Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Once, when Chan was small, he had a bad fever. For a few days, he stayed home from school and sweated it out, his whole body heavy and painful. 

It was so high that Eomma gave him aspirin, but even that was too much. 

“He will experience much more heat than this,” Halmeonim grumbled when she found out, taking the pill bottle away. “This is nothing.”

Chan doesn't know if Eomma was punished for it. He was too out of his mind to pay any attention, and by the time he recovered, he didn't dare ask.

He doesn't remember much of this sickness, actually. What he does recall is this: at some point, he stumbled out of his bed and into Halmeonim's. She had a nest, the only one in the house—it was special permission from Harabeonim that allowed her to have one.

At this point, it had been a few years since he had been in a nest. Geon was already almost in school, and Chan knew one day he would present as an omega. He wasn’t allowed in one anymore. 

And yet, he hadn't forgotten the feeling.

Halmeonim’s nest didn't smell right nor did it feel perfect. There was too much of Harabeonim, too many hints of aunts and uncles and cousins—and it was so lumpy with sharp edges of decorative pillows poking him in the back. 

Chan didn't like it on a soul-deep level, but he didn't dare change anything about the nest. 

He was wrong to go into it at all without her permission, so messing with it would have been worse—but he just felt so terrible. His mind was syrupy slow and his body was weighed down.

More than that, there was still some rebellious part of him that remembered how he’d been treated before his second gender came to light, and hated his family for it. 

Maybe he was too young to understand hate, maybe it just felt like desperate confusion to know what he did wrong and overwhelming hurt that they didn’t love him the same way anymore. Either way, it existed, deep down inside him where it could be ignored.

But the fever washed all of his sense away, what little he had, and left only instinct. So it didn’t matter that he wasn’t allowed to be in a nest, that his family would be angry with him.

Being in the nest, though it smelled bad and felt worse, was like a balm. It called to him until he crawled in, and then his mind went blissfully blank. Safe, his growing instincts whispered. Safe, stay here.

He was so sick he thought maybe he would die, but at least it would be there, where his body could relax. 

Where maybe he wouldn’t feel it.

Hours later, he was found. Chan doesn’t remember it well—he knows that Appa came and picked him up, that some of his aunts and uncles saw and scolded Chan’s parents since he himself was too out of it to understand. Appa and Eomma were upset, and didn’t let him lay in their bed even though he begged.

After the illness started to pass, Harabeonim came to their room and grabbed his face, his bony fingers digging into Chan’s cheeks.

“You will never do that again,” he thundered, looming over Chan. He seemed so big in the way that adults do to children—like a statue or a skyscraper. “You do not get to have a nest. Not until you give me a great-grandchild. And after what you did today, you don’t deserve even that.”

“Harabeoji,” Chan had whimpered. He still had shivers, and he was scared. He didn’t understand what was being said, just that he had been bad. But he hadn’t meant to, he wanted to say. It wasn’t his fault but he was sorry anyway, please let me go….

But he didn’t dare say any of that. Since they found out he was an omega, his grandfather had changed. No longer was he kind to Chan, no longer did he let him sit in his lap or give him candy. He didn’t listen when Chan talked about, well, anything, much less his ‘excuses’.

Chan missed that version of his grandfather—he wanted that back. 

“You will call me Harabeonim from now on, you ungrateful brat,” Harabeonim said, and let go of him. He turned his back and walked away, leaving Chan trembling and crying in his small, empty bed.

The next time they saw each other was after the fever broke. Harabeonim acted like nothing had happened, his new coldness firmly in place. It was Halmeonim who didn’t speak to him for a month, who ignored his presence entirely. 

Later he learned she had completely remade her nest after he laid in it.

(When it came time to learn about these things years later, his family kept him home from school. Halmeonim taught him the truth—that omegas are greedy, pathetic creatures and nests are an extension of that. 

The only good reason to have one was to nourish a growing baby. The extra comfort would encourage that baby to become an alpha, and that’s what every omega should want most of all.

It was Halmeonim, who had her own nest, that cemented these ideas in Chan’s whole family.)

Ever since then, Chan has never even touched another nest. 

He removed the thought from his mind, placing it in the box labelled pregnancy which he rarely touched. 

Nesting has nothing to do with Chan—maybe he’ll never have one again, he’s thought, and was fine with that. Or maybe whatever alpha his family made him marry would let him have one, but that was a distant future he didn’t like to linger on. 

This is what he thinks about after everyone is gone from the guest room.

He lays down under his two blankets, his skin crawling at even having that much. Chan’s not supposed to have these things—one blanket is more than enough. But when he thinks about throwing one of them off, he can’t do it.

Exhaustion, mental and physical, clings to him. It reminds him of that fever and of every heat he’s ever had. 

In the end, he doesn’t bother with the blankets. He only pulls them up over his head so he can hide.

God, he wishes he could talk to Junseo. Though Junseo had grown up with nests, when he married Subin, he gave it up for a time. At least until they had their own place and Subin (reluctantly, Chan knows) let Junseo have one again. 

Those months in between, he had seemed pale and unwell to Chan, but they never spoke about why.

Joshua’s words come back to Chan then, and he wonders, could a few months without a nest really have made him lose weight? Could it have really impacted his mental health so much? (And that wasn't even touching on the ‘roommate’ part, which Chan couldn't make sense of at all. Only an alpha could make that kind of choice, but would a school really put an omega and an alpha in the same dorm?)

