, sounding like his mother to his own ears.  

“Did your mother tell you that?” Taehyung rolled his eyes.  “Ours did too but where’s the fun in always listening to one’s mother.”  

“We don’t listen to our mothers for fun,” Jungkook hastily said, raising a finger to make an excellent point.  “We listen to them becau—” 

Taehyung thrust something into Jungkook’s hands.  

Jungkook looked down upon it.  It was a bound book.  The cover was blank.  He opened it to the first page where it read: Tears of Pearls, The Tale of a Princess 

“What is this?” Jungkook asked, staring back at Taehyung. 

Now Taehyung and Jimin were both grinning at him, equal glints in their eyes. 

“I think you’ll enjoy it,” Jimin said.  “I just finished it this morning.” 

“I finished it last week,” Taehyung seconded.  

Jungkook kindly set the book down beside him.  Without a single intention in his heart of ever reading something so ignoble, he said, “Thank you for the gift, hyungnim.”  

“You’re very welcome,” Taehyung smiled widely back.  And then to Jimin he asked, “Which part did you enjoy most?” 

“All of it,” Jimin relished back.  “But I especially enjoyed reading about all the stories the alpha would recite to her at night.  He would speak and speak and speak until she drifted off to sleep first…  He was so caring.” 

Jungkook’s lips twitched.  

“The scene when they horseback rode together was my favorite,” Taehyung recalled. 

“Yes!” Jimin agreed.  “The line about her gaze always following the hem of his hanbok filled me with so much feeling.” 

Jungkook eyed the book again.  With its beige cover and black binding, it appeared so unassuming.  Who would know such were its contents. 

“I felt a flush on my face every time he’d insist she wear his cloak.  The way he’d pull it over her shoulders himself,” Taehyung enthused.  “The description of his fingers touching her skin were enough to make me fan myself.” 

Jungkook’s hand unconsciously found its way back to his neck, reassuring himself that his own collar was in place.  

“When did you think she was sure of his love?” Jimin asked Taehyung. 

“I thought it was settled the moment he handmade her that pearl pin from the oysters he found by the stream they first met near,” Taehyung replied.  “What could be more obvious?” 

Jungkook adjusted the pearl pin in his hair.  His hyung had personally chosen it for him that morning. 

“I wasn’t as convinced by that,” Jimin dissented, “Because the captain also gave her a jade bracelet for their engagement, remember?  It was when they kissed—”

“The kiss!” Taehyung gasped, startling Jungkook anew.  “The kiss was exceptional… ” 

“So well written…” 

“It made me feel like I was seeing the real thing…” 

“Yes, the writing was evocative… ” 

“It was… ” 

Jungkook cleared his throat.  His hand inched toward the book and he quietly slipped it under the flowing folds of his yellow hanbok.  “Should I serve tea?” he asked his hyungs, hand already reaching for the teapot on the other side of himself.  

“Yes!” both hyungs eagerly replied with beaming faces, teacups already extended toward him.  

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

At the end of their long day, Namjoon once more departed with his father and hyungs for the village.  After bidding him off, Jungkook followed his hyungs and their mother back toward the estate.  As temperedly as possible, Jungkook retreated to the safety of his bedroom.  He slid the door shut behind himself and finally extracted from his long sleeves the book he’d kept hidden all day.  

He glared at the blank cover once more.  

The sight of it alone would send his mother into a frenzy.  But now it tickled his curiosity.  What could be inside one of these unassuming objects that his parents had found so unreservedly detestable?  It was just paper and ink.  

Idly, Jungkook walked toward the window.  There was still enough light to sit by it and read.  He knelt down and tucked himself over a pillow.  He opened the novel, bent his head, and began to read.  

When the hours had passed him by and when daylight became replaced by candlelight, Jungkook could scarcely remember.  He was engrossed….  

There was a princess who was to be wed to a captain, but she did not love this captain.  (What of it? Jungkook had thought.  This princess was ill-bred.  Who married for love?  Where was her sense of duty to her family? )  As the day of her wedding approached, the princess was consumed with thoughts of running away.  (Jungkook was scandalized!  She ought to kill her father and mother before running away, Jungkook frowned at the pages, to at least spare them the shame of her selfishness.  He flipped the page with raging curiosity.)  On the day of her wedding, unable to take it anymore, she rose at dawn and slipped away from her maids.  She made her way to the palace stables where she quietly mounted her horse and rode toward the mountains.  (Jungkook couldn’t even imagine what would become of her next.  Likely killed by bandits or chased after by her brothers.  Either way, she would be made to marry that captain and fulfill her filial duties.  But… a small part of Jungkook reveled in the idea of her escaping for good.)  As the princess approached a stream, she stopped to let her horse drink.  But disaster struck!  A wolf emerged from the thicket.  Her horse, spooked, bucked the princess off itself as it stampeded back in the direction of the palace, chased by the wolf at its heels.  (Jungkook gasped at each description of the scene.  It was as if he were witnessing it before his own eyes.  How could it be so…?)  Now the princess sat alone and stranded at the edge of the stream.  What was more—she had injured her leg.  She was helpless and lost.  (Marriage to a captain must not sound so terrible now, Jungkook grimaced for her.)  And then, a man appeared.  A simple commoner who lived in the nearby woods.  By his scent, he was an alpha.  She was but a lone, injured omega.  The princess trembled at the sight of him.  She had never been alone and unguarded in the presence of a strange alpha before.  What would he do to her?  (Jungkook hardly breathed as he read.)  The commoner approached her—

“Jungkook?” 

The sound of his husband’s voice made Jungkook almost fly a foot in the air.  Without a second thought, he snapped the book shut and hid it from view before scrambling onto his feet.  

“Woah,” Namjoon said, grabbing him by his shoulders and calming him.  “You’ll tumble over if you stand up this fast.  I’d been in the room for minutes before I decided to speak up,” he smiled softly.  “What has your concentration so monopolized?”  He glanced down at Jungkook’s withdrawn hands.  “What were you reading?” 

“Nothing,” Jungkook immediately replied.  Then, realizing he had just lied to his husband, he backtracked and said, “Nothing of importance.  Something the hyungs gave me to pass my time.”  He kept the book clutched tightly in his hands, behind his back.  What would his hyung think if he knew Jungkook was wasting his time reading something so… trite? 

“That’s good,” Namjoon only said.  “It looked like you were enjoying it.”  

Jungkook tightly smiled.  “How was the trip to the village?” 

“Very well!” Namjoon carried on.  That he had not pried further on the book Jungkook was reading made Jungkook feel a rush of affection for him.  “Everybody was thrilled to finally have apples, and they were all surprised to see the enormous yield this year.” 

“Did we have more than last year?” Jungkook wondered. 

“Almost by double.”  Namjoon smiled again.  “The villagers said you must be a blessing.”  

Jungkook immediately looked down at his feet, blushing from his neck upwards.  

“I haven’t eaten dinner yet,” Namjoon changed the subject a moment later (another rush of affection filled Jungkook).  “What did you have?” 

And only then, with a slight pang at his side, did Jungkook realize he’d skipped dinner entirely.  

But Namjoon—more skilled at reading Jungkook’s expressions than Jungkook had known—reached the conclusion quicker.  “Jungkook-ah!” he chided, “How could you skip dinner?” 

“I didn’t notice the time…” he weakly justified. 

“This means the last meal you ate was at midday?” Namjoon frowned. 

“Hyung, you fed me no less than three or four apples after that,” Jungkook pointed out, his faded blush recoloring.  Though Namjoon had spent a majority of the day working in the orchards with all the other alphas, he had still spent an hour in the afternoon with Jungkook, when all the workers rested and drank tea.  They sat like two sunflowers facing one another in their yellow hanboks—Jungkook poured his husband tea and Namjoon peeled and cut up perfectly shaped apple slices for his husband.  Neither had wanted to stop being in the other’s company, and so, without realizing it, they’d eaten through half a dozen apples between the pair of them and drank an entire pot of tea.  (“We should’ve sat on the other side of the tree,” Namjoon had murmured to Jungkook, pressing another apple slice into his palm.  His skin was so warm.  He looked up and flicked his gaze upon Jungkook’s parted lips, shining from the juice of the apples.  Jungkook bit his bottom lip as he smiled, looking away from his hyung.  The entire family was spread out around them.  There was no hand feeding of fruit to one another today.  Still, Jungkook had little to complain about.)

Pursing his lips, mumbling something under his breath about apples ‘not being a real meal,’ Namjoon reached over and took Jungkook’s hand in his.  And without another word between them, Jungkook followed his hyung out of their room and toward the dinner table.  

At the table, dinner was laid out for one person.  

Namjoon looked around for a servant but the house was deserted.  They’d all have retired after the long day.  

Namjoon, however, didn’t disparage.  He pulled Jungkook to sit down beside him and pulled the lids off each dish.  He picked up the chopsticks, placed a piece of fish between them, and then immediately brought them before Jungkook’s bewildered countenance.   

Jungkook’s wide eyes met his husband’s.  Namjoon looked back at Jungkook with an expression of such… 

Jungkook didn’t know how to explain it.  He didn’t know what to call these things Namjoon did for him.  He slept by the window for him, he defied his parents for him, he purchased expensive clothes and jewelry for him, he had the kitchens make his favorite dishes for him, he brought him back flowers from the mountains for him, he poured tea for him, he cut apples for him, he wore a collar for him, and now he fed him the first bite of his own dinner.  It felt like the affection a mother ought to have for her child, except it was unlike the affection of any mother he had known.  He would do all the same for Namjoon, and he was not a mother to his husband.  It was also more than his sister or brothers had ever done for him, or his father.  It was more than he knew to describe.  All he knew was that Namjoon was holding out food for him to eat, and his vision was beginning to blur as he stared at it.  

Quietly, he opened his mouth.  Namjoon fed him.  Jungkook chewed, gazing down upon his lap as he tried to calm the feelings swirling around in his chest and warming his belly.  When he did look up some moments later, Namjoon was once more holding up a bite of fish for him.  

“Hyung!” Jungkook exclaimed, his sanity threatening tears, “This is your dinner.”  Weeks ago, Jungkook would have told his husband that it would not do for an omega to eat before an alpha.  He knew better than to say so out loud now, but the frustration of it all was mind-boggling. 

Namjoon knit his brows, frowning.  “But you didn’t eat.  It could just as well be yours.  I ate roasted sweet potatoes in the village with the others so I’m not very hungry.” 

“I’ll eat in the morning,” Jungkook tried to convince.  “I’m not hungry either.”  

And, just at that moment, Jungkook’s stomach rumbled with hunger.  He balked in surprise, betrayed by his own self.   

Namjoon cocked up an eyebrow.   

Jungkook ate the second bite of fish without another word.  As Namjoon held up a third, Jungkook said, “At least have some yourself.”  

Namjoon firmly shook his head.  “Not until you’ve eaten.”  

“I have already eaten just now.” 

“Two bites is not dinner.” 

“How many bites is dinner?” 

Namjoon considered it.  “At least ten.  That is a light dinner.  A full dinner veers closer to sixteen, but preferably eighteen.” 

“Maybe for an alpha!” Jungkook exclaimed.  “I—” 

Namjoon cut him off by placing the third bite of fish directly into his indignant mouth.  “We’re practically the same height,” Namjoon easily proclaimed, already assembling a fourth bite—adding rice this time—and looking quite pleased with himself.   

Jungkook chewed furiously.  His hyung was several inches taller than him!  This was an injustice!  “There should be a ratio,” he stated, swallowing as soon as he could.  “I take three bites, you take three bites.  It’s only fair.” 

“Hm,” Namjoon hummed, already holding up a fourth bite.  “Or I could just feed you everything.”  

“A sweet potato some hours ago is hardly dinner for an alpha your size,” Jungkook tried to reason.  

“What size is that?” Namjoon grinned. 

Jungkook was too embarrassed to answer.  

“It was two very large sweet potatoes,” Namjoon informed, as pleased as ever.  “And notice how I wasn’t the one with the rumbling stomach?  Eat.” 

And Jungkook did, taking the fourth bite without further protestation.  Though it was late at night, the scent around them was not of faint smoke or the burning of oil lamps, as it usually was.  It was of winterberries and fresh pine.  Jungkook burrowed his own brow deep in thought as he ate bites five and six.  If it didn’t run counterintuitive to everything he knew about their species, he would think that his hyung was taking great pleasure in feeding him.  An alpha… rejoicing in the act of doing something as servile as feeding an omega?  Fruit was one thing… but this…  

Jungkook had never heard of anything like this.  Were all mountain men like this?  Or just his idiosyncratic husband?  Perhaps they were all like this… he could easily imagine Hobi-hyung feeding Jimin-hyung, and Yoongi-hyung doing the same for Taehyungie-hyung.   

He finished the meal lost in his hyung’s lulling scent.   

“I feel at peace now,” Namjoon stated aloud, breaking the reverie between them.  He set the chopsticks down on the table with a satisfied countenance.  

“But you didn’t eat,” Jungkook’s omega whined aloud.  

Namjoon looked at him and said so graciously, “Watching you eat felt all the same.”  

And whatever Jungkook would’ve said in response to that died a swan’s death on his tongue.  Everything faded away and around him was only blankness, in the middle of which stood Namjoon.  

His hyung took him by both his hands and led him back to their bedroom.  Jungkook followed, drowning in daydreams he couldn’t describe.  He only felt them, fluttering around where he should have been hearing his heart beat. 

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

“Tomorrow is peaches,” Namjoon told Jungkook once they were safely back in their room, dressed in their nightgowns.  Jungkook was standing before Namjoon’s open cabinet.  With a smile, Jungkook took the liberty of extracting a light orange hanbok from amidst his hyung’s clothing.  The cuffs and collar were trimmed with auburn silk.  

“I’ve never seen you wear this one, Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook said, turning around to show him. 

“I was not aware I had that one,” Namjoon honestly replied.  

Jungkook set it aside, satisfied by his selection.  Next, he turned to his own wardrobe and found one to match.  It was one the color of apricot, from the original set of seven hanboks his husband had given him.  His bridal gift. 

“Would you say this is apricot or peach, hyung?” Jungkook asked his husband, holding up the hanbok for him.  Its amethyst buttons shimmered in the candlelight.  

Truthfully, it was too dim to be able to tell.  However, that did not stop Jungkook’s husband from replying, “A ripe shade of peach.”  

Jungkook turned around before his hyung could spot the wide grin that crossed his features.  He folded his clothes and placed them atop his hyung’s.  Would his hyung have a peach-colored collar for him in the morning?  Jungkook had no doubt of it.  

When Jungkook slipped into bed, everything smelled of sweet sap and muddled berries.  It was the most alluring scent in the entire world; his breathing slowed and his eyes fell shut under their own weight.  

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

Jungkook awoke early in the morning.  At very first blink, he was alert and rested.  

He turned to face Namjoon and was heartened to see him fast asleep and snoring gently beside him, less than an arm's length away.  How true, he thought, that a person could adapt to almost anything.  He used to sleep like a board just knowing the alpha was in the room.  And now he wasn’t sure how he’d ever sleep again without his handsome husband’s warm, sedating scent beside him.  The closer the better.  

It was a bright morning outside.  He looked toward the window with only one thought in mind: his book.  He’d let it fall out of his hands by the windows last night when Namjoon had whisked him away to dinner.  It was still there.  

Jungkook had had dreams of a gloomy castle, a perilous horse ride, of being stranded by the side of a river, of a tall, handsome alpha appearing through the thicket…  

It was like magic, the way the story lingered on his mind.  

Quietly, he slipped out of bed.  He snuck toward the window and picked up the book.  Then, he returned to bed just as stealthily.  He kept Namjoon in the corner of his eye, knowing he still had a good few hours before the alpha would wake.  Until then… 

He flipped to the page he had left off on.  

By his scent, he was an alpha.  She was but a lone, injured omega.  The princess trembled at the sight of him.  What would he do to her?  The commoner approached her.  The closer he came to her, the more her body shook with fear and terror.  (Jungkook scarcely breathed as he read these pages.)  But the alpha stopped some distance away.  He called out to her and asked her if she were in need of his help.  The princess denied the assistance.  She tried to stand on her two feet but when she almost fell back into the stream, the alpha rushed forward and held her in his arms.  (Both Jungkook and the princess were in states of abject shock.)  The alpha noticed her injury.  He asked where he ought to take her home.  Realizing the fate that awaited her back home in this state, the princess wept that she had no home.  The alpha took her back to his humble cottage.  (Jungkook’s eyes flew wide open and remained so for chapters to come.)  At his cottage, he cared for the princess.  He mended her clothes, he made her healing stews, he foraged medicine for her.  At night, they shared stories.  She did not reveal to him her true identity, but told him fables she had heard of grand knights and scheming ladies and malicious kings.  He told her of traveling shamans and gossiping villagers and rowdy soldiers.  Days and nights passed as such.  Soon, she told stories of a lonely daughter and an unhappy princess and her dream to escape a life laid out for her.  He told her stories of an orphan boy who had toiled away in his youth learning every trade he could so he could buy a cottage for himself.  They were sad stories but because they shared them with one another, the sadness somewhat diminished.  (Jungkook wiped tears away from his face as he continued reading.  Birds were welcoming the day outside.)  In the following days, the simple commoner changed his behavior.  Without reason, he bought a beautiful fabric he could scarcely afford and sewed the princess a pretty hanbok.  At nights, he invited her to gaze upon the stars with him.  He picked her flowers from the meadow.  When he went to fish, she sat beside him for hours.  When he only caught one fish, he insisted she be the one to eat it.  The princess said that an alpha must always eat first.  The alpha was affronted by such narrow-mindedness.  He replied that when people were in love, just seeing one eat instantly filled the other’s stomach—  

Jungkook sharply inhaled.  

Beside him, Namjoon awoke.  He was up on one elbow before Jungkook had a moment to catch his breath.  

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asked at once, blinking his eyes to alertness.  Within a moment, his gaze landed upon the book spread open on Jungkook’s lap.  

Jungkook snapped the book shut and hid it from Namjoon’s view.  He burned red.  “I—” 

Namjoon only looked up at him, searching his expression for signs of distress.  “Your scent startled me.”  

Jungkook flushed even deeper.  He couldn’t imagine what his scent was betraying…  He would’ve cursed the book for putting him in this situation, but he didn’t even have the heart to do that.  On the inside, he only burned to finish the story.  

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook half-squeaked, half-whispered.   

Namjoon shook his head.  “No, it’s… I don’t know how to describe it.  Your scent is as if… you were floating.  It’s airy and dreamy,” he told him.  “I’ve never had you like this before.  I was just surprised, that’s all.”  Then, yawning, “Were you reading?” 

Jungkook only offered a tight nod, not looking at Namjoon.   

“Jimin mentioned he’d give you some books.  Did he?” 

Another small nod.  

“I’m glad to hear it.  It’s long days around here without some sort of distraction.”  

Jungkook offered no reaction.  

Namjoon looked toward the window.  It was still early day.  “Do you think I could sneak in another hour or two?”  

Jungkook nodded sincerely. 

“Thank you,” Namjoon half-grinned.  And then he collapsed back against his pillow and was snoring again in no time.  

Jungkook exhaled the breath he’d been unknowingly holding for the past minute.  After that, he realized he had no time to waste.  He returned the book back to his lap and flipped back to his exact page. 

The commoner replied that when people were in love, just seeing one eat instantly filled the other’s stomach.  ‘Love?’ the princess had repeated.  ‘What did he mean by love?’  (Jungkook was just as curious.)  The commoner only looked at her, equal parts lost and confused.  (Jungkook knew exactly which sort of expression the commoner must be sporting; his hyung made one such like it often.  He smiled to himself.)  The commoner did not reply.  The princess did not press the question.  They continued in their happy routine for the days to come.  The princess’s leg had almost healed entirely.  Every day she feared the commoner would ask her to leave, now that she was well enough to walk.  But he never did.  

One day the commoner did not return home by nightfall.  He’d gone out to chop wood and had been gone for longer than usual.  While she waited for him, the princess made dinner for the first time, exactly as he always did.  She recalled each step and before she knew it, she had made them a meal.  She was so proud of herself.  And yet he had not returned.  An hour passed and she was worried.  A second hour passed and she was in tears.  Owls hooted and wolves howled outside of the cottage door, in the woods.  The alpha was out there alone…  Thinking of him in perilous danger, she found courage to don his cloak and go searching for him.  She sought his scent high and low, finally finding him trapped under a log by the same stream at which he had found her.  With all her might, she pushed the log off of him.  She bent down and hugged him at once, weeping into the crook of his shoulder.  His arms wrapped around her as well, scent bursting with joy.  (Jungkook found himself equally as exhilarated.  Were these people real?  How else could their story feel so natural and honest?  He wished the best for them.)  The alpha was happy to have been rescued, but not happy that she had put herself at danger for his sake.  She said she had hardly thought twice about it.  ‘See,’ the alpha said to her, pulling her back and wiping the tears off her face, ‘You love me as well.’  And the princess came to understand the feeling.  She came to know that were she to wake up one day without the alpha and his kind smile and reassuring voice and gentle nature, that it would be a more grievous loss than she had ever suffered previously.  She came to know that his happiness was hers and his sorrow was hers.  She came to know that, for the first time, she saw a vision for her own life and with it came to her with perfect clarity.  She would brave a thousand midnights in a thousand unknown woods for him.  She loved him, and he loved her.  They embraced again, lovers at last.  

Days later, she told the alpha her true identity.  He said he had presumed as much, but it had mattered to him little.  She leaned over and kissed him, over and over again.  (Jungkook’s breath hitched, heart skipped a beat.)  They wed in the village.  One woman thought this mysterious bride looked like the lost princess… but she dismissed the thought immediately.  The missing princess was known to be of a dour constitution with a colorless face; this omega was as bright as a rose and as lively as the autumn wind.  The couple lived the rest of their days in that cottage, happily ever after.   

Jungkook stared at the last page for a long while after.  

For an even longer while, he looked down at his sleeping husband, perfectly lost in his dreams.  

He was experiencing a strange phenomenon: his head was whirring with a hundred thoughts per second, and yet it was simultaneously devoid of thought.  He felt as out of his body as he felt within it.   

He did not know when his eyes slipped shut and he fell back asleep…

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

A golden glow enshrined their entire bedroom.  As Jungkook slowly opened his eyes, hearing sweet birdsong in the distance, he thought he’d never seen their room filled with such a beautifully gauzy glow before.  It was like as if the sun had descended from the heavens and hovered just outside their window.  

