Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“You better not fuck this up!” Wooyoung shrieks from the other side of the phone line, and Seonghwa is glad that he put it on speakerphone. 

“I won’t!” Seonghwa shrieks back, placing the plethora of his sweaters in his pink suitcase. “You’re talking like I’m always the problem, I’m not!”

“Hyung,” Wooyoung sighs. “You bashed a tray over a man’s head!”

“He was stalking a little boy, what do you expect me to do!?”

“Call the fucking police, not put him in a concussion!” 

“Bleh,” Seonghwa sticks out his tongue, even though he knows Wooyoung can’t see him.

“No, seriously, tone it down,” the younger one says. “It was so hard to find this job because no one apparently wants live-in nannies these days. And your stinky, old guy landlord just had to kick you out this month.”

It’s Seonghwa’s turn to sigh. “I know, Wooyo. Don’t worry. Thanks for finding this job for me…I’ll treat you with my first salary.”

“Need a three-month supply of gummy bears. Haribo.”

“Gotcha,” Seonghwa says, bidding goodbye soon to complete arranging his bag. He doesn’t have a lot to take. Other than his collection of pastel sweaters and light washed jeans and his hard-earned gaming switch, his vitamins and suppressants, he doesn’t own anything valuable. Which is fine. The new job is supposed to be a fresh start anyway. So he quickly finishes up rounding his things and stuffing them into the bag. Zipping the suitcase shut, Seonghwa places hands over his hips and looks around his bedroom. His tiny apartment feels even emptier than usual. 

The bare walls stare back at him, the old fan creaking lazily above. The single lamp on his desk glows a soft yellow over the eons-old furniture he’s leaving behind. Even though the place hasn’t ever felt like a home to him, it still was the place he came to every evening after work. 

Tomorrow he’ll be somewhere else entirely, some rich guy’s house, taking care of a pup he has never met. And he will also be trying very hard not to accidentally commit another tray-related incident. 

The thought makes his stomach flutter in a way he can’t quite name. Half nervous, half excited. 

But he doesn’t let himself mull over the possibilities. He changes into his pajamas and crawls into the bed with a sigh. As sleep slowly drags him under, his mind drifts through hazy dreams of what his job would be. A job that he really, really hopes he won’t mess up. 

Early in the morning Seonghwa wakes up to go to his new workplace. He is expected to be there before eight, and he’s out of the door a quarter past seven with his suitcase dragging behind him. Handing over the keys to  the landlord, he vows to never set foot into the rundown apartment complex ever again. Well…only if things go right. 

Seonghwa is nervous as he settles down in the backseat of a taxi. He has worn his best pair of light blue jeans, paired with it a pale green sweater with frayed hem that was sewn fixed by himself. It is his favorite, with a thin floral pattern on the sleeves, and looks simple and charming enough for his interview. His shoulder length hair is combed back, but a few unruly strands keep hanging over his face that he has given up on pinning back.

The ride is shorter than he expected. What he hasn’t expected is how rich this ‘rich’ guy actually is. When the tires come to a halt and the driver announces his bill, Seonghwa scrambles to pay it, while his eyes dart back to the house looming towards the sky. 

The house stands behind tall black gates and a long, quiet driveway lined with trimmed trees, the sort of place that looks expensive without trying hard. Its design is modern and minimal, with smooth greyish walls, wide glass windows stretching from floor to ceiling, and clean stone steps leading to a tall front door made of dark wood. 

Seonghwa fidgets at the front, wasting a couple of minutes before jamming his finger into the door bell button. A man comes out a little later, dressed in a black suit, white dress shirt underneath stretching broad over his chest. 

“Good morning,” greets Seonghwa, an easy smile on his face as the gate clicks open remotely. A nod, a quiet acknowledgement later, Seonghwa is guided to the house. A beta by the lack of his scent. 

As Seonghwa passes through the living room, a curious couple of servants peeking at him from the kitchen, a bodyguard or two similarly dressed like the one who’s leading him sharp-eyed and attentive. Seonghwa may not have any grand dreams for his future home, but he loves how this one feels open and airy with high ceilings and polished marble floors. The soft neutral colors catch his gaze, with furniture that looks simple but clearly costs more than one month’s rent of Seonghwa’s former apartment. It gives quiet luxury over loud displays, and Seonghwa hopes the owner to be someone very similar to it. 

And just like that…his breath hitches when the double doors to what is presumably a home office opens. 

