Chapter Text
“Something is wrong,” Seonghwa announces.
He stepped into the entryway connecting the hallway with the bedrooms to the living room and kitchen about five minutes ago, but he hadn’t done or said anything in the meantime. He just stood there and scanned the room silently, as if he was looking for something or someone. Wooyoung and San, in their infinite wisdom, chose to look at him silently, then go back to pretending he wasn’t there, lest they accidentally get themselves roped into whatever it was that was making Seonghwa frown at the expanse of room before him.
But now that he’d finally spoken, leaving him to his own devices is no longer an option.
Wooyoung looks up from where he’s sprawled on the couch, legs happily draped over San’s lap and head propped up by a pillow Yeosang must have had on his lap recently, if the lingering smell of damp earth was anything to go by. His own scan of the room is admittedly nowhere near as in depth as Seonghwa’s, but his cursory glance and the general vibes he’d been almost-napping in for the last thirty minutes don’t suggest that there is anything particularly wrong with the living room. Sure, the blankets are loose and not folded and put away, and there are a few glasses on the coffee table, but that is pretty normal and, if anything, a little messy, but not wrong. And he knows the kitchen is completely in order — between him and Seonghwa it is always kept cleaner and nicer than probably any other part of their home.
He glances at San, only to receive a small head shake in return indicating that he, too, has no idea what Seonghwa is talking about.
“What do you mean, hyung?” Wooyoung finally asks, his almost-nap tinging his voice ever so slightly with sleep. San openly coos at him; Wooyoung lazily lifts and drops one of his legs in protest.
“I don’t know.” Seonghwa crosses his arms, a building frustration tugging at his features. “It’s been days, but I can’t pin it down. Something just feels… off.”
Well, that was very little to go on. But, Wooyoung supposes, that must be why it’s bothering Seonghwa enough for him to have mentioned it. Seonghwa isn’t a stranger to being frustrated or annoyed (mostly due to Seonghwa being Wooyoung and San’s favorite person in the world to pester and annoy), but he rarely lets it get to him, and he hardly ever, if ever, complains about it. He wouldn’t bring up something that was bothering him unless it was something that was really for someone else’s benefit or something he couldn’t solve on his own — and even then he wouldn’t want to worry his packmates unless it was really getting under his skin.
But here Seonghwa is — borderline irritated that something is bothering him. Almost indirectly asking for help, for confirmation that something is in fact wrong, because he can’t place the source.
Not wanting to abandon Seonghwa in his time of need — because nothing gets to bother his hyung on his watch, that is his job — Wooyoung looks around the room again. But nothing feels wrong to him. Everything is the same as it was yesterday. The only thing he would change is having the rest of his pack home, safe, and warm and cuddling. San had been nice enough to spend the morning with him, and he has plans to get dinner with Yeosang and Jongho later tonight, but there is still this deep need nestled deep in Wooyoung’s body to have his entire pack home, together, at the same time, preferably all snuggling with him in the nest, but at very least just to know that everyone was safe and healthy and—
Oh.
“Is everyone okay?” Wooyoung tentatively asks, his sweet spiced peach scent souring ever so slightly and increasingly, as the thought festers longer.
Alphas, especially Pack Alphas, once bit and bitten, tend to be able to feel things like that — things being wrong with their pack, like sickness or extreme stress. But it was usually only perceptible if the wrong thing was extreme. Seonghwa didn’t always know immediately when someone had a cold — well, he did, but Wooyoung’s sure that’s more of a Seonghwa thing than an Alpha thing, especially since he innately knew those things long before they became a formal pack — but he did know when Jongho twisted his ankle, and when Yeosang burned himself in the kitchen, and when Mingi had a panic attack, and when Wooyoung collapsed in the dance studio from sheer overexertion.
“I think so?”
Wooyoung hates how uncertain he sounds. His scent rots even more rapidly, and San runs his hand over Wooyoung’s legs in an attempt to soothe him. Seonghwa straightens up and unfolds his arms as rotting peaches hit his nose. It only takes a handful of his long strides before he’s bending over the back of the couch, carefully holding Wooyoung’s face and petting his hair.
“Everyone’s fine, kitty, don’t worry. Something feels off, but it doesn’t feel like it does when someone is upset or hurt.”
Wooyoung tries to take Seonghwa’s words to heart, he really does, and if his scent is anything to go by, he does believe him, but he still smells withered as the underlying anxiety that always comes when someone in the pack might be hurting claws at him.
“Don’t worry, Youngie — if Seonghwa-hyung says everyone is fine, then they are. Even without his Alpha super senses, Seonghwa would know if something was wrong with the pack.”
San is right.
The pack is safe.
Wooyoung repeats those two truths to himself over and over again, until he feels his body relax back into the petrichor pillow and pack-scented couch. The itch to have everyone home and safe with him hasn’t faded though, and only pulses though him stronger with each new beat of his heart.
“If it’s not the pack, then what’s wrong?” Wooyoung asks, breathing slowly to tamp down the familiar need. He loves his pack. He wants them together all the time. But even he understands the importance of personal space, independent schedules and goals, and spending time outside of being a pack. Even if he needs them together more often than some of his other mates might, he needs his alone time just as much. Sometimes. Not right now or any time in recent memory, but he’s not going to let how desperately he needs them intrude on the sacredness of a free day.
“I don’t know,” Seonghwa admits, voice just a bit twinged with nervousness as he pets Wooyoung’s hair. “It’s really starting to get to me though. It’s like there is… a persistent itch under my skin. It has me… on edge.”
San hums. “Is that why you snapped at one of the instructors during practice yesterday?”
It had startled all of them, but no one looked as surprised as Seonghwa did, like he didn’t hold any type of control over what had come out of his mouth, his tone, or his actions. He had apologized profusely, of course, without Hongjoong even needing to intervene, and the instructor, stepping away from Hongjoong and Yeosang with his hands raised, had accepted it with a gentle chuckle and said it was fine because Seonghwa had clearly not meant what he said. The instructor was even willing to write it off as a pre-rut sensitivity, and joked that he should know better than to touch an Alpha’s mates so casually. Except even in pre-rut, Seonghwa didn’t snap like that unless something was very, very wrong, but none of them had noticed anything being wrong or out of the ordinary for the practice. And even more except — Seonghwa’s rut wasn’t due for another two months, so they couldn’t even explain it away as a pre-rut Alpha Hormone Thing. (Though Hongjoong still treated it like it was, and had Seonghwa scent him, Yeosang, and Wooyoung for good measure, which did seem to improve Seonghwa’s mood slightly — though that also could have been due to the way Hongjoong cooed that he was such a good Alpha for keeping his mates safe.)
At San’s question, Seonghwa wilts, guilt and embarrassment clouding over his strong features. “Probably. I don’t think I would have if I didn’t already feel so… uneasy?”
“Is there something we can do to help?” Wooyoung offers. “Like, is there something that would make you feel better, or less on edge?”
“I’ve already tried trying to relax with a game and a new lego set but… I can’t unwind enough to let myself actually relax. Deep cleaning my entire room yesterday helped a bit…” Seonghwa glances around the room. His eyebrows twitch as he spots the glasses, then the blankets, then the fine layer of dust just starting to gather on the top of the TV. “I might feel better if things were… a bit more orderly out here too.”
Cleaning was not anywhere on Wooyoung’s agenda for an off day, nor was it anywhere in his realm of thought when he offered his help to Seonghwa, but he is more than willing to change his plans a bit if it meant helping his Alpha feel better.
“Do you want us to help you clean, Alpha?” Wooyoung drawls, smiling lazily up at Seonghwa.
“You don’t have to—”
“We’re offering,” San chimes in, sliding Wooyoung’s legs off his thighs. Wooyoung almost whines at the loss of direct contact, but he swallows it. “We’re happy to help.”
“Yep! Just put us to work, hyungie.”
And oh, Seonghwa does.
It starts small, with San taking the glasses to the kitchen sink to wash them, and Wooyoung shaking out and folding the blankets scattered over the couch and chairs. He does it almost happily, burrowing his face into each one as he pulls them into the air. A dark blue one that smells like San (Wooyoung has to stop himself from stealing it). The burgundy one that smells like a yungi cuddle session turned scenting session that may have got slightly too heated. The lightweight one that smells like Yeosang and Jongho. Seonghwa’s extremely soft light grey (he would call it chrome) blanket that smells so heavily of Hongjoong, Wooyoung can practically picture him falling asleep with it on the couch last night, again, instead of making it to his room. Wooyoung trills happily as he buries his face into it. It’s so warm and soft and smells like safety and protection and his precious Luna. (Wooyoung loses himself for a moment, standing there holding it and letting the scent envelop him, wanting nothing more than to fall onto the couch and curl up in it. San knocks him from his reverie, placing a hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder that snaps him out of his daydreams.)
Seonghwa dusts the TV. Then the shelves and bookcases. He asks San to wipe down the coffee table while he vacuums the floor. Wooyoung is sent to the kitchen to make sure the table and counters are clean (they are) (he wiped them down this morning, before and after cooking) (but at Seonghwa’s insistent gaze, Wooyoung cleans them again) (and the kitchen cupboard doors, for good measure).
Wooyoung, shuffling dishes and cups around uselessly until they’re lined up perfectly, thinks they’re done. They have to be done. San’s been tasked with straightening the shoes in the entryway. Seonghwa’s straightening everything on the shelves for fuck’s sake. They have to be done. It looks better. It even, he will admit, feels better in here. Cleaner. More open, or something like that. But as Seonghwa turns around, hands folded in front of him, fingers drumming on the back of his hand, and scans the room, Wooyoung can see it clear as day on Seonghwa’s pretty face — something is still wrong.
He takes the couch apart, cleaning under and between each cushion, before turning to said cushions and beating them down. San and Wooyoung stand by uselessly as he does the same to the pillows and exchange wordless glances as he puts the couch back together and fluffs the pillows.
It’s when his gaze falls on the blankets that Wooyoung finally stops him.
“Hyung, no,” Wooyoung says, grabbing Seonghwa’s arm. “They smell like the pack.”
“They still need to be cleaned, kitty. We can re-scent them afterward.”
Wooyoung whines — he’s never above whining — and pouts, and Seonghwa’s resolve falters slightly. Not enough to stop him from doing it, but enough to stop him from doing it right now, while Wooyoung is present.
Wooyoung knows it too, knows he’s won the battle but not the war. Knowing it, however, doesn’t stop Wooyoung from being frozen, appalled in the doorway, when he gets back to the apartment that night with Yeosang and Jongho.
No. Appalled doesn’t even begin to cover it.
He is outraged.
Everything — everything — from the entryway to the kitchen to the living room smells clean. Clean in a good way. Clean in a fresh, lovely new house way. Clean in a Does Not Smell Like Pack, Does Not Smell Like Home, Does Not Smell Safe And Warm And Happy way. Clean in a bad way. Clean in a very, very bad way.
And then everything smells like burning peach dumplings.
Wooyoung wants to scream, wants to track down that Alpha who insisted on purging the apartment of everything that smelled like the pack, wants to sink his teeth into him hard, wants to hiss and growl and curse him out.
…
Wooyoung wants to cry. He really, really wants to cry. His lungs heavy and hot, his throat dry and tight, his eyes glossy and tense.
But instead, he breathes deeply, angrily, and yanks Yeosang and Jongho into the living room behind him. He dumps them unceremoniously onto the couch and, ignoring their confused glances, immediately starts throwing the sterile-clean and oh so perfectly folded blankets on top of them.
“Scent,” he commands, trying not to sound too pissed off at them because it’s not their fault and he’s not mad at them at all, but it’s very, very hard to keep his voice level when Seonghwa emerges from somewhere deeper in the house, sporting wet hair and smelling like shower products and with patches of skin so red it looks like he nearly rubbed himself raw. Wooyoung wants to be worried about that detail. He does. Along with the fact that he can’t even smell the Alpha at the moment, but it’s very, very hard when he feels so violated and unmoored.
“Feeling better, Alpha?” Wooyoung does not snap or spit or growl, but it's a near thing. Yeosang looks frazzled from where Wooyoung’s pinned him, frantically tucking a blanket all the way up to his neck.
“No,” Seonghwa replies, wilted and miserable. Wooyoung can only imagine what Seonghwa would smell like — mossy, rotting wood and decaying roses — but he can’t actually smell him, can’t smell anything aside from his own burning spiced peaches.
Wooyoung’s attention snaps to Seonghwa. “What do you mean no?”
“I’m sorry, Wooyoung,” he says meekly, as if he’s afraid of the furious Omega. Good. He should be. “It didn’t help.”
“You did aaaaaaaaaall this,” Wooyoung gestures violently around the room, “for nothing?!”
He withers even further. Some would call it hilarious, to see an Alpha cowering under an Omega’s rage. Wooyoung would call it heartbreaking, to see Seonghwa look so distraught and weak, if he was capable of thinking clearly at all.
“What’s wrong?” Yeosang finally gets out, now free of Wooyoung’s smothers.
Seonghwa whimpers and Wooyoung takes a step toward him — to do what, he has no idea — but Jongho is quicker, reaching out and catching Wooyoung’s hips, forcing him to tumble forward, down into Yeosang’s waiting arms and his instantly pacifying petrichor. The traitors.
“Seonghwa-hyung,” Jongho starts, almost aggressively polite, almost snarling as his instincts to protect his distressed Omega flare to life. He’d probably be standing, facing Seonghwa down, if Wooyoung hadn’t clearly wanted him on the couch. “It seems like you’ve greatly upset Wooyoung-hyung. I hope you have a good reason for…” He glances around the room, really taking it in for the first time since he’d been dragged in. When he opens his mouth again, he clearly tries to keep his voice collected and commanding, but confusion seeps through the edges. “...deep cleaning the entire apartment?”