Maybe Junseo had been a little sick in that in-between time, but he was fine. He survived that, at least. 

And even without having a nest almost his whole life, Chan is fine. He doesn’t have those symptoms Joshua said. 

…Right?

He bites the inside of his cheek, hard. Okay, yes, maybe he has noticed that he’s more upset, more scared lately with no idea where it was coming from. 

Ever since Junseo got too sick to make it—when everyone knew what was coming but no one would say or do anything about it—he’s been scared. Chan couldn’t look at his family the same way, and it all culminated on that horrible day, when Junseo was dead and no one cared. When all the focus was on Subin, being such a young widow, what she would do with herself now. Not one word about the fact that they all had let him die.

Junseo was a footnote at his own funeral, and Chan had felt his future bearing down on him, a lifetime of waiting for the same thing to happen to him.

So he ran, and he found this crazy pack, and he spent time with them and some part of him started to relax. Not all the time, but enough for it to count. Then he met Minghao and Soonyoung, and messed it all up, and ever since he’s been more terrified than he’s ever been in his life. 

Chan has cried too much today for his eyes to get wet, but he feels it in his chest anyway, a grief he doesn’t know what to do with. 

Is this what his life will be like now? Will he always be this scared?

The hyungs said nesting helps. But he just can’t believe it, can’t make the wires cross right in his brain to convince himself it would. Or that he even can have one. 

He doesn’t need a nest, he reminds himself. He doesn’t deserve one. Even if Seungcheol lets his omegas have them, if he lets his alphas have them, Chan is… separate from that. 

But—

That’s bullshit, Jihoon had said. 

The longer you wait, the more it’ll mess you up. Joshua.

What does it hurt to try now? Jeonghan.

Okay, maybe there’s still some moisture left in him. He squeezes his eyes shut, and can only picture Seungcheol, standing there with a serious look on his face, backing up every word the others said. The pack alpha agreed—he didn’t call Jeonghan or Joshua or even Mingyu ungrateful for needing a nest. 

Maybe it’s too late. Maybe he’s gone without one for too long and he’ll be stuck in this limbo forever.

He doesn’t want that. Clenching his fingers around the blankets, he can admit to himself that he doesn’t want to keep feeling like this.

Eventually, he falls into an uneasy sleep. 

It doesn’t last long.

Some time in the middle of the night, he opens his eyes abruptly.

He’s not really awake so much as vertical and somewhat aware. He won’t remember this in the morning except as a flash of a dream, the room dark and silent except for the muffled sound of Seungkwan’s white noise machine. 

It’s like his body is on autopilot. He sits up and blearily sweeps his eyes around the room. His brain isn’t online enough to know what he’s looking for, if anything. It’s just, there’s something….

He takes a deep breath.

There. Under the bed.

Screwing up his mouth, he tries to lean down to grab at it but nearly falls, his balance shot and feet scrambling a little. He catches himself in time, but goes a lot more carefully after that, as much as he can in this state.

Moving to his knees beside the bed, he tries to find whatever it is. He just saw it, didn’t he?

Palm down, he pats the floor until he finds it again—fabric. A different kind of soft from the bedsheets, far thinner than the rug, and out of place there under the bed. 

Lifting it to his face, he sniffs it without conscious decision.

It smells like winter, like snow and pine trees. Like memories and happiness, confusion, alpha. It smells… really, really good.

He shoves his face into it, huffing the scent into his lungs. His lungs expand, taking a full breath until the scent coats his insides, until he can taste it. Half asleep as he is, there’s no part of him that recoils from doing it—he’s not thinking at all beyond wanting the scent more and closer. 

Stumbling to his feet, he only lets it go enough to realize distantly it’s a hoodie—and to put it on backwards, his arms in the sleeves, the actual hood under his nose where he can smell it most strongly.

Then he gets back into bed, crawls under his two blankets, and goes back to sleep.

Junhui’s knock wakes Chan up a few hours later.

“Channie~” He sings through the door, tapping it rhythmically with his fingers. “Breakfast time!”

Chan blinks his crusty eyes, making some kind of noise in response. 

His mind is slow, still clinging to the last vestiges of his dream—though he can’t remember what it was, he knows it was calm, happy. He feels more rested than he has in days.

Junhui laughs, and maybe he takes that noise as confirmation, because he doesn’t walk away. He just leans against the door, which creaks under his weight, and says, “I’ll wait for you out here.”

He’s so awake in the mornings, giggly and ready to face the whole day with a smile and a bounce in his step. Chan doesn’t understand how it’s possible.

Forcing himself up, he throws the blankets off and gets to his feet. It’s only then that he sees the black fabric covering his body, a hoodie he doesn’t immediately recognize. And he’s… wearing it? Confused, Chan grabs the hood—that’s in front of his face for some reason?—and gives it a delicate sniff. 

He knows the scent at once.

Alpha Jihoon, his omega pipes up sleepily. No trace of the stress he felt yesterday around Jihoon pops up. All he knows is—Protection. Safety. Feels good.

The rush of feeling he gets then bowls him over. Yes, it feels good—it feels so good to wear this, to be covered in someone’s scent, to be… marked. More than what it was like with Mingyu or Jeonghan last night, because those weren't real scentings, just kind touches that barely left any scent on Chan.