Jeong Yunho looks like the kind of man people instinctively move out of the way for. As he sits at his table, leaning back on the high-back chair, legs crossed and eyes closed, Seonghwa forgets how to breathe. From the length of his body Seonghwa assumes he’s tall, broad-shouldered and dressed in a simple but perfectly tailored suit before the clock is even hit eight in the morning. His dark hair is slightly tousled like he’s run his hand through it too many times, sharp jaws and a clean-shaven face. 

“He’s here,” the man announces, before stepping aside and leaving the room. 

Just before the doors close, Yunho opens his eyes and says, ”Thanks, Jongho.” 

Something pools in Seonghwa’s stomach. The baritone of Yunho’s voice is deep, slightly scratchy as if he hasn’t talked for a while. Seonghwa suppresses a shiver when the man turns his gaze to him, no Jongho, no doors, no walls in between them. 

“G-good morning,” Seonghwa squeaks embarrassingly, before he clears his throat. His hands clutch the straps of his side bag way too tightly, he briefly wonders if his knuckles are pale. 

“Good morning, Seonghwa-ssi,” Yunho greets back easily, tilting his head to the side, looking through his glasses and gesturing to Seonghwa to sit. His expression settles into a calm, unreadable seriousness. Seonghwa gulps, the drag of the chair resonating too loudly in the quietness of the office.  

The scent of cedarwood with a deeper tone of amber hits Seonghwa as soon as he’s eye-level with Yunho, undeniably alpha. His throat dries, the intensity of the scent subtle but prominent, wrapping around him like a grip that grounds him in place. Seonghwa inhales deep, taking in a mouthful of it, his heart stuttering. No scent should be that attractive, Seonghwa thinks, his hands quivering in his lap in the lightest movements. 

“I’ve read your CV,” Yunho says, the watch around Yunho’s wrist glinting as he taps a folder that sat in front of him. Seonghwa’s eyes trail over the veins that run up his slender hand, disappearing up the folded sleeve of his crisp white dress shirt. “Your qualifications are solid. You’ve worked with children before. Your references speak well of you.”

Seonghwa brightens a little at that, sitting up straighter. “Thank you, I–” 

“But,” Yunho adds quietly, the single word dropping between them like a weight. Seonghwa’s stomach sinks. “There was an incident, wasn’t there?” 

Seonghwa winces immediately. “Ah.”

“You’re quite…impulsive,” Yunho says, habitually rubbing his chin.

“Will you give me a chance to explain?” 

A nod. 

“H-he was taking pictures of a pup. Like–secretly. It was creepy, so, I didn’t think–”

“That is precisely the problem,” Yunho interrupts, though his tone remains calm rather than harsh. “You didn’t think.”

Seonghwa’s mouth closes. He wilts like a flower at the end of a day, shoulders hunching. 

“I understand your intention,” the alpha continues. “And frankly, I don't disagree with the instinct to protect a pup. However my son lives under very specific circumstances. My position means there are risks. Media attention. People would try to get close to him for the wrong reasons.”

Seonghwa’s fingers twist together in his lap. Maybe he should have waited until he packed and left his apartment. Maybe he should have thought twice before being too optimistic about the new job he was certain that he would get. 

“I cannot afford impulsive decisions around him,” Yunho finishes, his words gentle, but final. “I’m sorry, Seonghwa-ssi.”

The apology somehow makes it worse. Seonghwa forces a smile that feels brittle around the edges. He nods quickly, even though his chest feels a little tight. “That…makes sense. I understand… I really do.” He reaches for the strap of his bag, standing a bit too quickly. “Thank you for your time, anyway, sir,” he adds, bowing politely though the disappointment is obvious in the way he talked. 

But before Seonghwa can take a step toward the door–it bursts open. 

A tiny figure barrels into the office like a hurricane. Then he pauses, catching his breath, a bit of guilt on his face when he realizes that his father has a disapproving crease between his brows. 

“Appa… We’re going to be la-””

The small pup with curly hair and a neatly pressed kindergarten uniform stops, clutching a dinosaur plushie in one hand. A very familiar plushie. With a very, very familiar face with dimples.  

The pup blinks, looking up at Seonghwa with wide eyes. And Seonghwa looks down at him with equally wide eyes. 

“Moon bunny!” He yells, and Seonghwa turns as red as a tomato, spluttering. “Appa this is the bunny I was talking about! He saved Sangie from that bad guy!!” 

A rewind on the memory wheel:

Seonghwa, before getting fired for something he did not deserve for, worked at Little Crown Kindergarten as an assistant to the teachers in the Star class.The villain in question had hidden amongst the parents of the pups, slipped in unknowing to everyone and the security and had sneakily taken pictures. The victim? The cutest and the quietest pup in his class, Yeosang. 