“Something feels wrong!” Seonghwa whispers, voice cracked and frayed, and smothered in something that is not quite a whine, but equally as heartrending. It scratches at Wooyoung’s tumult of emotions, and makes Yeosang’s hold tighten, ever so slightly. “Something is making me feel uneasy — anxious. And I can’t figure out what.”
“Something with the pack?” Jongho asks, his mind instantly following Wooyoung's earlier train of thought.
Seonghwa shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so? It doesn’t feel like that. I don’t know what it is.”
“What the— oh, what? Mingi—” Yunho’s voice resounds from the entryway, followed quickly by Mingi’s reply.
“On it.” The door closes, hard, the reverberation shattering something in Wooyoung — something that cries out at the idea of a packmate leaving the apartment, when everyone should be here, inside, safe, together.
A moment later, Yunho comes rushing into the living room, hand pressed over his mouth and nose, pausing for only a moment to take in the scene before him — Seonghwa, their Pack Alpha, standing dejected in the hallway leading to the bathrooms, his hair still dripping and patches of his skin a startling shade of red. Jongho, their baby Alpha, staring him down from the couch. Yeosang, also on the couch, holding a completely enraged Wooyoung, whom he is seemingly trying to calm through soft words and his soothing Beta scent. Every blanket in the living room piled on top of them.
“What,” Yunho says, looking around the room in complete confusion, “is going on?”
“Seonghwa-hyung washed all the blankets, so Wooyoungie wants us to re-scent them,” Yeosang answers and Wooyoung almost laughs. That is absolutely not the most important thing for Yunho to know about what is going on right now, but, from Yeosang’s perspective, maybe it is the most important. Wooyoung is upset about the blankets not smelling like the pack. Fixing that would help him come back down faster than trying to solve whatever Alpha stand-off is going on over his head.
Yunho nods, slowly. “We can do that. It’s okay, Youngie. We can make them smell like us again. They do need to get washed regularly.”
“But not all at once!” Wooyoung snaps, the overwhelming smell of burning peach pastries rotting ever so slightly as sorrow bubbles up through his anger.
That is the one rule. The golden rule. The rule everyone knows. They all agreed that blankets, sheets, clothes, and nesting components all need to be cleaned, especially after the mess of a heat or a rut — but not all at once. Never all at once. Everything needs to be washed in phases, in sets, to ensure something that still smelled like them remained. Then the clean items then need to be re-scented and reintroduced to wherever they came from before anything else is removed. It is a delicate process. It is basically law. And Seonghwa broke it.
Yeosang tugs Wooyoung closer, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. Wooyoung, in no mood to be pacified, strains against his hold for a moment, but Yeosang’s strong arms and fresh scent drain him of his will to put up a fight. More than that, it cuts his anger in half, replacing it with the betrayal and pain of Seonghwa’s offense. He shakes slightly in Yeosang’s arms.
“You better not have touched the nest.” Jongho shoots Seonghwa a pointed look.
“I didn’t,” Seonghwa protests, weakly. Too weakly. It gives him away.
“But you wanted to!” Wooyoung accuses, wrenching himself up from Yeosang’s scent glands, tears pooling fiercely in his eyes. He’s seconds away from growling when large hands wrap around him, pulling him against a strong back, and one of his favorite scents, fresh-cut eucalyptus, swirls around him. Yeosang leans forward, trapping Wooyoung between him and San, drowning him in rain and eucalyptus, and it’s like a lever is switched: Wooyoung sobs once, collapsing between them and wrapping his arms around Yeosang, and the air suddenly feels, smells, lighter.
Somewhere in the distance, Wooyoung is aware of Mingi panting slightly.
“Good job getting San,” Yunho praises.
“I’m glad we passed him on the way in.”
“Wooyoungie, you’re reacting really strongly to this. Are you in pre-heat?” Yeosang whispers, voice so low and pleasant in his ear.
Wooyoung shakes his head. He shouldn’t be. He should have another month at least before he has to worry about that, even considering that his heat had been a bit early last time.
“Now that Wooyoung is more settled—” Oh, Wooyoung wants to bite him so bad for that — maybe he will later, when Yunho’s least expecting it. “—does someone want to tell us what’s really going on? Why did Seonghwa wash all the blankets at once?”
“It looks like he cleaned the whole place,” Mingi adds. “It smells… weird in here.”
Wooyoung whines again, pitifully, and while he doesn’t produce any actual, logical sounds — only tear stained noises — Yeosang understands anyway.
“Wooyoung is upset because it doesn’t smell like the pack anymore,” Yeosang reports as San continues to scent and whisper reassurances to his crying mate.
“Okay,” Yunho says, nodding, like he’s just been handed a precious piece of a puzzle. “Hyung, do you want to tell us why you cleaned the entire apartment?”
Yunho’s voice is low and careful, as deferential and respectful as he should be toward his Pack Alpha, but with enough care and authority to show that he’s not requesting Seonghwa’s answer out of a challenge. He’s doing it for the good of the pack, and the Pack Alpha should recognize that.
“Something feels wrong!” Seonghwa wails. Wooyoung’s not sure if it’s due to frustration at his situation or at having to repeat himself.
“Wrong?” Yunho questions. “With the—”
“No!”
“We already asked,” San clarifies.
“Twice,” Wooyoung mumbles, sniffling hard.
“Then what’s wrong?” Yunho, the sweetheart, sounds so confused. Wooyoung picks his head up as he hears movement and sees Yunho crossing the living room with soft eyes and spread arms. Seonghwa falls into them with something that could be a cry of relief or a groan of pain. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Me either,” Jongho says. “Nothing feels wrong to me.”
“What do you mean by ‘wrong,’ hyung?” Mingi asks, also sliding up closer to the couch. He stands close to San, just close enough for toasted marshmallows to lick at Wooyoung’s senses.
“Wrong doesn’t feel like the right word. It’s more like something feels off — like something is out of place or different than before. It’s been bothering me for a few days, and today it just felt… unbearable.” Seonghwa shudders. “Especially after Wooyoung left, I felt extremely anxious.”
“So you cleaned house?”
“It usually makes me feel better, but this time it didn’t. I felt even worse afterward. Not just uneasy and nervous, but like there was something wrong inside me.” His voice becomes barely more than a whisper. “It feels like my chest is being ripped apart.”
“Is that why…” Yunho’s eyes fall to Seonghwa’s exposed arms and neck. His raw, red skin.
“Shit…”
“Jongho, can you get the first aid kit?”
“Yes.” The pressure on the couch shifts.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Seonghwa whimpers, leaning further into Yunho’s steadying arms. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Take your shirt off,” Yunho instructs. “We can deal with that in a moment. First, let me see you.”
Yunho’s sharp inhale isn’t promising, but Jongho quickly assures them that it looks worse than it is. He didn’t break skin, but his chest, arms, and neck were going to be sensitive to the touch, like a rug burn. His scent glands got the worst of it, being scratched raw — an angry red with welts of blood dotting just under the surface. They lead him to the kitchen, where the lighting is better, and sit him down at the table so they can work.
Seonghwa is still and silent under their care, but Wooyoung can see it’s not easy. His body naturally wants to flinch at Yunho’s careful touch and pull away from the application of a soothing cream, but Seonghwa forces himself to endure it, like it’s a penance for his actions.
Wooyoung withers and whines at the thought, shoving lightly at San and Yeosang in a request for them to let him go. They exchange a silent look over his head, likely gauging if Wooyoung was still upset enough to cause a fight if he’s released. Which, given his track record, is a valid concern to have, but yelling at or biting Seonghwa is nowhere in his head at the moment. And they must see that in his eyes, still locked on Seonghwa’s barely shaking frame, because San’s arms loosen around his torso and Yeosang pulls back from his smothering hug. Wooyoung misses it — them — instantly, and the warmth and safety they give him, but his Alpha is suffering, his hyung is in pain, Seonghwa feels so guilty, and Wooyoung cannot let that stand.
He untangles himself from the couch and swings around it, approaching the kitchen tentatively. Seonghwa’s eyes lift from where he’s watching Yunho’s steady hands, and although guilt hasn’t really left his expression, it deepens significantly once his gaze lands on Wooyoung. Despite knowing he was in the right, the pain in Seonghwa’s eyes and frown is enough to make Wooyoung’s chest ache.
“I’m sorry for washing everything at once,” Seonghwa says, for the second time. “I wasn’t thinking straight — but that’s not an excuse.”
Wooyoung glances down at Seonghwa’s rubbed-raw torso and bites back yeah, I can see you weren’t thinking straight. He takes a deep breath instead and looks back up at Seonghwa’s almost-watery eyes. “It’s okay. We can fix it. I’m sorry for being so… upset.”
Seonghwa shakes his head, frown deepening. “You were right to be. You specifically asked me not to do it, and I did it anyway.”
“Yeah, you did. And I'm still mad about that.” Wooyoung crosses his arms; it almost feels like he’s holding his chest together, keeping his heart from leaking out between his ribs. “But it’s fixable. We can scent them again. So I’m sorry for lashing out at you.”
“Thank you, but there is nothing for you to be apologizing for, Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa whispers, insists, smiling faintly. “You weren’t in the wrong.”
Wooyoung crosses his arms, scowling. It’s not that he doesn’t somewhat agree with Seonghwa — because he does — but with his semi-soothed mind, even Wooyoung can look back and say his reaction was… a bit of an overreaction, considering how distraught Seonghwa was, and still is, over whatever it is that’s worming through his mind. Wooyoung knew something was wrong, knew what Seonghwa wanted to do, knew that he had not been persuasive enough in stopping him. He knew what he was going to come home to find. So he shouldn’t have been so surprised, so angry, to come back and find it done, and his reaction was… warranted, but excessive.
“Accept my apology, hyung,” Wooyoung insists as guilt ripples through him, followed quickly by tidal waves of a need to comfort his distressed Alpha — to ease the pain he must be in, even if he can’t take it away completely.
Seonghwa shakes his head. “It’s not—”
“I will agree with you that my anger is not my fault, but my reaction is.” Wooyoung’s tone is sharper, harder than he intends. He softens it. “You were hurting and trying to make it stop. And I yelled at you over it. If Yeosang and Jongho didn’t stop me, I would have attacked you over it, and you would have let me.”
Seonghwa doesn’t deny it.
“I feel guilty for it. I should have controlled myself better. Please let me apologize for it.”
Seonghwa hesitates for a moment and Wooyoung tries not to bite the inside of his cheek in worry.
“Okay,” he eventually says, quietly. “Thank you for apologizing. I’m not mad at you, but I appreciate you wanting to make things right.
I’m sorry for hurting you in the first place.” He tacks on, because even at Wooyoung’s request, Seonghwa can’t let the blame go unchallenged. Or perhaps, like Wooyoung, his guilt won’t let him take that lying down.
“I accept your apology, hyung. I don’t like that you’re hurting so much you did something you would never think of doing normally. I want to make it better, if I can.” Wooyoung scans Seonghwa’s body carefully, expression softening, a whine almost building in his throat as he truly surveys the damage. “Can I touch you?”
“His back is fine,” Yunho answers, moving over slightly to work at Seonghwa’s left arm. “Can someone get Seonghwa-hyung a long sleeve shirt? A soft one, to keep everything covered.”
There is a quick burst of chatter, and San extracts himself from the couch and heads to the bedrooms.
“San’s on it,” Wooyoung reports, turning back to Seonghwa with an imploring gaze. His answer comes in the form of a stuttering nod.
Wooyoung circles around him slowly, brushing up against Seonghwa’s back. He doesn’t know where to put his hands with most, if not all, of his default places to touch covered in ointment, so Wooyoung settles for (carefully) crowding up against Seonghwa’s back, leaning into him with his arms folded (carefully) over the back of the chair, tucked between their bodies, and resting his cheek on the top of Seonghwa’s head. It’s not as close as he wanted, (not as connected, not as curled up in his Alpha's lap, secure in his arms, and nose buried against his scent gland), but it’s close enough that his safe and warm spicy peach scent and the aftermath of Yeosang and San’s scenting session fall down around Seonghwa’s head, bathing him in the calm smell of his Betas and Omega.
Seonghwa inhales deeply, and on his exhale, Wooyoung can see some of his held tension fade away from his slumping shoulders, the stress detangling from his muscles. Yunho must feel it under his careful fingertips — he looks up as he finishes. “Maybe you should sleep with the Betas tonight. They might help you relax.”
“Having everyone home safe may help too,” Jongho suggests, neatly repacking and closing up the first aid kit.
Wooyoung almost purrs at the thought. They’d been so busy lately, with so many days in a row of someone(s) coming home extremely late (a certain someone in particular was being particularly bad about his sleep schedule lately) or having unit or solo work that left them sleeping in a hotel somewhere away from home. It had been too long since they’d all slept together, curled up in the nest, safe and warm and happy.
He wants it. Needs it. He needs it so badly, for Seonghwa and for himself.
“Wooyoungie seems to think it’s a good idea,” San says as he joins them in the kitchen, three different shirts draped over his arm. He offers each one to Seonghwa, giving him the final say over which material would feel the best on his skin.
Seonghwa touches each one carefully and picks a dark green one that Wooyoung is pretty sure is actually San’s, but individual clothing items weren’t exactly a thing in their apartment anymore. If anything, items found their way back to their original owner only to be doused in their scent again before they were stolen, traded, or given right back. Wooyoung himself was a chief instigator in these exchanges and his wardrobe probably contained more of his pack’s clothes than his own.