He smiled.  It was a lovely way to wake up.  

Behind him, he could sense Namjoon’s warmth.  His alpha slept less than a foot away on the bed.  Jungkook’s smile broadened.  

“What has my omega so happy this early?” came a deep, rumbling voice from behind him.  

Jungkook’s eyes flew wide open.  “You’re awake?” 

Instead of answering, Namjoon reached out a hand, wrapped it around Jungkook’s waist, and pulled the omega flush against his body.  Burying his nose in the nape of Jungkook’s neck, he breathed out, “Good morning.  How did you sleep?” 

Jungkook moaned into the pillow as his body tingled all over.  If he could sense his husband’s warmth before, now he could directly feel the heat of his much bigger body running up and down his own.  It was nearly too much to bear.  Jungkook moaned again.  And, most deliciously of all, Namjoon’s hand was still possessively clutched around his belly...  

Not waiting for Jungkook to answer, Namjoon began lavishing him with feather-light kisses along his neck.  He started right where the collar of Jungkook’s nightgown touched his clavicle, and then he moved his lips to the base of his throat, then his neck, then over his jaw, and then he tilted Jungkook’s face toward himself by the tip of his chin.  Heart beating erratically, Jungkook couldn’t make eye contact.  He could scarcely keep his eyes open.  The heat between them was of an aching sort.  And then Namjoon kissed him right at the corner of his mouth.  Not once, but twice.   

This was the most extraordinary turn of events in Jungkook’s life.  Would the alpha finally mate him?  

“I’m going to mate you,” Namjoon told him.  His voice was so rich, so deep in the mornings like this.  Jungkook felt like he was floating.  Namjoon spread his hand across Jungkook’s belly and squeezed.  

Jungkook gasped, gaze flying toward Namjoon.  But Namjoon’s face wasn’t clear.  It was Namjoon, but he was far away.  

“You’re going to be my mate at last,” Namjoon told him.  “Is this what you want?”    

Jungkook just nodded, mouth parted.  He wanted to be kissed again. 

“Do you want me to kiss you again?” Namjoon asked.  

Jungkook nodded, eyes glazing over.  The room was so sunny. 

“Close your eyes,” Namjoon told him. 

Jungkook did.  He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and–

His eyes shot open.  

The room was colder than he remembered and the sunlight was still distant and bleak.  He couldn’t have dozed off for more than a few minutes.  His book was still splayed over his lap.  He picked it up and set it to the side, dazed by what he had just awoken from.   

Flopping onto his back, he turned his head and looked anxiously toward Namjoon.  

He was mercifully fast asleep.  Breathing evenly and heavily.  

Jungkook whipped his head to look straight up at the ceiling.  He ought to reprimand himself for the dream he’d just awoken from.  It was shameful, it was wretched.  It was the first of its kind… 

Those kisses… they had felt so real.  Jungkook had felt the warmth of that sun, the heat of his hyung’s body, the press of his full lips against Jungkook’s skin…  How could none of that have been real?  His heart was beating fast just thinking about it.  His stomach had erupted into a thousand molten butterflies.  

Kisses.  How funny he should dream of kisses.  

Jungkook had never been kissed.  He’d never kissed anybody, nobody had ever kissed him.  ‘Kiss’ wasn’t even a word he’d ever read in any book or heard said aloud in any story.  And yet he knew what a kiss was.  How had he learned that?  How had his mind conjured up what one would feel like when administered?  And, most importantly, was he right?  

Would it feel like the press of a rose petal?  Would it leave a drop of heat in his blood in its wake?  Would one kiss truly inspire an insatiable need for countless more?  Would a kiss on the lips be the ultimate prize?  

How did Jungkook even know that kisses happened betweens lips?  Would he have ever had such a dream if he hadn’t seen what he had yesterday…?  Or read this book?  He’d be lying if he said the book hadn’t affected him.  The princess and her alpha would be on his mind for perhaps years to come.  Was there more to their story?  Did Jimin-hyung have more books like this?  Did northern omegas grow up reading about kissing?  Was that why they were so bold…  Nothing made sense and yet he knew he knew more about life than he had two days ago.  What would he know two days more from now…

He sighed aloud.  He re-remembered his dream, re-remembered the kisses along his neck… did he have to wake up before the kiss on his lips?  What would it have felt like…  He’d never admit it, but he had admired his hyung’s soft, full lips from the moment they had met.   

Whoever thought a kiss could strike alight such a wildfire?  That too, an imaginary kiss.  Several of them.  Good ones.  

Jungkook turned his head back toward Namjoon.  His broad forehead, his smooth face… his alluring lips… it would be so easy for Jungkook to lean over and kiss him.  To be the first one between them to do it.  If only Namjoon was awake.  Then Jungkook really might have.  After all, it was his husband who had assured him that omegas could kiss first. 

Closing his eyes, Jungkook tried to revisit his dream to double-check. 

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

When Namjoon woke up, it was with a startle.  

In his dream, he’d be drowning in a valley of flowers.  He’d been walking upon grass and then suddenly, one step later, he’d fallen face first into an endless valley of fresh blooms.  Some as big as his head.  He tried to escape but he couldn’t stand up.  He just fell into them further and further.  The more he struggled the deeper he sunk.  Soon he couldn’t see the sun or the sky–just blurs of pink and red and orange and yellow.  

When he’d finally accepted that he was going to drown in the flowers and die–he awoke with a jolt.  

And for a moment he thought maybe the dream had been real because their bedroom smelled exactly like a valley of endless flowers.  

The scent was all-consuming.  

Namjoon stared with still, wide eyes at the back of Jungkook’s head just a foot away from him.  

Lust.  His husband smelled of lust.   

Namjoon clenched his fists under the sheets and tried not to growl.  He clamped his jaw shut as his nostrils flared and he breathed through his nose.  

A million thoughts raced through his head, but the one that prevailed over all others was: who was Jungkook thinking about?  

Maybe he was thinking about nobody.  But if it was somebody—then who?  Was it Namjoon?  Or was it…. 

Namjoon thought he’d crack a molar from how hard he ground his teeth against one another.  

He needed to get out of their room quickly, and so he did. 

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

When Jungkook woke up for the third time that same morning, it was with a startle.  Immediately, he knew that Namjoon was not asleep behind him.  

Jungkook whisked around in bed and his instincts were proven right: his hyung was gone.  

He frowned to himself.  

He’d already had rotten luck in his dream (he had not returned to a dreamscape of kisses and golden sunlight) and now his hyung wasn’t there to greet the day with him.  

Yet, enough of Namjoon’s scent lingered between the sheets to give Jungkook the motivation to rise from bed and go in search of the real thing.  

Another thorn in Jungkook’s morning arose when he saw that there was no collar neatly placed atop his hanbok.  

Well, he consoled himself, it was no cause for concern.  Sometimes Namjoon-hyung gave it to him in person.  Maybe, Jungkook even dared to consider, his hyung was still wearing it.  Had perhaps forgetfully left it on himself as he dressed for th—

Jungkook stopped in his tracks when he realized that Namjoon’s hanbok was still neatly folded underneath his own.  

He looked around their bedroom, observing everything.  

Nothing had moved…  Namjoon’s comb had not been touched, his hat was where he’d left it last night, and his nightgown was nowhere to be seen…  In fact, the only thing missing from the room was the sight of Namjoon’s shoes.  

Jungkook dressed himself as quickly as he ever had.  

 

 

 

❧

 

 

 

Namjoon sat alone and wallowed by the stream.  

He held a long reed in his hands that he periodically splashed against the peaceful current of the water, frowning petulantly to himself at the ripples.  

Jungkook’s scent that morning… 

There was no other word for it.  It was lust.  

That Jungkook was able to feel any sensation of the variety was cause for celebration.  The rational part of Namjoon understood that.  He also understood that presumptively, he was the likeliest candidate to have produced such… a fervor in his husband.     

But what if he wasn’t?  

What if—

“Namjoon-hyung?” 

Namjoon dropped the reed in his hand and stood up as fast as he ever had.  When he went to brush the dirt off of himself, he belatedly realized he was still in his nightgown.  

Looking up, he saw a perfectly shocked Jungkook standing a short distance away.  Jungkook’s eyes were rounded in abject concern.  He stood wearing a lovely apricot-colored hanbok, the silk fluttering in the wind alongside his gleaming black hair.  

His scent was as serene as ever.   

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook asked, stepping forward.  He looked between Namjoon’s disheveled hair and improper attire with a creased brow and small pout.  

“I—”  And Namjoon did not want to lie and be deceitful.  He also did not want Jungkook to carry Namjoon’s own pointless burden upon his shoulders.  “I was clearing my head.” 

Jungkook looked around the tall grass and babbling stream and hummed, accepting Namjoon’s answer.  He took a step forward.  “Clearing your head of what, hyung?” 

And what ought Namjoon reply?  

From the moment Jungkook had walked into his life, he had only wanted one thing.  He wasn’t always thinking about this one thing, and he did not always act bearing this one thing in mind.  He was not thinking about this one thing when he slept by the windows (then he was thinking about Jungkook’s peace of mind), or when he spent his own personal savings on Jungkook’s bridal gifts (then he was thinking about what would make Jungkook feel integrated into the family) or when he served him tea (then he wanted Jungkook to be warm and not catch a cold) or when he took note of his favorite dishes and reported them to the kitchens (then he wanted Jungkook to always eat well) or when they went horseback riding together (then he wanted Jungkook to enjoy the enlivening mountain air) or when they stargazed (then he wanted Jungkook to find a star he could make a wish upon) or when he scented collars for him (then he wanted Jungkook to be safe) or when he started to sleep in the same bed as him (then he wanted Jungkook to be happy).  He wasn’t thinking about the one thing then.  

But he always wanted the one thing.  

Standing before Jungkook was an incredibly pathetic alpha who only ever wanted one thing: he wanted Jungkook to like him back.  

He wanted Jungkook to like his handwriting, the way he liked Jungkook’s.  He wanted Jungkook to like the tilt of his smile, the way he liked Jungkook’s.  He wanted Jungkook to like the way colors looked against his skin, the way he liked them on Jungkook.  Anything—he would’ve taken anything.  Every moment was touched and ruined by Namjoon wondering if Jungkook liked him, the way he liked Jungkook.  

Love might have been a step too far to hope of Jungkook, Namjoon had accepted that somewhere in all the hours he’d spent the past few nights poring over Jungkook’s guileless face as he slept beside him.  He was happy to settle for being liked, and he longed for it.  

But his husband had leapt to lust.  

He racked his mind over and over again.  Lust.  Nothing about their day shared yesterday could have inspired lust where there had been none before.  Unless he was missing something.  He replayed the day over and over again.  Lust.  He—could it have been for him?  But—if it wasn’t for him, then— 

Jungkook walked forth and held Namjoon’s hands between his own.  

“Hyung!” he exclaimed, breaking Namjoon’s reverie, “Your hands are shaking!” 

Namjoon looked down to where his hands touched Jungkook’s and saw that they had been.  Now they weren’t.  

“What were you thinking about?” Jungkook asked again.  He lifted his head up and gazed at Namjoon with wide, shining eyes.   

Namjoon took a deep breath.  “Your scent.” 

Jungkook stopped breathing.  “M-my…” 

“When I woke up this morning, your scent… it was—” 

“Hyung,” Jungkook interrupted him, erupting the color of late spring blossoms, “I–I had a dream.”  

“A dream,” Namjoon repeated.  

Jungkook bit his lower lip.  “It… it was about—” 

“Was it about me?” Namjoon interrupted in turn.  His heart leapt around in his chest. 

Jungkook burst into a shy, embarrassed smile, looking away from Namjoon.  He nodded.  

In that moment, Namjoon thought that if he were pushed off the highest cliff on the highest mountain imaginable, he would survive.  He was light as air.  He couldn’t conjure up a single thought to think.  

Still not locking eyes, Jungkook slowly said, “In my dream, you were kissing me.”   

For the second time that morning, Namjoon was drowning in flowers.  Endless, endless, endless blooming flowers.  

“Kissing you?” 

“Yes.” 

“How?” 

Jungkook took a sharp breath.  “Like…”  

And so ensued the most heartstopping moment of their marriage: Jungkook lifted himself up on his toes and briskly, warmly kissed his husband upon his unexpecting cheek.  

Namjoon slapped a hand over his besotted cheek.  He met Jungkook’s giddy gaze with a shell-shocked one of his own.  

Kissed—Jungkook had kissed him! 

Oh, Kim Namjoon, he berated himself, hand still pressed against his hot skin, you complete dunce.  You unrepentant fool.  You simpleminded, incorrigible idio—

“Hyung!” Jungkook shouted—

Splash! 

Without a shred of grace, Namjoon had stumbled backwards in his stupor and landed elbows deep in the shallow stream.  Water bogged around his white nightgown and flooded his shoes.  And still, he only lifted his hand from the muddied waters to hold it against his cheek once more.  

Jungkook came and held his hems by the edge of the bank.  Behind him, the sun cast a halo around his head.  He was laughing behind the sleeve of his shimmering silk.  It sounded like music.

“Come,” he eventually said, leaning a hand out for Namjoon to hold, “Today is peaches.  You can’t sit around here all day, hyung.  You promised me northern ones were better and I have yet to see for myself.”  

And, with a bashful, late-breaking smile, Namjoon reached up and took his husband’s hand in his own. 

 

 

Notes:

+ if chapter 1 namkook could see themselves now...

Chapter 7: Seven

Notes:

+ as all my fave readers know, i always respond to comments in the days before i post a new chapter HOWEVER ao3 has a new rule where u can’t comment more than 5 times in 15 minutes so this has severely cramped my ability to reply to comments as i usually do! i think it sucks this rule applies even to authors replying back to comments on their own fics boooo however, i am going thru them as best as i can (cherishing each one) and i will get back to u all!!! your very funny and often very touching comments are truly the best part of the writing experience so i hope u will be as generous with them as ever, tho it will take me a bit longer to catch up than before ;-; i rly hope ao3 changes this rule (they said it was temporary)

+ my favorite thing about this fic is that jungkook and namjoon live in a traditional hanok house built presumably several hundreds of years ago, and yet they have a mysteriously convenient ensuite bathroom whenever they need it. see, what isn't possible when ur in love???

+ also i went to hobi’s concert. let me be brief: hoseok… jay.... pick me… choose *me*… LOVE ME!!!!!!!!! (he is such a superstar u guys i am so proud of him, FUCK ;-;)

+ 85 days until june 21 yeorobun

 

 

“Have a peach.” 

Jungkook looked over his shoulder to see Taehyung leaning over and offering freshly cut peach slices on a porcelain plate. 

With a faint blush, Jungkook shook his head.  He turned back to look out toward the orchard of peach trees.  He sat near the edge of the ginkgo's shade, his gaze fixed upon the one alpha wearing a peach-colored hanbok who was roaming through the grove, assessing the harvest.  

“Why not?!” Taehyung asked, clearly offended. 

“Leave him alone,” Jimin chirped, clearly amused.  “He’ll eat when his alpha eats.” 

“Ahhh,” Taehyung quickly understood.  “He’s been given a taste of being hand fed his fruit,” he tutted, lowering his plate.  “How could we compare?” 

Jungkook drew his knees up and bent his head down as he blushed in embarrassment.  Still, his eyes stayed upon the alpha. 

“Careful, Taehyung-ah,” Jimin laughed, “If you tease him too much, Namjoon-hyung will get a whiff of his scent and then you’ll have to answer to him about ‘distressing his omega.’ ” 

Taehyung was unfazed.  “As if my alpha is going to let—” 

Jungkook whisked his head around, looked squarely at Jimin-hyung with his roundest eyes, and asked, “Does Namjoon-hyung call me his omega?” 

Jimin and Taehyung squealed in loud, irrepressible conjunction.  They both scooted over, closer to Jungkook, until they swarmed him on both sides.  

“He does,” Jimin gleefully assured him, “He says it all the time when you’re not around—to us, to the servants, to the villagers, to everybody.  It’s ‘my omega’ this and ‘my omega’ that.” 

“Yoongi-hyung says a tradesman in the village tried to sell Namjoon-hyung a perfectly lovely jacquard hanbok two nights ago and hyung turned his nose up at it and said ‘My omega only wears fine silk.’   He couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears to hear him talking like that!” Taehyung recounted. 

Jungkook buried his face in his (fine) silk sleeves.  

“That’s nothing!” Jimin exclaimed.  “I was in the kitchen yesterday midday and who do I run into there but Namjoon-hyung.  He was asking cook how fresh the fish was.  They said the fisherman had just dropped it off that very morning, and then Namjoon-hyung paused to think before asking specifically what time that morning.  And then,” Jimin continued, eyes widening, “he looked at the counter of fish and asked them if they knew exactly which one was the freshest.  He mumbled something about ‘his omega’ liking fish.” 

Jungkook buried his face deeper.

Taehyung shook his head.  “Hyung was single for so long, he’s forgotten how to be normal.” 

Jimin gave Taehyung a playful shove.  “Yoongi-hyung picked you up yesterday so that you wouldn’t have to walk over the smallest patch of mud I’d ever seen in my life,” he rolled his eyes.  

“If one thinks about it, what is ‘normal’ when it comes to an alpha, anyway?” Taehyung wondered aloud, changing his tune.

“I wouldn’t know,” Jimin sighed pleasantly.  For no reason, he patted his belly. 

“Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung turned to him and grinned.  He waited until Jungkook lifted his head to face him before saying, “You smell exactly like Namjoon-hyung.” 

Jimin faced Jungkook with an even wider grin.  “Did he scent you?” 

Face aflame, Jungkook shook his head.  

Taehyung clicked his tongue.  “Hyung is really super hopeless.” 

“But something happened,” Jimin pressed.  

“You are blushier than usual this morning,” Taehyung immediately observed, taking and squeezing both of Jungkook’s hands between his own.  

“And don’t b lame it on the sun,” Jimin warned, pinching both of Jungkook’s burning cheeks.  “Something happened between you and your alpha, didn’t it?” 

Jungkook closed his eyes and couldn’t help the irrepressible grin that consumed his face as he floated away to relive the memories of just an hour ago.  He scarcely heard his hyungs’ chorus of fresh squeals…. 

…After Jungkook had helped pull his sopping wet alpha out of the stream, he’d ushered him back to their bedroom and pushed him into a bath.  The servants must have thought Jungkook insane as they tidied the room around him: he sat on his Namjoon-hyung’s side of the bed giggling and smiling into the sleeves of his hanbok, all by himself.  

Even from their bed, Jungkook could smell his husband’s strong, happy scent emanating from the bath.  Could his husband smell his?  

When Namjoon emerged, he stood tall and proud in his peach-colored robes.  When he reached for his hat, Jungkook sprung to action.  He took his husband’s hat from his cabinet and gently placed it atop his head himself.  Carefully, he tied it in place with a fanciful bow just underneath Namjoon’s chin.  

Gaze drifting the slightest bit upwards, Jungkook’s lips parted of their own accord when he took in the renewed sight of that tiny little beauty mark adorning his husband’s bottom lip… 

Jungkook snapped his mouth shut and took a step backwards to admire his work.  

“You look very handsome, Namjoon-hyung,” he praised.  

“Just today?” Namjoon teased, smiling broad enough to let his dimples appear.  

There wasn’t a single response Jungkook could have offered that would have kept his dignity intact, so he chose silence.  He turned away with a blush.  

Before he could step away, Namjoon grabbed him by his wrist.  

Jungkook whipped his head to look back at him.  

His hyung held up a strip of peach silk with his other hand.  

Wordlessly, Namjoon tied the silk around Jungkook’s neck.  In the days prior, his hyung had been careful in touching Jungkook’s skin as little as possible.  Was Jungkook thinking wishfully or were his hyung’s warm fingertips pressing against his own warm skin far more frequently than before…. 

When Namjoon finished knotting the collar, he did not remove his hands from Jungkook.  He stood in place.  He lowered his gaze upon Jungkook.  

“I…” he began, scent sweetening.  

Jungkook turned on his heel at once.  

As he left their room, his husband quickly followed.  Jungkook’s blush spread like the summer wind.  

The hyungs teased them at breakfast once more for their matching robes, each conjecturing at length upon how the couple would commemorate the harvest’s finale the following day.  They’d already worn their golden robes for apples, they couldn’t possibly repeat the same ones for pears.   

When the family arrived at the orchard, Namjoon held Jungkook’s hand as they set up their daily picnic underneath the gingko tree.  He swore there was nothing that would detach him from Jungkook that day.  He would spend the entire day at Jungkook’s side, only feeding him the sweetest, juiciest, most ripe pe—

“I won’t be able to supervise until the afternoon,” their father strode over and reported to Namjoon within the same minute, standing firmly with his arms folded behind his back.  

That Namjoon was expected to supervise in his stead remained unsaid.  Namjoon bowed and cast one long, contrite, and rueful glance in Jungkook’s direction before trudging off toward the overladen peach trees to join his brothers.  

“The hyungs could do it without Namjoon-hyung,” Taehyung had immediately sympathized.  “Abeoji is just being a stick in the mud for the sake of it.”  

“As the future pack alpha,” Jungkook had stated instead, standing tall and looking proudly upon his husband’s retreating back, “hyung must put his duties first.  He has a responsibility to lead.” 

“But what about his duty to you?” Taehyung had teased, bumping Jungkook’s shoulder.  

“Hyung has already fulfilled his duties to me,” Jungkook answered uprightly.  “I’m here aren’t I?” 

At this, Taehyung grinned.  He cast a quick glance at the peach-colored silk wrapped around Jungkook’s neck.  “You are.” 

Jimin joined them shortly and immediately asked Jungkook if he’d found time to read the novel they’d given him….

“You have to use your charms more,” Jimin counseled Jungkook, after having divulged from him the little tidbit that Namjoon had taken his time tying Jungkook’s collar that morning.  It was all he wished for his hyung’s to know.  The kiss… the kiss was for him and Namjoon-hyung to know about.  

Taehyung nodded in agreement.  “Bat your eyes every chance you get—hyung’s always staring at them anyway.  Besides, do you think he’s not doing the same?  I swear I forgot he had dimples.” 

“He certainly doesn’t deploy them unless you’re around,” Jimin mused.  