Dressed in a pink bunny costume, serving fizzy sodas to pups was Seonghwa when he spotted the bald-headed creepy guy in leather. And he did the most sensible thing anyone would do at such a moment–smashed the tray over the guy’s shiny head. 

Not his fault that the guy was picking out potential models from the groups of pups, uninvited to the event. 

But the burn of the situation had fallen on Seonghwa. He was fired due to being deemed ‘violent’ and ‘unsuitable to work at a kindergarten’. 

And Seonghwa finally remembers the pup who has run first to Yeosang’s side, belonging to not his class but the Sun class. 

The pup steps forward, grabs a handful of Seonghwa’s sweater in his tiny grip, and looks at Yunho with pleading eyes. How Yunho doesn’t crumble to dust because of that cute face is a wonder for Seonghwa. 

“Appa…is he my new nanny?” 

Seonghwa grimaces. He kneels slowly, taking the pup’s hands in his, about to tell him that no, he is not, that his father had just rejected him, but Yunho interrupts him. 

“He is.”

And Seonghwa’s jaws fall open. He looks at Yunho, then at the pup, and then back at Yunho. “W-what?” 

“He likes you. So you stay,” Yunho stands up, casually throwing the file in his hand on the table. He picks up the jacket hung over the back of the chair and throws it over his shoulders. “I’ll take San now. Settle down and be ready to pick him up in the afternoon. I’ll send the car for you.”

“B-but, Jeong-ssi–”

“Congrats on getting the job,” and he’s gone. San hesitates a moment, but then he runs after Yunho, his tiny legs trying hard to catch up to his father’s longer legs. Seonghwa is left behind, utterly flabbergasted.

…

It doesn’t take Seonghwa long to adjust to his new schedule. In the mornings he will follow Jongho quietly, handing over San to the attendant waiting at the gates. When he comes home, Yunho has almost always left for work, or is about to. Their meetings are brief–a nod, a practiced smile, or on some days Yunho would particularly brush past him as if he doesn’t exist. Not that Seonghwa is seeking his attention, but lately, he seems to find his eyes drawn to the alpha on the fractions of moments he sees him. 

Then by the time the kindergarten will end, Seonghwa is definitely standing by the gates exactly ten minutes before the bell rings. It may be repetitive, but Seonghwa finds joy in seeing San’s eyes searching for him in the sea of nannies and parents and looking relieved when he spots Seonghwa in the crowd, a skip to his step and a sparkle to his smile . 

It is slow at first. San would peek around corners, watch him pour milk into San’s purple mug with kitty ears or straighten his plethora of toys, then duck back to his spot, silent as a shadow. Occasionally, he would push a toy across the floor just slightly too hard or knock over a cup of juice, and instantly his small shoulders would slump, eyes dropping, lips pressed in a ‘I’ve done something wrong’ pout.

In moments like these Seonghwa would crouch down, smile gently while patting San’s head and say, “It’s okay, baby. Accidents happen.” 

He makes sure his voice is calm, warm, and not scolding. He makes sure his scent is as soothing as possible, soft and cozy. But heart aches at the thought of San’s reactions, which he assumes is a result of how he has been brought up up to now. He wonders if Yunho is the reason…or if it had been someone else.  

Over time, the little nods, the tentative smiles, the moments when San would sit next to him without prompting build a fragile but growing trust between them. 

By the third week, mornings are easier. San would approach Seonghwa directly, holding his plushie out like an offering. Together they would sit at the table for breakfast, Seonghwa guiding the small hands without ever making him feel clumsy. When Seonghwa reads San storybooks or built blocks and Legos, Seonghwa notices the pup humming quietly to himself or laughing when a tower is toppled.  

Those rare bursts of chaos–throwing a toy across the room or chasing a ball through the hall–are always followed by a pause, a glance, like San is checking if he has done something wrong. And Seonghwa learns to meet those pause reassurances instead of frustration. So, slowly but surely, San’s walls soften around him. 

It’s not only Seonghwa that notices.

The household staff has noticed the change too, the kitchen staff would offer Seonghwa small smiles and a nod when he carries breakfast trays, impressed with him. Jongho, who is more of Yunho’s assistant than a simple driver, also begins guiding him through the routines, showing him which rooms were off-limit or how to call for emergencies. Even the security guards posing at the front of the house visibly soften one day when they see San tugging at Seonghwa’s sleeve after he holds the car door open for Seonghwa to get in first. 

By the end of the first month, Seonghwa feels like he has earned a small place in the household as someone the staff and San can rely on and maybe, just maybe, he feels a little at home. 

Seonghwa shouldn’t be having this much fun. 