San sets the other two aside in order to help Seonghwa stand and pull the shirt on without irritating his skin or the ointment too much. It takes a moment — mostly because in order for Seonghwa to get it on they have to move Wooyoung, and Wooyoung complains the whole ten seconds he’s away from his hyung — but Seonghwa is soon reclothed, Wooyoung is back to curling against his back (this time with his arms carefully wrapped around Seonghwa’s stomach and his face pressed between Seonghwa’s shoulder blades), and San is running a hand through Wooyoung’s long hair gently, scratching lightly behind his ears and at the base of his neck. It’s only then that Wooyoung realizes his almost purring had become actually purring at some point.
“We should all cuddle with hyung and make him feel safe, right Youngie?”
Wooyoung nods furiously against Seonghwa’s back.
“All of us,” Wooyoung mumbles absently, almost humming each syllable. It’s been so long since they were all together, and while Wooyoung’s had his fair share of one-on-one time with all his packmates in the meantime, it wasn’t the same as when they all got to spend time together. His Alphas, his Betas, his Luna—
It hits him like a bucket of ice water being poured over his head — hard and shocking and painful, then slowly creeping dread, like the ice had slipped inside his shirt and was sliding down his spine. His purring stops immediately, and he snaps his head up, looking around the room frantically. “A-All of us — we’re not — where’s Hongjoong-hyung?”
It’s not like he wasn't aware of or didn’t notice Hongjoong’s absence, but with his fluctuating mental state and the subconscious knowledge that Hongjoong often comes home much later than everyone else, the lack of sweet lemons and a steady, secure presence wasn’t flagged as something to be overly concerned about. Now though, with the events of the day unfolding as they had and the suggestion of pack cuddles in the air and Hongjoong not being here — it’s all he can think about. Hongjoong’s not here. His Luna isn’t here. He needs him. He needs to be with him. Where is his Luna? Why isn’t he here? He needs him — he needs him right now.
Like clockwork, Wooyoung’s sudden plunge back into distress turns his scent again, and all three Alphas in the room bristle at the impact. Seonghwa spins quickly in Wooyoung’s loosening hold, his worry-filled eyes matching the mixed looks of panic and protectiveness that flitter across Yunho’s and Jongho’s faces. Seonghwa grabs Wooyoung’s trembling hands; San pulls him back against his chest just as quickly, hushing Wooyoung’s sudden and seemingly uncontrollable whimpers.
“H-Hongjoong-hyung, Luna, I—”
“Hongjoong’s still at the studio, Youngie,” Yunho says, his voice and driftwood scent laced with pacification. There’s a battle clearly waging in his body, as he reaches out toward Wooyoung then pauses, glancing down at his cream coated hands. With great effort, he makes himself turn away, and, with likely even greater effort, walks — instead of runs — to the sink to wash his hands.
“Need him,” Wooyoung’s cry is broken and plaintive. How could he make them understand? It isn’t a want. It’s a need, carved into his bones and blazing through his veins. He doesn’t know why. His Luna just needs to be here, right now, with him, with the pack, together.
“We’ll call him, Youngie, and ask him to come home.”
Wooyoung nods and Jongho and San usher everyone back into the living room, landing in a pile on the couch. The pack dutifully spreads out and shares the blankets, reclines across pillows, nuzzles into cushions, pouring life and love back into the stale fabrics. Wooyoung’s not sure where everyone fell, but he knows he is nestled between San and Yunho, and he saw Yeosang open his arms when Seonghwa approached, and he knows Mingi’s somewhere to the left, phone out as he dials Hongjoong’s number.
He knows Mingi tries again.
He knows Mingi’s frowning.
“Hongjoong’s not answering,” Mingi reports, brows pulled down in concern.
Wooyoung tries to let the information wash over him, tries to rationalize it, tries to accept that it’s normal — he puts his phone on do not disturb if he’s recording something, his phone dies if he’s not paying attention to the battery level, he doesn’t always hear or see it if it’s stashed in his bag or forgotten in a different room.
But he can’t help it. Anxiety pools in his stomach — and he’s not the only one. There is a collective sour note to the scents flooding the room, a collective upset that Hongjoong is absent and unreachable.
“He’s been pretty bad at coming home on time lately,” Seonghwa says quietly. He doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment and disapproval — he’s made real progress over the last couple years on getting Hongjoong to come home and spend time with the pack more often. But with their schedule as packed as it is and Hongjoong taking on more and more responsibilities, late nights, especially during comeback-prep, are still common. They all understand and all try to be okay with it, but it still gets to them to have their Luna out late and likely not taking care of himself.
“Well, it is Hongjoong-hyung. It’d be more unexpected if he was home on time,” San rationalizes, rubbing Wooyoung’s back. His voice doesn’t sound as calm as it did before, but he’s clearly trying to keep his tone light. “When I saw him this afternoon, he said he had a lot to do today.”
“Hyung often gets caught up in his work,” Mingi agrees, despite the slight burning of his toasted marshmallows. “He’ll come back home soon.”
Hongjoong does not come back soon.
Seonghwa finally takes charge and ushers everyone to bed. San, Yeosang, and Mingi, at Yunho’s pointed look, whisk Seonghwa away to the nest for some mandated, forced Beta destressification. They invite Wooyoung with them, but he just shakes his head. He doesn’t want to intrude, doesn’t want to let his own emotions smother their efforts to settle Seonghwa, doesn’t want to lay with people he loves and ultimately feel unsatisfied, as his heart still fixates on and solely aches for his missing Luna. Yunho and Jongho also offer to stay with him, but Wooyoung declines as he refolds the blankets. They smell too much like distress. They’ll need to be washed again.
Hongjoong does not come back that night at all.
The pack didn’t want to leave him alone, but Wooyoung sent them away and may or may not have implied that he would go find one of them when he was done in the kitchen. He doesn’t though. His legs, when he finally leaves the living room, take him exactly where he knew they would — Hongjoong’s room. He throws himself into Hongjoong’s bed, smothers himself in his Luna’s scent, and tries to fall asleep.
Wooyoung wakes up alone in the morning, exhausted and enveloped loosely in sweet cocktail lemon. It’s prevalent, simply due to it being Hongjoong’s room, but it’s not fresh. Hongjoong didn’t sleep here last night, nor the night before. But it almost smells weaker than that, as if he hadn’t slept in his room all week. It’s not as comforting as it normally would be, not as warming and safe. It feels stale. It feels wrong.
Wooyoung showers and eats in a stupor, mind twisted up and focus scattered between lingering anxiety from the night before and new worries blooming painfully in his chest. San can tell there’s something wrong when they meet in the kitchen, San and Yeosang ready to drag Seonghwa to the gym under the belief that he can physically work out whatever’s in his system. He asks Wooyoung if he’s okay and Wooyoung lies through his teeth — and San knows it. But he doesn’t push. He understands that sometimes Wooyoung gets a hole inside of him, a void eating away at him, an emptiness that he needs his Luna to fill. He also knows that Wooyoung hates to admit it, hates to mention it, hates the implication that the rest of the pack isn’t enough to help him — even though he knows it’s not that they’re not enough, they are, it’s just that the affection and care and connection he needs is different and Hongjoong-specific.
He still accepts San and Yeosang’s scenting though, and even beckons Seonghwa over from where he’s waiting meekly in the corner, unsure if his touch and scent would be wanted and allowed.
Seonghwa beams, as much as a smile can look beaming when twinged with sadness and distress, and gently pulls Wooyoung into his arms. He apologizes again and gingerly adds his vanilla-wood to the rain splattered eucalyptus swirling around Wooyoung’s shoulders and neck. Wooyoung tells him that he doesn’t need to apologize, and says they can cook dinner together tonight, to make it up to each other. Seonghwa’s smile is soft and fond when he leaves, San and Yeosang waving goodbye.
Wooyoung lets silence fill the apartment for five minutes while he washes the dishes and collects his belongings. Then he leaves.
Hongjoong’s studio is always open to his packmates, but Wooyoung still knocks on the door when he arrives. He expects that he will not hear a reply (if Hongjoong’s headphones were on) or that he will hear a universal come in. He does not expect to smell rotting lemons, even through the closed door. He absolutely does not expect to hear a tired, disgruntled sigh when he cracks open the door, followed by “if you’re not Wooyoung, go away.”
Part of him wants to flush with delight that Hongjoong specifically wants to see him. Another part of him shivers, wondering if Hongjoong feels the same emptiness he does, and the same pull to be near each other.
“It’s me, Luna,” Wooyoung says, slipping inside and shutting the door. He wants to leave it open, wants to air out the depression coating every inch of the room, but he also doesn’t want to flood the building with Hongjoong’s upset or expose him to anyone he doesn’t want to see.
“Oh thank The Moon.” The relief in Hongjoong’s tone is practically palpable in the air — and maybe it is. The smell of rotting lemons is even stronger inside, but there is a flush of something else entwined as well, something Wooyoung can’t pinpoint but that he knows means Hongjoong is glad he’s there.
Closing the door plunges them into semi-darkness. The lights are off in the studio, and so is Hongjoong’s computer. It takes Wooyoung’s eyes a moment to adjust to the low light provided by an accent strip, but once they do, he easily finds Hongjoong, curled up on the couch, arms raised toward Wooyoung.
He all but collapses onto Hongjoong, letting his Luna tug him close and tuck them together, shifting restlessly as noses press to necks, hands slide over waists and shoulders, breath warms collarbones and lips. They settle after a moment, Wooyoung's head finding the crook of Hongjoong's shoulder (one of his favorite spots) and Hongjoong's face pressed into his hair. Wooyoung drapes his arms lovingly across Hongjoong's chest, and Hongjoong's cradle the back of his neck and wrap tight around his waist to keep him in place; his breath warm on Hongjoong's chest and each of Hongjoong's exhales slightly ruffles his hair. And finally, finally, inhaling Hongjoong’s scent — as rotten and spoiled as it smells, instead of its usual sharp-sweet cocktail twist — Wooyoung feels something in him settle.
“I didn’t sleep much last night,” Wooyoung admits, nosing at Hongjoong's neck again, desperate to find the sweet, content lemon under all the anxiety and turmoil. “I was in your bed, but you weren’t there.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” Hongjoong murmurs, kissing Wooyoung’s forehead. “I didn’t sleep well either.”
“Really? From the smell I couldn’t tell.” Hongjoong’s soft lips are replaced with perfect teeth, biting down lightly on his ear, but with the force of a quick scolding. Wooyoung giggles.
“Brat,” Hongjoong says, with absolutely no weight behind it. He tightens his hold on Wooyoung’s waist, meshing them even closer together. “What’s your schedule today?”
“Group dance practice,” Wooyoung exhales, slowly. Yunho mentioned that they should cancel it last night, considering Seonghwa and Wooyoung’s emotional states. But that was usually Hongjoong’s call, as both their pack leader and captain, and Hongjoong was usually the one to actually make the call to management. Without him there, and with no one wanting to suggest-slash-manifest that the anxiety curling around their Pack Alpha and baby Omega would still be present tomorrow, the topic stagnated. Yunho said they’d revisit the idea tomorrow, after everyone had some time to rest.
Hongjoong nods, or at least he makes an attempt, rocking his chin against Wooyoung’s head. “So you’re free until then?”
“Yeah.”
“Then close your eyes, baby.” Hongjoong shifts slightly, tightening his hold — a silent promise that Wooyoung is safe to relax here; that Hongjoong won’t let him fall. “Take a nap.”
“Only if you do too.”
“Of course I will. Why do you think I wanted to see you?”
I needed you.
“Why didn’t you come back home last night?” Wooyoung can’t stop himself from asking. If Hongjoong needed him, he could have come home. He could have called. Wooyoung would have come running to him. Wooyoung had been waiting for him.
“Hush. Sleep now. Talk later.”
It is a compelling argument, and one that Wooyoung lets himself be carried away on far too easily, finally safe and grounded by his Luna.
Wooyoung isn’t sure how long he slept. It doesn’t feel like it could have been that long, given how easily his consciousness resurfaces, but it also feels like it could have been days, considering how absolutely boneless his limbs feel. Time always passes strangely in Hongjoong’s studio, to the point where he can’t really blame Hongjoong for losing track of it so easily.
Hongjoong is still wrapped in his arms. The room still smells of distress, but it’s faded slightly, replaced by a more content sweet-sour fruity smell. The couch isn’t particularly comfortable and there is a constant buzzing in the back of Wooyoung’s head craving the safety of a proper nest, but Hongjoong is so warm in his arms and the steady rise and fall of his chest is soothing. Wooyoung could easily go back to sleep like this — and considering no one is blowing up his phone asking where he is, he figures he must still have time, so he buries himself back into Hongjoong, nuzzling sweetly into his scent gland. Hongjoong releases something between a sigh and a mewl, but otherwise remains asleep, so Wooyoung continues, nuzzling and nestling and breathing deeply as he lulls himself back into unconsciousness.
Hongjoong always smells so good. Lemon, but not pungent, like cleaners. Sweet, smooth lemon, undercut with something sharp and balancing — a sugar rimmed lemon drop, sweet to the taste. And oh, does Wooyoung love to taste. But he is being good, only inhaling deeply, drawing that sugary sweetness into his lungs, that sugary lemon scent that is undercut with… something else. Not the burned lemon orchard scent Hongjoong got when he was mad, not the sharp rotting fruit scent he shared with Wooyoung when he was upset, not the complex combinations Wooyoung had smelled before as Hongjoong flitted through all his emotions, from super-sweet joy to mouth puckering embarrassment to faintly grated lemon rind when he felt helpless and alone. No, this was something else. Something new. Something soft and smooth, like a lemon cream soda.