This, on the other hand…. Though it’s coming from clothing and not from a scent gland, it’s still potent. When he sniffs the air in the room, all he can taste, all he can smell is pine. And when Chan sniffs himself, hesitantly lifting his wrist to his nose, it’s the same.

His omega purrs happily, catching the barest hint of his own scent hidden underneath Jihoon’s. Now everyone will know that someone cares, that someone is paying attention. That there’s an alpha lurking behind Chan waiting to help him up if he falls. 

It's not something he's ever felt before, and he has no idea what to do with it.

At that, he’s hit with the strong urge to stay like this, to show off to everyone that Jihoon does care—and the equally strong feeling that he cannot let anyone close enough to realize what’s happened.

Gasping a little at the rush of instincts, he falls back onto the bed with a yelp.

“Chan?” Junhui calls from right outside, concerned by the sound. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he manages. “Just tripped.”

His head is spinning. Why is he wearing this? Why is he wearing it backwards? Where did it come from? And why are his instincts acting like this? 

Jihoon and Chan are not pack. His omega shouldn’t… he shouldn’t….

He shouldn’t like it. But he does. There’s some part of him—a part he’s not entirely unfamiliar with—that wishes Jihoon was right beside him. That Chan could follow him around and just be wherever he is.

It’s almost like how he feels about Seungcheol sometimes, though not quite as urgent. 

Still, the feeling is odd. After last night, he has no idea what to think about where he and Jihoon stand—again. The alpha seems so upset, but somehow his hoodie is here, and Chan smells so much like him it’s embarrassingly obvious he slept with it. 

It was probably left accidentally. No, it definitely was. But Chan took advantage of it, and linked them together more firmly, more intimately than he ever should have.

Will Jihoon be angry?

The thought sends ice down Chan’s spine. He can’t risk that.

Shivering, he does the only thing he knows to do to fix it all, and rips the hoodie off of his body. He throws it to the floor by the closet, and forgets it there, moving to the door like he can’t get away fast enough.

Junhui is on the other side still, with Hansol next to him now. At least the younger beta still looks rumpled, unlike Junhui who's already dressed for work. For some reason, they’re meowing to each other—though when the door flings open, they both stop and look at him with wide eyes.

Hansol sniffs like he’s trying to be subtle, but as soon as he catches whatever scent is coming off Chan, he makes an exaggerated face. “Dude, you smell like hyung.”

His omega flinches, caught between joy and fear. 

On one hand, his instincts like that they can tell—that they’re recognizing it, acknowledging it. It’s more real like this. But that is its own problem: if they know, they can tell Jihoon. 

Yes, good, I want to see him.

No, I need to stay away until I can fix this.

Junhui unsticks his tongue from his mouth and says, glancing back at the door, “Uh, is Hoonie in there…?”

The thought inflames Chan, and not in a good way. He feels his whole face go hot at the implication that he would let an alpha into his room, especially so early in the morning.

“No! No! I wouldn't!” 

“Okay,” Junhui soothes, holding up his hands. “But—”

“You said it's breakfast time,” Chan interrupts. It's rude but he doesn't want to know what Junhui is about to say or ask. He has no answers to give. “I… I’ll come downstairs in a minute, hyungs. I’m going to take a shower. You guys go ahead.”

He has nothing with him, no clothes or a towel or anything, but he doesn’t care. He bolts down the hall, passing Seokmin with his bedhead and Jeonghan who makes a trilling sound as he rushes by. 

Seungkwan is just coming out of the bathroom when he gets there, the air steamy and thick.

“Hi Chan,” Seungkwan says casually, and then after getting a better look, balks. “Um, what’s going on? Why do you smell like that?”

“Everything’s fine, I just need the bathroom, please,” he begs. His thoughts aren’t right, his mind not working. He just—he needs to shower—he needs to smell like himself, not—

“Well don’t pee your pants,” Seungkwan giggles nervously after a moment, stepping aside. He’s wearing a fluffy robe and his feet are bare. He smiles at Chan so easily as he pushes his way into the bathroom. “Wait, really quick, can I get my—”

The door shuts in his face, and Chan will feel bad later—will apologize, he swears—but right now there’s no time. As soon as it's locked, he forgets everyone and everything outside the bathroom.

He strips without caring where his clothes go. It doesn’t matter—they’ll have to be washed before he can wear them again anyway, coated in pine as they are.

As soon as he’s in the water, turned so hot it’s nearly scalding, he grabs the scentless body wash and scrubs at each of his scent glands. The ones on his wrists, his neck, his ankles, even the ones between his thighs just to be safe. There’s no reason why anyone’s scent would be there, but he doesn’t feel clean until he’s rubbed at every possible spot.

Then he just stands there for a few minutes, breathing heavily.

When he finally gets out, the water has run cold after two back to back showers. He's shivering as he searches for a towel—they're under the sink—and as he wipes himself down. Every movement seems to agitate his scent glands, which are bright red and tender.

They don't smell like anything except the faint shimmer of cinnamon, though, and Chan can only feel relief. 

With no clothes, he wraps the towel around his torso, hoping it will cover everything long enough he can escape to the guest room.

But as soon as he opens the door, he finds Minghao waiting in the hall opposite from the door, as well put together as he always is even despite the early hour. His phone is in one hand and … another robe in the other?