Jungkook secretly liked the idea of that.  His hyung’s dimples were exactly that: his. 

“Namjoon-hyung and I have come to understand each other very well,” Jungkook told them, shy as ever.  He outlined the flowers on the blanket beneath them with his finger as he spoke.  “We are quite similar.”  

“How similar?” Jimin teased, nudging Jungkook’s shoulder. 

Jungkook kept his smile to himself.  “We want the same things in life.” 

“Oh?” Taehyung asked, raising his eyebrows.  “What kinds of things?  Things like ‘the harvest to go well’ or things like… children.”   

Jungkook blushed again—how could he not at such a question?  

“We want each other to be happy,” Jungkook stated, not satisfying either hyungs’ curiosity. 

“Not for nothing,” Taehyung semi-pouted at Jungkook’s unimpeachable civility, “but you and Namjoon-hyung would have really cute children.  Think about it.” 

There was no mannered fashion in which Jungkook could convey to his Taehyung-hyung that he progressed quite a bit further in his own imagination than simply conjuring up ideas of what his children would look like with Namjoon-hyung, so he nodded politely and ushered the conversation toward safer terrain for himself—such as new book recommendations.      

 

 

❧

 

 

Soon it was the lunch hour.  As all the laborers headed over toward the meal tent, Jungkook sat and watched with open adoration as his husband sprinted towards him and only him.  Namjoon was at his hems within seconds.  He held his hands out for Jungkook to hold, pulling him up onto his feet.  

“The orchards are empty at present,” Namjoon told a breathless Jungkook, not wasting a moment of time between them.  “Would you care for a tour?”  

Jungkook glimpsed at the distant lanes of peach trees.  His heart thumped with excitement; he hadn’t even allowed himself to think of walking through the orchards with his husband as a possibility, let alone a reality.  

Jungkook hadn’t needed to say a word; his eyes must have given him away.  Namjoon took him by his hands and walked across the meadow with him.  The sun shone radiantly above them, rays of sunlight glimmering upon every fluttering leaf they passed.    

They walked past bare lanes of grape vines and stout plum trees before reaching the day’s conquest.  Ladders propped against trunks and buckets hanging from branches littered every row they passed.  Jungkook’s eyes widened at the splendor of it all.  He looked up toward the high tree tops, laden with curly leaves and bright fruit in shades of red, pink, and orange.  

“They smell incredible,” Jungkook inhaled, turning to face Namjoon.  Their favorite ginkgo was much too far away for the luscious scent of the fruit to have carried the distance, but Jungkook was thankful for it.  It would have been torturous to have been teased by the fragrance of such achingly sweet fruit all week.  Jungkook’s mouth watered from the proximity already.   

“Do they?” Namjoon asked, eyebrows raised.  

Jungkook enthusiastically nodded.  

“You seem surprised,” Namjoon mused.  “I would have thought the uncontested superiority of southern peaches would have inured you to the scent of humble northern ones.”  Namjoon smirked.

Jungkook gasped.  “You’re teasing me!” he accused his husband, his natural lisp slipping out.  

Namjoon grinned as he crossed his arms and leaned against the trunk of the massive tree beside them.  The canopy of peaches above their heads numbered in the hundreds.  

“How could I tease you?” Namjoon teased, “I’ve never had a southern peach to compare.  Between us, only you can determine a victor.”  

“Need there be a victor?” Jungkook wondered aloud, crossing his own arms.  

“I believe you started the competition,” Namjoon reminded, still grinning, dimples adorning his face.  

Jungkook caught his breath.  The alpha looked so handsome leaning against the tree in his peach robes—the silk rippling gently in the wind—that Jungkook blinked and forgot the root of the entire topic of conversation.  He didn’t even remember why his arms were crossed.  Blushing, he uncrossed them.  

A short distance away was a bucket half-filled with fresh peaches.  

Jungkook approached it.  “These look quite good,” he deflected, reaching his hand out—

But before he could touch the flesh of a single fruit, Namjoon lunged forward and gripped him by his wrist for the second time that day.  Jungkook’s gaze whipped toward Namjoon as Namjoon’s stayed sharply fixed upon where Jungkook had almost touched a peach. 

And—with one of the deepest blushes of their marriage yet—Jungkook realized his mistake.  That plucked fruit, which he had almost held, was the fruit of labor of some other, unknown alpha.  

Jungkook recoiled his hand away from the bucket at once.  Namjoon dropped his grip and Jungkook brought both of his fists to his sides, clenching them tightly.  

But Namjoon did not despair.  In fact, his pleased scent failed to falter.  If anything, it climaxed.  Namjoon reached up in the space above them, wrapped his long, slender fingers around a plump, pink peach, and twisted it off its branch.  Leaves fell around them as Namjoon lowered his hand and presented the tempting fruit to Jungkook.  

As Jungkook gazed upon the perfect peach resting upon his husband’s palm, beguiling him to sink his teeth into it, Namjoon pulled a small knife out of his sleeve.  Carefully, he pierced through the skin until the blade hit stone.  

He cut a slice and brought it up to Jungkook’s lips.  

And Jungkook bit it at once.  He held Namjoon’s hand in both of his as he ate the proffered fruit.  He watched the clear juice trickle down Namjoon’s wrist and disappear under his sleeve.  

After he swallowed, Namjoon cut another slice.  

Before he fed it to Jungkook, he asked, “Do I often kiss you in your dreams?” 

Jungkook snapped his gaze up at Namjoon, pressing his parted lips back together.  

Namjoon tsked.  He pressed his thumb down on Jungkook’s chin, opening his mouth again.  

Gaze downcast (scent aflame and cheeks afire), Jungkook obediently ate the fruit.  

“How’s the peach?” Namjoon asked.

Jungkook murmured, “Good.”

“Better than in the south?” 

Jungkook refused to answer one way or another.  

Namjoon cut a third slice with a small smile.  He regarded it. 

He waited until Jungkook was watching him to bring it up to his own mouth and bite off half.  He chewed and nodded in satisfaction before swallowing, as if it were as sweet and ripe as he’d remembered.  He extended the remaining half toward Jungkook.  

Gaze not leaving Namjoon’s for a moment, Jungkook opened his mouth again and accepted the half-eaten peach slice.  

Namjoon watched Jungkook chew and swallow. 

He took a deep breath, chest swelling as he basked in Jungkook’s florid scent, and asked, “In your dreams do I only kiss you on the cheek?” 

Bashfully smiling to himself, turning his face away from Namjoon, Jungkook replied, “Are there other places to be kissed, hyung?” 

The wide smile that overtook Namjoon’s features was irrepressible.  Teasing.  Teasing was always a good sign with Jungkook.  

“There are, Jungkook-ah.  Of course there are,” Namjoon replied calmly.  He pondered cutting a fourth slice.  “Now hyung is wondering which ones you know about.” 

Jungkook all but pouted, “A person can only know what they’ve been taught.”  

Namjoon felt his heart skip a beat.  “Is this you asking to learn?” he smoothly rejoined. 

Jungkook’s shocked gaze met Namjoon’s for half a second before flitting away again with a deep flush around his neck.  The sight only quickened Namjoon’s heartbeat.  

“I was only taught the four virtues: morality, appearance, speech, and craft,” Jungkook recited at the ground, the flush on his neck creeping up to his face.  “And that amongst them, morality comes first.”  

The cloud of scents swirling around Namjoon’s head—the sun-ripened peaches mixed with an entire garden’s worth of sun-kissed flowers—threatened to drive him to madness.  What would drive him to madness sooner, however, was Jungkook’s coyness.  In the morning he smells of lust and is bold enough to place an indelible kiss upon Namjoon’s cheek, and now in the afternoon he postulates morality with him!  In the same afternoon it had taken for Namjoon to gather all his courage, it appeared that Jungkook had lost all his.  

Namjoon took a step toward Jungkook.  In a low, unassuming voice, he asked, “Is it immoral to show affection toward one’s husband?  To kiss?”  

Looking to the side, exposing a sliver of his warm neck to Namjoon, Jungkook inhaled sharply before replying, “But that’s what I’m reproaching, hyung: I don’t know.  I wasn’t taught.  Hyung would have to teach me what shape morality takes between husbands, because I don’t know.”

Namjoon felt his mouth hang open in stupor.  

And then, Jungkook turned and met Namjoon’s disorientated gaze with a set of perfectly lethal, round, glittering doe eyes.  He blinked, a vision of innocence.  But Namjoon caught the small smile that was curling around the corners of Jungkook’s lips….  

Teasing!   Still!  Again!   Could it be?  He could scarcely believe it!  Here Namjoon stood, agonizing moment by moment over what he ought and ought not say to his virtuous and upstanding husband, only for—

“Will hyung teach me?” Jungkook asked, blinking once more to great effect.   

For nary a second did Namjoon consider teasing Jungkook back.  

“Yes,” Namjoon answered with full sincerity, unblinking, “I will.” 

And Jungkook finally smiled—shyly and beautifully.  

Namjoon’s heart soared above clouds and stars. 

“When?” Jungkook asked. 

“What?” 

Jungkook moved incrementally closer to Namjoon, lips parting.  “When?” 

Namjoon’s gaze fell upon Jungkook’s nectar-sweet lips just as his husband’s fell upon his own.  

Namjoon dropped the peach and knife, letting them fall on the soft grass beneath them.  Without a moment lost, he leaned forward and placed his palms on each side of Jungkook’s cherubic face, caressing him.  Instinctively, Jungkook raised his arms and entwined them around Namjoon, pressing themselves closer.  For a long minute, all Namjoon could do was look upon Jungkook as a lost wanderer looked upon the night sky, searching for heavenly direction.  Providentially, he felt like Jungkook was gazing back at him just the same.  

Closing his eyes, Namjoon brought their faces together until their lips touched and they kissed. 

 

 

❧

 

 

When Jungkook and Namjoon emerged from the orchard, back toward the gingko tree, Namjoon wore a frown and Jungkook had his gaze downcast and arms crossed tightly across his chest.  They stood several feet apart and did not once look at the other as they crossed the wide meadow.    

Jimin noticed their disconcertion from afar.  He tugged Taehyung’s sleeve, and once they both noticed the couple’s strange demeanor, they exchanged a worried look.  

“How was the orchard?” Taehyung asked brightly once the pair approached, masking his apprehension.  

Neither glanced at him.  Jungkook was lost in his thoughts and had not heard the question, and Namjoon was distracted as he craned his neck to look back toward the direction of the house.  

“I’ll take you home,” Namjoon quietly turned and said to Jungkook. 

Without glancing at him, Jungkook nodded.  

And with absolutely no acknowledgement of Taehyung or Jimin, the two walked off toward the house together, still distant and silent in posture—and smelling dour as rainfall.  

 

 

❧

 

 

Namjoon slid their bedroom door open and Jungkook stepped inside first, head bent low.  Namjoon followed after and closed the door firmly behind them.  

Once in the privacy of their bedroom, Jungkook turned around, threw his arms around Namjoon, and buried his face in his husband’s chest.  He did not cry, but his face burned red with fear and frustration.  As he gradually took in the calming scent Namjoon was surely emanating for his sake, his breathing began to slow and skin began to cool.   

Tightly wrapping his arms around Jungkook, exhaling as he pressed the side of his head against Jungkook’s, Namjoon assured him, “It’s alright.  Nothing happened.”  

Jungkook relaxed the more Namjoon’s hold tightened around him.  He let his rigid self melt against Namjoon, each muscle dropping its defenses one by one.  Soon he was leaning his entire weight against the alpha, who stood before him like a rock.  They embraced for a long while, Namjoon tentatively patting Jungkook’s back as Jungkook kept his fingers clutched around his husband’s robes.  

“I ought to return before my father sends somebody looking for me,” Namjoon eventually regretted to inform.  Then, voice lifting, he added, “But, as I think about it, I wouldn’t mind staying here with you until such happens.”  

Jungkook knew his husband was only trying to raise his spirits, but he found them impossible to be raised.  He flinched at the idea of a servant or family member coming and poking their nose around.  “No, hyung,” he determined, finding his voice, “It would be best if you left before anybody came looking.”  

Silently, Namjoon nodded against him.  And still, neither moved.  

With a swell of simmering satisfaction, Jungkook knew the alpha would never break their embrace first.  He turned his face for a brief  moment toward Namjoon’s neck and took in a deep breath of his wintery and rich scent.  Just one last moment before he’d let his hyung go.  He closed his eyes and let himself lean a touch closer to—

Feeling the tip of his nose touch Namjoon’s bare neck, Jungkook jumped away from his husband with a jolt.  With a burning face and wide, intermittent blinks, Jungkook could scarcely look at Namjoon as the alpha equally as disjointedly vowed to Jungkook that he would be back as soon as possible before leaving their room in a flash.  

When he was gone, Jungkook buried his face in his hands.  He felt his fiery cheeks against his palms and slowly breathed in and out, trying to return his rising color and racing heart to their natural state.  But every time he would get close to achieving it, his mind would jump back to the orchard and suddenly his face would recolor and his heart would start leaping afresh.  Looking upon his inviting bed, he did the unthinkable and crawled into it like a child.  It was still bright daylight outside, but he cared not.  He buried his head underneath the heavy brocade blanket and laid there silently.  

Within a minute, and with a slightly conspiratorial mind, he curled himself into a ball over the side where his husband slept.  He closed his eyes and took deep, measured breaths.  The scent of winter berries was as potent as if Namjoon were there… laying in bed with him.  Wistfully, Jungkook wished he had been.  Memories from earlier in the hour came flooding back to him… splendid memories, from under the peach trees… 

 

…Namjoon had caressed Jungkook’s face, closed his eyes, brought their faces close, and kissed him.  

It had only been a gentle press of their lips, which had left Jungkook wide-eyed and immobile.  

Namjoon had pulled away and opened his eyes.  When he caught Jungkook’s bewildered expression, he laughed.  It sounded like a sweet bell ringing from a mountain temple, high in the sky.  The alpha said nothing.  He closed his eyes again and leaned down for another kiss.  This one lingered.  Between one kiss turning into a second and becoming a third, Jungkook closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the sensation, equally as unfamiliar as it was inviting.  His fists tightened around the collars of Namjoon’s peach silk.   

“You,” Namjoon murmured to him between kisses, “have” ( kiss ) “to” ( kiss ) “kiss me” ( kiss ) “back.” 

Flushed with color, Jungkook had turned his face to the side with a soft exhale.  Instead of kissing his lips again, Namjoon, whose eyes remained closed, had pressed his next kiss against Jungkook’s warm cheek. 

Jungkook didn’t dare meet Namjoon’s gaze as he opened his eyes with a startle.  Instead, he buried his face in the alpha’s chest and muttered, “I don’t know how, hyung.” 

Namjoon slipped his hand to the back of Jungkook’s head, holding him by the nape of his neck.  “Look at me,” Namjoon instructed. 

With a trembling gaze, Jungkook did.  

“Good,” Namjoon softly smiled at him.  

Jungkook’s chin wobbled.  

Noticing, Namjoon raised his other hand and pressed his thumb against it.  Gaze lowering to Jungkook’s lips, he said, “Open your mouth.”  

Without conscious thought, Jungkook’s lips parted for Namjoon.  He tilted his head back.  

Their eyes met.  

“When I kiss you,” Namjoon murmured, gaze burning, “I want you to kiss me back.”  

And when Namjoon said it this time, Jungkook understood what he meant.  His eyes slipped shut and when he felt the alpha’s lips on his again, he kissed him back.  Softly, at first.  He felt the flutter of Namjoon’s eyelashes against his skin as he returned each sweet kiss with one of his own.  The sensation made his belly flutter.  The scent of ripe peaches disappeared and a haze of overripe berries shrouded Jungkook; he was intoxicated by it.  He dropped every defense.

Namjoon slipped one hand from Jungkook’s face and held him by his waist, pulling him closer to his own body.  The kisses deepened.  Namjoon’s hand burned where Jungkook felt it pressed against the silk of his hanbok, at his waist.  His hyung had never touched his body before… the flutter in his belly turned into a simmering fire.  

Breathless—Jungkook was completely breathless as they kissed.  He knew nothing about what to do with his own hands, so he kept them in place around Namjoon, clenching and unclenching his fists as the alpha lavished him with lengthening kisses.  When their tongues met, Jungkook whined at the new pleasure and a thrill shot down his spine as he heard Namjoon growl in response.  The alpha dropped both hands to Jungkook’s waist, and Jungkook brought his hands up to hold Namjoon by his face.  Their grips tightened around the other, hips pressing together.  

The world ceased to exist for Jungkook outside of the two of them.  He was consumed by the moment, he thought only of his husband.  If he did have a worldly thought, it was that if his hyung’s scent were affecting him like this, he could only imagine was his own scent—

A rush of cold air swarmed Jungkook as Namjoon detached himself from him, brushed his fingertips over Jungkook’s collar, and took a fast step backwards.  He grabbed Jungkook by his waist and whirled him around, hiding Jungkook safely behind his back before the omega could even overcome his confusion as to why his husband would ever stop kissing him.  

And then the answer to his confusion came panting into view.  Jungkook instinctively clutched on tightly to the back of Namjoon’s robe, eyes peeking over his shoulder.  

“Namjoon-hyung!” a young alpha came running toward them.  His eyes were wild and searched around the orchard indiscriminately.  “Do you smell that?!”  

“Smell what?” Namjoon asked, brief and neutral.  It was a wonder he had caught his breath so quickly, Jungkook considered.  His own was still erratic.   

“Oh,” the alpha stopped in his tracks, eyes bulging out of his skull at the delayed sight of Jungkook hidden behind the future pack alpha.  He bowed deeply as he greeted Jungkook, introducing himself as a villager—the weaver’s son.  

Jungkook took half a step to the right and politely greeted the young man in return.  

“I was showing Jungkook-ssi the orchard,” Namjoon told their intruder, taking half a step to the right.  “It’s all new to him.”  

“Of course,” the young man bowed again, looking abashed.  

“What did you smell, Jongyul-ah?” Namjoon asked again.  

Jongyul took a deep breath.  “Hyung, you can’t smell it?” he asked, astounded.  “I finished lunch early and sensed the scent the second I stepped foot back amongst the trees—there’s an unmated omega nearby!  Somebody from the village must have snuck into the orchard to steal fruit!  I can smell them everywhere!”  

Jungkook’s stomach swooped with fear, a chill coursing through him.  He returned to hiding himself entirely behind Namjoon and took a deep breath.  But Namjoon remained calm.  

His husband told Jongyul, “You forget that I’m mated now.  I can’t scent out an unmated omega the way you can.”   

“Of course, hyung, forgive me,” Jongyul quickly rejoined, embarrassed.  He did not dare meet Jungkook’s gaze after such a blunder.  “But I wanted you to know that there really is one!  I swear!  Their scent is so strong and sweet, it smells like—” 

“Jongyul-ah,” Namjoon cut him off curtly, “Don’t forget yourself in front of my omega.  This is crude talk.”  

“Ah, hyung, I meant no disrespect,” he pled his case, bowing once more in contrition, “But if somebody is stealing from the orchard, then shouldn’t we find them out?  Also if an omega from the village made their way out here all by themselves, it isn’t safe for them to wander around alone.  They’d have to pass through the mountains on foot to get home; we could escort them back with us in the carriages instead.”  

“What if it’s a vagabond?” Namjoon put forth. 

“It’s still dangerous for a lone omega.”  

“What do you wish to do?” Namjoon asked him. 

“I want to find them and ensure their safe return to the village,” Jongyul replied earnestly, standing up straight.   

“And what of the fruit you’re sure they’ve stolen?” Namjoon inquired. 

“What of it!” the young alpha said at once.  “We share it with the villagers as is.  They can have my share of it.”  There was a wild, uninhibited note of intoxication in his voice as he spoke of his own abundant generosity. 

“You’ve suddenly become magnanimous about the situation,” Namjoon rejoined.  

The alpha inhaled.  “Hyung, if you could only smell—” 

“Get lost then,” Namjoon sharply instructed.  “Run and go find them.”  

The alpha did not need telling twice.  He turned on his heels and dashed off toward the northern section of trees, the direction in which the breeze had carried Jungkook’s scent.  Thankfully, Jongyul ran opposite of the main house and where lunch was still being served.  

Once Jongyul was out of sight, Namjoon turned around and unlaced Jungkook’s collar as quickly as he could.  He slipped the silk ribbon open and let it hang off of Jungkook’s neck.  He swiped his thumb along his own scent gland first before rubbing it against Jungkook’s scarred one.  Jungkook closed his eyes and shivered as Namjoon’s strong, riled scent overwhelmed him at once.  

Namjoon was thorough; one swipe would’ve done, but he applied at least half a dozen.  Then he applied a swipe behind each of Jungkook’s ears, the other side of his neck, and along both wrists.  After all this, he appeared satisfied.  Malcontent and steaming out of his ears, but satisfied.  

Jungkook didn’t say a word.  He stood perfectly still as Namjoon protected him in the only way he knew how to.  There was nothing Jungkook could do for his husband in return.  

“Let me take you home,” Namjoon quietly said to Jungkook.  

Jungkook could only nod.  He lifted his hands to retie his collar, but Namjoon beat him to the task.  Gently, he tied the collar back into place, letting it run against his wrists as often as possible.  It was not possible for Jungkook to smell of Namjoon more than he already did, but the alpha was one for trying.   

Jungkook looked up at Namjoon.  On his lips was still the phantom feeling of Namjoon’s own.  He couldn’t believe they had kissed as they had.  He wasn’t sure if the moment had been real, or if he’d conjured it up himself deep within these peach trees.  But he couldn’t have conjured it up himself because he hadn’t known such kissing was possible, and so it must have been real.  He couldn’t have dreamt that fire in his belly.  

At this, Jungkook promptly blushed and turned his head away.  Namjoon noticed.  

“Try not to blush,” Namjoon softly sighed, lifting his hand to press over Jungkook’s collar once more.  “Your scent…” 

Blushing even deeper, Jungkook nodded at his feet.

Namjoon reached over and took Jungkook by his hand.  He led him through the orchard, back toward where their family was waiting for them to return.  As they walked, Jungkook’s gaze fell upon all the bruised and soiled peaches lying on the grass, under the dark shade of the resplendent trees above.  Their sour scent was all he could discern now. 