A lemon cream soda?
Wooyoung jolts back as far as Hongjoong’s relaxed hold will allow him, his mind very much awake and kicking into overdrive at the implication of what the addition of cream, of milk, means for Hongjoong’s scent.
“Hyung,” Wooyoung whisper-calls, lightly shaking Hongjoong’s shoulder.
Hongjoong’s delicate brows pinch slightly, a sleep coated mumble of protest leaking from his lips.
“Hongjoong-hyung,” Wooyoung tries again, leaning down and taking another deep breath, pulling more of that lemon cream into his lungs. He can’t help the purr that starts to rumble deep in his chest, nor can he help the kiss he places on Hongjoong’s jaw. “Luna.”
Hongjoong seems to sigh, his breath rolling out slowly like the morning fog as his eyes slowly blink open. He looks so beautiful like this, in those first moments of wakefulness, before the annoyance at being woken up creeps into his features. Wooyoung’s expecting it, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Hongjoong’s bleary eyes focus on Wooyoung’s face and he smiles, warm and pleasant, as he pulls Wooyoung back down to scent him lovingly.
“Hyung,” Wooyoung forces out around his increasing purrs.
“Wooyoungie.” Wooyoung can feel each syllable form against his neck.
“Hongjoong-hyung.” Wooyoung intends for it to be a protest, but it comes out more like a whimper. He can’t help it. He’s always been weak to Hongjoong’s affections and charisma and commands and… just all of Hongjoong, really.
“My lovely Wooyoungie…”
Hongjoong nuzzles him, and a sharp gasp of surprise bursts from Wooyoung’s lips, followed by pleased laughter.
“Are you half asleep still, Luna? You’re being more affectionate than you are… ever.”
It is half a lie. At the beginning, when the group had only just formed and the idea of becoming a pack wasn’t yet a thought in anyone’s head, Hongjoong was scarce with his affection, only showing them on rare occasions or when he or Wooyoung were in pre-heat. Moments like this were something Wooyoung could only dream of, and even then he wouldn’t dare, lest he get his hopes up for nothing. But as they grew closer as a pack, as time passed and Hongjoong’s tough walls relaxed, he became more open and deliberate with his affections, and all of Wooyoung’s wildest fantasies slowly came true.
“Just happy to see my baby,” Hongjoong almost purrs, his eyes fluttering closed again. But at Hongjooong’s use of that particular nickname, Wooyoung’s thoughts are snapped back on track.
“Hongjoong-hyung.” Wooyoung pulls back slightly again, hovering just above Hongjoong, and waits until Hongjoong opens his eyes again. He tilts his head cutely, silently relenting and asking Wooyoung what he wants to say. “You smell different.”
Recognition sparks in Hongjoong’s eyes, but he tries to cover it with a slow blink. It doesn’t matter. Wooyoung is persistent. “Different?”
“You smell like a lemon cream soda.”
“Specific,” Hongjoong muses, tugging lightly at Wooyoung’s arms in a plea for him to lay back down.
“Cream, Luna. Milk.”
Hongjoong sighs, his soft, sleep-kissed features melting away into that ever-persistent pout. The lemon-cream sours, almost curdles.
“I know.”
“Are you—?”
“I haven’t… taken a test yet,” Hongjoong whispers, cutting him off before Wooyoung can say the word. “But…”
But if his scent is changing so distinctively that Wooyoung is starting to smell it, that Hongjoong himself is able to tell, he probably doesn’t need to.
Hongjoong is pregnant.
“You should still take one,” Wooyoung finds himself saying, as if he was any one of their other mates who would want them to be absolutely certain of it before they got too worked up. “Just in case.”
“I…” Hongjoong flounders, his scent souring, rotting in anguish.
“Hyungie, what’s wrong?”
“I’m scared,” he whispers.
“Scared?” Wooyoung repeats. “Scared to take the test, or scared of the answer?”
“Of what it means for us.”
The moment the final sound leaves Hongjoong’s lips, laced with misery and barely spoken fear. The pleasant lemon Wooyoung had been enjoying nose dives back into far too sweet, rotting, spoiled lemons.
Scared is an understatement.
Hongjoong is terrified.
When Wooyoung lets himself think about it, he can’t blame him. This would change everything. Wooyoung knows most of the pack, himself included, has always wanted pups, but the pack as a whole has never seriously talked about having pups — whenever it came up, it was always a mix of hypothetical and a someday that would be nice for us thing. Not a middle of their career and very unplanned thing. Their schedule for the year would have to be redone, their next comeback and tour completely shifted or postponed, the choreography altered to accommodate Hongjoong, unless they decided to just put him on hiatus instead, if not the whole group. They’d have to move, or at least reorganize the apartment to accommodate a pup, and there would be shopping and planning and doctor's appointments and… so, so much.
But they had each other. They would figure this out. They always did. Hongjoong knows that more than any of them.
But Hongjoong’s crying.
“Hyung, hey, it’s okay,” Wooyoung coos, lowering himself back toward Hongjoong. He tries, and fails, to not be overly aware of where their stomachs press together and the fleeting acknowledgement that there’s (probably) a pup in there!! “We’ll figure everything out. We’ll make it work.”
“But… what if…” Hongjoong pauses, his breath shaky. His body locks up, and Wooyoung knows Hongjoong isn’t sure if he wants to say what he’s about to say. “What if… they’re mad?”
“They?” Wooyoung asks softly. “KQ?”
It’s… possible. Unplanned pregnancies are never ideal in their line of work, but the industry has come a long way from secret, forced abortions and spontaneous disbandments to keep idol images intact, and it was becoming more recognized that if idol groups are also packs, it was bound to happen. But still — agencies tended to prefer if it was a bit later in their careers and intentionally planned and they knew about the chance in advance.
But Hongjoong shakes his head and looks anywhere but at Wooyoung’s face.
“The pack…”
Wooyoung almost couldn’t hear him.
He almost wishes he didn’t.
“What?” Wooyoung shoots up, rolling back onto his hips and propping himself up in a more seated position. Hongjoong cries out harder at the loss, arms reaching out desperately for him, until Wooyoung pulls him up as well, trying to keep his touch gentle with his possibly stupid but clearly emotionally fragile hyung, as he repositions Hongjoong’s lithe body until he’s sitting in front of Wooyoung, bent legs interlocking. “Hyung, why… why would you think the pack would be mad?”
Hongjoong opens his mouth, and for the second time in two days, Wooyoung is irrationally furious at Park Seonghwa.
Hongjoong had gone home yesterday, sometime in-between after Wooyoung had left to meet Yeosang and Jongho and before they’d all gotten back. He’d spent an hour in his studio nursing day four of a progressively worse headache and nausea every time he thought about eating something. Under normal circumstances, he’d force himself through it and keep working, but given the theory, as Hongjoong put it, that had popped into his head three days ago, and which had rapidly become the leading theory yesterday when he threw up immediately after waking up, he gave up and headed home, intending to find Wooyoung or Seonghwa to confide in and who would force him to take a pregnancy test.
When he got home, Wooyoung had already left. And the apartment that had previously smelled so vibrantly of their pack… didn’t.
“It felt… wrong,” Hongjoong says, and oh, Wooyoung is so sick of hearing that, but he also knows exactly what Hongjoong means. Their home didn’t smell like home anymore. It didn’t smell inviting and warm and safe. If it had hit Wooyoung as hard as it did coming home that night, he could only imagine how his pregnant (!!!) Luna must have felt walking into that sterile living room. He must have felt so tense and fragile, like the apartment wasn’t his home and wasn’t safe for the pup.
San found him standing there, looking around, and warned him that Seonghwa was on a cleaning spree. Even with the explanation, Hongjoong was on edge; Seonghwa’s cleaning sprees were never this intense before. He fell completely off when San answered his question of why. That Seonghwa said over the last few days, something had felt wrong and it was making him uneasy and upset.
“I panicked and told San I had work to do and left before he could smell me and start asking questions,” Hongjoong says. “I didn’t even realize why I ran away until I got here.”
Wooyoung puts the rest of the pieces together easily — Hongjoong had been feeling sick over the last few days; Seonghwa said something wrong had been making him upset over the last few days; Hongjoong’s already strained mind assumed he and his pup were the source of the wrong feeling, given that his condition was the only new development in the pack and that Alphas, particularly Pack Alphas, were supposed to be able to smell or feel or pick up on their Omega’s pregnancies.
“I’m going to kill Seonghwa,” Wooyoung says, and Hongjoong, still loyal to his beloved pack and mate, shoots him a look and whine-growls unhappily. Wooyoung ignores it, opting instead to cup Hongjoong’s tearstained cheeks. “Luna, do you really think the pack would be mad at you?”
“N-no…” Hongjoong trips over the word, open and direct honesty never feeling right on his tongue.
“Do you think Park Seonghwa would be mad at you for being pregnant?”
“No.” The response comes easier and quicker, along with a ghost of a smile, like Hongjoong finally realizes what a ridiculous notion that even was.
“That’s absolutely right. He loves pups, and even if he didn’t, he loves you. He would never be mad at you for this, Hongjoongie-hyung.”
“But—”
“But nothing. I have no idea what’s going on with him right now but I am absolutely going to give him hell for making my Luna so scared,” Wooyoung wraps his arms around Hongjoong again, holding him tight to his chest. Hongjoong inhales sharply at first, but as he exhales, he slowly lets himself melt against Wooyoung and enjoy being held. He even buries his head into Wooyoung’s scent gland, seeking the comfort of spice-marinated peaches. “The pack isn’t going to be mad. They’re going to support anything you want to do. If you want to keep it, we’ll figure out how to make it work. If you don’t, we’ll support you through it.”
Hongjoong nods slowly against Wooyoung’s shoulder, slow at first, then quicker as he actually accepts what Wooyoung is saying.
Early in their pack days, Hongjoong told Wooyoung, curled up on his bed while Wooyoung tried to coax him out, that Wooyoung, so much more Omega than Hongjoong, was a better fit for Luna than he could ever be. After biting him in protest and scolding him fiercely for even suggesting it, Wooyoung affirmed that no one could be a better Luna for their pack than Hongjoong. But just like Seonghwa was allowed to be a place for Hongjoong to unwind from his Captain role, Wooyoung could be his confidant, as the sole other Omega in the group. They would have each other’s backs and understand each other implicitly when, despite trying, no one else fully could.
We’ll take care of each other, Wooyoung said, How does that sound, Luna? When you need another Omega to rely on, you have me.
That sounds… really nice. I haven’t had that before.
It felt like such a precious thing, being given Hongjoong’s trust, like knowing he was responsible for catching someone as they fell. But now it felt as easy as breathing.
“Okay, hyung,” Wooyoung says after a moment, loosening his grip again so Hongjoong could lean back. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re skipping practice today; you’re going to tell the pack that I’m still upset from yesterday and you’re staying home with me, then—”
“Upset?” Hongjoong’s brows furrow. “What happened yesterday?”
“...that’s not important right now.”
“Wooyoung.”
It’s not a tone Wooyoung is prepared to fight against and while he still could, Hongjoong’s honesty with him deserves some honestly in exchange. He sighs.
“I was also very upset that Seonghwa-hyung deep-cleaned the apartment,” Wooyoung admits, trying to look anywhere but Hongjoong’s face; the hem of his sweater has such an interesting design on it! “Crying, whining, might have snapped at Seonghwa-hyung, got pinned down and forcibly soothed by San and Yeosang, finally calmed down, and then freaked out again when I realized you weren’t there, spent most of the night upset and empty about it.”
Embarrassment floods his body as he rattles off each of last night’s main attractions. It felt like a justified and reasonable response at the time, but looking back… Wooyoung wants to hide. His emotions completely got the better of him. He was inconsolable over something that was truly easily fixable, even if it felt awful at the time.
Hongjoong doesn’t say anything for a moment, and when Wooyoung looks up there’s something complex swirling on Hongjoong’s face. Some mix of concern and sympathy and sadness and surprise, to name a few of the more easily distinguishable emotions. His scent wasn’t any help in deciphering what Wooyoung was seeing — the rotting upset had died down, but now it is a cacophony of lemon that is hard to clearly parse.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come back home last night,” Hongjoong finally says, settling on at least one of the emotions he is experiencing and voicing the corresponding thought.
“It’s okay. I understand why you didn’t.” Wooyoung takes a deep breath. “If things were a little different, I probably would have left too.”
His expression flickers again, but he settles it. Hongjoong brings his hands up to cup Wooyoung’s cheeks and hold him in that way Wooyoung really, really loves. “You needed me. I should have been there for my baby Omega.”
“And I should have been there for my scared Luna,” Wooyoung lowers his arms, settling them over Hongjoong’s hips, rubbing slow circles into his hip bones. “We both needed each other, and we have each other now. So it’s okay now.”
Hongjoong hums in mock agreement, even though Wooyoung knows by the crease in his brows that he’s not fully sold yet.
“I wasn’t done with my plan — you’re telling the group we’re skipping practice, we’re going to go get a test, you’re going to take it, and then no matter what it says, we’re cuddling until dinner.”
Hongjoong, who had been nodding along, bristles at that last point. “Please… I don’t even want to think about eating…”
“Hyung,” Wooyoung pouts, squeezing Hongjoong’s hips lightly. “I know, but you do need to eat something, especially if… you are…”
He can’t say it aloud, not yet, not until he’s absolutely sure. But he can glance down at Hongjoong’s stomach pointedly, and based on Hongjoong’s frown, that might actually be worse.
