Archive of Our Own

Seungmin likes interpreting for Chan. He likes feeling useful, and he likes that it sets Chan more at ease when he gets frustrated trying to communicate with people who treat him like he's stupid because he signs or because of the cane looped around his wrist. The garden center in town knows them by now, probably, because there's always something else they need, but they get new employees a lot and not all of them pick up Chan's ways quickly.

The employee- young-looking, might even still be in school, a plump beta woman- startles a little, but she doesn't stare at Chan unduly when she says, "Um, they're on the outside wall, by the potting soil. I could... show you?"

Chan hums, flicks a glance sideways ay Seungmin, and signs "No, I know where it is. Thank you." Seungmin interprets smoothly, and they head off. Sure enough they're right where they're supposed to be, but there's one main problem.

Two alphas stand chatting casually right in the way.

Chan stops short when he sees them. Seungmin does too a couple steps after, when he realizes Chan isn't at his side anymore. He looks back, and Chan still looks present, but... anxious. Seungmin lifts an eyebrow at him and signs "Want me to handle them?"

Chan makes an aborted little sound at that. "No, you shouldn't. We can come back."

"It's the last thing we need. It'll be okay."

Seungmin doesn't get a chance to move, though, because Chan's eyes widen at something over his shoulder, and in the next moment a big alpha hand is on Seungmin's shoulder. "Hey, man," he says easily. "I know a little sign from my time in the Army. We in the way of somethin'? Y'all need help?"

Chan's eyes are wide with shock. His grip on his cane is so tight his knuckles are pure white. "Aw, shit," the alpha says, and thank fuck he lifts his hand because Seungmin is pretty sure he'd lose it if he didn't. "Sorry. Sorry. Yeah, man, I didn't mean to touch what's yours. I know that look when I see it. I hope the VA is taking care of you, shit, you look like you've only been out for a few months at most."

A miracle happens. Chan nods, slowly. He lets go of his cane for a moment to sign "Almost a year."

The other alpha's voice comes next, and Chan tenses again, but when Seungmin turns to look he hasn't come much closer. "A year is fuckin' nothing. I had an uncle who was a POW, that shit stays with you forever. Leave off him, dude, he don't wanna chat with your ass."

"I was just trying to be friendly," The first one whines, but he backs off a little more, and Chan's raised shoulders ratchet down a notch. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that. We'll get out of your hair. You sure you don't need help carrying anything?"

Chan's tentative expression becomes a glare in an instant. "No."

"Alright. Have a good one, then." The other alpha wraps an arm around his buddy's shoulder and half-drags him away- thankfully not past Chan, but in the other direction. Seungmin stares after them for a moment, wide-eyed, and when he looks back Chan is still terribly tense, but not panicking.

Seungmin gets into his eyeline and demonstratively blows out a long breath. It takes Chan a moment to copy him, but when he does he doesn't display many of his usual jitters, at least. He keeps looking sideways, like he expects the alphas to reappear and attack him for the misunderstanding, but his hands are relaxed and when he takes a step it's without any hesitation.

Tomato cages obtained, they head for the checkouts, where a cashier who does know the sight of Chan gives him a kind smile but doesn't try to engage him in conversation, and then outside to the curb to wait for Minho to come around from grabbing something at the electronics store next door.

Just when the car's pulled around, a loud voice calls "Hey!" from behind them. Chan whirls, interposing himself between Seungmin and the two alphas from before, but they only lift their hands in twin waves. "See you around, man!" one of them calls. "VA's got free lunch on Fridays!"

Chan doesn't reply, only hustles them both into the car like they're being hunted, slamming and locking the door behind himself.

"Chan?" Minho says, eyes flicking up into the rear view mirror as he starts to pull forward. "Alright?"

A low growl rumbles through Chan's chest, but it's more baffled than aggressive. "...Yes," he manages.

Seungmin keeps hold of his hand anyway after they're both buckled in. Chan squeezes his fingers rhythmically, and doesn't pull away.

~

Under the bed is the safest place for a nest there is. No one ever looks there first, no one can grab him easily in his sleep, and Chan's precious things like Wolfie and his photo album can stay close.

But lately, not even the plush rug and the couple of blankets he uses can keep him warm and comfortable through the night. In the dead of winter, the cold seeps into the bare floorboards and stays there, and Chan is lethargic during the day with bad sleep and the intensified ache in all his old wounds.