Once they reached the edge of the orchard, Jungkook withdrew his hand from Namjoon.  He didn’t know why he did it, but he did.  He tightly crossed his arms against his chest and walked sullenly beside the alpha toward where he could see Taehyung and Jimin waving them over.  His gaze fell back toward the ground….  

And now, scarcely twenty minutes later, his gaze was blackened by the heavy blanket he laid over his head.  He took another deep, steadying breath, letting ripe winterberries calm his agitated nerves. 

Why did he find himself agitated?  

As he had nothing else to do, Jungkook laid and wondered at length.    

Since marriage, Jungkook’s days passed in a restless blur.  He kept himself as occupied as possible with the children, with correspondence, with his hyungs, with his mother-in-law, with his duties—anything to prevent himself from encountering the situation he found himself in now.  

It was entirely one thing to tolerate one’s husband to the best of one’s abilities.  This is what Jungkook had expected of a respectable marriage.  But… but was it allowed to think of one’s husband as excessively as Jungkook did?  How would he accomplish a single thing in his day—his life—if every pathway of his mind was illuminated with the image of his husband?  With his words?  His gestures, his graces, his lingering expressions?  Was it allowed to let one’s heart start galloping off untethered at the sight of one’s husband?  Was it allowed that both the mere sight or thought of him should bring blood rushing to one’s face, draining the rest of one’s body of its use?  

Namjoon’s simple presence, whether before him or not, rendered Jungkook completely useless.  He couldn’t think complete thoughts or utter finished sentences.  This burgeoning shoot of adoration hadn’t sprouted upon his conscience overnight, but it had unfurled its first struggling leaf that morning.  It had tried to greet the sun while the day was at its most brilliant.  

Jungkook closed his eyes and recounted how his day had begun, precious few hours ago.  He had arisen from a deep, restful sleep—and a wonderful dream—to an empty bed.  Given the slant of the sunlight, it was unsurprising.  His husband was an industrious one, Jungkook had yet to see him waste a day.  It was just as well.  More than any morning before it, Jungkook wanted the alpha’s scent all to himself, and it would’ve been impossible to attain in the proximity with which he desired it were his husband in bed with him.  But with Namjoon gone…  Jungkook had leisurely rolled himself over to his husband’s share of the sheets.  With a shy smile, he had buried his face in Namjoon’s pillow.  

It was all that book’s fault!  He couldn’t even bother to care.  Namjoon’s scent was settling throughout Jungkook’s body in the most intoxicating way.  The strength of it could lull Jungkook straight into a third sleep if he let it, and he was sorely tempted to let it.  What a difference a week could make.  A week ago, Jungkook was leaning over the bed frame to catch the slightest trace of his husband’s rich scent as he tossed in his sleep.  And now he rolled around shamelessly in sheets that had shared skin with the alpha.   

Namjoon’s scent was everywhere.  Jungkook would be awash with it.  He blushed at the prospect of Namjoon smelling it upon him.  

Jungkook rolled onto his back and remembered the dream he had awoken from.  He grinned as he recalled dream-Namjoon leaning over him in this same bed and pressing their lips together for a kiss.  A giddy, unrealized feeling overcame him.  

“Jungkook-ah?” 

“Yes?” he grinned to himself, eyes crinkling at the corners as he sunk further into bed. 

“I… brought us lunch.” 

Jungkook froze, eyes snapping open.  He whipped the heavy blanket off of himself and quickly stepped out of bed, adjusting his robes and long hair as he stood with his mortified gaze fixed upon his husband’s feet.  Inch by inch, his gaze crawled up Namjoon’s robes until he saw the large tray his hyung carried in his arms.  

Immediately, Jungkook leapt forward to take the tray.  However, his hyung would not yield it to him.  Too muted by shame to say anything, Jungkook stood in stalemate with his husband.  

With a curious tone of voice, Namjoon expressed that perhaps it would suit them both to eat outside in the fresh air.  Jungkook agreed and then obediently followed the alpha out of their room.  Namjoon held firmly onto the tray, knuckles white.  

 

 

❧

 

 

Namjoon led Jungkook to the same spot by the stream as that very morning.  Neither said a word about it.  Namjoon set the tray down upon the long grass and Jungkook busied himself in arranging their dishes.  

They ate in silence.  

For the second time that day, Namjoon was grateful for the wind.  If there had been no wind, and Namjoon had had to sit in the full potency of Jungkook’s scent as he had just encountered it in their bedroom, he would have gone mad…  

The scene he had traipsed into moments earlier had been more than a man could bear: Jungkook writhing around under their sheets, on Namjoon’s side of the bed… their scents intertwined and intermixed as if… as if he were his.  Or with child—his child.  It was delirious.  To think a week ago Namjoon slept on that very floor between them, and now Jungkook sought out the alpha’s scent in their bed to intimate himself with it…  Matters only worsened for Namjoon when he called out Jungkook’s name.  The high color and deep flush of Jungkook’s neck and lips as he rose from their bed, unable to meet his husband’s gaze in shame… Namjoon did not know what his scent would have smelled of to Jungkook, but Jungkook’s was giving him déjà vu: the omega smelled of lust.  

The only reasonable thing to do was to leave the bedroom, and so they had.  

Now Jungkook sat before him, silent and sheepish, as he picked at his lunch in the radiant afternoon sunlight.  The only sound between them was the gentle rush of the stream or the distant call of sparrowhawks.  

“I didn’t mean to startle you earlier,” Namjoon began, once they had eaten as much as they would.  “I had no intention of returning when I had left, but as I approached the orchards again I remembered that I stole you away before you would have had lunch.  So I thought…”  And he looked upon the tray of food.  

Jungkook set down his utensils and straightened his long sleeves before folding his hands primly over his hanbok.  “I am very lucky, hyung.”  He did not meet Namjoon’s gaze as he spoke. 

It was all he said.  Namjoon wilted a bit inside.  He could feel Jungkook clamming up again, despite all the effort that had been expended in hopes of the opposite effect.  

Namjoon exhaled sharply.  He did not think carefully before asking Jungkook in a low voice, “What were you thinking about in bed?” 

Jungkook stilled.  Namjoon watched him like a wolf would a rabbit across a long valley.  Jungkook didn’t move a single muscle.  

“Was it me?”  A beat.  “Again?” 

A raging flush crept far above Jungkook’s neckline.  His face may have kept its composure but the swell of his chest as his breathing quickened was undeniable.  Namjoon inhaled sharply.

He pushed his luck.  “Were you back in the orchard?  Thinking about our kiss?” 

At this, Jungkook broke composure and turned his face away from Namjoon.  But deprivation of the sweetest blush he’d ever seen did not suit the alpha—so he pounced.  

Namjoon pushed the tray between them to the side and tackled Jungkook onto his back, right over the long blades of soft, verdant grass.  Jungkook looked up at Namjoon hovering over him with round eyes, an open mouth, a pink glow to his skin, and, most pleasing of all, a sudden thrill of ecstasy in his florid scent.  Namjoon couldn’t help but widen his wolfish grin.  Did he have Jungkook where he wanted him, or did Jungkook have Namjoon where he’d wanted him all along? 

As if intimating the uncouth direction of the alpha’s thoughts, Jungkook quickly averted his gaze from Namjoon’s. 

The alpha found himself displeased.

“Don’t look away from me, Jungkook-ah.”  

Namjoon tilted Jungkook’s chin back toward him.  He waited a moment.  And then another.  And then Jungkook slowly lifted his lashes and peered back at Namjoon behind glossy eyes.  Namjoon smiled.  He bent down and rewarded Jungkook with a peck on the lips.  Immediately, the omega’s ears perked up and gaze brightened.   

“A married couple should always speak eye-to-eye,” Namjoon said, openly admiring Jungkook’s eyes as he said so.  “Would you agree?” 

Jungkook obediently nodded.   

Namjoon touched Jungkook nowhere.  After he’d pushed him onto his back, he’d planted his palms on the grass, several inches away from the omega’s waist.  

“Now you should say something,” Namjoon smiled.  “Anything.”   

Jungkook’s chest rose as he slowly inhaled, eyelids fluttering.  “I like it more when you talk, hyung.” 

Namjoon’s chest warmed.  “You have the prettier voice.” 

Jungkook resolutely shook his head. 

Namjoon’s wide grin returned.  “But it’s true,” he said, dropping down from his hands to his elbows.  His body still did not touch Jungkook’s, but the heat between them intensified.  Their faces were inches apart.  “Everything about you is prettier, Jungkook-ah.” 

Jungkook’s glossy eyes held Namjoon firm in their gaze.

“I know they taught you to sing down south,” Namjoon murmured, voice like velvet.  “You’d put morning songbirds to shame.”   

Jungkook lifted his head and pecked Namjoon on his cheek, swift as the wind.  He dropped his head back onto the grass and burned as scarlet as any field poppy.  

It was the exact invitation Namjoon sought.  All he offered Jungkook in warning was a fervid gaze before he succumbed to desire and wrapped the omega in his arms as he pressed an impassioned kiss upon his lips.  Jungkook received him with immediate, ardent enthusiasm.  He pressed his hands against the sides of Namjoon’s face and held the alpha close as he kissed him in return.  Namjoon hummed in pleasure as he deepened the kiss, exciting in the way Jungkook’s grip on him increased in pressure the longer they kissed.  He realized it felt like his dream from that morning: the feeling that he was sinking into an open abyss of beautiful, blooming, endless flowers—red, pink, and gold.  He could have kissed Jungkook forever. 

“Hyung,” Jungkook gasped between kisses. 

“Hm,” Namjoon hummed, between kisses.

“Hyung.” 

Reluctantly, Namjoon broke off a kiss to gaze upon Jungkook’s sweet face looking expectantly back at him.  He was remarkably distracted by the color and swell of the omega’s lips, but he kept his composure.  

“Yes?”  

Jungkook took a deep breath.  “How much kissing can two people do at a time?”  His gaze dropped down to Namjoon’s lips as he wondered. 

“Hours,” Namjoon answered truthfully.  His own gaze lingered upon Jungkook’s mouth as he spoke.  Hours were nothing; he would kiss Jungkook for an eternity if allowed.   

Namjoon closed his eyes and leaned back in for another ki—

A hand clamped itself over Namjoon’s lips.  The alpha opened his eyes with abject indignation. 

“Everybody will start looking for you if we kiss for hours,” Jungkook said by way of explanation, eyes rounded with hesitation.  

Namjoon kissed Jungkook’s palm over his mouth.  He took Jungkook’s hand by his wrist and pulled it away from his mouth, kissing him twice along his wrist.  

Jungkook blushed from his neck to his ears, deeper than ever. 

“Tell me: would you kiss me for hours?” Namjoon wondered, voice soft.  

Jungkook almost smiled as he blushed, but he repressed himself.  He answered formidably, looking askance, “Perhaps in our room.”  Not here, where anybody could see us, Namjoon knew he meant to say.  “We were almost caught earlier,” Jungkook reminded him, a tinge of fright seeping back into his gauzy scent.  

Namjoon brushed his fingertips under the lace of Jungkook’s collar, dispelling his fear.  “Our room is safer,” he agreed.  “Should I take you back?”  

“You’ll return to the orchards?” Jungkook presumed.  “Or,” he hoped, “stay with me?”  

“I’ll stay with you,” Namjoon murmured, pressing a small kiss against the corner of Jungkook’s mouth.  

Still not looking up at him, Jungkook shook his head with a small smile lingering upon his face.  He drew his hands back against his chest and fidgeted with the hems of his apricot silk.  “I’ll stay with you, hyung.  Let’s return to the orchard together.”  

They agreed upon it.  Namjoon understood Jungkook perfectly well; they could not possibly enjoy themselves if each was paranoid that somebody could come looking for them at any moment.  Gratification would have to wait.  

Namjoon sat up quickly and helped Jungkook up onto his feet.  They each smoothed out the wrinkles upon their silk as best as they could, gazes averted, cheeks filled with color, and then strode back in the direction of the orchards together.  

“You’ve finally tried a northern and a southern peach,” Namjoon leaned over and teased his husband, once the branches of the fruit trees were visible to them over the hills.  “May I request your impartial verdict?” 

Jungkook had an answer at the ready: “I’ve tried a northern peach all but once!  I’ve had hundreds of southern peaches.” 

“How many northern peaches will it take to compare?” Namjoon requested.  

Jungkook looked down upon the ground with a rosy blush.  “How many southern peaches would you require to know the same?” 

Looking fondly upon the delightful hue of Jungkook’s face, Namjoon already knew his answer.  He ought to have some regional loyalty to his steady mountains and steadfast peach trees, but he had none.  He leaned over, pressed a kiss upon Jungkook’s warm cheek, painted like a sunset, and answered, “Just the one.”  

 

 

❧

 

 

They returned to the orchard in much better spirits than they had departed.  Jimin and Taehyung were immensely relieved by the arrival of their happy scents (paired with ridiculous, irrepressible grins).  

Namjoon squeezed Jungkook’s hands before reuniting with the alphas in the long groves, and Jungkook let the children yank him by his hems toward where they were playing games in the tall grass.  

It was a bright and long afternoon, and by the end of it the children were exhausted and all the omegas had sweat upon their brows and color upon their necks from keeping up with them under the high sun.  When the day finally began to set, each exhaled with relief.  

The alphas loaded the barrels of peaches onto the carriages and set course toward the village, Jungkook waving Namjoon off with the rest of them.  The three young omegas shepherded the children back to the family home, chatting amongst themselves about how they could scarcely believe there was only one day left in the harvest.  Jungkook wasn’t sure he remembered what he had done with his days prior to that week.   

His ponderings came to an abrupt halt just past the gates of Kim Estate, where an ambush awaited them in the courtyard.  

Their mother stood with her hands clasped tightly together—beside her was a magistrate.  He wore pristine gray robes, sported a wispy, graying beard, and looked shrewdly between the three approaching omegas with beady eyes.  He was of an imposing height and kept one hand upon the imperial emblem dangling from his hip.  

Jungkook’s blood ran cold at the sight of him.  The balmy evening air around them turned to ice.  Had it not been for Taehyung’s hand pressed against his back, his knees would have buckled in terror.  

The man’s gaze snapped on Jungkook, like a predator finding its prey even in the dark.   

“Magistrate Jeong,” their mother began, voice false and pitched, “This is my son, Kim Taehyung, and my son-in-laws, Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook.”  

The three sons dutifully bowed.  

When Jungkook raised his head, he could not bring himself to lift his gaze back upon the magistrate.  

“Very well.  Jeon Jungkook is whom I wish to speak with.”  

“I’m afraid it is not possible without my Namjoon present,” their mother replied, stability returning to her voice.  “He is in town with all the other alphas at present.  You chose an unfortunate time for your visit.  They will not return for hours.”

“I am a magistrate, eommanim,” Jeong turned to face her and said, “Omegas may confer with me freely, as you very well exhibit at present.” 

“My son would not allow it,” she stood firm. 

“Your son does not write the laws of the kingdom.” 

Their mother pursed her lips.  

“I am not inconsiderate to the circumstances,” Jeong continued.  “You are expected to remain in company with your son-in-law as I speak with him.  It is only a simple matter of marriage registration, after all.”  

“But it is most inconvenient!” their mother piped up.  “Magistrates know better than to interfere with us during the harvest week.  There is not a single alpha upon the estate at present.  If there were, I would be most accommodating.”  

“The matter is being unnecessarily overcomplicated,” Jeong muttered with impatience.  “I only need to confirm the young omega’s mating bite, as you very well know.” 

“ Not without my Namjoon present,” their mother double-downed.  She stood up straighter as she said so.  

“Then I will wait for him!” Jeong rejoined irately.  

“As you please,” their mother remarked with a short bow of her head.  “Jimin, tell the servants to bring cushions and tea to the south pavilion.” 

Jimin walked off with a nod.  

“Taehyung and Jungkook,” their mother turned to them and instructed, “Let us walk with Magistrate Jeong.”  

The pair bowed in acquiescence.  They trailed behind their mother as she led the magistrate through the courtyard and out the other side of the main house.  Taehyung and Jungkook exchanged a single glance.  Taehyung squeezed his eyes shut and opened them.  ‘Don’t worry,’ he mouthed to Jungkook.  ‘Jimin will take care of it.’ 

Jungkook prayed that it would be true.  But what could even his fastidious Jimin-hyung do?  Could he make a mated bite appear where there was none? 

Despite the lateness of the year, it was an exceptionally warm night.  Servants brought cushions for the family and the magistrate, lit lamps around the pavilion, and served tea with dasik.  Once the scene was arranged, there was nothing for its participants to do but wait.  

Magistrate Jeong began by enquiring after the success of the year’s harvest.  Their mother kept her responses brief.  Jungkook had never seen her be so inhospitable, and he had never witnessed a magistrate so intent upon keeping a dying line of questioning alive.  Still, Jeong’s patience expired eventually and all five of them sat in an entrenching silence.  

Jungkook sat perfectly still, wishing that if he sat even stiller, he could somehow disappear.  The situation was dire.  The magistrate was as stubborn as the Kims, and Jungkook didn’t know who would win when fire fought with fire.  

The chirping of crickets was interrupted moments later when the magistrate faced Jungkook and asked in a pleasant voice, “You are from the south, yes, Jungkook-ssi?” 

Jungkook lowered his gaze and replied, just as pleasantly, in the man’s direction, “Yes, Magistrate Jeong, I am.”  

He hummed.  “Your manners bring it to light.  Your style of holding the teapot and pouring a cup was reminiscent of the imperial court,” he said, miming the action with admiration as he spoke.  “And look how serenely you sit—like a lotus upon a lily pad.”  Then, haughtily, he added, “I hope the crudity of northerners never tarnishes your fine upbringing.  One witnesses all sorts of primitivism in the mountains.”  He cast a sideways glance toward the matriarch of the Kim clan, who was returning a narrow-eyed glare at him in return.  

“You are kind, Magistrate Jeong,” Jungkook flattered, as he was taught to.  “I have learned there are many amiable civilities which vary from north to south, and south to north.” 

“There are,” the man agreed neutrally, “but southerners cannot be compared with for charm,” he added with much more zest.  

“Who was comparing?” his mother-in-law muttered under her breath.  

“Were you not born and raised in the mountains, Magistrate Jeong?” Taehyung asked innocently, though he knew the answer.  “Was your father not the famous stone mason?” 

Magistrate Jeong was quick to inform that both of his grandmothers had been from the capital, in fact.  On his maternal side, one had even stepped foot in the palace as an imperial seamstress before she had married.  

“Jungkook has been to the palace,” Taehyung informed the magistrate nonchalantly.  

Magistrate Jeong’s eyes widened to the size of cantaloupes.  “Is that so, Jungkook-ssi?  Under which circumstances?” 

Jungkook knew he had to use the moment to his advantage, which was precisely why Taehyung had presented it.  He sat up straighter, looked directly at the man, and informed, “My father was a member of the imperial court.  He has settled out of public life now, but he was a loyal official to His Majesty for three decades prior.”

The magistrate was deeply impressed.  “But I had no idea the Kims had acquired such a gem.  You told us nothing of it,” he half-teased their mother.  “Sneaky!” he accused, wagging a finger.  “Once more, what was your clan name?” he turned to Jungkook and asked. 

Jungkook clenched his jaw.  “Jeon.”  

“Jeon,” he repeated.  “I will confer with my peers who have worked at court.”  

Jungkook politely nodded.  He could not bear to think about what Jeong would hear about his family, or how the legend of their fallen star would be communicated.  

“It makes more sense now,” Magistrate Jeong began, stroking his long beard, “why Kim Namjoon unceremoniously ejected the magistrates from his wedding chamber.  Such a jewel is to be treasured,” he concluded.  “Tell your son I shall make his sound reasoning be known amongst the magistrates,” he told their mother.  “They were quite disgruntled, but now they will come to understand.  This should have been communicated to them on the very night of the wedding, if I am permitted to speak freely.  Rules are… quite flexible when the children of nobility are involved, it is a fact of life.” 

She nodded.  The grimace upon her expression was shared by Jimin and Taehyung.    

The night was dark now.  Jungkook had no idea how soon the alphas would return, but each passing moment brought them closer to an unspeakable catastrophe.  Jimin looked up at the bright moon and then toward the house, somewhat expectantly.     

“Magistrate Jeong,” Jungkook began, keeping his expression pleasant and tone light, “I am glad to have somebody of southern blood to confer upon this with.  I had been meaning to speak to a magistrate, in fact, but it was a matter of finding one of common kin.”  

Jeong’s eyes lit up with self-importance at once.  “Speak to me freely, Jungkook-ssi.  I am your servant.”  

Unwittingly, in that moment, Jeong provided Jungkook with a distant memory of home.  Southern supplication had been nowhere to be found in these mountain men, and yet it was the only tool Jungkook knew precisely how to wield best.  He smiled a very small, nostalgic smile.  

“Magistrate Jeong,” Jungkook continued, folding his hands delicately upon his lap, “I have a dilemma, quite southern in nature.”  He looked up at Jeong with a perfectly solicitous gaze.  Jungkook could feel his family stir with interest beside him, but he kept his attentive gaze locked on Jeong.  

“Tell me, Jungkook-ssi,” Jeong besought, leaning forward.  His curiosity was eating him alive.  

“You are here on a matter of duty as dictated to you by our emperor.  I understand this.  However… as you uniquely know, a true southern omega wears their collar for a year after marriage.” 

Jeong stilled.  

Jungkook continued, “My husband indulges me.”  He tilted his neck ever so slightly, drawing attention to the silk tied around his neck.  Jeong’s gaze fell upon it.  “However,” Jungkook added with a frown, “my new northern family has less regard.  They believe it a relic of the past.” 

“Jungkook-ah,” his poor mother began, visibly wounded.  “We never—”  

But Jimin and Taehyung were quicker at the uptake, as Jungkook knew they would be. 

“Magistrate Jeong,” Jimin began indignantly, “You know perfectly well why collars are disregarded in the north.  What shame is there in being an openly mated omega?” 

“If Jungkook is to live in the north,” Taehyung argued, “then he ought to abide by our customs.  The collar is ridiculous!  Tell him to remove it at once!” 

Jungkook’s hand flew up to his collar immediately.  He implored Jeong for support with his helpless gaze. 

“That’s enough!” Jeong berated Jimin and Taehyung at once.  “Northerners are brutes indeed!  Think of what you’re saying!  Why, I’ve never heard of a northerner going south and being told to abandon their customs!” 