“I know but… please don’t talk about it. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said even thinking about food is making me nauseous.”
Hongjoong retrieves his phone from somewhere on his desk only to find it completely dead. He plugs it in while he and Wooyoung straighten up the room a bit and turn on an air purifier to tamp down Hongjoong’s lingering distressed pheromones. Once Hongjoong’s phone turns back on, it instantly lights up with several dozen notifications. With a battle-weary sigh, Hongjoong ignores all of them and calls Yunho. The conversation is short and clipped, mostly due to Hongjoong deflecting and shutting down all of Yunho’s questions, assuring him that yes, he’s fine and yes, Wooyoung is with him. At the mention that they’ll be skipping practice, Yunho’s questions start right back up again, and Hongjoong, head in his hand, snaps that he called Yunho and not Seonghwa to avoid being berated. That shuts Yunho up with a submissive whine, and Hongjoong sighs.
“I’m sorry, Yunho. You’re a good Alpha. You just want to make sure your pack is okay,” Hongjoong says, softer now. “We’re fine. Wooyoungie just wants some alone time with me because he’s still upset from last night. And I’m on day four of vertigo and a headache, so Wooyoung is basically demanding that I get out of the studio and rest today too.”
Yunho makes a broken sound like he really wants to say something, ask something, but he refrains, instead opting to just say okay, he’ll pass the message along and that he hopes they both feel better soon.
“Let us know if you need anything or need someone to check in, at least. Please, Luna?” Yunho adds, almost desperately, after a beat of silence, and Hongjoong’s stressed features soften. Their pack loves them both so much it’s almost stifling at times, but it’s always appreciated. It feels good to be thought of, cared for, and doted on.
“We will,” Hongjoong says softly, and Wooyoung can hear every ounce of authenticity he pours into it. “Thank you, Yunho.”
Wooyoung leads the way as they leave, mostly because he knows where they’re going but also because the moment Hongjoong moves too much and is exposed to bright hallway lights, he stops in his tracks, wobbling, and reaches for Wooyoung’s sleeve. It takes him a moment to steady himself, and even after he does, he doesn’t let go of Wooyoung’s arm.
“Have you eaten at all over the last few days?” Wooyoung asks as he guides them out of the building. Hongjoong mentioned dizziness as one of his recent symptoms, but this seems… more than that. Something more like a layered combination of feeling sick, exhausted, and hungry.
“A little.” Hongjoong’s eyes are all but completely closed as he leans into Wooyoung, trying to block out as much of the afternoon sunlight as possible. The sunglasses they dug out of a drawer in Hongjoong’s studio and dutifully put on, along with masks and caps, didn’t seem to be doing all that much to help. “I threw up what I tried to eat yesterday though.”
Wooyoung hums noncommittally.
Taking the test doesn’t even seem necessary at this point. But when they reach the small pharmacy, on the off chance this is just a really aggressive flu, Wooyoung still dutifully and discretely picks one out.
“Two,” Hongjoong insists, pulling a second test from the wall.
“It is good to be extra certain, but considering your other symptoms and your scent, I don’t even think this one is necessary,” Wooyoung laughs quietly behind his mask.
“It’s not for me,” Hongjoong says, turning the box curiously in his hands. “It’s for you.”
What.
“What?”
Hongjoong remains torturously silent as they check out (Hongjoong wisely opting to pay with cash that Wooyoung didn’t even know he had on him) and leave walking that fine line between incognito and sketchy as hell. It isn’t until they’re out of the pharmacy and heading back to KQ for a car that Wooyoung decides to ask again.
“Do you want me to take it with you? For, like, moral support?”
Hongjoong doesn’t answer, and that is answer enough.
“Hyung, no, I can’t be.”
He’s on birth control. He doesn’t feel any different. He doesn’t smell any different.
“And you think I can be?”
“You smell like milk,” Wooyoung whispers fiercely.
“And you were an emotional wreck yesterday over Seonghwa cleaning,” Hongjoong replies far too calmly for Wooyoung’s liking. “Like I was.
“Not to mention how exhausted you’ve been at practice or how often you’ve been taking naps around the apartment,” Hongjoong continues when Wooyoung finds he doesn’t have anything to say that can easily refute his observations. “Or how you’ve been clinging to the pack even more than normal.”
The conversation stalls on during the ride back to the apartment, but Wooyoung’s racing thoughts don’t. It can’t, or shouldn’t, be possible, really, for either of them. They are both on birth control, and Wooyoung knows they’ve both been taking it because at the beginning, they both put the other one in charge of making sure they remembered — it became a cute ceremony of sorts (if Wooyoung found relentless nagging and pestering cute) (which he does) — the same prescription, same time, every day. Even when their schedule forced them apart, a quick text or a reminder the other one set on their phone was enough to hold them accountable. And even now, with the habit so engrained daily check-ins were no longer a requirement, they often still did (lovingly) harass the other if the reminder alarm happened to go off while they were together.
Wooyoung knows he hasn’t missed any days, and even though his hyung sometimes forgets to eat or sleep, he’s positive Hongjoong wouldn’t have accidentally skipped a day either. And Wooyoung knows they haven’t run out — in fact, they had both just refilled their prescription the month before their last heats.
But their heats were both off schedule last time. Hongjoong’s was two weeks late, completely throwing off their planned group and individual schedules (much to his annoyance), and the last two days of it overlapped with Wooyoung’s preheat, ripping Wooyoung into his heat a full week early. The pack hadn’t complained, even though dealing with back-to-back heats was exhausting for everyone involved — Wooyoung’s pretty sure Hongjoong kept him occupied for the full first day by himself to let the others recover a bit. And they all ended up taking the first few days after Wooyoung’s heat off just to rest and recuperate from the entire ordeal.
Okay, so, with their heats being funky, it… technically could have happened. But… he didn’t feel any different. He always thought that if — when — he got pregnant, he would just know. Omegas always said they just felt it when it happened. That they knew. But the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. And none of his mates had noticed a change in his scent.
But on the other hand, Hongjoong was right. He’s been pretty tired and prone to napping or at least lounging in a state of almost napping lately, and he was an ‘emotional wreck’ yesterday and he has been (even more) sensitive to the emotions of his pack, and he has been seeking out scenting and comfort from his packmates even more than usual (which was already a lot), and almost exclusively wearing clothes that belonged to and smelled like his pack mates (which, again, was already fairly normal for him), and it would also explain why he was so desperate to be around his Luna lately, and
Oh.
Oh Goddess.
He could be.
He might be.
“It’s just a thought I had,” Hongjoong says, gently, when Wooyoung silently gets out of the car and follows him to the door. “I could be overthinking it.”
“But what if you’re not?”
“Then we’ll figure it out, together, as a Pack. Like you said.”
The apartment still smells sterile, and it makes both Omegas freeze in the entryway. Wooyoung’s hand instinctively finds Hongjoong’s, and he curls into him, whining softly in distress. Hongjoong tucks him close, like the wonderful perfect Luna he is, despite his own scent wilting.
But slowly, so slowly, trace smells of the pack filter through the space, finding them in the entryway. Vanilla-tinged deep wood, damp earth, and subtle eucalyptus swirling around them near the door, echoes from Seonghwa, Yeosang, and San coming home from the gym. Burning driftwood and toasted marshmallow ebbing in from the kitchen, lingering remains of Yunho and Mingi eating breakfast. Petrichor and black tea fluttering from the living room, where Yeosang and Jongho scented each other before leaving. Each new smell lets Wooyoung breathe, lets him relax, lets his smile become soft and fond, swinging Hongjoong’s hand lightly in a muted happiness. Hongjoong nuzzles his cheek and takes the first step out of the entryway.
“So,” Wooyoung says, once they’re in the bathroom and the door is locked. “How are we doing this?”
“Aren’t the instructions pretty self-explanatory?”
“Yeah.” Wooyoung picks up one of the boxes and rips it open. “I mean are we taking them at the same time, or…”
“Obviously,” Hongjoong says, picking up and opening the other. “Moral support and all that.”
An anxious silence simmers between them as they take the tests and set them on the counter, Hongjoong’s on the left and Wooyoung’s on the right. Hongjoong sets a timer on his phone, and Wooyoung settles on to the floor, pulling Hongjoong into his lap.
“You smell nervous, baby.” Hongjoong snuggles into Wooyoung’s hold, nuzzling his scent glands affectionately. He is nervous, and Hongjoong’s sweet lemon helps calm in the way it always does, but the milky notes twist his stomach in a way that can’t quite distinguish between excitement and anxiety.
“And you’re not?” Wooyoung rests his chin on Hongjoong’s head.
“You said it yourself; mine’s pretty much just a confirmation,” he sounds calm saying it, but the way he picks at the holes in his ripped jeans doesn’t escape Wooyoung’s notice. “I had my freak out session yesterday and I think I’m too emotionally drained to be actively nervous right now.”
“What about mine?”
“You can freak out if you want—”
“How reassuring.”
“But,” Hongjoong emphasizes, in a dramatic signification that he wasn’t done speaking. “No matter what that test says, it’ll be okay. We’ll make it work.”
Wooyoung had been the one to first say it, to first suggest it, but hearing it from Hongjoong sounds different. It sounds possible. Like he truly doesn’t have anything to be worried about, because no matter what that test says, the pack will love them both and help them do whatever needs to be done. They’re not alone. They have each other, and three Alphas and three Betas who love them more than anything else in the world.
Hongjoong’s timer goes off way too soon and Wooyoung is loath to let go of his Luna for even a second, but sitting in suspense is worse. So he opens his arms and Hongjoong retrieves the tests. He holds them face down, Hongjoong’s in his left and Wooyoung’s in his right, as he sits back in Wooyoung’s lap, back pressed firmly to Wooyoung’s chest and Wooyoung’s chin looped over Hongjoong’s shoulder.
“Ready, baby?” Hongjoong’s delicate fingers hold them up and out in front of them, ready to be revealed with Wooyoung’s blessing.
Wooyoung snakes his arms around Hongjoong’s waist, pulling him even closer, all but melding them together. Can Hongjoong feel how fast his heart is beating? Can he smell the mix of emotions Wooyoung can’t even sort through or identify?
“Ready, Luna.”
Time doesn’t move in slow motion. The world doesn’t stop turning. Wooyoung doesn’t hold his breath. Hongjoong’s wrists simply spin outward, revealing two pregnancy tests, each sporting two blue lines.
Hongjoong laughs, sharp and airy. He drops his hands to his knees and rolls his head back to find Wooyoung looking down at him.
“We’re pregnant, Wooyoungie, baby.” Another short, almost anxious laugh, then, incredibly softly, almost as if he can’t believe it himself: “My baby’s having a baby.”
The words sink in slowly.
Pregnant.
He’s pregnant.
They’re pregnant.
“We’re pregnant,” he echoes, tugging Hongjoong impossibly closer and nuzzling desperately into his scent gland. “My perfect, beautiful Luna is pregnant.” The thought sends some kind of shiver down his spine. “I’m pregnant.”
“They are not going to believe us.”
Wooyoung snorts, a too-loud-for-the-small-space laugh bursting out of him. “Oh Goddess, they are not going to believe us. I mean, what? How? And both of us? At the same time? How did this even happen?”
“I don’t know.” Hongjoong sets the tests down and twists in Wooyoung’s hold, turning so he can face Wooyoung, touch Wooyoung, cup his cheeks and kiss his chin, his cheek bones, his eyelid, his nose, his lips.
A purr builds up in Wooyoung’s chest, increasing as he continues to be lathered with affection. “Are you happy, Luna?”
Hongjoong hums affirmatively. “So happy for you, baby. Know how badly you want this.”
He did want it, and has always wanted it. So badly.
Going into his career, he knew it would have to be put off and heavily planned and discussed, but he was never shy about hiding how much he wanted it. Not that he could have hid if he tried — even without directly stating he wanted pups (which he did), he just lit up around pups, to the point where it was likely obvious to his mates (and Atiny) instantly that he wants nothing more than to have a pup of his own — of their own. But it had to be planned and prepared for and the right time and Wooyoung, in moments of post-heat crashes, found himself clinging to Hongjoong or Seonghwa more than once, sobbing, at how badly he wanted it and how horrible it felt to know he didn’t conceive during his heat because they weren’t trying and… and…
And now, with the timing so not right and the planning very much not done and the level of discussions among the pack collectively maxing out at mutual cooing over pups and vague acknowledgement around heats that pups, someday, would be nice, and a vague promise from both his Luna and Pack Alpha that yes, someday, they would give him the pup he wants, when everyone is ready for it and they could afford to step back from their work a little — he still wants it. He wants it so badly.
But Hongjoong isn’t like him. He’s so focused on their careers, on their future, on them soaring as high as they can without barriers. He never said anything about not wanting pups when it was brought up (casually, before or after his own heat, or when he was forced to comfort a sobbing Wooyoung), but he wasn’t vocal about wanting them either. The most Seonghwa had ever got out of him was an easily misinterpreted line on a live. The closest thing Yunho ever got was a yeah, that would be nice. Wooyoung? He got a you would be great eomma and an I promise we’ll give you a pup one day, baby when he asked what Hongjoong thought about having pups.
“What about you?” Wooyoung asks tentatively, trying to preemptively formulate an appropriate response in case Hongjoong is not as happy as Wooyoung is.