Looking up, Minghao makes a sympathetic face at whatever he sees in Chan. It sends a spasm of shame through him, but he has no time to deal with it.

Handing the robe over, Minghao says, “Jun-ge told me you'd need this. And Seungkwannie needs his toothbrush.”

Chan takes the robe, sniffing it discreetly and finding that it thankfully only smells like the pack's laundry detergent and very faintly of Minghao's beta-like eucalyptus. Though they don't know each other well still, it's not the same as Jihoon's overwhelming alpha scent—it doesn't make his skin itch with a thousand conflicted feelings.

Blinking, Chan forces himself to get out of his head. Swallowing, he says, “Um, I don't know which one's his… just a second.”

He shuts the door and takes off the towel, grateful for the soft robe and how long it is. And how it hides his scent glands.

Minghao smiles a little smile when he comes out a second time. “I'll grab it for him, and then… did you still want to come down to eat? Or should we make a plate for you?”

Chan's still reeling. His skin doesn't feel right, his stomach knotting. He thinks about hiding in the guest room again—of being alone and being alone with the hoodie still in the room—and though his omega whines in longing and confusion, Chan knows he can't do it.

“I'll join you,” he says, and goes to get dressed.

He spends the whole day away from the guest room.

The pack, or at least the ones who don’t have to go to work, are pleased to have him around again. 

Chan hangs out with Hansol in the living room, getting used to being downstairs again; apologizes to Seungkwan, who says, “I almost had to borrow a toothbrush from Seokmin-hyung,” with a shudder; and is generally able to completely get his mind off of the hoodie upstairs.

When dinner time rolls around, Junhui declares they’re going to eat in the living room. All thirteen of them cram into the space, some on the couch and some on the floor—and some in other people’s laps. 

It’s fine—it’s normal. No one comments on the change, though there is an argument again about who gets to sit next to Chan.

“But I want to,” Mingyu says again, a little whiny like maybe nobody heard him and that’s the problem. 

“You had your turn last night!” Seokmin complains, arms crossed. “I want a turn!”

“He’s not a toy,” Jeonghan scolds lightly, though he’s once again sat next to Chan. He also doesn’t really do anything to stop the younger alphas from fighting, watching with amusement dancing in his eyes. 

When he bumps his shoulder against Chan’s, Chan makes himself be normal—makes himself pretend nothing awkward or painful happened last night—and bumps back.

“Wow, no one wants to sit with me,” Soonyoung goads obviously.

“I will,” says Wonwoo, even though he’s got a coveted couch spot and was defending it with his life a few minutes ago.

Soonyoung pouts, but Chan doesn’t think it’s a real pout. He doesn’t seem really upset when he shoots back, “But maybe I want one of the puppies.”

“You could be sitting in my lap right now, Soonyoung.”

“Meh, maybe later. Seokminnie, come sit next to hyung.”

“Or me,” Seungkwan says, batting his eyes at Wonwoo. “I could be sitting in your lap.”

“Or Chan could,” Wonwoo replies casually, making Chan’s face flush and Seungkwan pout, a real one this time.

“That’s not fair….”

“Hyung,” Chan says at the same time, not sure which one he’s speaking to and unsure of what he’s even going to say. It just feels like he needs to interject—to acknowledge that Wonwoo brought him up, or that he doesn’t want to steal the beta’s lap from Seungkwan, or something.

Thankfully, he doesn’t get a chance to finish anyway.

“Fuck all of you,” Joshua says from the doorway, balancing several plates with obvious difficulty. “‘I’ll help you, hyungie. You don’t have to get it all. You had such a long day at work, let us do it.’ Yeah, right. Are all of your muscles just for show?”

Everyone calls out apologies at once, Mingyu rushing over to help. He nearly steps on Junhui, who yelps, and does step on Seungcheol, who smacks his calf in retaliation with a “Yah!”. 

In all the chaos, Minghao falls into place next to Chan on the floor. 

For a second, Chan tenses up, the chaos of the room combined with someone pushing into his space working together to freak him out. But then he catches a whiff of eucalyptus, and he can breathe. Glancing over, he finds Minghao already looking at him, his expression flat.

Chan wants to look away, embarrassed and worried about what the beta could be thinking. He can’t get a read on Minghao, doesn’t know what to do with him.

But his eyes don’t stray away, even as Joshua keeps scolding everyone and Soonyoung argues back. He’s caught there, not-quite pressed between Jeonghan and Minghao, surrounded by noise.

Minghao’s gaze scans his face, eyes darting around. Exhaling through his nose, he says, “Is it okay if I sit here?”

Chan’s throat is dry. Nodding, he says, “Yeah, uh, yeah it’s okay.”

Minghao smiles at him, and it’s not a big thing, just the corners of his plush lips curling up. But it makes Chan feel warm, and though he doesn’t know the beta that well, he feels cocooned here, like he and Jeonghan won’t let anything touch Chan.

It’s… nice. Really nice.

When Seokmin and Mingyu realize what’s happened to the coveted spot, they both loudly complain, but Minghao only smirks at them, smug. 

“Don’t be so slow next time,” he says serenely. 

“Chan-ah, I am going to sit next to you tomorrow,” Seokmin vows before he sits down to eat. “I don’t care who has to die for me to do it. I am calling dibs and you are all my witness.”