The first time he dares to peel back the covers from the bed and slip under them at night, he locks the door and still keeps waking up every hour. Terror is an instinct he has to fight when he takes in the dual facts that he's sleeping comfortably, warm and safe, but he's not being fucked for the privilege.

No one looks at him the next day like they can smell the transgression on him. No one seems to be able to tell, when they look in and see the bedcovers just as picture-perfect as they've been since Chan moved in.

Seungmin is the one who says, earnestly, "You look better today, hyung."

Chan blinks at him for a moment, startled. He's pretty sure his eyebags are just the same as usual, given that he hasn't been sleeping well for almost a month.

"You're not stiff like usual." Seungmin sticks out his tongue. "Like you're actually half fifty and not fifty already."

Chan growls playfully and pounces, and yeah, maybe his back and his wrists are much more flexible than usual, but that's just one good day, isn't it? The fact that he can wrestle Seungmin without worrying if he's going to be paying for it later is a fluke.

He thinks about going back under the bed again that night, but one touch to the cold floor has him snatching his hand back and standing up. He locks the door, tugs the covers over his head, and curls into a tight ball in the corner.

He wakes twice, to the sound of the heating vent rattling and a cocoon of warmth around him, and falls back asleep.

The next day, Jisung is clearly having one of his own off days. He's fidgeting with his hands, and his gaze jitters around the room, not focusing on any one thing for long. Anxious. Chan sits on the opposite end of the couch as him and reads while he pokes around on a tablet, not moving or looking up while he scoots closer in infinitesimal increments. By the time Jisung is in Chan's lap, he's read almost fifty pages, and putting aside the book is as much to give himself a break from focusing on words as it is to give his packmate comfort.

"Show me?" he says, low. "What you're w-watching?"

Jisung hums, tilts the tablet so Chan can see. "'S a documentary. About penguins."

Chan nods solemnly, but doesn't say anything more, just holds Jisung, chin on his shoulder so he can see the tablet screen.

Jisung mumbles something once the credits are rolling, too quiet for Chan to quite make out. He repeats it when Chan signs "What?"

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"What?" Chan signs again, flummoxed. "Why?"

"You make me feel safe." Jisung turns his head to the side, into Chan's chest. "N-not that I don't feel safe around everyone else. But... I feel really safe when you hold me, like nothing could get to me. So... can I?"

"Okay." What else can Chan say? He's not going to reject- his packmate. His packmate, who needs him, even if he won't say it directly. "Of course."

"Thank you," Jisung says. "Want to watch more?"

"Sure." Chan settles in, shifting a little to get comfortable again. His hip protests, and he grimaces but the pain isn't much more than an annoyance. Certainly not more than his wrist, which lives in its brace these days.

That night, when Jisung comes to Chan's door, already dressed in his pajamas, teeth brushed and face washed, Chan is panicking a bit. Just a little.

He doesn't want to sleep under the bed- doesn't want Jisung to sleep under the bed- but if Jisung tells Changbin that Chan's been using something that's not for him-

Jisung kisses him on the cheek and walks right past him, jumping onto the bed with a little bounce. "You're so neat! I hardly ever make mine, I mean, I don't really see a point when I'm going to mess it up again in a few hours, you know?"

Chan gapes for a moment before he snaps his jaw shut.

Okay. Okay, he won't be in trouble.

He still takes slow, careful steps on his approach, and he reflexively checks that his photo album and Wolfie are still tucked carefully away before he climbs in. Jisung watches him the whole time, curious, and though his hands twitch when he sees Wolfie he respects Chan's wary, defensive rumble.

"C'mon, Channie, wanna cuddle," he says instead of mentioning anything about how awkward Chan is. Chan is absurdly grateful, but he doesn't want to show that either, so he just wraps himself around Jisung’s back like a limpet. It gets him a pleased hum, so it must have been the right move. Jisung even starts to purr, eyes slipping shut, but he doesn't seem to want to sleep, jerking back awake every time he starts to doze.

Experimentally, Chan tightens his grip around him. Jisung freezes for a moment, then relaxes, and Chan hums, pushing his face into Jisung’s shoulder. "Sleep," he says, as smoothly as he can. "You're okay."

Jisung sighs, but he does reach over to turn off the lamp.

~

Hyunjin is usually the one to get the mail in the afternoons. Only when they're truly necessary does he wear shoes; when it's warm enough, he loves the feel of dirt and grass under his feet. Grounding, he says with a chuckle.