(Jeong had not been to the south, Jungkook deduced, but he let the man charge on.) 

“A collar…” Jeong commenced to articulate, “...is sacred to a well-bred omega such as Jungkook-ssi.  It is a symbol of their marriage, and a signifier of the unbreakable bond they have forged with their alpha.  To ask him to remove it is… it’s profane!”  He punctuated his point with a righteous finger aimed toward the heavens. 

“But if he doesn’t remove it, how will you register the marriage?” Jimin demanded.  

Jeong scoffed.  “The registration is a matter of pure bureaucracy.  I have seen all I needed to see.  I will seal the papers tomorrow morning.  Nobody will pester you again, Jungkook-ssi.  I will not let us northerners further besmirch our reputation, or harass you in your marital home.  Your collar is abundant evide—” 

“Jimin-ssi!  Jimin-ssi!”   

All five heads turned to see a servant racing toward the pavilion as quickly as she could.  

“Jimin-ssi!” she called out, reaching the bottom step. 

“Yes?” Jimin replied. 

“I sent the messenger boys to find the family alphas as you requested and bid them to return home.  They have returned with a report that the wheels on two carriages broke after hitting a bend in the road.  Seokjin-ssi and Namjoon-ssi went to the village with Kim-nim to find replacement wheels, and Hoseok-ssi and Yoongi-ssi guard the harvest with the others.  They say not to anticipate their return well before midnight,” she informed, finishing with a small bow.  

“Oh no!” their mother gasped, hand over her heart.  “They’ll be starving by the time they return.”  

“Hopefully they like peaches,” Taehyung commented. 

Their mother glared at him.

“We will keep dinner warm,” the servant promised.  

“Let us usher Magistrate Jeong to a room where he may rest,” Taehyung proposed, “As he will be our guest until they return.”  

“No need,” Magistrate Jeong stated, raising a hand in protest, “I will be on my way.”  He began to stand up.  

“But the registration…” their mother reminded, standing up as well.  Her three sons followed suit. 

“Consider it done,” Jeong vowed, looking toward Jungkook with a self-satisfied smile.  

“Thank you, Magistrate Jeong,” their mother enthused, looking genuinely very pleased with the entire outcome.  “Our family thanks you for your great consideration, and I will be sure to tell my husband of this favor.” 

Jeong was smug.  “It is best for a magistrate to have the favor of a man like your husband, eommanim.  Be sure to refer to me by name.”  

“Quite,” she agreed.  “Jungkook-ah, will you and Taehyung escort Magistrate Jeong back to his horse?  Jimin will meet you at the gate with a basket for the magistrate to take with him.” 

Expressions of gratitude were conceded from both parties ad nauseum, and then Jungkook and Taehyung walked Jeong back to his horse.  Jeong expounded upon Jungkook’s many presumed virtues before being distracted by the basket of sweets and fruit that Jimin and their mother eventually arrived with.  More than delighted with his parting gift, he quickly left and the omegas happily waved him off.  They did not lower their hands or take a steady breath until he disappeared beyond the horizon line.  

Beside him, Jimin and Taehyung exhaled as if they’d been holding their breath in for hours.  

Their mother asked with a starch white face, “Can it really have been so easy?” 

“We’re home!” a voice unmistakably belonging to Hoseok-hyung called from inside the house.  

Their mother whisked around in surprise.  “But—!” 

“There was no accident.  I needed a plan to get him to leave for the night,” Jimin explained to her, taking her hand.  Then, with a twinkle in his eye, added, “but Jungkook exceeded all expectations instead.” 

Jungkook was too distracted for conversation.  Gaze glued to the house, he only said, “I… want Namjoon-hyung,” before running toward the house at full speed.  

And it seemed his Namjoon-hyung wanted him too.  As Jungkook ran in his direction, Namjoon stepped out of the house and onto the grounds, looking around as if in search of somebody.  By the time he saw Jungkook, Jungkook was already running into his arms.  

Namjoon wrapped Jungkook in his arms and Jungkook held him back as tightly as he could, face buried in the crook of Namjoon’s neck.  He breathed in Namjoon’s scent with an overwhelming sense of gratitude.  

“You seem happy to see me,” Namjoon teased.  He ran his hand over Jungkook’s soft hair as he stroked his back.   

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispered, lifting his head and looking him straight in the eyes, “when we get back to our room, I’m going to kiss you very much.” 

Namjoon opened his mouth and then closed it.  With a silly smile, he asked, “Why are you whispering?” 

“Eommanim could hear us,” Jungkook said.  

Namjoon looked up and must have spotted his mother and brothers in the distance.  “Why were you all by the gate?”  Then, “Was somebody here?” 

“Yes.” 

“Who?”

“Have you eaten dinner?” 

“No.” 

“Eat in our room tonight.  I’ll tell you everything.” 

And Jungkook did.  He first made Namjoon vow to not disrupt his own eating as he heard the story, promising him it would have an ending he would be pleased with.  For the most part, Namjoon listened well.  He couldn’t resist punctuating the tale with mild outbursts of disdain for the magistrate, but Jungkook didn’t reproach him for it.  His husband was only saying aloud what he himself had felt.    

“And then Jimin-hyung and eommanim gifted him a basket bursting to the top with sweets, pastries, nuts, and fruit—which he was effusively pleased by—and he rode off without so much as a glance behind.  Not two minutes later, we heard Hoseok-hyung announce your own arrival,” Jungkook finished the tale with a creased brow and tangled fingers.  “That’s everything.” 

“You left out the part where you ran toward me under the moonlight and said you wanted to kiss me,” Namjoon added, setting down his chopsticks. 

“Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook finally did reproach (without an atom of heat).  “What did you think of everything else?”  

Namjoon pushed his dinner tray away.  He leaned back on the heels of his palms and considered it all.  “I fear optimism.  If he does seal our marriage certificate, he would have to deliver us a registered copy.  If he does that, then I will breathe easy.” 

Jungkook chewed on his bottom lip.  “How soon do you think he would do that?” 

“If he’s in your thrall as much as it sounds—” 

“He’s not in my thrall—” 

“Maybe as soon as tomorrow.” 

Jungkook was surprised to hear it.  Blinking, he said, “But we’ll be in the orchards tomorrow.  What if we miss him?” 

“I have no doubt he’ll find you,” Namjoon grinned at him. 

“What are you grinning for!” Jungkook pursed his lips.  “Magistrates are betas.” 

“And if they weren’t?” Namjoon kidded.  “Would I be in trouble?” 

Jungkook was flummoxed.  “He’s—he is very old, hyung.” 

“I’m only teasing, Jungkook-ah,” he smiled, enjoying the blush of color on Jungkook’s cheeks.  He gazed at Jungkook for a long moment, as if on the verge of saying something endearingly sincere.  “I didn’t expect today to have so many… moments of note.” 

Jungkook found his feathers ruffled by this statement.  

Not only had his husband just teased him in such an unworthwhile manner, but now he reduced a day in which Jungkook had shared three passionate instances with him—including their very first—as ‘moments of note!’  Perhaps the novel he read had unjustly raised his expectations of the romanticism of alphas.  He had presumed Namjoon-hyung would have had something much more stirring to say at the culmination of such an eventful day.  

“What are you thinking?” Namjoon asked, still gazing upon him curiously. 

“Nothing of note,” Jungkook replied, clipped.  He took the alpha’s dinner tray and set it by their door.  Then he retreated behind the silkscreen to change into his nightgown.  He yanked the peach silk off over his head and placed it back into his cabinet.  He considered each of his nightgowns before choosing one.  Today, he chose his pearl-studded one.  He had yet to wear it.   Why anybody should need to sleep with pearls studded upon the cuff of their sleeve, he did not know.  But his husband had chosen it for him and so Jungkook ought to wear it.  After all, he mollified himself, Namjoon always wore what Jungkook chose for him.  

He stepped out from behind his silkscreen and slipped into bed.  Wordlessly, Namjoon stood up and changed.  Jungkook did not take his gaze away from the vague form of the alpha as he moved behind the screen.  He could see nothing of his husband’s bare body, but it was newly titillating to know it was there.  

When Namjoon returned, Jungkook trained his gaze on the ceiling of their bed frame.  Each candle was extinguished throughout the room, one by one, save for the one at Namjoon’s bedside.  

Namjoon slipped into bed.  

He was still for one second.  And then he turned to his side, toward Jungkook, and wrapped the omega in an embrace.  He kissed Jungkook on his cheek and said, “You brought yourself great pride today.” 

“Me?” Jungkook asked, face aflame and heart thumping.  He couldn’t bring himself to turn toward Namjoon, though he could feel his eyes on him.  

“Yes, you,” Namjoon softly said.  Candlelight illuminated half of his beautiful face as he spoke.  “To yourself and to me.”  

“Why?” Jungkook whispered.  

Namjoon took a deep breath.  Jungkook enjoyed the way he could feel his husband’s chest expand against his own.  

“To begin with,” Namjoon murmured, raising a hand and looping a finger around the silk collar still tied around Jungkook’s neck, “this.  For keeping it on.  For telling him your alpha wouldn’t allow it to be touched.”  Namjoon slipped the collar off of Jungkook, tossing it aside.  “Because you were right,” Namjoon admitted, relishing the sight of Jungkook’s bare neck, “I wouldn’t.”  He bent down and kissed Jungkook on his neck.  First once, then twice, and then he trailed kisses up the column of it.  

Jungkook’s toes curled and stomach tightened.  He forgot to breathe.  

Namjoon’s kisses reached his mouth and he pressed their lips together, turning Jungkook’s face toward him with his palm.  As the alpha’s weight leaned against him, Jungkook felt his defenses lower.  Enveloped by his husband’s scent, arms, and body, Jungkook had never felt so secure and protected.  Nothing outside of their bedroom could touch him, not while Namjoon was there.  

Jungkook surrendered himself to the kiss.  He held Namjoon by his shoulders as the alpha kissed him deeper.

“You called me your omega,” Jungkook breathed out, when Namjoon gave him a chance between kisses. 

“Hm?” Namjoon asked, blinking with confusion.  His eyes glistened in the candlelight, his face rosy with exertion. 

“In the orchard,” Jungkook whispered, almost inaudible.  He sank his head as deep into his pillow as he could.  “You called me your omega.”  

Namjoon regarded him, scent flaring.  “Did it please you?” 

Jungkook nodded, breath shuddering.  “Yes.” 

“Yes?” Namjoon repeated, expectant.  His soft gaze turned molten.

The fire in Jungkook’s belly returned.  He took in the sight of his husband’s handsome face, half-bathed in golden light, before he finally said, “Yes, alpha.”  

And it was Jungkook, now, who came to learn the scent of his husband’s lust.  

There was no knowing for how long Namjoon kissed him, but Jungkook understood now why his hyung had said it could be done for hours.  The feeling of Namjoon’s arms wrapped around him, their bodies pressed so close, so late at night, where nobody could stop them… it was exhilarating.  Jungkook felt lightheaded when he thought of all the nights before them, and how he could spend each one exactly as he did now.  

Namjoon drew back and kissed Jungkook on his cheek again before turning them onto their sides, wrapping an arm around Jungkook, and nestling himself against his back.  This is how they would sleep, Jungkook realized with delighted surprise.  Even in sleep, Namjoon would keep him close and protect him.  Jungkook blinked.  If kissing had induced such possessiveness, Jungkook blushed as he considered what a mated bite would do to his even tempered husband.  He hummed with satisfied exhaustion, closing his eyes to rest at last, wrapped in his alpha’s scent and protection.  Quietly, he lifted his hand and placed it over where Namjoon’s was locked against him.  He drifted off to dreamscapes populated with sappy pine trees and luscious winter berries.  

For the very first time in his life, he felt no shame.  

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

+ the slow burn finally sped up!!!!!!!! i hope u held onto ur hats!!!!!!

+ i'm gonna give them one more happy chapter before we speed it up :) i rly might wrap this up in 10, amazing.... rooting for myself

Chapter 8: Eight

Notes:

+ hi :) i missed them!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

+ u know what's funny to me is that i started this fic in 2022 when the culture was a lot different and now people have unironically become super socially conservative and i feel weird writing this fic bc it propagates a lot of ~conservative ~values but tbh i believe in NONE of them and i am simply invested in the bit and am gonna see this story thru.... (but when i really think about it i'm like... i don't think ao3 dot org is where i have to worry about accidentally indoctrinating people with conservative values via my namkook omegaverse fic....... i think we're good......)

+ but anyway... love these two blushing dummies in love and i hope you guys will too!!!

 

 

In the morning sunlight, Namjoon rose first. 

He propped himself upon an elbow as the sparrows sang and the day yawned outside his window, and he gazed with total adoration upon the sleeping form of his husband.  

It was only just one morning ago that he had awoken with a jolt to Jungkook drenched in the scent of lust beside him.  And now the omega’s scent couldn’t be further in diametric opposition: he smelled of sweet contentment.  

Namjoon smiled bashfully at thoughts of both the previous morning’s recollection and at that morning’s reality. 

Perhaps he was thinking too loud.  Jungkook stirred awake.  He took one sight of Namjoon peering down at him and promptly pulled the covers up over his head.  “Hyung,” he blushed brightly, “Don’t look at me so.”  

“I won’t,” Namjoon lied, appeasing him.  “Come out.” 

Jungkook peeked the top of his head out from under the sheets.  “I’m not used to you being awake first,” he told Namjoon, his voice adorably creaky.   

“We fell asleep earlier than usual last night,” Namjoon admitted, “and I stayed asleep for once.  Did you sleep well?” 

Jungkook nodded.  Namjoon saw a flush of color dusting the tops of Jungkook’s cheeks.  He certainly felt it in the air.  

“You look well rested,” Namjoon observed.  Jungkook’s eyes sparkled brightly and his complexion was healthy and rosy.  It was a point of pride for him that the omega looked as well as he ever had.  Namjoon wanted the days of Jungkook’s sallow expression, wan gaze, and colorless hanboks to recede quickly into distant memory.  He wanted to forget altogether that life had existed prior to their pairing.   

“I slept very well,” Jungkook assured him, scent blossoming.  

Namjoon was pleased.  “My arm wasn’t too heavy, was it?” 

Jungkook quickly shook his head.   

They gazed upon each other for a short moment before Jungkook broke eye contact with a renewed flush.  

Namjoon sucked in a breath.  “Everything that happened between us yesterday…”  He exhaled.  “Was it too much too fast?”  

Jungkook looked directly back at him, searching for something in his gaze.  “Do you think it was?” 

“No,” Namjoon confessed.  “Maybe?  I don’t know.”  He considered it.  “It may have been excessive for your first time.  I suppose I’m worried I got carried away.”  

Namjoon couldn’t read Jungkook’s ensuing expression.  His pragmatic husband only asked, “How much do people kiss the first time?” 

“Uh…” Namjoon deliberated, scratching his ear, “I’m not sure there’s a set standard…” 

“I think we did very well for ourselves,” Jungkook stated, puffing up with pride.  “I enjoyed myself.  Did you?” 

“Very much so,” Namjoon professed, dropping a few inches closer toward Jungkook.  

“We had the small hiccup in the orchard but,” Jungkook said, glancing at Namjoon’s lips for a second before glancing back up at his eyes, “all’s well that ends well.” 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” 

Jungkook shifted an inch or two up in bed, the sheets falling away from his face.  He regarded Namjoon carefully.  “Jimin-hyung says he kisses Hoseok-hyung every morning,” Jungkook informed helpfully. 

“What a thought,” Namjoon blinked, masking a grimace. 

“Something to think about, yes,” Jungkook blinked, fully earnest. 

Namjoon was tickled by this show of sincerity.  “Are you saying we can’t let ourselves be bested?  We should kiss every morning, too?” 

Jungkook blinked as he considered it. 

Namjoon dropped down an inch closer.  “What about every afternoon and every night as well?”  

Jungkook’s considered this quite seriously, a wrinkle forming between his brows.  “But would we tell them?” he asked innocently. 

“Absolutely not,” Namjoon grinned, leaning down and pressing a kiss against the wrinkle between Jungkook’s brows.

Jungkook beamed up at him, wrinkle dissolved.  “Our second morning kiss in a row.”  

“That wasn’t my morning kiss,” Namjoon protested at once. 

“No?” 

“No.”  

And Namjoon leaned down again and kissed him on his lips.  “That was,” he murmured, kissing him again, enjoying the feeling of Jungkook’s eyelashes fluttering against his skin.  

It felt surreal to Namjoon that he could reach over and kiss Jungkook like this.  Again and again, over and over.  

Everything about Jungkook was soft: his lips, his skin, his voice, his expressions.  Namjoon wanted to spend his time cherishing it all.   

“It’s the last day of the harvest,” Jungkook sighed, several kisses later.  Despite it being late autumn, the room smelled like a summer’s garden.  

“I’m thankful,” Namjoon grinned, pecking Jungkook again.  “Tomorrow, nobody will come looking for us if we’re late for breakfast.” 

“Late for breakfast?” Jungkook repeated, confused.  

“Very, very late,” Namjoon answered, kissing Jungkook again until he understood. 

It was only the fear of his parents—or, worse, his brothers—discovering them still entangled in bed during such a high sun that compelled Namjoon to begin their day.  

“What’ll you wear today?” Namjoon asked Jungkook, always looking forward to his husband’s coordinated ensembles.  The charm and novelty of them had yet to wear off; he presumed it never would.  

“I had a yellow one in mind.  Well, more light brown than yellow, per say.  Pears are a difficult color to categorize,” Jungkook chatted cheerfully, opening both doors of his wardrobe at once, “I just have to see where I put it...  It completely slipped my mind to lay one out last night.” 

“Was something else on your mind last night, yeobo?” Namjoon teased.   

Jungkook stilled and went silent in front of his wardrobe, almost as exactly as Namjoon had considered he might at the first utterance of such a term of endearment between them.  He approached Jungkook and held him by his shoulders, squeezing gently.  “It’s all worked out rather well for me, then,” he told him.  Then, he walked over to his own wardrobe and slipped something out of it.  

Standing beside a frozen Jungkook now, he presented him with a perfectly folded hanbok.  Jungkook was further dumbstruck.  He accepted it into his own hands and looked down upon it reverently.   It was a beautiful silk hanbok, the color of amber—and, coincidentally, pears.  Delicate blossoms were stitched upon the entirety of it, with little pearls dotting the center of each bloom.  

“I told them I wanted it the color of pears,” Namjoon explained with gleeful satisfaction.  “They looked at me like I was crazy.  The tailor said in thirty years of business, nobody had ever asked him for a hanbok the color of pears.  I said everybody prior to my omega merely lacked imagination.  All the same, they were happy to do it.  I asked for the little flowers myself.  It was too plain of a fabric without them, and it wouldn’t have suited you,” Namjoon added, pointing to them.  He looked at Jungkook when he asked, “Do you like them?”

Jungkook nodded, hugging the hanbok against his chest.  “I do.”  

“Very good,” Namjoon exhaled, feeling his face flush a bit.  From Jungkook’s shying demeanor, Namjoon could see that his husband was quite pleased and overcome by his surprise.  Given that he had teased Jungkook enough for the day (and it was only the morning), he excused himself and allowed Jungkook to ready himself alone.  

He left the room and took a brisk stroll along the back side of the estate, near the stream.  After being alone for a few moments, he began to long for Jungkook… 

The tall wildflowers blowing in the autumn wind were no comparison for his husband’s flowery presence, in either scent or beauty.  After listening to the flowing waters of the stream for some mundane minutes, Namjoon was ready to return to his room when he caught sight of a mirage of amber silk walking his way in the sunlight. 

“I didn’t thank you,” Jungkook professed upon approaching.  He held Namjoon’s gaze as he said so.  

“Because there’s no need.  It’s only a small gift—a way for us to remember our first harvest together,” Namjoon said, ears feeling warm.  “A memento, really.  You can wear it again next year, if you like.” 

“I would like that,” Jungkook smiled, crossing his hands behind his back, hair fluttering in the wind.   

“It’ll give me some time to find one to match,” Namjoon half-smiled, deflecting Jungkook’s admiration; feeling the full force of it was making him lightheaded.  And then he remembered—“Oh!” 

He quickly picked something out of his side pocket, twirling it between his fingers for a second.  He slipped it back into his pocket. 

Jungkook looked at him expectantly.  

“Uh…” Namjoon stalled, “We ought to be at breakfast on time.  I wouldn’t want us to delay the day.”  

Jungkook nodded.  Then he tilted his head to the side and asked, “Namjoon-hyung, do you have my collar?”  

Namjoon felt a burning flutter in his belly at the question.  From inside his breast seam, he withdrew an embroidered strip of amber silk… dotted with little pearls. 

Jungkook was thrilled at the sight of it, his gaze fixed upon it with reverence.  

Carefully, Namjoon slipped the silk around Jungkook’s neck.  He took his time with it today, letting his fingertips skim across Jungkook’s soft skin as much as he could get away with.  It was a conflicting phenomenon for Namjoon, tying a collar on Jungkook.  On one hand, his alpha stood tall as a mountain at the knowledge that Jungkook walked around doused and protected in his scent—that nobody could dare raise a glance toward him without understanding he was Namjoon’s.  But on the other hand, as simply Kim Namjoon, he was loath to lose Jeon Jungkook’s scent for the day.  It was so pure and sweet and intoxicating.  He would eagerly await the moment tonight, as he had last night, when he could slip it off and kiss the skin underneath.  

He knotted the collar in place.  Jungkook was satisfied.  Namjoon less so.  Without hesitation, he knew what would settle him.  He held Jungkook in place, leaned over, and kissed him on his neck, over the silk.  

Jungkook gasped, breathless.  Namjoon trailed kisses from Jungkook’s neck up to the corner of his mouth.  

“It suits you,” he murmured against Jungkook. 

Jungkook blushed.  The heat of it against his lips made Namjoon feel breathless.  

“Let’s go to breakfast,” Namjoon eventually said, clearing his throat.  He took a step back.

“Hyung,” Jungkook grinned, leaning over and squeezing his forearm.  Shyly, he corrected himself and said, “Yeobo?”  

Namjoon’s heart swelled.  “Yes?” 

Jungkook covered his mouth with his hand as he smiled.  “You’re still in your nightgown,” he whispered, as if the mountains were listening.  

Blinking, Namjoon glanced down at himself, jaw slack.  And so he was!   