“I don’t know, I’m suddenly deaf,” says Hansol blandly, and everyone cracks up except Seokmin, who lets out a scream-wail sound and falls into Soonyoung’s side pretending to cry.

Chan is still feeling nervous, but he manages to speak up. Though he doesn’t understand why it’s such a big deal, or why even Minghao is playing along with it. Maybe it’s better not to question it.

“You can sit with me tomorrow if you want, Seokmin-hyung.”

Seokmin gasps in delight and fist-pumps. Soonyoung giggles and kisses his head.

After that, they begin to eat. Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua don’t confront him about what happened the night before. Joshua is more gentle with him, giving him extra meat and scolding Jeonghan when he gets a little snarky. Everyone else are their normal selves, chatting with each other and trying to include Chan without overwhelming him.

It’s only Jihoon who’s weird. 

Not bad weird, exactly. But he doesn’t speak much at all, sitting in one of the chairs by himself with his legs tucked under him, and he doesn’t look at Chan. He keeps his eyes trained to his lap, briefly glancing when the others speak, before scowling back down at his food.

Chan looks at him a lot—he can’t help it—so he knows Jihoon is avoiding him. 

He doesn’t know why he’s staring. But that part of him that woke up this morning wanting Jihoon close is right under the surface of his mind, all too aware of both of the older alphas. Half of him is soothed, since Seungcheol is close, sitting on the couch near Chan, and he’s talking to him, giving him bits of food from his own plate… but Jihoon is all the way across from them both. 

It’s too far. And he won’t look at Chan.

Chan’s hands itch to do—something. He’s not sure what. They stay firmly in his space either way, leaving only his eyes to wander.

Dinner is nice. He’s able to relax a little into the chaos of the whole pack together, even staying in the living room after some of the others finish eating and decide to go elsewhere in the house.

Initially, Seungkwan plans to stay, but once they turn on a movie—a western one Chan has never seen called X-Men: First Class—he decides to leave too. Carefully, he steps around everyone’s limbs and stops in front of Chan.

“Stay still,” Seungkwan says, his voice sweet even though the words seem vaguely threatening to Chan. He is looming over him, after all. 

Chan’s omega doesn’t know what to think, but he obediently doesn’t move.

It’s fine, though. Seungkwan only bends down, holds Chan’s face, and kisses the top of his head. By the time he pulls away, Chan feels warm again, breathing in citrus.

Tapping his cheek with two fingers, Seungkwan says, “Try to enjoy the movie, Channie.”

“Th-thank you, hyung.”

“I want a kiss too, Kwannie,” Soonyoung says sleepily from Wonwoo’s lap. “I missed you.”

“Are you drunk?” Seungkwan sighs, but he does give him a kiss, first on the cheek and then on the mouth. Then everyone has to have one, the movie paused because Mingyu insists they cannot miss a single thing. 

Chan leans against the couch, the scent of vanilla latte and a little eucalyptus surrounding him, though Minghao has elected to go to his room. 

It’s all a good distraction—he’s enjoying the movie so much, he doesn’t even realize how late they end up staying there until Seungcheol reminds everyone they have work in the morning.

But the distraction can’t last forever. He has to go back to the guest room eventually. 

When he steps into the room, he finds that the baseline scent has changed slightly. Most of the time, it doesn’t smell like anything to Chan, though very rarely he catches his own scent. 

Sniffing, he finds that there’s still the faint mixture of fruit, flowers, and vanilla from the eldest three pack members. But more than those, the snowy pine has spread further into the air, seeped into the walls, and it’s all coming from the hoodie. 

Swallowing hard, Chan steps a little closer. He shuts his eyes and inhales.

Jihoon’s scent isn’t just his own, not really. Every pack has an undertone that all the members carry, a sign that they belong to something bigger than just themselves. As soon as he smells it, not just from the hoodie but from all of the pack members, their clothes, their rooms, his instincts light up. 

The Choi pack scent isn’t like his family’s scent. Theirs is more varied, unlike his family’s, which are all a lot more similar. Harabeonim smells like cloves, and from there, most of the family has scents like spices, unique of course but obviously related.

In comparison, the mix of the Choi pack is more diverse, but it’s more welcoming, inviting, too. Even the scents that shouldn’t mix well do, melting into each other. It calls to him, reminds him of all of the hundreds of moments in the last week and a half that this pack has been kind to him.

It reminds him of what Jihoon said about marks. That they’re a connection. That Jihoon specifically wants to smother his omegas with his scent.

Clenching his fists, Chan stares at the hoodie and doesn’t know what to do. Can he call someone to get it out? Surely someone like Mingyu or Junhui would do it. But then he would have to explain, and he doesn’t even know how it got here—he doesn’t remember Jihoon taking it off last night, and the alpha didn’t say anything about it all day. 

That’s ridiculous, anyway. 

He should just pick it up, carefully, and put it somewhere else. In Seungkwan’s room, maybe, since it’s right next door and he has a hamper. And Chan’s pretty sure that Seungkwan is secretly obsessed with Jihoon—no one would question it if he had one of his hoodies.

“Just do it,” he whispers to himself. After a moment of hyping himself up, he moves forward and grabs it. He intends to take it to Seungkwan’s room and put it inside, or if he’s there, hang it on his doorknob or something. It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s anywhere that’s not Chan’s room.