Hongjoong hums softly, pecking Wooyoung’s lips again before pulling back to… try to meet Wooyoung’s eyes. He only lasts half a second though, before he’s blushing instead and looking away. “I don’t think I would have been so upset over the idea the pack might be mad if I didn’t really want this too.”
His Luna is pregnant. His Luna wants this too. His Luna is happy.
Wooyoung’s purrs increase tenfold.
Hongjoong laughs, pushing Wooyoung’s arms down and guiding them off his body. “I’m happy too, baby, but there are better places to snuggle than the bathroom floor.”
“Well, it is one of the cleanest places in the house right now.” It was the last area of the house that fell to Seonghwa’s frenzy, leaving only the nest as the only communal space that was not deep cleaned. The reminder sparks something in Wooyoung — something close to anger, as if he’s trying to still be upset over it like he’d told the pack he was — but any emotion anywhere close to anger is unsustainable when he feels so, so elated.
“But it’s not very comfy, baby,” Hongjoong coos. “Come on. Do you want to go lay down in the nest? Or nest in your room?”
“The nest.” It’s an easy instant choice, but one Wooyoung second guesses the moment it leaves his mouth. “Or, wait…”
Hongjoong pauses, gazing at Wooyoung curiously. It isn’t like him to refuse the nest and collective pack safety it provided.
“Would it be okay if we went to your room instead? At least to start?”
Wooyoung himself wouldn’t be able to explain it, to articulate it, if Hongjoong were to ask him why he changed his mind. He loves his pack dearly, all of them, and feels nothing but comfort when he is surrounded by them and their scents. But right now, all he wants is the two of them, together. Also, there is the fact that while the Omegas are the ones who make the nest (with some Beta assistance on occasion) and are generally in charge of who was allowed in, it is the communal nest. And right now, he wants his Luna’s nest.
(Also, he wants to tell the pack — not just have them pick up Hongjoong’s milky notes and wonder-slash-panic-slash-freak out.)
“Of course it is, baby.”
Hongjoong picks up the pregnancy tests as he stands, following the action by collecting the boxes and instructions and anything else that could reveal what happened in the bathroom this afternoon. It seems that he and Wooyoung had similar trains of thought — however they decide to tell the pack, it shouldn’t be accidentally, through making the nest distinctively cream scented or leaving garbage around.
“We should see a doctor soon, ideally this week, to get an official test done,” Hongjoong says as soon as he returns to his room, carefully curated pillows and blankets and soft clothes from their mates’ various rooms piled in his arms. He deposits them carefully on the edge of his bed, just outside of the range of the nest Wooyoung started making from Hongjoong’s belongings. (While trying really, really hard to not miss the Hongjoong-scented blanket from the couch. He should have saved it). “Something conclusive we can show the company. A general timeline from the doctor would help with reorganizing our schedules too, and making sure we’re not straining our bodies too much.”
Wooyoung nods, an almost amused smile tugging at his lips. Leave it to Hongjoong to be left alone for less than five minutes and to already be thinking about work. Wooyoung knows it’s important to start thinking about that side of things, and he knows Hongjoong is prewired to focus on everything related to leading them as a group, but it’s not what Wooyoung deems most important to think about today.
“How should we tell the pack?” Wooyoung changes the topic to one more important (to him) as he tucks in a sheet just right. “It’s only a matter of time before one of them smells us and figures it out.”
“I think you mean it’s only a matter of time before you can’t help yourself and you let it slip.” Hongjoong pulls off his clothes as he speaks, handing each outer garment to Wooyoung for inspection as it leaves his body. Everything but his jeans pass and get incorporated into the nest, and his offerings are the only thing that keep Wooyoung from snarking back at him (also the fact that, yeah, he is right). “Is there something you had in mind besides just telling them?”
“Nothing specific but just telling them sounds so boring.” He pauses for a moment, scanning over the pile Hongjoong brought and selecting a few items from his closet and Yeosang’s blanket. Hongjoong picks up one of Wooyoung’s oversized shirts and asks if he can wear it instead, and Wooyoung trills happily at the mental picture of his sweet Luna wearing his clothes in their nest. Hongjoong, smiling, places a kiss on his forehead.
“But,” Wooyoung continues, with both his thoughts and the nest. “Maybe we should just tell them, especially considering last night.”
Hongjoong frowns. “Did something else happen last night?”
Wooyoung does his best to recount everything that happened after he got home yesterday, sparing no detail no matter how embarrassing it was for him or how pained Hongjoong’s face became. He stops several times to comfort his Luna and reiterate that everyone is okay now, to stop his scent from dropping too far into upset — neither of them wanted their safe, warm nest to smell like distressed Omega.
“Something is really upsetting Seonghwa-hyung,” Wooyoung concludes, stripping off his clothes as well. He hands them to Hongjoong for the nest and plucks his favorite of Hongjoong’s hoodies to wear instead. “It’s not you, hyung,” he adds, catching another whiff of rotting lemons. “If it is, I’ll kick his ass.”
“I don’t know what else it could be,” Hongjoong mumbles, working on the nest with forced calm. “That’s the only thing that’s changed over the last week… I don’t know what I would do if he thought me… us being pregnant was wrong.”
“Not wrong,” Wooyoung corrects instantly as he freezes, his hands stilling midway through fluffing Jongho’s favorite pillow.
“Not wrong?”
“No, not wrong,” Wooyoung repeats, as memories of Seonghwa’s voice, his words, flitter through his mind. “He said wrong wasn’t the right word. He said something felt off, and that was making him feel anxious and uneasy.” Wooyoung turns to Hongjoong, grabbing his arm. “He said that after he finished cleaning yesterday, he felt worse.”
“I feel like you’re expecting me to say something here to show I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t.”
“Hyung, when did you go home yesterday?”
“Sometime in the afternoon?” Hongjoong thinks back. “After you left, but before San did — he was getting ready to leave”
“After Seonghwa had cleaned the front room and kitchen, and was probably working on the bathroom.” Wooyoung nods, the pieces coming together. “When did you first think you might be pregnant?”
“About four days ago…” Hongjoong says slowly, frowning. “But I didn’t seriously consider it until yesterday.”
“When Seonghwa’s uneasy feeling got bad enough to mention it to San and me,” Wooyoung notes. “How have you felt over the last four days?”
“I’m not sure if I am relieved by where this is going or still upset.”
“Answer the question, hyung.”
“I don’t know? Various states of bad? I’ve been nauseous and had a vertigo and a headache for most of it, and once I thought about the possibility of being pregnant, I probably felt every emotion. Mostly I was worried about what this would mean for Ateez and us as a pack if I was right.”
“So you were anxious for four days, and then yesterday, after you left the apartment?”
“I feel like I’m in a detective show, being interrogated.” Hongjoong sighs, but he still responds, albeit flat and direct this time. It seems he caught on. His Luna is so smart. Wooyoung loves him. “I was hurt and scared — heartbroken. And Seonghwa, back at the apartment, suddenly felt worse too, as if he was feeling what I was feeling.”
Wooyoung nods.
“You think the thing that’s been making Seonghwa uneasy all week is me.”
“That is exactly what I’m thinking,” Wooyoung says, his words tumbling out of his mouth faster now that the puzzle has been completed. “But not because you’re pregnant, but because you were worried about it. It makes so much sense, except that he said it didn’t feel like there was anything wrong with the pack. But maybe that does make sense because there is nothing wrong with the pack. You were anxious and upset and worried, but the underlying cause is a good thing, not a bad thing. It must have been so confusing for him, to feel your stress and fear but also your delight and excitement. If I’m right, he probably feels better today, since you’re not upset anymore.”
“I’m still stressed, Wooyoung.” Hongjoong hands another blanket to Wooyoung, trying to redirect his restless, endless energy into the task at hand.
“Yeah, but being stressed is like your default state of being.” Wooyoung happily gets back to work. The nest is looking really good — almost perfect. “You know what I mean — without you being in panic and with the confirmation from the test, he probably feels a lot better.”
“I still want to check on Seonghwa tonight — make sure he’s okay.”
“We should tell him first, too.” Wooyoung places another pillow, one of San’s, and stands back, examining the nest from all angles. “Pack Alpha needs to know. Especially since—” Wooyoung leans over and presses his face to Hongjoong’s neck, not because he needs to, but for added emphasis “—I think I can smell him on you.”
“I’m not surprised.” Hongjoong tries, and fails, to sound casual about it.
It’s not like Wooyoung doesn’t already know. Everyone knows. They are a collective pack who all love each other deeply, but Seonghwa and Hongjoong, like a few of their other members, have something special. Traditionally, the Pack Omega was supposed to be the first to carry a pup for the pack, and traditionally, the sire was supposed to be the Head Alpha. But even without tradition, and with a Luna leader and Pack Alpha instead, Hongjoong carrying Seonghwa’s pup just feels right. Like it was meant to be.
“Seonghwa-hyung is going to be over the moon about it.”
“He’s been wanting to knock me up for years.” Hongjoong sighs, also stepping back to admire their handiwork. “We can’t let it go to his head. How does it look, baby?”
Wooyoung hums, looking the nest over closely. “Something’s missing.”
“And what would that be?”
“My pretty Luna’s not in it,” Wooyoung purrs, swinging Hongjoong’s arm back and forth.
“Ah, you’re ridiculous,” Hongjoong chides, but he climbs into the nest anyway, settling himself comfortably before cocking his head and looking back at Wooyoung. “Better?”
“Now it’s perfect.”
“I’m glad, baby,” Hongjoong says, stretching out his arms. “Now come here.”
Wooyoung does not need to be told twice.
He climbs into the nest with practiced care and excitement, all but pouncing on Hongjoong as he tucks himself comfortably against Hongjoong’s body, curled against his side with his face tucked against his chest and his hand resting on Hongjoong’s abdomen. Content lemon cream falls around him, relaxing him faster than any massage or sleep aid trick could ever dream of replicating. He would be more than happy to fall asleep again right here, in the safety of their nest and the warmth of his Luna’s arms. But there is still something on Wooyoung’s mind. A passing thought he didn’t get to ask before.
“Hongjoong-hyung?”
“Yeah, baby?” Hongjoong tangles his fingers into Wooyoung’s hair, carding through the stands and scratching at his scalp.
“Can you smell me? Do I smell like you?” It’s somehow easier to say than do I smell pregnant, even though that’s really what he’s asking. But he trusts Hongjoong to know what he means, and he likes the reminder that they’re both carrying, as if either of them could have forgotten.
“A little,” Hongjoong whispers into Wooyoung’s hair. “I thought I smelled it earlier at my studio — a peach parfait.”
A peach parfait and lemon cream soda. Wooyoung is so giddy his cheeks may start to hurt from smiling too much.
“What about the sire? Can you smell who it is?”
“Does it really matter?” Hongjoong asks, but he indulges Wooyoung anyway, shoving his face into Wooyoung’s scent glands. It’s almost rough, and combined with the fingers threaded in his hair, Wooyoung has to force that train of thought to end immediately or their impending cuddle and nap session will take a very different turn.
“N-not really,” Wooyoung chokes out. Once he takes a deep breath, he tries again: “But I’m curious.”
“No, I can’t smell anything yet,” Hongjoong reports as he pulls back from Wooyoung’s neck. “The milky scent is still faint too, barely noticeable. I can only make it out if I’m right on your glands and I know what I’m looking for.”
Wooyoung nods. It would take time. That’s fine.
But he was still excited to find out.
“The Alphas are going to be all over me, trying to figure out who did it.” Wooyoung wiggles his head and shoulders at the thought. He’s always more than happy to have the Alphas fawning over him. And the Betas and his Luna too, for that matter.
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
Wooyoung giggles. “I’m going to enjoy everything about this so much. Luna — Hongjoong-hyung — I’m really happy. I’m really happy.”
“Me too, baby,” Hongjoong coos, tugging Wooyoung’s thigh up to press him even closer. “You’re going to be a great eomma. The pack will be such great parents.”
“You too, Luna. You’re going to be a wonderful dad.”
Hongjoong freezes, his hand still gripping the meat of Wooyoung’s thigh, then refreshing, sugary-sweet lemonade fills the air, and a deep, all-consuming rumbling sparks to life in Hongjoong’s chest.
Wooyoung, already pinned against Hongjoong, somehow finds a way to dive deeper, kneading and nuzzling and so easily purring as he’s consumed completely by the sounds and scents of a happy Omega, a happy Luna, a happy Hongjoong.
Wooyoung wakes up to a few things. One, he is so warm and comfortable in Hongjoong’s arms. His hold had loosened as they napped, but Hongjoong never let him go. Two, he is very hungry. He hadn’t been in the morning, so he made himself something light, but now not eating the whole day has caught up to him with a vengeance. Three, someone is knocking very lightly on the door. It’s just loud enough for Wooyoung to register what the sound is, but not loud enough for it to cause Hongjoong to stir — their packmate outside is trying to be considerate of whatever was going on inside the room, trying to be considerate of the fact that his presence may not be wanted. How sweet of him.
Wooyoung inhales deeply. He feels okay. Better than okay. He feels… settled. Calm. Happy. He could talk to a packmate, no matter who it is.
“Come in,” Wooyoung calls, aiming for the balance between loud enough to be heard and quiet enough to not wake Hongjoong — and Hongjoong’s lack of movement (aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest) next to him is a reward within itself.
The door opens cautiously, revealing the soft eyes and gentle smile of his Sannie. He takes in the state of the room and correctly decides to let himself in and close the door behind him. Wooyoung watches with barely contained smugness as the Beta breathes in slowly and completely melts in the haze of happy, peaceful Omega pheromones.