Chan helps him sort it, into bills and junk mail and weekly grocery mailers and such. It's good practice for his vocabulary, and it makes him feel helpful in some small way.

Today they're sat at the kitchen table, Hyunjin trying to figure out which way is up on a small package and Chan squinting at the hard-to-read logo on a letter. Eventually he gives it up as a bad job and rips the thing open to see if it'll be clearer who it's from on the inside.

Oh.

It's from the shelter.

Soon it'll have been a year since they picked Chan up from his kennel, and their policy says Changbin needs to report whether he intends to renew or return his foster.

Hyunjin eases the crumpled letter from Chan's tight grip. Chan feels very small and very far away, not even fear of being ripped away from his pack able to trump dissociation. The dark printed words still seem to smear and bleed in Chan's vision. We thank you for your sponsorship... return the omega to our care... thank you for taking on this burden...

Chan rubs at his eye hard, until he sees sparks instead of burden, flashing colors instead of vicious. He's- he's not a burden. Felix says that a lot. He's the pack's protector, he's vicious, sure, but he belongs to his pack-

"Chan," Hyunjin says. "Chan, look at me."

Chan looks at him. Hyunjin takes his shoulder, pulls him in, until he's being hugged tight, his face buried in Hyunjin's scent gland, breathing soothing pheromones. "Shh," Hyunjin says. "It's okay. You're not going anywhere. I'll slap Changbin and run away with you before I let that happen, like in Happy Tailor."

Chan lets out a hysterical giggle. "B-bad show."

"It is not! It's perfectly lovely." Hyunjin's voice is raised in playful indignance, but he's only holding Chan tighter. "...Just breathe, Channie. There we go, that's right. You're ours, I don't know why Changbin hasn't made it formal yet. Probably because he's kind of a dumbass sometimes."

"Hey!" comes faintly down the hall. Then footsteps, the office door opening and shutting again. Changbin's face when it appears in the doorway is relaxed, though, fond. He takes a hurried step forward when he sees them tucked together, then stops, unsure. "What is it? Did I miss something?"

"Yeah, because you're a dumbass who hates paperwork and now see what you've done," Hyunjin says lightly. "How in the world haven't you adopted Channie formally yet?"

Chan turns his face away, cheeks flaming, embarrassed to be the center of attention even as some small part of him preens over the fact that Hyunjin is so indignant on his behalf, that of course he's family. Of course he's pack, and the world should know it. He belongs here. They won't abandon him.

"Oh. Um." Changbin swallows, takes another step forward. "I'm sorry, it's my mistake. I just- you want to stay, don't you, Chan? I thought you'd want to be, um. Mine. In the eyes of the law, that is, of course you're your own person, but- to make you mine there's some requirements I don't know if you'll like. Because your paperwork has you down as vicious, still."

"...L-like what?" Chan tenses in Hyunjin's hold, wary. He wants to stay, but he remembers the weight of the collar and muzzle and it makes him immediately uneasy.

"...I have to demonstrate to law enforcement that you'll obey me. In case something happens, and you attack someone, they'd want me to- be able to stop you." Changbin swallows hard, averts his gaze. "It's so gross. I'm sorry. They'll be expecting me to show up with you on a leash like you're a fucking dog, and then they'll try to provoke you, and I don't- I don't want to put you through that. You don't deserve that."

The flashback hits Chan like a slap to the face. Chan tugging at the end of a leash his alpha is holding, hard enough to choke himself, hands tied behind his back so he can't just reach out and grab the glass of water inches in front of his face. He's so thirsty he feels like he's going to die, lips dry and cracked, his struggles weakening until finally he stretches out his tongue and laps up the pooled condensation-

"It's not real," someone murmurs. "It's not real, you're safe, just breathe with me."

The memory melts away. Chan turns his face fully into Hyunjin's shoulder and coughs for air, clearing his throat. He can breathe. He can breathe, he's not property. Not in Changbin's eyes.

~

The slim collar- it could almost be a necklace of pretty silver chain, if not for the attached leash- settles on Chan's throat, and he breathes. He can breathe. He isn't being constricted, he's just- taking a walk with Changbin. They're just going out together to run errands, that's all.

He keeps his head high. Walks beside Changbin, not behind him. He refuses to cower, and especially refuses to let anyone who glances over at the odd pair think he's anything less than a respected member of his pack.

The station first, they'd agreed. Then they could go to the bakery Chan likes, and he can get whatever he wants, and then they'll go shopping for a couple other things. Just a normal day.