But the moment his fingertips meet the soft fabric again, it’s like he has no control over himself.

Instead of taking it away, he holds it against his chest, crouched in the corner of the room like a goblin. The scent fills his nose, protection, safety, feels good. Slowly, he puts it back on, correctly this time, and stands. 

What if someone sees me like this?

No. His omega nearly snarls it, suddenly awake and at the forefront of Chan’s mind. No one can see. 

Chan turns and goes right to the bed. His blanket and the one from Joshua and Mingyu are both there, and his stomach cramps at how… bland it looks, just two flat blankets and only one pillow. It’s comfortable enough, but it’s not interesting, not—

It’s not a nest, he reminds himself. It’s not supposed to be a nest. Chan doesn't want, need, or deserve a nest.

He scrubs his face, hating that what happened last night is getting to him after all. He should take the hoodie off again, give it to anyone who will take it, and take another shower. Maybe that will fix whatever weird thing is happening to him right now.

But… he doesn’t want to. The thought of taking it off now hurts.

For a moment, he fights himself. But eventually his instincts win, and he ends up back in bed with his two blankets wrapped around his body, the hood pulled over his head so he’s surrounded by its wintery scent.

This goes on for the next few days.

Every morning, Chan wakes up covered in Jihoon’s scent. His instincts flare up, both wanting to keep the hoodie on all day and wanting to burn it in a fire at the same time. The duelling desires keep him on edge in the mornings, especially after he scrubs himself in the shower. 

Though Junhui continues to wake him up for breakfast, he doesn’t comment again on Chan’s scent. No one does, not even Jihoon, who continues to avoid Chan.

During the daytime, he has more of an opportunity to see what the pack is like now that they’re all together. It’s a distraction from… whatever is going on with him, one that he is pathetically grateful for.

Something feels different about all of them, though it’s hard to put his finger on what exactly the change is. The underlying tension, that Chan hadn’t even realized he’d been feeling this whole time, calms down a lot.

It’s not like Soonyoung and Minghao are breaking up fights or taking care of everyone. At least, not that Chan sees. 

But now when Seungcheol does a head count, Chan watches as he reaches twelve—thirteen—and visibly relaxes. Hansol no longer clings only to Jihoon and Seungkwan, but can nearly always be found beside Minghao. And then there’s the new trio of Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan, who gravitate towards each other, cracking jokes and trading sweet kisses.

The age lines feel more pronounced, too. 

Of course, the oldest three are always hanging around each other anyway, and it’s been like that since Chan arrived here. Seungkwan and Hansol are as inseparable as ever.

It’s the middle two age lines that feel different. 

Now instead of rotating around each other, the four cats—as Minghao calls them—group together more. Soonyoung and Chan don’t really interact much, but Chan does see the way he treats each of the other 96z. He throws tantrums at Wonwoo, who rolls his eyes and cuddles him close; he clings to Junhui like a limpet, their bodies melded together; and he just talks so much at Jihoon, who doesn’t respond to everything but seems to always keep one part of their bodies touching. 

At breakfast, they sit together, Soonyoung and Junhui in the middle, and all four of them share secretive, sometimes evil smiles at anything they think is funny. Everyone younger than them is fair game for scolding and teasing, though only the betas do it to Chan.

On the other hand, the 97z are… Chan doesn’t even know. He’s never seen anything like it. 

All three of them—Seokmin, Mingyu, and Minghao—follow each other around from room to room, sometimes not speaking, sometimes arguing over things no one else can figure out. Mingyu spends as much time pouting as he does breathing.

But every time someone like Jeonghan or Wonwoo asks if something’s wrong or if they need to be separated, they act like the world is ending. Even Minghao, who comes off so aloof and calm, scowls at the hyungs for even asking. Seungkwan says they’re codependent. 

They’re all very strange, but Chan is just grateful that they all seem to accept his presence. Even though he doesn’t really talk much, and mostly follows around the evil twins or Hansol and Seungkwan.

No one brings up the strained silence between Soonyoung and Chan, or forces Chan to sit at the table again until he’s ready, happily eating in the living room without even one complaint.

As for the leaders… Seungcheol goes out of his way to make Chan feel welcomed. 

He never says, but Chan’s pretty sure he’s the reason they don’t eat in the dining room anymore. 

Sometimes, when the food is laid out on the kitchen island, the other pack members will glance at Seungcheol before loading up their plates. Chan thinks they’re waiting for Seungcheol to decide where they’re going to sit, because no one moves until the alpha says, “We’re not doing that tonight. Go ahead and eat.”

At first, Chan’s not sure what it means—what they’re not doing. He understands once he gets to the living room and finds everyone beginning to eat, not waiting for Seungcheol to take the first bite, like they do at the table. 

Chan still waits, though. He can’t make himself eat until Seungcheol is settled and at least a quarter of the way through his own dinner.

Seungcheol doesn’t sit right next to him most nights, letting the others have their turns. But he sticks close, and Chan appreciates it, feeling more settled having his summery scent nearby.

The way he treats him is like a balm, compared to the other two pack leaders. As the days pass, Jihoon goes from avoiding Chan to avoiding everyone, sometimes only taking a few bites before he gets up with a huff and goes to eat in the office-slash-studio. His scent is a mix of bad feelings that Chan can’t read, but makes the others side-eye him.