“Hey, Wooyo,” San finally says, stepping closer to the bed while remaining a respectful distance from the nest. Such a polite Beta. “Your nest looks amazing. Super cozy.”
Wooyoung purrs open and loud at the praise, and San looks completely smitten. He’s so weak for everyone in the pack. It’s cute. Wooyoung loves him.
“Is our Luna still asleep?”
“Yeah,” Wooyoung mumbles, snuggling against Hongjoong’s chest.
“Yunho said you were still upset from yesterday.” San crosses his arms, and Wooyoung knows it’s because he wants to reach out and touch — wrap Wooyoung in his arms or pet his hair or rest his chin on his shoulder. Wooyoung would let him in a heartbeat, if Hongjoong was awake to give his permission as well. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Yeah, much better.” A lazy, silly smile stretches across Wooyoung’s face. Oh, his precious Sannie. Wooyoung wants to tell him so, so badly; wants to be scooped up in San’s arms and smothered in kisses and eucalyptus. “Super happy.”
San laughs quietly. “I can smell that. Did Luna make you happy?”
He doesn’t know who, technically, made him so happy, but Hongjoong could have the credit right now. He’s the one who noticed, after all. Wooyoung hums affirmatively. “In a way, yeah.”
“Good. Are you hungry? Seonghwa-hyung’s making dinner.”
“Oh. I was supposed to help him.” Wooyoung wilts a little. He had promised this morning. It was supposed to be a reconciliation.
San shook his head. “He said it was okay; he’s happy you’re resting.”
“Does Seonghwa-hyung feel better, too?”
“He looked better during practice.” After they had taken the pregnancy tests, Wooyoung notes with a mild amount of pride that more evidence backed up his theory. “But I think he’s still worried that he doesn’t know what happened or why.”
“Hongjoong-hyung and I think we figured it out.” San perks up at that, relief outweighing the curiosity shining in his eyes. “We’ll talk to him tonight.”
“Not now?” San pouts a little, leaning on the edge of the bed. It’s not pushiness, it's worry. He doesn’t want Seonghwa to be stressed for a moment longer than he needs to be.
But despite San’s kind heart and Wooyoung’s similar feelings and Wooyoung’s weakness to San looking at him like that, he shakes his head. “Don’t wanna leave Luna.”
“You both could come eat?” It’s worded like a gentle suggestion, but Wooyoung can feel the should laying just under the water. And San’s right. They should go eat.
“Don’t wanna wake Luna up,” Wooyoung refuses again. He’s hungry, but not enough to disturb Hongjoong so easily.
“Too late,” the Omega in question mumbles against Wooyoung’s hair, shifting them slightly as his body stretches and his arms retighten their hold.
“Good morning, hyung.”
“Hey, Sannie.” A pause. “Please tell me it’s not actually morning.”
“It’s not.” San chuckles. “Are you up for dinner?”
Hongjoong groans, body tensing.
“Hyung, you need to eat something.” Wooyoung rubs his nose against Hongjoong’s scent gland and lets the rest of his reasoning go unspoken.
“I know…” Hongjoong groans again, his face still crinkling in displeasure.
“Are you sick?” Wooyoung sees the desire to lean forward and scent them, check them, straining in San’s muscles. But he holds himself at the edge of the nest, not coming an inch closer without permission.
“No,” Hongjoong answers technically honestly, but given how he rarely admits to his own illnesses or injuries, San likely takes it as a lie. At San’s subsequent frown, Hongjoong sighs. “I haven’t felt well for a few days. The idea of eating something makes me nauseous.”
San’s frown deepens. “Have you eaten today at all?”
“A little this morning,” Hongjoong admits to San’s clear displeasure. Wooyoung can easily imagine how much more unhappy he’d be to learn that Hongjoong had thrown up what little he ate shortly after. “Why is that the first thing everyone asks me?”
Wooyoung and San both exchange a look before turning said look on Hongjoong. A look that clearly says, hyungie, we love you, but your track record of taking care of yourself is ass.
But Wooyoung knows it’s different this time, and much more delicate of a situation, so he doesn’t want to push Hongjoong too much or put him on the spot.
“It’s okay, Sannie. Let’s let hyung rest a bit more, and I’ll make him something to eat later, or—” Something flickers in Wooyoung’s mind. Something his mother had told him once. “Actually, can you have Seonghwa-hyung bring him something small and light? Don’t send anyone else. It has to be Seonghwa.”
San tilts his head a little at Wooyoung’s specificity, but he doesn’t question it. “Sure. I’ll go ask him.”
“Baby, no, it’s okay.”
“Shoosh, hyung, let me take care of you.” Wooyoung slides his arm across Hongjoong’s stomach, wrapping around his narrow waist with a purpose. A purpose Hongjoong notices and accepts. Wooyoung tilts his head back toward San. “Thank you, Sannie.”
“Of course, Youngie,” San replies, but he doesn’t move. A Wooyoung’s raised eyebrow, San blushes. “It smells so nice in here. I don’t want to leave.”
“Whipped.”
“Whipped.”
“No better than an Alpha.”
“Hey!”
“We’re just teasing, kitty,” Hongjoong says as he shifts Wooyoung off of him so he can sit up. “Wooyoung, will you scent Sannie so he can leave?”
“With pleasure,” Wooyoung purrs, crawling to the edge of the nest and opening his arms in an invitation for San to lean into him. He does so eagerly, nuzzling happily into Wooyoung’s spicy-sweet and joy-soaked peach.
“Will you come to the pack nest later?” San asks once Wooyoung is done.
“Maybe,” Wooyoung glances at Hongjoong. “If hyung feels up for it, we will.”
“Okay. I’ll let them know and send Seonghwa over.”
Wooyoung kisses his cheeks and sends him off with a good boy. They watch San leave, grinning the whole time, and listen closely for — there it is. The moment he walks into the living room, a sudden cacophony breaks out as the rest of the pack flock to him and the extremely happy Omega pheromones he’s currently drenched in.
“That was actually kind of mean of us.”
“Sending San out to be tackled? Maybe a little.”
“We really should go to the pack nest tonight, with everyone.”
He expects a noise of agreement or at least a teasing maybe, but Hongjoong is quiet, curled up against the wall of the nest, absentmindedly playing with Wooyoung’s hand.
“I didn’t ask for Seonghwa-hyung to force you to tell him. You don’t have to if you’re not ready yet. And we don’t have to have pack time tonight either.” The pack wouldn’t like it, but there’s no way for Hongjoong to be around them, especially the Alphas, for any extended period of time without them picking up on the new developments in his scent. “Don’t worry, hyung. We’ll move at your pace.”
“I’m not worried,” Hongjoong lies, tracing the lines of Wooyoung’s palm and outlining his fingers.
“Sure.” Wooyoung will let his false bravado stand, for now, if that’s what Hongjoong needs.
A moment passes before Hongjoong speaks again.
“Why did you ask for Seonghwa?”
“When my mom was pregnant with me, she felt horrible all the time unless my dad was with her. Something about the sire’s pheromones reducing negative pregnancy symptoms, like stress, nausea, and things like that.” Hongjoong passes Wooyoung’s hand back and forth between his own. “If that’s true, I figured it was worth trying.”
“I hope you’re wrong,” Hongjoong lies again. “Seonghwa will never leave me alone.”
“He already doesn’t.” Wooyoung takes back control of his hand and interlaces his fingers with Hongjoong’s. Hongjoong looks up and Wooyoung kisses him, a soft fluttering thing, on his lips. Hongjoong returns it easily, pecking back at Wooyoung’s lips before trailing off, kissing along his nose, his cheeks, his chin, his neck (which he also very gently bites for good measure), before finally returning to his lips. Each kiss is dizzyingly light and torturously gentle, and Wooyoung, once again, has half a mind to escalate things, but is stopped this time by a knock on the door.
Hongjoong presses his face into Wooyoung’s shoulder, so Wooyoung takes it upon himself to play host in Hongjoong’s room again.
“Come in.”
Seonghwa looks nervous as he opens the door, a small tray with a bowl on it balanced in his hands. But the moment he sees them, the moment he smells the state of the room, Seonghwa’s worries drain from his face and he looks more relaxed and happy than he has all week. The contrast is sharp — highlighting just how off Seonghwa had appeared over the last few days. The slight undercurrent of uncomfortable in how he held himself; the reduced volume and frequency of his voice, like he was preoccupied with something else; the way his eyes occasionally glanced around, as if he was trying to find something he couldn’t see. Wooyoung should have noticed sooner that something was bothering him. Hongjoong likely would have, if he wasn’t dealing with his own issues.
But Wooyoung doesn’t want to linger on that too long, lest his scent start to sour, so instead he focuses on the soft, kind smile on Seonghwa’s lips, the now gentle slope of his shoulders, the love pooling in his eyes.
“Hello, darlings,” Seonghwa says softly, so softly, like the words themselves are a caress. “What a beautiful nest you’ve made.”
Hidden in Wooyoung’s chest, Hongjoong giggles and Wooyoung knows he’s blushing. He’s always been so weak to the praise and approval of his packmates, especially when it comes to his nests (not that Wooyoung is any better). Wooyoung doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first time Hongjoong let the pack see one of his nests, his fiery-confidence and nonchalance completely undercut by the way his fingers rubbed over the hem of his shirt and his eyes kept flickering from face to face, silently asking if they liked it. As if they wouldn’t like it, Wooyoung had teased him at the time — but he too was nervous on his (not yet) Luna’s behalf, and he too was dazzled (though Hongjoong was in wide eyed silence and Wooyoung was in bouncing excitement) when the praise for Hongjoong’s nest turned into a carefully worded request for Hongjoong and Wooyoung to make a (not yet a pack but essentially a) pack nest — for all of them. (Wooyoung only wishes he was there the first time Hongjoong asked/allowed — depending on who was telling it — Seonghwa to join him in his nest. Both of them say the other one was a blushing flustered mess the whole time, and he’s sure they’re both telling the truth and he wishes he would have been there to see it).
“Alpha,” Wooyoung trills, happy with the praise and starts to reach out to Seonghwa, wanting him close, nestled up next to them in the nest — but then he remembers himself. “Luna, can Alpha come in?”
Seonghwa’s gaze shifts to Hongjoong, his eyes pleading but also glancing down deferentially, signaling that even though he really wants permission, he will accept whatever Hongjoong says.
Next to him, Wooyoung feels Hongjoong swallow and starts to smell Hongjoong’s sweet lemon going tangy. He squeezes Hongjoong’s hand and whispers, “It’s just Seonghwa-hyung. He’ll support whatever you want. Our Alpha loves us more than anything.”
Hongjoong nods a little, and Seonghwa beams.
He approaches the nest carefully, first handing the tray to Wooyoung, then slowly pulling his long limbs into the small space. It is a good nest and Wooyoung is very proud of it, but it was very much built for just the two of them; Seonghwa’s a tight fit, but a very welcome addition, especially since there’s no room for him to not be cuddled up against at least one of them.
“San said you’re not feeling well?” Seonghwa asks once Wooyoung has him settled exactly where he wants him — on Hongjoong’s left, with Hongjoong between the both of them. Well, it isn’t really right where Wooyoung wants him, but Seonghwa needs to be close to Hongjoong and Wooyoung isn’t willing to give up full access to his Luna, so some sacrifices had to be made. Seonghwa seems to notice, as he reaches an arm behind Hongjoong’s shoulders to pet Wooyoung’s hair.
Hongjoong hums, leaning into Seonghwa and breathing deeply. Wooyoung has to stop himself from shouting I told you so!! at the way Hongjoong’s shoulders and brows relax, an invisible tension seemingly leaving his body.
“I’ve been a little nauseous and had a headache, but I feel better right now.”
Seonghwa smiles, faint roses and wood trickling into the air around them. He pushes Hongjoong’s bangs back to check his temperature, humming softly when he doesn’t find him burning up.
“Do you think you can try eating something?”
“I can try. Just don’t be offended if it makes me sick,” Hongjoong says, taking the tray from Wooyoung. The smell doesn’t make Hongjoong recoil, and the first bite goes down without protest. Hongjoong lets out a quiet, happy trill.
Seonghwa smiles at the sound, a new wave of vanilla-wood flooding the air like it always did when one of their mates was eating and enjoying something Seonghwa made. Which Wooyoung gets completely. He feels the same way — someone eating what he made is good, fulfilling his never ending need to protect and care for, but hearing their quiet (or overt) praise is even better, and it hits something similar, but deeper, inside of him. Pride and delight and contentment from caring for his pack so well that they’re emotionally fulfilled as much as they are physically satiated.
“How do you feel?” Wooyoung asks, once the tray is set aside and Hongjoong is settled comfortably between them.
“Better. So much better. I don’t think I’ll be sick again.”
Seonghwa frowns, tilting Hongjoong’s head to actually look at him. “Were you sick already?”
“After I ate this morning,” Hongjoong admits, begrudgingly. “I’m fine, Hwa. I’m more concerned with how you’re doing.”
Seonghwa glances at Wooyoung almost helplessly.
“What? Of course I told our Luna what happened.” It comes out sharper, sassier than he means it to — so he sighs and tries again. “I’m not mad anymore, but we’re worried about you. How are your arms?”
“...they hurt,” Seonghwa mumbles, not meeting Hongjoong’s piercing gaze. “Not as much as yesterday, but it still stings when they’re touched.”
A high, heartbroken whine. It takes Wooyoung a moment to realize it came from Hongjoong. Based on Seonghwa’s wide eyes and raised eyebrows, he can’t believe it either.