❧

 

 

After a leisurely eaten breakfast—much to Jungkook’s pleasure—Namjoon dashed toward the orchards to make up for lost time.  A servant had informed him that his father had sent for him earlier and was expecting him within the hour.  Namjoon had conviction enough to sit and enjoy breakfast with Jungkook despite the summons, but sense enough to know that his father could only be kept waiting for so long.  With a squeeze of each other’s hands, Namjoon left Jungkook in the care of his brothers before rushing off to meet his father.

“You’re late,” Namjoon's father remarked once he spotted his son making his way down the pear groves. 

“I overslept,” Namjoon explained.  “Apologies.” 

“Jungkook didn’t wake you?” his father asked, eyebrows raised. 

Namjoon set his jaw.  “He did, which is why I’m here.” 

His father hummed, noncommittal.  He pretended to appraise the pear trees before turning to appraise Namjoon.  “Is that a new hanbok?” 

Namjoon’s hanbok that morning was made of thick cotton and light walnut in color.  It was the closest shade Jungkook could manage to match with his resplendent amber silk, but there really was no comparison.  Still, Namjoon had been more than happy to put it on, and it had been more than worth it to see Jungkook smile at the effort. 

“No,” Namjoon said, clipped, “Jungkook found it in the back of my wardrobe and arranged it for me.” 

“Provident of him.” 

“Hm.” 

“I intercepted an invoice this morning,” his father revealed.  “From the jeweler’s.” 

“Why?” Namjoon asked, irritated.  

“I assumed it was your mother’s.  Or Taehyung and all those rings he’s always having made.”  

Namjoon kept his mouth shut.  

“Namjoon,” his father began, “it’s very expensive.” 

“I am your least expensive child and I always have been!  And I know you don’t care about the cost,” Namjoon argued immediately, “so say what you want to say and I’ll say what I have to say.” 

His father was rather bemused.  “Perhaps it would be wiser for me to say nothing.” 

“Where was that pearl of wisdom two minutes ago?” Namjoon groused. 

His father smiled to himself.  “From the description on the invoice, it sounds like a beautiful gift.  Did Jungkook like it?” he asked congenially now.  

“I haven’t given it to him yet.” 

“I’m in no position to reprimand you, am I, Namjoon-ah?” his father said, slapping his son on his back.  “Where would you have learned that omegas love nothing more than beautiful ornaments if not from me?  And we’re in the jewelry business; of course your husband should only wear the finest, just as your mother does.” 

Namjoon looked at his father with narrowed eyes.   “How obliging of you…” 

“Why are you looking at me so suspiciously?” his father groused back.  “You said yourself I’ve never denied you anything.” 

“So why did you bring it up?” Namjoon asked pointedly. 

His father inhaled.  “How is it progressing?” 

“Did eomma tell you about the magistrate last night?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then there isn’t much else to say.  The magistrate will return and we’ll officiate the registra—” 

His father irritably clicked his tongue.  He withdrew his hand from his son’s back and crossed them behind his own.  “So you’ll be married on paper—what good is that?  You still need to mate.  What progress is there there?  He cannot wear those ridiculous collars forever, even you know that.  Northerners won’t oblige him much longer.  Eventually some gossipmonger or another will ask about a bite, and then what will you say?” 

“I’ll say his bite is nobody’s business,” Namjoon sniped back.  

His father’s nostrils flared.  “You’ll do no such thing.  As my heir, you will do or say no such thing.  I’d sooner send you two to live in the mountaintops than I’d have you parade yourselves in front of all the young alphas and omegas in town with this charade.  There are reasons we don’t put collars on our omegas, as you very well know.” 

Knowing his father was right didn’t make the statement any less infuriating to Namjoon.  “What other choice do I have right now?” he objected, hot around his neck. 

His father raised his brows.  “It’s been more than a month,” his father pointed out.  “Surely, there are options by this point.  I’ve seen you two together enough to know there is some regard between you both, and neither of you seems insensible to reality.  People far less enamored than yourselves have accomplished more in a month of marriage,” his father stipulated.  “I know you shouldered the responsibility after your failed nuptial night, and I also know you are shielding your husband.”  He took a steadying breath.  “It cannot be forced, I know that, which is precisely why I was against you marrying another omega sight unseen.  What was the need?” 

The longer his father glared at him, the more Namjoon knew he’d have to give him something.  Taking a deep breath, he admitted in a grumbling voice, “We share the same bed now.” 

His father opened his mouth and then closed it.  Then, “What were you doing prior?” 

“I slept on the floor by the bed,” Namjoon stated, uncowed.  “And before that, I slept by the window.  There has been a lot of progress.”  

His father’s eyes glimmered in a sort of disbelief.  He asked slowly, quietly, “Are you two taking this threat seriously at all?”  

“More than you could understand,” Namjoon replied, just as quietly.  He glared at the beaten ground beneath their feet.  

“If I can’t understand, then make your mother understand.  Or your brothers,” his father stated clearly.  “You paraded him around the orchard all week, completely unmated, and I did not speak a word against it.  But it’s dangerous waters.  And now it’s gotten so far as deceiving a magistrate into registering a false marriage?  Our family could be convicted for committing two acts of treason against the emperor,” he paused, letting the gravity of the situation sink in for his son.  “It would be a dereliction of my duty as a husband and as a father and as a grandfather to my precious grandchildren if I do not speak up, Namjoon, and remind you as often as you need reminding how precarious of a situation we find ourselves in.  Were the matter confined only to you and Jungkook, know that I would not speak.” 

“I do know, appa,” Namjoon admitted, contrite at his prior tone.  

His father accepted his brevity as compliance.

❧

 

 

Truth be told, Namjoon had needed the reminder from his father.  

It had been wonderful living as light as air with Jungkook.  It had been a dream choosing hanboks and sharing meals and exchanging sweet sentiments.  Slipping into bed by his side and seeing, night by night, how much easier he slept with Namjoon at his side.  A very lucid dream. 

But reality was exactly as his father had said: their inability to act put the family in danger.  A false marriage and now a false registration… one crime could not be discovered without the other following in its wake… 

Namjoon felt his breakfast unsettle in his stomach.  He would have to have a difficult conversation with Jungkook before the day was over.  He consoled himself with the thought that maybe, one day, they would both be the happier for it.  

When he caught sight of Jungkook walking into the orchards, he smiled at last.  As his brothers walked past him, Jungkook stopped and took his hand. 

“You’re anxious,” Jungkook proclaimed, looking at Namjoon’s scent gland with a wrinkle between his brows.  

“It’s nothing,” Namjoon fibbed.  “Did you finish breakfast?” 

Jungkook wasn’t so easily deterred.  He asked quietly, “What did abeonim say to you?”  

“It’s really nothing,” Namjoon tried to convince, rather unsuccessfully.  “We should join everybody,” he said, turning and ushering Jungkook toward their family.  Taehyung and Yoongi were already at the gingko tree.  

“It must be something awful if you’re not telling me,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath, looking away from Namjoon.  “Your father is upset with me.” 

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon consoled him at once, “Don’t think these things—it affects your scent.” 

“Your scent is how I knew,” Jungkook pouted to himself. 

“He’s not upset with you,” Namjoon said, bracing an arm around Jungkook as they walked, “He’s upset with me.” 

“What could he have to be upset at you about, hyung, that isn’t related to me?” Jungkook contended. 

“That’s for me to know,” Namjoon sighed, “...and for you to find out later!  I promise!” he hastily added, catching the mutinous look on Jungkook’s face. 

“Promise me you’ll tell me?” 

“I will, I promise.”  

And Jungkook returned his small smile at last. 

❧

 

 

It was a brilliant day to end the harvest upon.  

The sun glowed golden throughout the day and auburn by the evening.  When Namjoon had learned from each Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jimin via whispers in his ear that pears were Jungkook’s favorite fruit, he had had an eyebrow-raising number of crates set to the side.  It wasn’t possible, no, that Jungkook could eat all those pears himself, but Namjoon certainly wouldn’t leave him wanting.  

He did not stroll amongst the lanes of trees with Jungkook today but he did visit him as often as he could get away with and fed him as many pears as he could.  Namjoon wanted to kiss him terribly but every time his gaze so much as met Jungkook’s with that idea in mind, Jungkook burned a fiery red and Namjoon had no choice but to quickly think otherwise.  A collar could only mask so much, as they had learned yesterday.  

So, they sat patiently beside the other, Namjoon admiring Jungkook in his amber silk under a matching sun, until the day drew to a close.  

Today, the alphas did not immediately set off for town at the culmination of the harvesting.  Instead, they collected firewood and arranged a huge campfire.  Jungkook was surprised to see massive vats of stew and pigs prepared for roasting passing him by as the sun set. 

“Did nobody tell you on the last day we host a dinner?” Jimin asked, catching Jungkook’s bewildered expression. 

Jungkook shook his head. 

“Ah,” he continued, mischievous, “I suppose you and Namjoon-hyung have had other things on your mind.” 

And that, Jungkook blushed, he couldn’t deny.  

“Come and peel pears with us,” Jimin continued, grabbing Jungkook by his hands and pulling him toward where their mother and Taehyung were now huddled together around a makeshift table.  “We’re making a vat of spiced tea for after dinner.  We just started!” 

Jungkook found it extraordinarily fun to be in a circle of omegas, chatting and working in equal measure as they each helped prepare, peel, and cut up the fresh pears together.  After everybody fawned over his beautiful new hanbok, the group tasked Jungkook with cutting the pears so as not to risk ruining his silk in the acts of washing or peeling the fruit.  Taehyung was assigned with peeling, and Jimin with washing and preparing.  Their mother happily supervised as she ground up cinnamon in her stone mortar.   

“Did Namjoon set aside all those pears for our tea?” their mother asked, glancing toward the dozen or so crates of pears neatly lined by the grove. 

“No,” Jimin informed breezily, “Those are for Jungkook.”  

“What?!” their mother gasped, “But Jungkook can’t eat all of those…” 

“That’s not going to stop Namjoon-hyung from lavishing him with them,” Jimin grinned mischievously.  “Especially not after he found out it was his omega’s favorite fruit.” 

Jungkook blushed and focused on cutting up the pears in front of him as finely as possible.  

“It’s hard to believe our Namjoon is capable of being such a devoted husband to this degree,” their mother marveled.  “Well done, Jungkook-ah.  You’ve performed miracles.”  

Jungkook deflected the praise.  “I am sure hyung was no less devoted to Seyoon-ssi,” he expressed. 

Instead of the admissions of agreement he expected, Jungkook was surprised to see all three family omegas slip into a prolonged and uncomfortable silence.  Neither gazed upon him or each other as each avoided being the next to speak.  Jungkook found their reactions fascinating, and it raised within him a hundred questions he hadn’t thought to ponder upon before.  

“Namjoon has changed in nature the past few years,” their mother eventually said, selecting her words with care.  “But, yes, he has always been generous.”  

“He’s different with you,” Taehyung seconded, nodding at Jungkook.  He did not expand his thoughts beyond that simple statement.  

Jimin said nothing at all, keeping his face pleasantly neutral as he continued peeling the heap of pears before him.  

Soon the topic changed toward the children and everybody’s jovial moods recovered at once.  Jungkook smiled and laughed as easily as ever, but he did not know what to do with all the new questions that now kept accumulating in the back of his mind in regards to Namjoon’s first omega….  

Later in the hour, Namjoon came to divert his attention.  

“Would you care to go on a stroll with me?” Namjoon asked him, extending both of his hands toward Jungkook and beguiling him with his deep dimples. 

“Eomma, say no!” Taehyung complained at once.  “We need our best fruit cutter!” 

“Taehyung-ah, take over the fruit cutting from Jungkook,” their mother decreed instead, smiling warmly upon Jungkook and then Namjoon.  “There’s less than a dozen pears left to peel anyhow.”  

Jungkook set down his paring knife and took his husband’s hands with pleasure (overlooking two indignant hyungs in his periphery) as he stood up and followed him.  “In the orchards again?” he asked with trepidation. 

“No,” Namjoon shook his head, reassuring him.  “Along the forest, just there,” he said, signaling with his head.  Past the meadow of long grass began the edge of the forest, where laid the foot of the mountains.  Vast, snow capped peaks stood high in the sky before them.  

Every time Jungkook would let his gaze drift up toward the mountains, an expression of awe always overcame his features.  Namjoon found it endearing upon each instance.  

Together, they walked along the edge of the forest together.  As Namjoon gave Jungkook a status report on the pear yield, the voices and sounds of the harvest soon faded away in the background.  Here, amongst the green, gold, and garnet foliage of the autumn trees, it was as if Namjoon and Jungkook had wandered into their own universe.   

“Yeobo,” Jungkook began his sentence (Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat), “I have to ask if all those crates of pears you set aside are really for me?” 

“They are,” Namjoon assured him.  “But my plan is to preserve as many as we can in clay pots so you can have your fill of them throughout the winter.  You shouldn’t lack for anything, least of all something as simple as your favorite fruit.” 

Jungkook was greatly pleased by this answer.  He looked down and smiled to himself, hands clasped together behind his back.  Beside him, Namjoon’s scent strengthened.  

Suddenly, Namjoon took Jungkook by his hand and tugged him away from the sunlit meadow and into the dark depths of the forest.  Pressing Jungkook’s back against a wide tree, Namjoon leaned against his husband and murmured, “I’ve spent all day plotting over how to get you alone.”  

Namjoon’s rich scent bloomed between them and Jungkook found himself dizzied by the headiness of it.  Was Jungkook imagining things or had his husband’s scent strengthened in its potency within the past day or two?  Could a single kiss alter an alpha this fully?  His gaze dropped to Namjoon’s neck, covered up by so many cumbersome layers of clothing… and yet his wintery scent persisted as it did.  

Jungkook felt his knees weaken as he sank against the tree trunk, head tilting to the side as Namjoon buried his face in Jungkook’s neck.  If Namjoon hadn’t braced his arms around Jungkook’s waist, Jungkook was sure he would have sunk straight into the ground beneath them.  Namjoon pressed his lips against Jungkook’s neck and kissed him along the length of it.  Once more, Jungkook felt a knot of heat burning inside the very center of himself.  There was nothing he could do to quell it, so instead he submitted to it.  He leaned his neck all the way to the side and slipped his eyes shut as Namjoon trailed more and more kisses against his flushed skin.  His fingers dug into Namjoon’s shoulders when their mouths met at last and they kissed with such fervent pleasure that Jungkook was sure his feet had departed the earth eons ago.  Namjoon buried a hand in Jungkook’s hair and kept their bodies pressed together as they kissed and kissed and kissed, hidden under the canopy of the forest trees.  

As they kissed, Namjoon brushed his thumb against the delicate silk of Jungkook’s collar, over where one day Namjoon would bite and mark him.  Jungkook shuddered at the idea, dropping his head back and gasping.  When he opened his eyes, Namjoon’s hooded, hungry gaze met him in return.  As Jungkook instinctively leaned back toward him, Namjoon slipped Jungkook’s collar off his neck.  

Burying his face back in Jungkook’s neck, unimpeded by the pesky silk at last, he moaned as he pressed a warm kiss right upon the juncture where every married omega ought to be bitten.  

“I want to, Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon murmured against his skin, desperation pouring out of him.  He kissed him again, but this time Jungkook felt the jolting sensation of teeth ever so gently scraping against his skin.  His eyes shot open and his fingers gripped Namjoon’s hanbok with preternatural strength.  “I want to…” the alpha continued murmuring, nosing along Jungkook’s neck now.  

‘I want it too,’ Jungkook wanted to say.  It was at the tip of his tongue, but he kept his mouth sealed shut.  He only leaned back against the tree and kept his eyes closed as he let Namjoon ravish him, focusing on the tight sensation of pleasure burning inside of himself.  His heart beat erratically, his breathing was shallow—his legs pressed themselves together.   

Jungkook couldn’t withstand it anymore.  Hands pressed against Namjoon’s chest, Jungkook pushed his husband off of himself.  When his husband’s unsatisfied gaze met his own desperate one, Jungkook promised with a shaky breath, “Tonight.” 

Understanding him perfectly, Namjoon’s scent roared to life with exhilaration.  Pine trees and winter berries made the air lush around him and Jungkook could have floated off on a cloud of their conjoined bliss.  Cupping Jungkook’s face between his big hands, Namjoon brought Jungkook up onto his feet and kissed him again.  

“I have something for you,” Namjoon soon whispered against his lips. 

Jungkook looked at him with curiosity. 

From his pocket, Namjoon withdrew something.  He reached up and pulled out the simple pearl pin already in Jungkook’s hair and replaced it with his mystery object. 

Jungkook’s hand flew up to his hair.  This new pin was smooth and poreless, as if it were made of… 

“Jade?” Jungkook gasped, eyes widening.  He pulled the pin out of his hair and brought it down to where he could see it.  It was jade, but not just any jade.  “Honey jade?” Jungkook uttered in disbelief, taking in the sight of the beautiful pin, long in form and marbled in hues of gold and amber.  In this shape and size, it must have been near priceless.  

Namjoon took the pin from his hands and tucked it back into Jungkook’s hair.  He caressed Jungkook’s stunned face when he said, “I was grateful to you this week… with the harvest and the magistrate and all of our dinners together.  And,” he hummed, “I believe the villagers who say you are a blessing.  So this is my offering to you,” he said, eyes glimmering, “to keep blessing everything you see.”  

Overcome, Jungkook whispered, “It’s too much.”  

Namjoon opined, “It’s only the beginning.”  

They embraced again, Jungkook standing on his toes to hold Namjoon’s face between his own hands so that he could kiss him fully and with the fervor that he felt for him in his jumping heart.  

“We have to go back,” Jungkook murmured many kisses later, eyelashes fluttering with intermittent pleasure.  

Namjoon only grunted into the next kiss, grip tightening around where he held Jungkook around his back.  A jolt of pleasure ripped through Jungkook’s body at this; the alpha was insatiable.  He held onto Jungkook as if they’d never be together again even when Jungkook had promised him the opposite.  They would be together that very night.  All Namjoon had to do was wait. 

“Tie my collar back on me, yeobo,” Jungkook panted, hands pressed against Namjoon’s chest again.  

Impatiently, Namjoon made quick work of knotting the collar back around Jungkook’s blemished neck.  His hungry gaze lingered over each pinch of red that bloomed against Jungkook’s pale skin, satisfaction riling within himself at being the alpha who had marked him there.  As he stroked his own ego, Jungkook bolted from underneath the tree and back toward the light of day.  Namjoon chased after him and caught the omega in seconds—but when the sun blinded him from high above, he quickly returned to his senses.  Blinking profusely, he reorientated himself to reality… Jungkook stood at his side, blushing from his neck upwards, walking back toward the orchards.  His scent—rich, dizzying florals—perfumed the air and blurred the edges of Namjoon’s vision.  He could scarcely stand upright.  Still, he followed Jungkook’s lead and returned to the harvest—gums aching and mouth watering.  

❧

 

 

Once the sun began to set, the harvest dinner began.  Suckling pigs were put to roast and barrels of wine were rolled in from the storerooms.  Bonfires were set alight and huddled around with sweet potatoes in hand.  Massive cauldrons of stew were set to boil and by the end of the night, there wasn’t a single empty belly upon the entire estate.  Everybody ate well, sang well, and was paid well before the night came to a jolly end.  Cups of spiced pear tea were being poured and passed around at long last when Namjoon, who hadn’t left Jungkook’s side all night, squeezed his husband’s hand and silently led him away from the celebration.  

Aided by the moonlight and twinkling of stars, the pair sprinted back toward the house together under the cover of night.  

Once inside their bedroom, Namjoon slid the door firmly shut behind them.  Jungkook set about lighting candles.  After he lit the last one, he turned around and saw Namjoon already at their bedside in his white nightgown.  His chest rose and fell in such a hypnotizing manner that, if Namjoon’s oppressive scent weren’t accomplishing it already, Jungkook felt himself susceptible to entrancement.  

Heart racing, he slipped behind their silkscreen and changed into his own nightgown, trimmed with lily-white lace, with trembling fingers.  He untied his collar and pulled the jade pin from his hair, setting it with careful devotion inside his cabinet.  He quickly brushed out his long hair and doused himself with a splash of rosewater, though it wouldn’t last long on him.  Namjoon’s scent enshrouded him, even from across the room.  It beguiled him and bewitched him; it begged him to quickly step away from the silkscreen and come to bed and wrap himself in the alpha’s arms.  Jungkook obediently followed its beckoning whisper.  

In the flickering candlelight, Jungkook emerged from behind the screen.  Namjoon did not make a sound.  He sat with saintly patience and watched with a ravenous regard as Jungkook came to bed.  Once Jungkook had lifted the sheet and slipped into the warm bed beside him, the alpha pounced.  He rolled over and caged Jungkook beneath him, the omega neatly tucked in between Namjoon’s spread arms and legs.  Jungkook didn't startle—he did not recoil or whimper.  On the contrary, his scent sweetened and dark pupils dilated.  Namjoon took in every inch of his lovely face, illuminated golden and pure by the light.  

Carnal desire thrummed throughout Namjoon’s entire body.  It didn’t consume him, but only just yet.  Rapidly, he was shedding his mind of reason.  All he understood was the enticing warmth of Jungkook’s body beneath his own… the omega’s red mouth inviting unto it his own…

Without a thought, Namjoon would have devoured him.  Jungkook would have let him.  The familiar scent of the omega’s ambrosial lust enveloped him in its spell.  But he spared a thought, just one.  

His gaze fell upon Jungkook’s neck, at the curve of it.  Even in the dim candlelight, he could see the faint but jagged line of a pink scar.  Since his eyes had first encountered it, that scar had perturbed Namjoon.  The scar wasn’t colorless enough for it to be older than a year or so, and its erratic shape hinted to Namjoon that it had been done by hand.  Its placement was also highly peculiar… so close to Jungkook’s jugular, and almost exactly where his mating bite ought to be.  How could Namjoon bite him there?  Would it hurt him?  

Lifting his hand and gently tracing over the scar with his finger—Jungkook’s tense gaze on him the entire time—Namjoon asked at long last, “Where is this scar from?” 

Jungook’s expression ossified.  His breathing stopped and his scent plunged into a spiral of despair.   

Namjoon dropped lower against Jungkook, letting him know he wasn’t going anywhere.  He ran his thumb in circles over the scar, rubbing his scent into Jungkook’s skin as he did so.  Not meeting Jungkook’s gaze, in a low voice, he asked, “Did your first alpha do this to you?” 