Sometimes Soonyoung follows, and sometimes Hansol does it instead. Seungcheol never does, though his eyes track whoever’s left until he can’t see them anymore.

None of the three leaders say anything to Chan about it. But everyone can feel the tension slowly building between them, and he feels guilty. He’s sure it didn’t exist before he came—before he made a mess of things with all three of them.

It’s so obvious the way the two alphas sit on opposite ends of the room. The way Jihoon’s behavior starts getting more erratic, or at least the glimpses of him that Chan sees where he’s shoving his face into Mingyu’s back or stealing snacks right out of Seungkwan’s hands. Once, he sees Chan is in the office-slash-studio just as he’s walking inside, and actually runs right back out the door.

Seungcheol watches closely, always aware of where both Chan and Jihoon are at any given time, it seems like.

And then there’s Soonyoung. Chan doesn’t know what he’s thinking about all of this, but he wears his confusion and mounting annoyance clear as day on his face. When he thinks Chan isn’t looking, he gives him deeply suspicious looks that feel like brands on Chan’s skin.

Even through all of this, no one blames the new problems on Chan.

They’re all very nice to him, really. Nicer than he deserves. Even Jihoon and Soonyoung.

It’s just. Even in the middle of the pack, Chan feels his out-of-placeness uniquely. He’s the only one without someone the same age as him. He’s the only one who can’t feel the emotions of everyone around him. 

That ability wasn’t a good thing at home, all of the negative feelings from his relatives compounding in his head through their family bond. 

But maybe… maybe it would be nice here. None of them ever seem to stay angry for long. When someone is upset, the others seem to know what they need without having to ask, be it space or company or a distraction.

Chan watches all of this and tries not to yearn for it. They have an understanding of each other that he feels distinctly shut out from, no matter how much they include him.

He’s a guest. He’s separate from their bond.

But even if he's not pack, the dynamics have shifted, especially now that the pack is complete. 

Before, with only two omegas around, Chan knew his place more. It was all very clear—age hierarchy made sense. Jeonghan and Joshua are omegas, so they should be at the bottom, but because this pack cares more about age, they weren’t. They’re at the top while Chan, being the youngest, is at the bottom. Simple.

But with Soonyoung here, the order becomes more confusing. He’s the youngest of the three pack omegas, but he joined the pack first. He’s above the twins in that sense, or at least, Chan thinks so… until one of them scolds Soonyoung, who defers to them respectfully. As much as he’s capable of it, anyway.

It doesn’t help that Chan keeps asking about it, and the others keep telling him the pack’s not like that. That there’s no hierarchy, not the way he’s thinking.

Chan worries he's being annoying, but… every pack has an order, don't they? Is it even possible to function without one?

Either way, now that the last two mates are around more, Chan feels keenly how his place changes. 

No one treats him any differently. But Chan goes from being the third omega around to the fourth. They like Chan, or at least most of them do—he’s still not sure about the other two leaders—but it’s clear how much everyone loves Jeonghan, Joshua, and Soonyoung. 

Affection comes easily between the omegas and the rest of the pack. Their bond is so strong, all twelve of them, a perfect dozen.

Every night, Chan goes back to his room and clings to the hoodie. In the dark, lonely and his instincts muddled, it’s the only piece of them he can have. His only real tether to these people who have been so kind to him, but who aren’t really his. 

Once, he wakes up in the middle of the night. Sleep clings heavily to him, his eyes blinking blearily into the darkness of the room. He’s not sure what’s woken him, but he’s not really aware enough to care.

Inhaling, he catches Jihoon’s scent, strong pine and the warm blend of pack. With a smile, he falls back asleep.

(Deep inside, in his heart maybe, there’s a pulsing little thing, fledgling and desperate to grow. It’s made up of parts, some bigger than others, some more insistent.

It’s the beginning of a bond. 

But it’s not the bond he has with his family. That is larger, a stone in his chest that he can’t ever remove. It doesn’t glow or throb, it just exists, something he’ll have to carry around forever. It overshadows the newer one, and they should be able to coexist, but—Chan can’t acknowledge it exists. 

Acknowledging is a betrayal. A definitive step away from his family and the person he was raised to be. 

He doesn’t even really know it’s there. It hides so perfectly in the shadow of his family’s bond that he can subconsciously suppress it, keeping it small and contained. 

Chan doesn’t realize that the others can feel the small tugs, that they want him to be part of it. He doesn’t know that all of his denying is why he wakes up sometimes, sick to his stomach, or his head aching. 

No, he ignores all of it, caught in a terrible limbo between what he wants and what he knows he can’t have.)

Luckily, though, not everything in Chan’s life is confusing and impossible to deal with. 

His omega seems to know that the pack is complete now. Since he starts spending more time with them, he gets to see firsthand that they’re all happier. They play tricks all day, talk on the phone with each other, eat and play together, and run around giggling and screaming. 

Over and over again, he's struck by how much they love each other. There's no question about it.

He tries to push his roiling emotions away and just enjoy getting to be with them. 

Chan spends a lot of time with Wonwoo in the office-slash-studio. There’s a spot on the futon where the camera can’t reach, and so when everyone else is at work, Chan parks himself there and listens to Wonwoo stream. 