Chan walks into the station, smells cigarette smoke and gun oil, and falters. He can't help it. The scent is danger! in his hindbrain, dark nights when his alpha would get drunk and go smoking out behind the house with his friends, bring Chan as entertainment. They'd shoot at rabbits and birds and laugh when Chan flinched. Careful, omega, or you'll be playing bait next.

He's endlessly grateful that Changbin stops short with him. It gives him a second to take a long, shuddering breath, push away the nightmares, and start forward again.

They're escorted to a nondescript room with two chairs opposite each other across a table. One has a cushion beside it.

"Can we have another chair, please?" Changbin says mildly. "Chan's back is bad."

The officer who'd been waiting at the front desk shrugs and brings another chair. She gives Chan no space as she moves around him, and he shies away when she approaches from his blind side, but he doesn't lash out. His hands curl into fists, and he's still tense and worried, but- he doesn't lash out. It's a start.

Chan behaves as they sit, as the officer flips open a notebook and starts scribbling. "So, Mr. Seo, you're adopting... Chan, here. You haven't had any problems since you brought him home? I see on his records that he'd had to be muzzled at the shelter- you saw fit to remove it?"

Changbin takes a deep breath. "Yes, Chan is a wonderful member of the family. There's really no need for anything like that."

"You're sure?" The officer looks skeptical. "No incidents whatsoever?"

Chan thinks of bleeding knuckles, a pack arrayed behind him, and stays silent. He's good at that. He just has to not open his mouth, bear the indignities he's forced to endure, and then go home, where he'll get to stay forever. No going back.

"No. Nothing." Changbin says firmly. "My home is a safe and peaceful environment, and Chan is doing very well in it."

"Have you tested how he is outside the home? I can see here-" she flips through her notes "-that you abruptly swapped his doctor- why was that?"

"Doctor Kim and I disagreed on Chan's treatment." Changbin's voice goes flat as Chan looks away. "He was far more invasive and aggressive than was necessary."

"Your omega is vicious, Mr. Seo. His medical records show that he's bitten many a provider." the officer says dryly. "Some precautions are necessary."

"It is unnecessary and utterly unethical to drug my omega without my- or his- consent." Changbin snaps. "I found a doctor who understood that."

"Hmm." The officer makes a note. "Very well, then. And he's in good health?"

"His... previous home... left him with many old injuries, but we manage his pain and we're working on it." Changbin places a hand on Chan's shoulder, and Chan shudders, leans into it. He's so tense he feels like a drawn bowstring about to snap. "He's in as good a condition as can be expected."

"I see. Have him strip, please?"

Both Chan and Changbin freeze. Changbin says, delicately,  "Excuse me?"

"If he's obedient, he'll do what you say, and I'll be able to see any new injuries. Please go ahead."

"If you want information about injuries, I can have his doctor perform a new exam and send over the results. He's a good omega, there's no need to doubt that-"

"With all due respect, Mr. Seo, your omega murdered his previous alpha in cold blood. Whether he was provoked is irrelevant if he has that kind of capacity for violence. You need to be able to demonstrate that you can prevent him from doing so again. Scruff him if necessary, but please do as I ask."

Changbin takes a deep breath. His grip on Chan's shoulder tightens for a moment before he lets go. "Come on, Chan. Like we talked about."

Chan is shaking. He clenches his jaw to prevent his teeth from chattering, it's so intense, rage and terror battling in him. Still, he gets up, walks around to the cushion and kneels on it. When Changbin turns to face him, he bares his throat willingly, hands clasped behind his back, keeping his good eye trained on Changbin's feet. Changbin hums, leaning down to cup Chan's cheek, rubbing circles into his cheekbone with his thumb. Chan lets out a shuddering sigh and relaxes, sinking into the ache the position leaves in his hips and back. It'll be worth it to go home and be left alone. He just has to make it through.

He doesn't move apart from a minute flinch when he hears the officer's chair scrape back, her footsteps rounding the table. She has to see it, this carefully crafted picture of Chan's total submission to his alpha.

To the world, it's submission. To Chan, it's trust.

"I see," the officer says slowly. "Can you induce this with a command?"

"Yes," Changbin says. "As I said, he's a good omega. Very good. Isn't that right, beautiful?"

Chan feels it as pointedly as it was meant to be. His cheeks flush, but he doesn't squirm, just nods. He may never think so himself, but he's Changbin's beautiful. Changbin's good. That's certainly been impressed upon him enough.