There was an acrid spike in Jungkook’s scent before it dissipated just as quickly.  A hand came up and turned Namjoon’s face to look directly back at Jungkook.  With quiet, still eyes, Jungkook said with a darkened expression, “He was never my alpha.  Don’t call him that.  He was just—somebody my parents had me marry.  He wasn’t my anything.”  

Namjoon nodded, just once.  

Tears slipped out of the corners of Jungkook’s eyes.  “His family cast me out like a curse.  He married me and then he died.”  

Wiping away Jungkook’s tears, Namjoon muttered, “Those two things have nothing to do with each other.”  

“Tell all of Busan that,” Jungkook retorted with a trembling chin. 

“I’ll tell all of Busan that a capable soldier might have kept himself alive if he had you waiting for him at home,” Namjoon asserted.  

Bitterly, Jungkook revealed, “I was told he was His Majesty’s best soldier.  I wondered afterwards if that was just another lie.”  

“What were the other lies?” Namjoon asked. 

“Everybody said he was exactly as an alpha ought to be: strong, brave, and noble.” 

“He wasn’t?” 

Jungkook only whispered, “He was strong.”  

Namjoon’s nostrils flared and skin prickled.  “Did he hurt you?” 

“Yes,” Jungkook admitted faintly, eyes wet. 

“After you were married?” 

“I’d never known him before our wedding day.”  

Namjoon inhaled slowly, “On the same day he married you, he raised his hand on you?” 

His mind flashed back to Jungkook’s small, shivering form on their own wedding night… how he had recoiled from Namjoon at the smallest touch.

Jungkook made no answer to the question.  He was the one who averted his tremulous gaze from Namjoon now.  

Dropping down onto the bed beside Jungkook, Namjoon wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace against his chest.  He buried his face against the other side of Jungkook’s neck and breathed in his unblemished skin.  There was nothing Namjoon knew to say.  There was no point in rage or vengeance, though he felt both.  Caressing Jungkook’s hair, he only could say, “The heavens protected you with the swing of the same blade that punished him.”  

“They didn’t protect me, Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook suddenly wept against his chest, fingers tightly clenched around the thin cotton of Namjoon’s nightgown.  Jungkook curled his body further into Namjoon’s, and Namjoon held him back tighter.  “If they were protecting me,” he argued, voice thick, “why did they let me marry him?  Why did they bring him into my life?  Why didn’t they take me straight to you?  Why did I have to go through h-him?” he asked with a broken sob.  

Namjoon held him closer, running a comforting hand up and down his back.  Despite his anguish, Jungkook’s scent hadn’t succumbed to the same despair.  It alone tethered Namjoon’s sanity.  

“If I hadn’t met him,” Jungkook cried, lips brushing against Namjoon’s bare skin when he spoke, “I wouldn’t have been so afraid of you.  I wouldn’t have known what it was to be terrified of an alpha.  I would have come to you as I had gone to him—full of joy at the idea of marriage.  But he—he ruined me.  He made me fear you would be the same creature as him.”  Jungkook shook his head.  “But you’re not.”  He shook his head with more vigor.  Lifting his gaze, he met Namjoon’s in the near dark and wept, “You’re nothing like him.  You would never do to me what he did.”  

And in that moment, looking upon Jungkook in his arms—eyes wet, face bright, cheeks burning red, expression so tender and open—Namjoon thought that true revenge would be to protect Jungkook from all the foulness of the world once and for all.  His body and mind were united behind the same burning impulse: to sink his teeth into—

“Yeobo,” Jungkook gasped, misty eyes half-lidded with unseen ardor, body turning lax beneath him, “Your scent is so… it’s…”  He pulled Namjoon down, closer to his face, bodies flush.  “You have to protect me,” he enticed, his own scent blooming to a fever pitch around Namjoon.  Underneath him, slowly, Jungkook spread his legs and lifted them up to wrap around Namjoon’s body.  “You have to bite me,” he whispered, voice distant and slurred, as if he were drunk… 

Namjoon’s fingers held onto Jungkook firm enough to bruise.  The omega leaned his long neck to the side, exposing himself fully.  Legs latched around Namjoon’s hips, he drew the alpha closer to himself.  

Eyes closed, sweat beading at his temples, Namjoon sank into the sensation.  He pressed his lips against Jungkook’s and kissed him with such devotion that the omega’s sweet scent morphed into something sharper immediately.  They kissed and kissed and kissed, Namjoon swallowing each of Jungkook’s honeyed moans.  Hips pressed against each other, it wasn’t long before their dark gazes met in the candlelight and an expression of lust passed over each of their flushed faces.  Sitting up, Namjoon began to pull his nightgown off over his head.  

Just then, a frantic knock rapped on their doorframe.  

Namjoon tugged his nightgown back over his head and growled at the door, swiftly leaning down and covering Jungkook’s clothed body with his own, shielding him from a potential intruder.  “Leave us!” he shouted at the door.  

But the knocking persisted. 

“Go away!” 

The door slid some inches open. 

“The impertinence!” Namjoon bellowed, infuriated. 

Namjoon was positively feral when he hoisted himself out of their warm bed and scampered toward the door.  Jungkook worried for a moment that Namjoon was liable to lash out at whichever poor soul was on the opposite side of their door—such was the alpha’s state of agitation.  

“Yoongi-hyung?” Namjoon stated with astonishment, irritation obvious.  “What are you—” 

Yoongi murmured something to Namjoon, low and out of earshot.  Jungkook sat up in bed and looked at the pair of them, heads bowed together at the threshold of their bedroom.  Then—without warning—Namjoon left their bedroom with Yoongi-hyung!  As Namjoon slipped the door shut behind him, he spared Jungkook a single parting glance—one of deep shame and contrition—before sliding the door firmly shut.  

Jungkook couldn’t understand it.  It was as if all the heat of their bedroom had left with Namjoon; the air around him became frigid and heartless within seconds.  

Just as agitated, if not more, Jungkook also departed their bed and rushed toward the bedroom door.  As he was inches from opening it, it opened on its own.  Taehyung stepped inside Jungkook’s bedroom and slipped the door shut behind him.  

“Hyung—,” Jungkook exclaimed, confused.  “Wha—” 

“Oh,” Taehyung exclaimed, eyes widening to near circles.  He brought the sleeve of his hanbok up to his nose and covered his face at once.  “It’s unbearable!” 

Jungkook flushed a deep magenta and took a step back from the door, crossing his arms against his chest.  

Namjoon’s strong scent lingered heavily in the room, there was no denying that.  Of course it would repulse Taehyung but Jungkook couldn’t spare a thought for him—he was still reeling from Namjoon’s abrupt departure!  What could Namjoon have possibly been told that had made him leave Jungkook in such a state?  Jungkook couldn’t help but feel his heart shatter.  How could his alpha abandon him so?  What reason could there possibly—

“I need to go find Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook declared to Taehyung, taking one step toward the door behind him. 

“Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung said, coming and holding Jungkook’s hands in his own, having recovered himself.  “You won’t see Namjoon-hyung for a few days now.” 

“Wh—” 

“He’s gone into rut.”  

 

 

❧

 

 

Having had many days alone to think about it, Jungkook found that all of his husband’s actions changed color in retrospect.  

On his third morning without Namjoon, Jungkook sat in his husband’s writing room and resumed his duty as the scribe.  Many letters had accumulated over the week of the harvest and Jungkook had set about replying to all of them.  He had little else to occupy his time, as it were. 

As he leaned over to dip his pen into fresh black ink, he lost himself to another wave of immiserating musings.  

The rut must have begun on the day they harvested peaches…  Junkgkook still flushed when he thought about their time in the orchard together, how Namjoon had fed him the ripe fruit, slice by slice, and purposely let his fingers press against Jungkook’s lips.  Jungkook had known it was an act of indecency, but he hadn’t stopped Namjoon.  He had liked the warm feeling of his husband’s touch, the attention he paid to him, and… he had liked the thrill it shot up his spine to engage in something so… untoward.  

It was a pity, now, that he had to credit that moment to his husband’s rut.  He sighed and returned his pen to his scroll, writing a petulant reply to some petulant letter.  

The same would have applied to the lunch they ate together by the stream the very same day.  Was Namjoon-hyung’s rut what had motivated him to seek out a meal for Jungkook?  Alphas were territorial about who fed their omegas; Jungkook imagined the impulse only expounded while a rut approached.  And—and what of Namjoon-hyung’s behavior during lunch?  When he had unceremoniously pushed their trays aside and pounced upon Jungkook, pinning him to the ground and lavishing him with kisses.  That… 

Jungkook loosened the collar of his hanbok, pulling it away from his hot neck.  

And what of that same night?  When Namjoon had called him his omega?  When Namjoon had kissed him with so much devotion?  When he had held Jungkook against his chest as they slept and bathed him in his comforting scent all night?  Was that all due to the impending rut?  

Was the haze of rut clouding Namjoon’s mind when he had purchased a priceless honey jade pin for him?  

The tip of Jungkook’s pen snapped against his scroll.  He hadn’t realized how much pressure he had been applying. 

He sighed again.  No alpha, in his right state of mind, would spend a small fortune on a piece of jewelry for an omega he was not even mated to!  

Huffing, Jungkook abandoned his scrolls for the day.  He rolled them all up and stuffed them back into the slots beside his desk.  He could return to them tomorrow.  It was unlikely he’d see Namjoon for at least another night.  Maybe two.  

The night they had taken Namjoon away had passed cruelly.  Naturally, Jungkook was forbidden from seeing him, and his family would not so much as even tell Jungkook where he had been taken.  They assured him he would be well taken care of—yes, fed and given water—but they refused to tell him any more.  Not even their mother would answer Jungkook’s pleading gaze; she could only apologize and reiterate that Namjoon would not want Jungkook to be told.  Such may have been true, but Jungkook didn’t resent it any less.  

Taehyung couldn’t abide by Jungkook sleeping alone, and so the two omegas slept together in a spare bedroom, on the opposite side of the house from Jungkook and Namjoon’s room.  His hyung did his best that night trying to distract Jungkook from the circumstances at hand, but it was fruitless.  Only after Taehyung fell asleep could Jungkook at least peacefully think upon nothing but Namjoon.  The moonlight, the crickets, the sound of the stream… everything reminded Jungkook of his husband.  Where must his poor husband be, suffering alone?  They two had been separated from each other under the most foul of circumstances.  Couldn’t they have let them be?  What harm would it have done?  How could his hyungs have done this to them! 

The following morning, Jimin-hyung and Taehyung-hyung were his mouthpieces over breakfast. 

“But,” Jimin had tried to reason, keeping his voice low, “Yoongi-hyung, what would have been the harm in letting things… proceed?  If Namjoon-hyung had bitten Jungkook then it would have triggered his own heat.  They could be mated by now.  It would have solved all of our problems…”

Mere months ago, such a conversation between the omegas and alphas of a household would have been a breach of propriety unbeknownst to him, but now Jungkook sat and looked expectantly at Yoongi-hyung, demanding answers to questions he was too reserved to ask himself.  

Patiently, Yoongi-hyung explained, “What I did last night, I did for Namjoon’s sake.  I did it knowing it was what Namjoon—or any upstanding alpha—would want done.” 

“How can you mean?” Taehyung wondered. 

Yoongi sighed, a ruminatory exhale.  “You three may not know this about alphas but… for us, biting an omega during a rut is one of the lowest acts an alpha can commit.  It's taking advantage of an omega while the alpha’s pheromones have them scent drunk and the omega’s defenses are vulnerable, and it’s despicable.” 

Jungkook shrunk into himself at these words.  

Yoongi continued, looking at Jungkook directly, “If Namjoon had bit and mated you under those circumstances, he would have felt like scum for the rest of his life.  You never would have been able to convince him that your mating was a choice you had agreed to in good conscience, even if you were able to convince yourself of it.”  

At these words, the three omegas fell into a contemplative silence.  

❧

 

 

For the remainder of that first day, Jungkook rejected Yoongi-hyung’s reasoning with vehement irritation.  

It wasn’t true!  He wouldn’t—he didn’t—feel coerced into being bitten.  He had wanted it!  He wanted to be mated to Namjoon and protected by him.  They had been so close to the very thing, and Jungkook would never believe that, had it had happened, Namjoon would have felt anything but satisfaction at their mating.  He had said in the clearest terms possible that he wanted Jungkook to be his forever.  Together, under that golden candlelight, they both had known what they wanted from the other.  They had seen it in each other’s eyes.  

And then, before bed that night, Jungkook took a hot bath.  He scrubbed off all that remained of Namjoon’s scent on his skin.  It wasn’t until he sat in his nightgown brushing his hair that he started to feel restless and unmoored.  He realized his mistake too late.  Jimin came in with the children to distract Jungkook until it was time to sleep, but Jungkook was sore company.  Jimin understood this but he withstood Jungkook without complaint.  He sent the children off and stayed with Jungkook in the spare bedroom throughout the entirety of the night.  

Lying awake in the white moonlight, hours later as Jimin slept beside him, Jungkook was less sure now about his convictions about Namjoon.  

Would having bit him under the spell of a rut unspooled everything between them?  Would all their care and affection have meant nothing because of it?  Would he truly never believe Jungkook if he had claimed the circumstances of their mating would have mattered little to him, so long as they were mated?  

In the middle of the night, Jungkook’s heartache forced him to slip out of the spare bedroom and return to his own.  It was cold and arid, but the familiar scent of pine and berries was an immediate balm to his heart.  When he slipped into his bedsheets and pulled them over his head, nestled in a comforting cocoon of Namjoon’s concentrated scent, he finally fell asleep without a single thought in his head.  

In the morning, reflecting upon the curative effect of Namjoon’s scent upon his mind, Jungkook admitted to himself that perhaps he had been scent drunk two nights ago.  

A week ago, Jungkook had never been kissed.  And scarcely a few days later he was spreading his legs and begging to be mated… 

And, Jungkook realized now in the bleak morning sunlight, if Namjoon had mated him… Jungkook’s secret would have been discovered.  There was a reason, he confronted starkly, that when he was in his right state of mind, he did not want Namjoon to mate him.  A reason that had fallen by the wayside in his state of intoxication, but which now burned a hole in the forefront of his sober mind.  

He pulled the sheets around his shivering frame and shuddered.  A frost had cast itself over the mountains overnight; the grass was stiff and a harsh gale blew over the estate even at such an early hour.  No fire was lit in the room because the servants would not have known Jungkook was inside of it.  He would have to return to Jimin-hyung before he woke up with a fright to an empty bed.  

It really hadn’t crossed Jungkook’s mind a single time, when he was with Namjoon, that he carried an unknowable secret deep in his heart.  And now the striking clarity of it all pinched and pierced his peace of mind: I am an omega who has been mated before.  He had lied to his husband; no matter how briefly it had been, Jungkook had had an alpha to his name prior to Namjoon.  And he had been another alpha’s bonded omega.  He closed his eyes and felt a cold sweat overtake him.  

When he left Busan, he promised his mother he would never reveal this truth to his new husband.  He would die with it buried in his heart.  

Could he still fulfill that promise?  And would it matter if he tried?  Would Namjoon not find out on his own when—? 

Jungkook kicked his sheets off of himself, made his bed, and quickly departed for the spare bedroom.   

❧

 

 

It was on the third day that Jungkook gave up his wallowing at last and focused on being useful.  He would return to answering the family correspondence.  Industriousness was a fresh change for him after all the indolent leisure of the week prior.  

The weather worsened outside his window, but it did not yet snow.  The skies threatened it, but the clouds stayed at bay.  

Jungkook’s newest letter was from Magistrate Jeong.  His heart leapt when he saw his official seal.  

Magistrate Jeong had come on the last day of the harvest, well into the festivities.  He had eaten braised pork and sweet potatoes and pastries and drunk wine and joined in on all of the folk songs.  At the end of the night, he asked where Namjoon and Jungkook had disappeared to.  He had their marriage certificate tucked away neatly in the purse that hung off his horse.  To their parents' great dismay and horror, Namjoon and Jungkook were nowhere to be found.  Yoongi was dispatched to the house to track them down.  Shortly after, a servant from the house was dispatched to the orchard to report that Namjoon-ssi had become violently ill and Jungkook-ssi was steadfast at his side.  Nobody was to enter their chambers until he recovered.  

Magistrate Jeong said it was no worry; he would write and inquire after Namjoon’s health.  And so he had, as Jungkook read.  He asked when he ought to visit the estate to finalize their registration.  It was nearing two months since their wedding, he pointed out, and this matter should have been long settled.  

Jungkook had no reply.  He pushed the letter to the side and continued on to the next one.  Something far more simple—a query from a man out west asking if the Kims had a good horse they were willing to part with for a fair price.  

As Jungkook neatly wrote his reply, he felt a stubborn ache once more creep up and squeeze his heart.  

He missed his Namjoon-hyung, and in his great big estate—despite his hyungs’ kindness, the company of the children, and the goodness of his new parents—he was deeply lonely.  

Outside his window, the bitter wind raged on.  

 

❧

 

 

That night, both Taehyung and Jimin kept Jungkook company in the spare bedroom.  They lit candles, shared pot after pot of hot tea, and talked into the early hours.  

Once it was late enough, and Jungkook had lost enough of his shame to exhaustion, he stated, during a lull in their conversation, “Hyungnims… I have to ask you something.” 

“Anything,” Taehyung encouraged, giving Jungkook his full attention. 

“Don’t be shy,” Jimin nodded, seconding Taehyung. 

Jungkook took a deep breath.  “A week ago, I had never been kissed.  But a few nights ago, Namjoon-hyung and I—we almost—well, you’re aware.”  He sucked in another breath before asking with wide, pleading eyes, “Was that just the rut?  W-will hyung not want me without it?  When he’s back?” 

“Is this what’s been troubling you these past days?” Jimin asked softly, placing a hand on Jungkook’s knee.  

Jungkook nodded miserably. 

“Since you aren’t mated to hyung,” Taehyung put forth at once.  “there’s no reason you should have affected him during his pre-rut, unless… unless he was drawn to you prior.”  

Jungkook blinked at Taehyung.  Was it really as simple as that?  

“It really is as simple as that,” Taehyung shrugged, assuring him wholeheartedly.  “Alphas aren’t always such complex creatures.  He showed you affection because he chose to.”  

“Will hyung change once we are mated?” Jungkook pressed next.  This question had occurred to him with increasing frequency the past few days, the more and more he recalled Namjoon’s behavior leading up to his rut.  

“Yes,” Jimin confirmed bluntly.  Then, he teased, “Which is what we’re afraid of when it comes to you two.”  Catching Jungkook’s concerned expression, Jimin explained with a grin, “You two aren’t even mated yet but Namjoon makes the kitchen cook your favorite foods, feeds you by hand, follows you around like a hummingbird, and keeps you drenched in his scent.  We can only anticipate what will happen to him once you’re mated and the needle in his head really starts pointing in only one direction.”  

“Well,” Jungkook blushed, his heart constricting with another wave of longing for his husband to return to him, “we are married.  That counts for something.”  

“It does,” Taehyung agreed.  “We always think we feel so much, but alphas do as well.  Sometimes I think more, in their own way.  I know Yoongi-hyung does.  Two days ago, after I spent the night with you, I returned to my room in the morning and Yoongi-hyung just held me and scented me for over an hour.”  He smiled.  “Hyung told me that in our three years of marriage, we’d never gone more than half the day apart.”  

“I know you snuck out of the room last night,” Jimin turned and revealed to Jungkook, “because Hoseokie-hyung came to scent me and the baby in the middle of the night and we saw you weren’t there.  Hyung paced outside the door for twenty minutes, debating whether he should step inside or not, before I finally woke up and smelled his proximity.  I turned and saw you weren’t there and we both figured where you had gone.”  

“I missed hyung’s scent,” Jungkook whispered, drawing up his knees and trying not to cry as he said it.  

Jimin and Taehyung both leaned in and hugged Jungkook between them.  He murmured, “Yoongi-hyung and Hoseok-hyung could scarcely get through a night without either of you.”  Jungkook glumly concluded, “It must have been very hard for Namjoon-hyung when he lost his mate.”  

Jimin said, “It was… but it was a long time ago now.”  

Sitting upright again, Jungkook suddenly had the mind to ask, “What happened to Namjoon-hyung’s first omega?”  Seyoon.  Jungkook couldn’t get himself to say their name.  

Both Jimin and Taehyung paled at the question.  

“We shouldn’t speak of it,” Jimin said, dismissing the topic.  He didn’t meet Jungkook’s eyes as he spoke.  “It’s in the past.”

“I think,” Taehyung said, thoughtfully, “Namjoon-hyung is from whom you should hear the story, if you truly want to know it.”  

“I could never ask him,” Jungkook shook his head, frowning.  

“You can,” Taehyung assured him.  “It—it might even lift a burden off of him if you did.” 

“How so?” Jungkook asked, newly curious.  

“Hyung carries a lot of pain about—what happened,” Taehyung said, expression tight.  

“And that’s all we ought to say,” Jimin sharply interceded, glaring at Taehyung.  “As far as I know, Namjoon-hyung would not like to revisit that chapter in life.”

“You make me think something very terrible happened, Jimin-hyung,” Jungkook remarked in a quiet voice.  

Neither Jimin nor Taehyung replied.  Their silence was eerie.

After a few more uncomfortable moments, Jungkook gladly changed the topic.  “I’ve never cared for an alpha after his rut,” he observed.  “What should I expect?” 

Upon this topic, his hyungs returned to their natural state of candor.  They showered Jungkook with advice, both practical and blush-inducing, and soon the subject of Seyoon was forgotten altogether.  

❧

 

 

On the fourth morning, Jungkook had tea with his mother-in-law.  Their polite conversation sidestepped everything in their lives which was upsetting: Namjoon was only briefly mentioned, the pair’s precarious mating situation was avoided, the weather was ignored, and every other unpleasant thing was forgotten.  They spoke of the grandchildren, the trials and tribulations of gardening, their favorite scrolls, clothes they should wish to order, ideas for the following year’s harvest, and at length about all the correspondence Jungkook had been fielding.  His mother-in-law was endlessly impressed by his diligence.  By the end of their time together, Jungkook found he had regained much of the confidence he had let erode over the past few days.  

But even as he felt a refreshed sense of joy within himself, it diminished somewhat when he realized that the only person he wanted to share it with wasn’t near him.  