Hongjoong sweet lemons start to rot as his gaze flickers over Seonghwa’s sweater, distressed at what lies below it and, likely, distressed at not being able to see it and verify for himself how bad it is.
“Alpha’s okay, Luna,” Wooyoung says, squeezing Hongjoong’s arm tight, softening his own scent to soothe and comfort. It helps a little, catching Hongjoong’s scent before it can fall too far and slowly pulling it back to mild sweetness.
“I…” Hongjoong swallows around the words, around the second whine. “Where does it hurt? I want… but I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It’s mostly my arms and chest.” Embarrassment coils around the words, but Hongjoong only softly nods and places his hand not occupied by Wooyoung on Seonghwa’s thigh.
“Is this okay?”
Seonghwa nods. Then, upon finding something in Hongjoong’s gaze, adds: “I’m sorry you can’t cuddle more.”
Wooyoung expects Hongjoong to protest or scoff, saying that’s not what he was looking for. But instead, he whines again, quieter — a plaintive, needy mewl that seemingly breaks Seonghwa’s heart (and definitely breaks Wooyoung’s as well).
“I don’t like it when you’re hurt,” Hongjoong mumbles, tracing patterns on Seonghwa’s leg.
“I’m okay, Joongie,” Seonghwa whispers, his scent joining Wooyoung’s easily as he rubs a hand slowly over Hongjoong’s neck and shoulders. “It hurts, but it will heal quickly.”
“I know. I still don’t like it though. And I hate knowing it’s self-inflicted.” A pause. “I hate knowing something was upsetting you so much and I had no idea. I’m sorry, Star. I should have noticed. That you were hurting. That something was wrong.”
“It’s not your fault, Hongjoongie, Luna. I was trying to deal with it myself. I didn’t want to make you worried about something I couldn’t even name. I…” A pained frown appears on Seonghwa’s lips, despite his best efforts at fighting it off. He lowers his gaze, as if that could hide it. As if that made him not look as tragic. “I didn’t think it would get this bad. I didn’t mean to do this. Or growl at our dance instructor or make Wooyoung upset yesterday. Something’s been… making me anxious all week, and I don’t know what.” He takes a deep breath and ends, softly, with: “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
He looks scared and meek and smaller than both of them, weighed down by something invisible and unnamable — and that’s probably the thing that bothers him the most. Seonghwa doesn’t like being unable to control himself — doesn’t like it when there’s a problem he can’t solve — but he hates not knowing what the problem is even more. If he can’t identify it, then he can’t figure out how to approach it. Then it just eats him alive.
Wooyoung hates seeing him look like that.
“About that,” Wooyoung says, squeezing Hongjoong’s arm again. It makes Hongjoong drag his eyes away from Seonghwa long enough to see the question in Wooyoung’s gaze, and long enough for Wooyoung to take stock of his Luna. Any nervousness Hongjoong held before Seonghwa walked in seems to have evaporated, replaced only by concern and a want to make their Alpha feel better, no matter what it takes. Hongjoong nods, and Wooyoung continues: “I, we, think we might know why you’ve been feeling off.”
Seonghwa raises his head, something between apprehensive and curious on his face. He looks to Wooyoung, waiting for the impending explanation, but Wooyoung passes the baton to Hongjoong through gently nudging his nose against Hongjoong’s jaw.
“I haven’t been feeling well for about a week now.” Hongjoong admits, pointedly not looking at Seonghwa’s upset face. That doesn’t stop him from smelling dry, crisp wood and faded, wilting roses though. “I thought it was nothing at first and just ignored it, but it didn’t go away and even got worse. Four days ago, I had a thought about what could be causing it and… that thought made me feel… a lot of things. Wooyoung thinks you were picking up on my mess of emotions.”
“The timeline matches up; Hongjoong-hyung even got really upset yesterday around the same time you did.”
Seonghwa’s scent sours further, his frown deepening significantly, and Wooyoung catches the way his hands tremble in his lap.
“Oh, no, Seonghwa-hyung, it’s not anything bad. Hyungie is fine, he’s really fine,” Wooyoung quickly tries to course correct. It’s not hard to see what Seonghwa’s mind must have leaped to at Hongjoong’s vague word choice.
“I’m fine, Seonghwa.” Hongjoong says, taking Seonghwa’s hands, thumbing over his knuckles. “I promise.”
“Then, what?” Seonghwa’s voice is a second away from shattering, worry and upset soaking both his scent and his features. “What about you being sick made you feel so anxious? You feel a little stressed most of the time, I’m used to that, but Hongjoong, yesterday scared me.”
“I was scared too,” Hongjoong whispers. “Yesterday when I came home and the house didn’t smell like home, it felt like a rejection. I thought you were angry with me, and I panicked.”
“What?” Seonghwa blinks, shocked. “Why would I be angry with you?”
“Because you said something felt wrong and I— and I’m…” Hongjoong falters, his eyes going wide and vulnerable as the words catch in his throat.
“Alpha, smell him.” Wooyoung says, reaching forward to tug on Seonghwa’s arm. “Smell him.”
Hongjoong bares his neck in permission and Seonghwa leans forward. He starts soft, sniffing curiously. A wrinkle appears in his brow and sniffs again, then he dives deeper, pressing himself closer to Hongjoong’s neck. His next inhale is deep and thorough, his eyes blown wide.
When Seonghwa pulls back, his lips are parted and his eyes are wide and watery.
“H-Hongjoong-ah, Joongie, are you…?”
Hongjoong nods, his head still down and eyes locked on his lap. He doesn’t lift his head, but his eyes glance up at Seonghwa, almost shyly. “I’m pregnant, Seonghwa.”
Seonghwa’s response is instantaneous. He gasps, covers his mouth, starts to cry, and throws his arms around Hongjoong all in a matter of seconds. Hongjoong barely has time to get his bearings before Seonghwa pulls back again, looks at his stomach and lays a hand on it reverently. His smile is dazzling, a perfect blend of excitement and awe, and his scent, so weak and careful before, blooms around them in joy.
Wooyoung has to stop himself from saying I told you so again. Now’s not the time.
“Joongie, my Hongjoongie’s having a pup?” He asks again, so soft and careful, his voice sparkling with the same wonderment in his eyes.
Hongjoong laughs, light and free, sweet vanilla-rose lemon cream soda filling the air. He hums affirmatively and places a hand over Seonghwa’s. “We’re having a pup, Hwa.”
“Literally you two,” Wooyoung says, propping his head on Hongjoong’s shoulder. “I’ve been smelling you on him all day.”
Seonghwa’s smile triples at that and Wooyoung’s impressed that he doesn’t even falter or scold himself that it doesn’t really matter who the sire is because the pup is the pack’s first and foremost. No, he just lets himself be so, so happy for a moment that the pup is his — theirs.
But his smile falters a little. “You said you were upset — stressed. Do you not—”
“My love,” Hongjoong says, cupping Seonghwa’s tear stained face. “Do I look, do I smell, like I’m not happy about this?”
“No…”
“I’m very happy, Star. But I’m also stressed. This is a big life change for the pack. There is so much to do and plan for and reschedule, of course I’m stressed. But I’m happy too.”
Seonghwa’s smile returns in full bloom. “Everyone is going to be so happy.”
“Okay, okay, okay — my turn,” Wooyoung finally cuts in, leaning forward and pawing at Hongjoong’s arm. Hongjoong laughs again and pulls Seonghwa’s head back down, nestling him against Wooyoung’s scent gland. Seonghwa lasts all of two seconds before he’s pulling himself back in shock, tears streaming down his cheeks as his hands cover his mouth.
“Both of you?” He chokes out in disbelief.
“Both of us,” Wooyoung trills, resting his own hand over his flat stomach.
Seonghwa sobs, pulling both of them close. If his scent wasn’t still giving away his complete and utter joy, Wooyoung would be afraid that he was actually upset, given how hard he’s crying. But he’s happy. Their Alpha is happy, so happy for them and for the pups and for the pack.
The pack which is currently, frantically, knocking at Hongjoong’s door, no doubt set into high alert by Seonghwa’s crying. They don’t even wait for permission to enter.
“Hyung!?”
“Youngie?”
“What’s wrong?”
Wooyoung glances at Hongjoong who only sighs. He’s too occupied with Seonghwa, carding his fingers through the Alpha’s hair and scenting him lovingly, to deal with the intrusion.
“Hyung’s okay, he’s just happy,” Wooyoung tells the worried pack mates piling through the door.
“He’s sobbing,” Mingi points out.
“Very happy.”
“Watch it, or we’ll make you cry too,” Hongjoong warns, smirking mischievously.
“Oh, Sannie, Yunho, and Mingi, at least, absolutely,” Wooyoung agrees.
“Should we be worried?” Yunho glances between the three packmates in the nest.
“Come here and find out,” Seonghwa says, pulling himself off the two Omegas and collecting himself enough to speak, though his voice remains slightly dazed and dazzled.
San and Yunho are the first to move, approaching the nest with only mild trepidation.
Wooyoung pounces on San as soon as he’s close to the edge of the bed, laughing as San catches him easily, a smile already blooming on his face as he scoops him up bridal style and burrows his face into Wooyoung’s neck.
“Did you smell it before Sannie? Could you tell?”
“I thought I was imagining it,” San says, squeezing Wooyoung tight and spinning him around so Yeosang also has access to Wooyoung’s neck. “Is it true?”
Out of the corner of his eyes, Wooyoung sees Hongjoong, now brought to the edge of the nest by Seonghwa, presenting his neck to Yunho. Yunho doesn't even need to get all that close — he leans forward, sniffs delicately, and his jaw drops.
Yeosang sniffs Wooyoung’s neck and simply appraises, “Oh, that makes sense.”
“What?”
“How you’ve been acting lately.”
“You’re pregnant?” Jongho asks from the doorway, easily putting the pieces together. “Both of you are pregnant?”
“What?” Mingi says at the same moment Yunho whips around to look at Wooyoung, and San and Yeosang turn to Hongjoong.
“Both of you?” Yunho sounds breathless.
San is, in fact, tearing up. “We’re having pups?”
“Both of you? At the same time?” Yunho repeats.
“Yes, puppy, both of us,” Hongjoong pets his hair gently. “Smell Wooyoungie if you don’t believe me.”
“There are also positive pregnancy tests in the top drawer of Hongjoong’s desk,” Wooyoung adds, comforting a now full-on crying San while still scooped up and held in his arms. “We took them today.”
Yunho retrieves the tests from the drawer Wooyoung indicates and as soon as he sees them, Wooyoung knows Yunho’s also a goner. His eyes are watery when he looks back up at Hongjoong and Wooyoung, and then the rest of the pack.
And that’s the final straw for Mingi — as soon as Yunho makes eye contact with him, Mingi is crying too.
“We’re having pups!” Yunho almost shrieks; their ears are only spared by the way his voice cracks in the middle as his tears catch up with him.
He leans heavily on Mingi, who’s leaning into Yeosang’s shoulder, who is suddenly balking under the combined dramatics of his two pack mates. Jongho steps in to assist him, pulling the three of them down into an impromptu cuddle-cry pile, which San quickly joins by sliding to his knees and setting down Wooyoung with the kind of gentleness and care reserved for handling precious antiques. Wooyoung is barely free of San’s arms when he feels two more of his mates pressed against his neck, and someone splaying their large warm hand under his sweater shirt, across his stomach. He melts so easily under the attention, purring and trilling in delight.
“Do we know who the sires are?” Someone, and Wooyoung truly means someone, his head so full of delight and his pack’s scents that he’s starting to get woozy, says. He thinks it’s Jongho’s steady tone though, mostly because it didn’t sound like Yeosang, and everyone else is still crying.
Wooyoung blinks open his eyes and tries to find Hongjoong, a very lazy smile on his face. “Hongjoong-hyung smells like Seonghwa-hyung,” he all but tattles.
The resounding commentary from their pack essentially aligns with Wooyoung’s own thoughts on the matter:
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Awww, that’s so cute.”
“Wow mom and dad for real.”
“I’m actually happy about that; it would have felt weird if it wasn’t Seonghwa-hyung.”
“What about you?” Yeosang asks, drawing Wooyoung’s attention back to the cuddle pile around him. It’s apparently Yeosang’s hand on his stomach, just resting there, warm and present.
“I can’t smell anyone on him yet. His scent’s too faint,” Hongjoong answers for him, a small, almost nervous, smile on his face. “It should start coming through in the next week though. One of you might be the first to know.”
The excitement that courses through the pack is palpable, sharp and static like electricity. At least five of them are staring at Wooyoung with something that isn’t the hunger he’s used to seeing during his heat or a rut or any other time, but it’s close. Possession, maybe. Or the desire to protect. Whatever it is, Wooyoung preens under it, opening his arms wide and not really caring who ends up in them.
He is surprised, however, when that someone ends up being Hongjoong. Wooyoung hadn’t seen him move from the bed and has no idea how he got through the rest of the pack so easily and unscathed (Luna privileges, perhaps). But he would know the weight and size and feeling and scent of his Luna anywhere, and although he would have taken anyone, something in him sparks excitedly at being entwined with Hongjoong again. His perfect Luna. His pretty hyung.
Wooyoung snaps his arms closed around Hongjoong and tugs him close, once again burrowing his face into his neck, just as Hongjoong does the same to him. They’re purring in tandem, and it’s either that or the flood of happy Omega pheromones or just the sight of their two pregnant mates together or maybe all of it combined that has the rest of the pack surrounding them, their own joyful pheromones bursting into the air.
“My baby,” Hongjoong coos, just for him.
“My Luna,” Wooyoung replies, nuzzling their faces together.