He'll kneel for Changbin, if asked. He trusts that the privilege won't be abused, and he trusts that Changbin will back him even if he does kill someone.

The officer's hand lands in his hair, and he tenses again, just a little. She tugs his head back further, and his breath catches, but he doesn't move.

"You're okay," Changbin murmurs. "It's okay. Look at me, beautiful."

Chan looks up at him. The way he looks at Chan, with such care, such anguish even though he's not the one with no power here, helps. Chan seizes onto it, steadying his breathing by watching Changbin's chest rise and fall. "That's right," Changbin says. "That's right, you're doing so well. Just a little longer- hey."

Chan can't tear his eyes away from Changbin's face, hardened into anger as he snarls at the officer, his free hand just brushing the back of Chan's head. "Do not scruff him. He's being good, there's no need for that."

"In an emergency you need to be able to put him down-"

"He'll go down. Believe me. I've done it." Changbin meets her eyes, even when Chan whines softly, pleading. "Let go of him. He's done nothing wrong."

"He's an alpha-killer. He's dangerous. If he kills you too in ten years it'll be your own fault." She scoffs, but lets go, and Chan curls away and into Changbin on reflex, resting his head on his knee.

"You're right, it will." Changbin's voice is hard, but his hand, cradling the back of Chan's skull, is gentle. "But he won't. Have you seen enough, then?"

"I suppose so." Chan stays hunched until he hears the officer retreat back around the table and her pen resume scribbling. Then he comes up as Changbin guides him, a little shaky still but without stumbling. His ears are buzzing, but he did it. He just had to kneel, and he did it, and now he can stay with Changbin.

"Omega." The officer says. "Chan."

Chan doesn't react for a moment, not expecting to be addressed. Then he snaps his head up, staring wide-eyed. "Y-yes?"

"You lucked out, but I'm sure you know that. Don't fuck it up."

"...I w-won't."

~

Changbin gets them out of sight of the station, a couple blocks over, then ducks into a side street, deserted at this time of day. "C'mere, Channie, give me the collar. I swear you won't have to wear it again, okay?"

Chan looks away, bites his lip, but he's happy to divest himself of the weight, not even bothering to unhook the leash before undoing the latch on the chain. Once he's handed it over, he signs, "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Chan knows very well that the future can't be predicted. He couldn't have imagined even six months ago that he would willingly submit to an alpha. If something happens, and he's forced to be collared again, he doesn't want to hold it against Changbin.

"You're mine, Channie," Changbin says. "I say no collar, so no collar. Not even if we have to go back there again."

Chan... doesn't know how to deal with that. Instead of facing it head-on in public, he turns his face away and gestures. "We should-"

His hands seize, his brain scrabbling for the word, but Changbin waits patiently. "Leave," is what Chan eventually settles on, but that's not quite right, that's not the right word, why is he so stupid-

Changbin is in front of him. Changbin signs "Let's leave, then," slow, methodical in a way that burns. When he takes Chan's hand, though, it doesn't hurt.

Chan walks beside Changbin, to the bakery and the library and a craft store, where they pick out a few rolls of yarn for Seungmin and some candy molds for Felix. Before they leave, though, Changbin turns to Chan and says, "Do you think you'd like to learn a craft? Just as a hobby?"

Caught off-guard, Chan blinks at him for a moment, then shrugs. "I've never thought about it. Why?"

"Let's get you a few things to try, then. Just to see if you like them."

And before Chan can even protest, Changbin is off, perusing the shelves of the next aisle over. Chan follows him, tongue and hands tied with surprise, but Changbin is already adding a set of colored pencils and a slim workbook to their basket. Back in the yarn aisle he has Chan pick out a latch-hook kit, and then in the next he picks up a miniature painting set, examining it for a moment before offering it for Chan's inspection. "What do you think? Did you ever think dragons were cool as a kid?"

Chan swallows. He has to dig for the memories, few and far between and faded as they are. He thinks- he thinks there was a birthday, though he can't remember which, when he was given a toy dragon that he liked. He can't remember the face of the giver, or even really what the toy looked like, but it's enough to make him nod slowly. "Yeah. Sure."

"Hey." Changbin says. He drops the set in the basket, but he does turn to Chan, searching his face. His hand reaches out halfway between them, and even so, Chan has to suppress a flinch at the speed of the motion. "What do you need? Do you want a hug? Do you want to go home?"