Secretly, he returned to their bedroom once more.  

On their cold bed, he laid on his side, motionless, for a long while.  He watched the long branches of the autumn trees sway against the window slats, their leaves colored red, yellow, orange, and amber.  

Was it his kiss that had triggered Namjoon’s rut?  That simple, innocent press of lips against skin?  

Increasingly, Jungkook hypothesized that it was.  It was after their first kiss that Namjoon-hyung’s scent and demeanor had changed.  Gone were his shy glances and coy turns of phrase and instead there was an alpha in Jungkook’s life who spoke and acted with boldness of mind and heart.  Was Namjoon-hyung both of those people, or just one?  Had the rut changed him or simply unveiled him?  Or was it by virtue of that kiss?

No matter what, least of all the inducements caused or not caused by his rut and all which followed after, Jungkook held close to his heart the gratifying notion that their first kiss was not besmirched by it all.  It had been as pure as the day had been golden and the night had been indigo. 

When heavy steps came to a stop outside their bedroom door, his ears perked up.  He recognized that gait… 

Turning around in bed and facing the sound, the door slid open and Namjoon’s beautiful form appeared at the threshold.  He softly smiled at Jungkook as he stepped into their room and slid the door shut behind himself.  Before he could even turn back around, Jungkook had already bolted up to him and thrown his arms around his neck in an all-consuming embrace, tears flooding from his eyes.  Face pressed against Namjoon’s neck, Jungkook inhaled his husband’s weak wintery scent with untold gratitude.  

“You lost weight,” Jungkook wept, feeling through the strange blue hanbok Namjoon was wearing just how thin he had become in only four days.  

Namjoon held Jungkook back in his arms and dropped his head to breathe in Jungkook’s own scent in return, his chest expanding to capacity.  “Did you eat well while I was gone?” 

Jungkook vehemently shook his head.  

Namjoon sighed, chest caving in.  “I worried about that.  Come, let’s eat first.”  

Jungkook once more vehemently shook his head, tightening his grip around Namjoon’s middle.  

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon tried to coax him, but his voice and arms were too weak to resist in earnest. 

Alarmed, Jungkook guided Namjoon over to their bed and made him sit down.  Crouching down, Jungkook held Namjoon’s hands and looked at the alpha with a scrupulous gaze.  His throat constricted when he saw just how wearied Namjoon truly was—his eyes were sunken, his skin was pallid, and his face was much gaunter.  He appeared to be a man who had not eaten or slept for weeks!  This threw Jungkook into a state of frenzy.  

He pulled the sheets of their bedding up and wrapped Namjoon in them at once.  Then he rushed over to the windows and opened each one, begging the sun to quickly fill the room and warm it up.  “Stay as you are, hyung!” he exclaimed to Namjoon before quickly leaving their bedroom and rushing down the hall and toward the courtyard.  Catching the nearest maid, he told her that Namjoon was back.  Holding his hand, she appeared as relieved as he was.  Jungkook instructed her to order a hearty meat stew, rice, and ginger broth from the kitchen, and to light a fire in their bedroom and draw a hot bath as quickly as she could.  

It was only when Namjoon was leaned over his meal, eating well as a fire crackled beside them, that Jungkook exhaled with relief.  

“You’re not eating,” Namjoon pointed out, looking at Jungkook’s untouched tray, his dull eyes starting to gain back life.  

Jungkook leaned over his own bowls of stew and rice and began to eat, keeping one eye on Namjoon the entire time.  

After Namjoon had polished off his entire meal, Jungkook made sure the bath was the perfect temperature before ushering Namjoon to it.  As Namjoon bathed, Jungkook returned to their bedroom, opened Namjoon’s cabinet, and chose his clothes.  For their reunion, he selected a deep green—the color of pine trees.  He set it near the screen behind which Namjoon had changed out of his previous clothes.  Picking up Namjoon’s discarded blue hanbok, Jungkook returned back to their bedroom.  Jungkook knew the hanbok in his hands did not belong to Namjoon, as he had a full mental inventory of his husband’s closet.  With a flush to the back of his neck, Jungkook remembered that Namjoon had departed from their bedroom in nothing but his nightgown.  It was likely this hanbok had been loaned out to Namjoon, in which case Jungkook would launder it and return it to its owner.  Before depositing it for laundry, Jungkook checked the pockets.  The first was empty, but inside the second were scraps of fabric.  Ribbons, perhaps?  When Jungkook pulled them out, his entire face burned red with a delighted embarrassment:  they were collars.  Jungkook’s collars—yellow, white, pink, peach, all of them.  

He returned the collars to his own cabinet and sent the blue hanbok off with the other washing.

When Namjoon returned to their bedroom—looking much healthier, a rosy glow back upon his face, and very handsome in his pine green robes—Jungkook walked up to him at once and held both of his hands in his.  

“How do you feel?” he asked, searching Namjoon’s gaze for any lingering discomfort or unease.  

“Much better.”  Namjoon looked furtively away from Jungkook, not meeting his gaze—as if he were guilt-ridden about something.  

All of Jungkook’s paranoid considerations over the past few days rose to the surface of his mind like bile.  He raised his hand up to Namjoon’s cheek and turned his face back toward his own.  “Why aren’t you looking at me?  You barely have in the past hour.”  

Closing his eyes, Namjoon admitted, “I’m so ashamed.” 

Jungkook knit his brows.  “About what?” 

“I don’t know how to face you, Jungkook.” 

“Namjoon-hyung!” 

“You were scent drunk and I took advantage of it for days,” he self-confessed, shoulders sagging.  “I almost… I almost bit you.  I would have, if Yoongi-hyung hadn’t intervened and saved you.”  

“Is that what you think happened?” Jungkook asked, doing his best not to fall apart.  He held onto Namjoon’s hands for support.  

“I didn’t know I was near my rut,” Namjoon professed, “but it excuses nothing.  And it would have excused even less if I had made the mistake I nearly did.” 

“Don’t call it a mistake, hyung,” Jungkook pled.  “You didn’t bite me.  Nothing worth regretting happened!  You didn’t know and neither did I!” 

Namjoon was silent for a long moment, as if considering what he ought to say.  Squeezing Jungkook’s hands in return, he only said, “I will show you who I really am.  You deserve to be treated with nothing but my highest respect.” 

“You already treat me so well…” Jungkook said, but he could tell it fell on deaf ears.  Namjoon was in a world of his own making, and Jungkook could all but see him falling further into it.  Reason would have to wait.  

Excusing himself, Namjoon left to go greet his parents and inform them of his return.  As Jungkook stood in their bedroom alone, it was some consolation to him that his threshold had at least been the first one Namjoon had returned to.  Apart from that, his heart felt as tundric as the winds that continued to swirl around them.

 

 

❧

 

 

The family was very happy to hear the news of Namjoon’s recovery.  Even one member missing had caused a major imbalance in the family’s rhythm, their mother had said.  After spending some time reuniting with the children, Namjoon was eager to return to business.  All the bookkeeping from the harvest still lay ahead of him, and he was sure correspondence had piled up in his absence.  

“Jungkook has already seen to the correspondence,” Namjoon’s father informed him during family tea in the afternoon.  “He delivered some dozen letters to me last night for my seal and signature.”  To Jungkook, he said, “Faultless work.”  

Jungkook bowed his head in deference and inwardly beamed at the praise.  

“Have Jungkook double-check your figures when you do your bookkeeping,” their father said to Namjoon now.  “He has an eye as sharp as a needle.”  

“I will,” Namjoon nodded, also appearing pleased.  He glanced in Jungkook’s direction and the pair shared a warm smile.  It wasn’t enough to bring Namjoon’s dimples to life, but Jungkook thought he ought not to be greedy.  

Noticing Namjoon’s empty teacup, Jungkook lifted the teapot with one hand and held back the sleeve of his hanbok with the other.  A sharp, unsettled look suddenly fcrossed Namjoon’s features, but Jungkook couldn’t place it.  

After tea, Namjoon and Jungkook retreated to the writing room.  As Jungkook pulled scrolls off the shelf, Namjoon approached him and held him by his sleeve.  Lifting it up to his forearm, Namjoon gazed with sincere dismay at the littering of yellowed bruises along Jungkook’s arm. 

“It’s nothing,” Jungkook dismissed at once, pulling his sleeve away from Namjoon and covering the bruises.  

“I didn’t know my own strength,” Namjoon muttered.  “I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” Jungkook interrupted him crossly.  “It really is nothing.  They didn’t hurt then and they don’t hurt now.”

They sat and worked alongside each other until early evening.  They did not speak much, and it was scarcely the overwhelming reunion that Jungkook had anticipated between them, but he would have traded it for nothing.  Namjoon had moored him back to reality, and Jungkook knew that it was now his turn to do the same for Namjoon.  

❧

 

 

After dinner, Jungkook accompanied Yoongi-hyung and Hobi in bathing the children and preparing them for bed.  On the verge of feeling adrift, Namjoon’s mother approached him with a pair of winter cloaks and suggested they take a brisk stroll together.  Though it was very cold out that night, the moon was bright and it was good for blood to circulate after a meal.  Namjoon held his mother’s arm and walked with her in the lanes around the pagodas, far in the gardens.  

When they were away from the house and any wandering eyes, Namjoon asked her, “How was he while I was gone?” 

“Wretched,” his mother glumly replied.  “He missed you terribly.  I don’t think he knows who he is within the family yet without you near.”  

“We aren’t mated,” Namjoon miserably reminded her.  “Of course he feels ill at ease.”  

“I thought your ruts came in December,” his mother mentioned.  “How was it a month early this time?” 

Namjoon shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I didn’t even recognize the signs this time.  It… it could have been very dangerous.”  

“Well, we won’t linger upon that,” his mother said, swiftly moving the conversation away from any unpleasantness.  “What matters is that nothing dangerous did happen.  We took care of it well.  All you ought to focus on now is recuperating your health.”  

“Jungkook’s already revived me,” Namjoon faintly smiled.  “Within an hour of my return, he fed me a meat stew, had a bath ready, and fresh clothing.  By tomorrow I’ll be brand new, all to his credit.”  

“He’s a perfect mate,” his mother sighed wistfully.  “And he adores you so very much.”  

In her words were a thousand sentences unsaid, but Namjoon understood all of them.  He knew his mother was partial to Jungkook, and he knew all too well that she did nothing but worry for his future.  Still, it was kind of her to refrain from lecturing him on the subject that night.  He didn’t think he could have borne it with his usual patience so easily.  

“Thank you for sending his clothes to me,” Namjoon murmured to her.  

She only patted his hand as they walked, not acknowledging her merciful deeds aloud.  

“Is appa still mad at me?” Namjoon asked. 

“Yes and no, but he’s at bay.  He approves of Jungkook a great deal, and he wants you to know his temperance on this matter is purely for his sake.” 

“I know,” Namjoon recognized.  “And I’m grateful.”  

“He hopes you are.” 

“I am!” 

His mother smiled softly.  “Magistrate Jeong was waiting for your recovery to return.  He came with the papers just as he said he would, but you were gone.”

“I’ll write to him at once.”  

“Jungkook already has.  Jeong’s subordinate writes he’s gone to the sea for some days, but will return shortly.  He’ll write ahead of time.”  

“Well that buys us some time,” Namjoon said, relieved.  “It takes a week to travel to the sea.”

“Enough time?” 

Ears red, Namjoon said nothing.  Instead he said, “I have something I want to confess to you.”  

“Go ahead.” 

Gazing down upon her patient expression and kind eyes, Namjoon admitted his deepest secret.  “I love Jungkook.  And as I love Jungkook, and as I think about what love is… I start to think that maybe I… it wasn’t the same, but I start to wonder if I ever loved Seyoon.  Because these days I think that I couldn’t have.  Not if I now understand what love is.”  

With those same kind eyes, inflected with sadness now, his mother told him that she understood his heart.  She asked him if he had let Jungkook try and understand it too? 

❧

 

 

Namjoon was already in bed, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling, when Jungkook entered their room.  Flustered to see Namjoon in bed already, Jungkook quickly stepped behind their silkscreen, opened his cabinet, and changed out of his day clothes. 

“It’s chilly in here tonight,” Jungkook called out from behind the screen. 

“I may have put the fire out too early,” Namjoon admitted.  “I’ll relight it for you.” 

“No, don’t bother,” Jungkook replied.  “The blankets are plenty heavy, and I like a bit of chill at night.”  

“Eomma will kill me if you catch a cold.” 

“I’ll do no such thing!”  

Watching Jungkook’s vague form through the screen, Namjoon regretted that he hadn’t told Jungkook how lovely he had looked that day in his hanbok.  Dressed in bright blue robes, a pin studded with cerulean amethysts adorning his shining hair, he had looked like the advent of a new season.  Seeing his beautiful face after four days of confinement had felt like encountering the sun after a long night.  But Namjoon had felt so unworthy of Jungkook’s rush of affection that he had scarcely savored the moment.  

Jungkook emerged from behind the silkscreen as a vision of white.  His dark eyes glimmered in the candlelight as he walked over to their bed.  Before he slipped in beside Namjoon, his scent flared with nervousness.  

Namjoon shrunk into himself again.  Perhaps Jungkook thought that Namjoon would accost him again, as he had the nights prior to his rut.  With shame did he recall how greedily he had embraced Jungkook in his arms and kept him there all night, trapping the omega against his will perhaps.  

He would never be able to apologize to Jungkook for it all…  Had Jungkook wanted any of it?  The scenting, the touching, the kissing, the terms of endearment—had he borne it all under duress of Namjoon’s overpowering scent?  Had he had his virtue compromised by trickery?  His virginity nearly robbed by deceit?  Jungkook, who had only asked Namjoon for a single thing: ‘You have to protect me.  That’s it.’

“What are you thinking?” Jungkook turned to his side and asked Namjoon.  The candle at Namjoon’s side burned dimly, but just enough for him to see the wide, earnest gaze with which Jungkook regarded him.  It was obvious that Jungkook did not hold Namjoon’s debauchery against him, but Namjoon had no such grace for himself.  

“That I’m happy to be back home,” he replied softly, meaning it.  

“I missed you very much,” Jungkook murmured.  “The room was so cold without you.” 

“Did you sleep here alone?” Namjoon frowned. 

Jungkook shook his head.  “Jimin-hyung and Taehyungie-hyung took turns sleeping with me in the spare bedroom.  Last night the three of us slept together.”

“Good, I had worried about it.  I wanted you to be protected.” 

“I was,” Jungkook nodded.  “I worried about you too.  Where were you?” 

“The small house on the backside of the stables.  It’s reserved for that purpose.” 

“You were so near?” Jungkook said, stunned.  “Nobody would tell me where you’d gone—I had assumed you were somewhere in the village.  I didn’t know you were still at home.”  

“They were right not to tell you.  Your curiosity would have gotten the better of you,” Namjoon lightheartedly teased him.  “Am I right?” 

“I could have at least delivered your meals,” Jungkook pouted.  

It was a charming thought, but it revealed to Namjoon that Jungkook did not have a realistic grasp of all that entailed a full rut.  For now, maybe it was best not to apprise him of it.  Without a mate to help him through his, Namjoon had undergone true hell in the past four days, but he did not wish for this to burden Jungkook.  

But Jungkook was already a thought ahead of Namjoon.  He asked him, “Hyung, was your rut very painful?  You came back with so much of your strength diminished.”  

Without realizing it, Namjoon had also rolled over onto his side and was all but nose-to-nose with Jungkook, whose oversized, sparkling eyes gazed back at him with a searching determination.  

“It—it’s done and over with,” Namjoon said.  

“It must have been very awful,” Jungkook deduced, frowning deeply.  

“Ruts and heats are never easy,” Namjoon tried to mitigate.  “But they don’t last forever, thankfully.”  

“They’re easier with a mate,” Jungkook put forth.  “Aren’t they?” 

Namjoon swallowed.  “So they say.”  

Jungkook hesitated for a moment, as if he were going to say something.  In the end, he didn’t say it.  

After taking in his fill of Namjoon’s face, his sweet scent unfurling like night jasmine, he said, “You should sleep.  I know you’re tired.  A good night’s rest in your own bed is what you need most.”  

Nodding, he leaned over to his bedside and extinguished his candle.  In the dark, he did not have to contend with that mingled expression of adoration and pity that had inflected Jungkook’s countenance since his return.  Instead, he could bask in his calm, florid scent as he tried to let sleep find him.  

Insomnia had consumed him alive during his rut, and, in his more lucid moments, all he could think upon was what face he would show Jungkook when he returned to him.  In the pitch black, it was easiest to show no face at all.  With thoughts like these, he soon drifted into a dreamless sleep, head bent down and arms wrapped tightly against his own middle.  

“Hyung,” a voice whispered.  “Namjoon-hyung.”  

Namjoon woke up with a startle, eyes snapping open and searching out Jungkook in the dark.  But Jungkook was already awake and, in the low moonlight, he was leaned over as close as he could be to Namjoon.  Namjoon felt the heat of his body so near to his own.  

“What is it?” Namjoon asked, voice hoarse with sleep.  But he was alert as ever.  

“It’s freezing,” Jungkook whispered.  

And Namjoon realized it was.  Relentless winds howled outside of their bedroom, banging the window slats against the outer wall.  The air was frigid and all the heat of the fire that had burned in their room all day had long disappeared.  

“I’ll start the fire,” Namjoon said, moving to get out of bed. 

“No,” Jungkook protested, reaching out and gripping Namjoon’s arm underneath the sheets.  “Don’t leave.” 

“I’ll be quick,” Namjoon promised. 

“I don’t want the fire,” Jungkook whispered, eyes sparkling in the dark.  “I want you.”  Then, he lifted Namjoon’s arm underneath the sheets, and turned himself around, leaning back and curling himself against Namjoon’s chest—a natural fit.  He put Namjoon’s arm back around himself and held it against his own chest.  He breathed out warmly over Namjoon’s skin and the heat it spread throughout his body was instantaneous.  

“Much better,” Jungkook murmured, snuggling closer against Namjoon, entwining his cold feet between Namjoon’s warm ones.  

“I can still light a fire and hold you like this, it would only take a second,” Namjoon tried to reason with him.  

But Jungkook only shook his head and held Namjoon’s arm even more firmly against his chest.  “I’m all warm, yeobo.”  

At the endearment, Namjoon lowered his defenses and melted against Jungkook’s long frame, pressing the warmth of their bodies closer together.  He buried his face in Jungkook’s nape and nuzzled him there.  Jungkook exhaled a contented sigh and was asleep within the minute.  

For a long while, Namjoon held Jungkook in his arms and counted all the lucky stars he had in the sky.  Before he drifted off to sleep behind him, Namjoon pressed a kiss upon the back of Jungkook’s neck and whispered, for only the moon to hear, “I love you.”  

❧

 

 

It had been the final day of the harvest—pears—when a messenger had come galloping in from the village with a letter for Captain Kim Seokjin.  Opening the letter at once, Jin received summons to report to the capital for duty posthaste.  

Though his mother feared war, Jin suspected otherwise.  The event of war would have sparked a massive coordination of men and supplies down to the south, but nothing such had occurred.  It was only a simple summons and Jin expected nothing more than to be assigned new orders upon his arrival.  

Bidding farewell within the hour to his parents, siblings, and nieces and nephews, Jin sheathed his sword, donned his hat, and began his long journey on horseback.  His party grew in the village as he was joined by a few other men who had business in the capital.  

The cold weather delayed them, but not by much.  By the sunset of their fifth day of travel, they could see the sea from the hilltops.  And by the end of the next day, they were in Busan.   

Jin was always a keen observer when visiting the capital.  The scent of the sea air, the fruit vendors, the fishmongers, the sheer breadth and noise of the population… it was all so different from his quiet mountainside where a man could stand still and hear a lone heron sing if he wished.  

He also found southerners to be colder in nature, which was ironic given their proximity to the sun.   

“Are you soldiers?” he and his party were asked briskly by a shop owner when they sat to refresh themselves with tea inside city bounds.

“Only I am,” Jin raised his hand. 

“He’s a captain,” a friend from the village told the shop owner with pride. 

“I’ve had bigger than a captain come by this week,” the shop owner turned their nose up at him, likely upon deducing their regional accent.  

“There’s the ol’ southern charm we don’t get up north,” his other friend muttered under his breath beside him.  

“Why do you ask?” Jin asked the shop owner, suppressing his laugh.  

The shop owner shrugged.  “A lot of military men have come to the capital in the past day or two.  I assume something’s brewing.”  

“I know why,” another man said from the table beside them.  Glancing over, Jin saw he was a fellow captain, given that he was dressed in his full uniform.  

“Well then tell us,” the shop owner snapped impatiently. 

“General Wang called for a full conference of all ranked military personnel in the empire,” the man informed, eager to follow any orders it seemed. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know,” the man answered.  “I wasn’t told.”  

“You’re useless,” the shop owner disparaged.  

“General Wang…” another nearby patron commented aloud, “Isn’t he the one whose son died?” 

“Yes, yes.  The one who died the same day as his wedding—wasn’t that him?” 

“I believe you’re right…” 

From there, the conversation around Jin turned into a static buzzing in his ears.  He looked down at his reflection in the small teacup, a petrifying sense of foreboding doom overcoming him as he stared at those small ripples form and dissolve, form and dissolve.  Soon, the sky grayed above them.  His party paid for their tea and parted ways, having different destinations within the city.  

Jin’s wearied steed galloped slowly through the Busan streets.  The wind picked up speed and the alleyways gradually emptied as people took cover from the impending storm.  When Jin reached the gates of the military fortress, a bitter chill had enveloped the city and snow had begun to fall from the sky like ash.  

He presented his identification and waited for the iron gates to open, his conscience heavy.   

Notes:

+ dun dun dunnnnn

+ as always, love ur comments and i will reply to them shortly before i post the next chapter as ur own personal tornado warning

Notes:

+ What are men to rocks and mountains?

+ In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth asks, "What are men to rocks and mountains?" before embarking on a trip with the Gardiners. She looks forward to viewing the beauty of nature, and the question also reflects her state of mind shortly after learning that Darcy separated Bingley from her beloved sister Jane. The question reveals her disappointment with men, who are changeable and unreliable in contrast to rocks and mountains, which are durable and sturdy. The question also shows Romanticism's influence on Austen.

+ (source: enotes.com hehe)