Sometimes he falls asleep. Other times he has to try not to laugh when Wonwoo bites off curse words and cutely teases his viewers. 

He also gets to know Minghao better. They’re waiting to hear back about the potential choreography job, and in the meantime, there’s not much to do. So, in the rare moments he’s not glued to Hansol, Seokmin, or Mingyu’s sides, and Junhui hasn’t commandeered him for purposes unknown, they sit together. 

It’s a little awkward, because Chan has nothing to talk about—not without dumping all of his drama onto Minghao’s lap—and Minghao is used to being around people who know everything about him and won’t shut up about it. But they manage, little by little. 

Mostly they talk about dancing. Chan is shy at first, not wanting to annoy him with his questions, but he shouldn’t have worried. Minghao shows him videos of past performances he’s done, and they sit for hours pouring over each movement. Minghao loves to talk about the artistry behind every choice, and Chan finds he loves to listen.

The more time they spend together, the more other things seem to smooth out.

Soon enough, Chan gets to see firsthand that everyone is protective of Minghao. Seeing him happy makes them happy, which means Chan is getting lots of smiles, especially from Junhui and Mingyu. A few times, they even scent him. Joshua rubs his wrist over Chan’s and Hansol pulls him into a hug so he can press their necks together.

His chest puffs up every time, without him meaning to, pleased to have approval from the pack. 

Whatever’s going on with the leaders is still a mess, only tangling and getting more taut as the days go by, but at least he has this. At least most of them like him.

At night, it’s like Chan’s omega possesses him.

This isn’t actually possible, of course. Inner omegas aren’t real, separate entities—they’re just instincts, and Chan has always had a good handle on his. At home, he kept himself in check more and more as he grew up, not wanting anyone else to feel like he needed correction. Not after that one single time.

But being here is unwinding all of that hard work, and he doesn’t understand why or how. Every time he tries to grasp onto his instincts now, they slip through his fingers like water. He can never catch them for long.

He gets restless at night. The hoodie has not left his room, though he’s begun stuffing it underneath the pillow so that anyone who peers into the room won’t notice it as easily. After days, the scent has faded but not entirely—and he’s not willing to give it up anymore, not until the pine’s completely gone.

But the more it fades, the more antsy he gets. The more what Joshua said that night gets to him.

Could any of it be true? Does he need a nest, medically? He still doesn’t believe that his family did anything wrong, but…

Chan considers it all in a different light—in his fuzzy, sleepy, instinct-driven mind—and thinks about what Jeonghan said again, too. 

What does it hurt to try now? That’s what he asked. That’s what he planted in Chan’s heart, the idea that he could have it now even though he’s not pregnant.

Plus Seungcheol lets them do it. He even lets his alphas do it. He basically told Chan he should have a nest.

Chan’s not firing on all cylinders when he makes the decision to move.

He tears down some of the blankets in the closet, ones that smell like dust and nothing, and prowls around the silent, dark house until he finds the laundry room again. This whole time, Mingyu has been grabbing his dirty clothes and adding them to the piles to be done. It means Chan has had no real reason to deal with the washers and dryers, but now….

Chan fully intends to throw the two new blankets into the washer and cover them both in the detergent scent the pack likes, because that at least is better than what they smell like now. 

But what he finds in the dryer changes his plans entirely. 

Blankets, so many of them and the softest he’s possibly ever felt. Pillows, plump and perfectly sized. Nesting supplies.

He leaves his two on top of the washer, forgotten, and steals everything in the dryer without a thought. They don’t just smell great, floral and fresh, but they’re warm. 

When he gets upstairs, he doesn’t bother with putting them anywhere specific—he just wants all of it in the bed. That’s good enough. It's not a nest if it's just a mess of blankets, so he's not breaking any rules, right?

Then he slips between the piles and, even though he can barely breathe, he’s smiling as he falls asleep.

(In the morning, he’s still dead to the world when Joshua walks into the laundry room, finds the dryer door swung open and the dryer itself completely empty, and silently freaks out.

Eye twitching, he goes to the kitchen with clenched fists and a falsely pleasant smile. He thinks that Mingyu or Seokmin are at fault, because it’s usually them. But still, he asks the whole group, “What the hell happened to my nesting blankets?”

No one knows—more like, no one confesses. They all look innocent, sure, but Joshua knows better than to believe it. Jeonghan’s not around, so he can’t even ask him, the third most likely culprit.

He makes sweeping promises about not killing whoever it is that decided to steal his nest, and tells himself this is not a good enough reason to never wash his sheets again. No matter how much it freaks him out to not have his supplies, he knows they’re not gone—he’ll get them back. He’s not being denied a nest.

It’s only once Junhui has gone upstairs to retrieve Chan for breakfast that he pulls Joshua aside and tells him, grinning, “Channie-yah stole them all.”

Joshua sighs through his nose, shutting his eyes. When he told the younger omega he needs to nest, he hadn’t meant to do it with Joshua’s supplies. Knowing where they are eases the tightness in his chest. At least it’s another omega, instead of one of the puppies trying to get his attention again.

“I guess I can’t be mad, then.” 

“It was really cute,” Junhui agrees, bumping their shoulders companionably. It makes him feel better, marginally anyway.

Still. There’s no way he’s going to just give his stuff to Chan. If he wants a nest, he’ll have one, but Joshua will be keeping his blankets, thank you very much.)