Chan digs his nails into his palms. Of course he wants to go home, there's never not the instinct to retreat into one of his quiet hidey-holes and stay there. The world is so big, and loud, and full of people who are utterly unpredictable, who Chan's animal hindbrain can't help but peg as threat.

But he's learning to be human again. His pack is teaching him. So he fiddles with the straps on his wrist brace, tightening them until the pressure is reassuringly solid, casts a sideways glance at the man stocking shelves a dozen feet away, and shakes his head. "We still have to go to the post office. And then home."

"Sure," Changbin says, expression softening into a small, proud smile. "We'll make it quick."

Chan takes his still-outstretched hand, nods, and doesn't let go.

~

Chan is surrounded by his pack when he opens the letter, in the end.

Hyunjin had gone to fetch the mail, just the same as always, but he'd snatched up one of the envelopes from the table before Chan could see it. Chan didn't push too hard about it, Hyunjin had seemed so pleased to have his little secret. Later, he'd signed, giggling, so Chan just signed a bemused okay back and left it alone.

Hyunjin handed it back at the dinner table, practically vibrating with excitement. Chan hefts the letter- it feels like a normal envelope, if a little heavy- and looks around, one eyebrow raised. Everyone else seems just as curious as Chan is, though Changbin has a glint in his eye that says he might have a guess as to the contents. Well, when Chan looks the letter is actually addressed to him, but Hyunjin had been very clear that it was Chan's to open, so. Whatever it is will probably cause the kind of drama Hyunjin savors, but it won't be harmful.

Almost the moment he rips it open and unfolds the letter, he realizes. The weight comes from a metal tag the size of a large coin, taped to the bottom of the paper.  He doesn't even have to read the letter itself. He knows what the tag is. He wore one for ten years, dangling from his collar from the day he left the auction house.

"Changbin," he rasps, lifting the tape away so that the tag- listing his name, his designation, and Changbin's contact information- drops into his hand. "It's d-done? I'm yours?"

"You're ours." Changbin says firmly. "You already were. This just means the law knows it, now. You don't have to wear it, just carry it on you in public, but it means no one can lay a hand on you."

Drama indeed- but the good kind. Chan can't stop the wide, genuine smile from spreading across his face, hurting a little with how big it is and how unused his face is to the expression. He doesn't care. He has a pack that he loves, and he's not going to be taken away from them.

He's crying before he knows it, but when Seungmin makes a low, concerned sound and wipes at his cheek he just laughs. "'M happy," he gasps, trying to rein in the volatile feelings but finding it an almost impossible task. His throat is so choked he resorts to awkward sign, unwilling to let go of the tag as he forms words. "I belong here. Even if someone takes me, they have to give me back."

He'd begged the auction workers who came to take him from school to let him go, let him hug his parents one more time, let him bring anything more than the clothes on his back, but no one had listened. And still, Chan knows intimately that an alpha drunk on power still might not listen. But Changbin is clever and fierce, and Chan may hate to be legally property but that just means Changbin has a right to defend what's his.

Every day, Chan reminds himself that he can trust Changbin to defend him. Most of the time, he believes it.

~

That night, it's Jeongin who crawls into bed with him, curling up behind him like a question mark so they're both warm and comfortable. Chan drifts for a while, not quite asleep, before Jeongin whispers, right into his nape, "Chan?"

"Mmm?"

"No one's gonna take us."

Well, Chan is certainly more awake now.

"You c-can't know that," Chan says, just as quiet and gentle. "If someone c-comes and the law says-"

"Changbin doesn't care," Jeongin says fiercely. "He'll stop them. And you'll stop them, if you have to."

Chan lets himself think about it. About hearing a cop bang on the door, demand to be let in, to repossess government property, as all unclaimed and unruly omegas were. About his parents, who loved their unpresented son, and stood aside. About Changbin, in his office where he thought Chan couldn't hear, quoting legal self-defense code to a clerk to get charges dropped.

"Okay," he says, perhaps not perfectly steady. "Okay."

"It's okay to still be scared," Jeongin says. His arm, draped carefully over Chan's side, tightens into a proper hug. "But we're your home. Always."

"G-go t-to sleep, Jeonginnie," Chan says. "It's late."

Chan keeps his eye on the tag sitting on the nightstand until he can't keep it open anymore. In his dreams, he sits on the warm wood of the porch outside, Jeongin behind him with his arms wrapped around his waist, and Changbin stands vigil at the gate.