“Absolutely not,” Jongho had said ten minutes ago, arms crossed, expression firm as ever. “This is not an appropriate use of time.”

And yet–

“Jongho-ssi, don’t move!” Seonghwa laughs, blindfolded, tied securely over his eyes as he stumbles a step too far to the left, nearly bumping into the side table. They’re in the living room, playing tag. “I can hear you breathing!” 

“I am not moving,” Jongho replies dryly from somewhere across the room. Cheater. 

A soft giggle gives San away. Seonghwa does not want to tell, but it wasn’t the sound but the recurrent spike in the baby alpha’s scent when he’s excited–similar to his father’s a hint of amber, not fully developed yet but with the underlying scent of milk because he is still a pup. 

“Aha! Gotcha!” Seonghwa’s arms stretch forward, fingers grasping air.   

But San darts away, tiny feet padding quickly against the marble floor, another burst of giggles slipping out of him muffled as he presses the plushie against his mouth, trying hard to stay silent. 

Seonghwa follows the sound of the feet, his head turning at the pitter-patter, and takes two strides to the left, stabbing his toe at the foot of the sofa. “Owww!” He yelps, dramatically falling to the floor, theatrics more than the actual pain. A trick up his sleeve. Maybe it’s bad of him–it certainly feels bad when he hears San running hurriedly towards him. 

He takes the chance to catch San, his arms curling around the smaller body and hugging San to his chest. “There you are!” He laughs, throwing his head back. 

“Nooooo, you cheated!” San cries, but his little giggles weave in between his words. But then…he quietens. A breath, or a two. With the softest whisper he asks, “Are you really okay?”

Seonghwa’s heart swells. There’s an unexplainable happiness blooming in him at the concern the tiny pup has for him. He pulls the blindfold up for a moment, looking down at San’s pout. 

“I am,” Seonghwa says, petting the boy’s head. And then he pulls the blindfold down again. “It’s Jongho-ssi’s turn!”

“Me too, me too!” San jumps out of Seonghwa’s arms, running away until Seonghwa can no longer hear him. 

“I swear, I should not be doing this,” mumbles Jongho, but soon, he falls silent too. Seonghwa stands up, the throb at his toe dull and annoying. 

“I’m gonna catch you both this time,” Seonghwa counts to five. “One… two… three…”

He can hear a faint shuffle of feet, a rustle of fabric. “Four…Five…”

Silence. 

Seonghwa pauses. 

That’s…odd.

He can’t hear any more of San’s giggles nor the weighted shift that makes the slightest noise when Jongho moves. The house feels too still. 

“Sannie? You're not allowed to disappear, you know.”

No answer. 

“Jongho-ssi,” his voice is a little uncertain now, feeling the air around him drop a node in temperature. “If you left the room, that's cheating…”

Still nothing. 

Then–a presence. 

Right in front of him. 

Seonghwa brightens, relief flooding in. “I got you!” He exclaims, stepping forward quickly with both hands reaching out and landing against a firm chest. Not just firm…solid. Broad. His fingers grasp into fabric that is crisp and smooth, yet something beneath it feels unmistakably different from Jongho. Seonghwa freezes. Slowly, like his body’s catching up late, he tilts his head up, even though he can’t see shit through the blindfold. The scent hits him fully this time, cedar woven with amber. 

Oh.

Oh no.

His hands are still on the chest. 

“I….found you?” Seonghwa says weakly. A beat of silence later, the other talks, so very close, right above him, his breath fanning against Seonghwa’s nose. 

“Did you?” Yunho’s voice is low, edged with something unreadable. Seonghwa makes a small strangled noise and immediately yanks the blindfold off, eyes flying open. And there he is. 

Jeong Yunho. 

Standing far too close, looking down at him with the same indifferent expression he always dons on his face, although there’s the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. Seonghwa drops his hands like they were burned. “I… I thought you were–” 

“Jongho?” Yunho finishes. 

Behind them, there’s a very poorly concealed snort. 

“–Who should have been at my office half an hour ago,” Yunho tilts his head, and the snickering behind them quietens. “I didn’t realize this was the kind of work happening in my house.”

Seonghwa opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. 

“I can explain,” he blurts it out. But he doesn’t know how. He is saved by San, who gets in between them like a white knight, looking up at his father with a hint of trepidation in his eyes. 

“W-we were just p-playing because…because…” 

Seonghwa sees Yunho soften, but even he barely notices it. 

“I know,” he says, voice soft. “You’re not in trouble.”

The relief is immediate. 

“But was the blindfold part necessary?”

“It builds trust!” Seonghwa adds quickly, nodding like he has just said something professional. “And listening skills. And, um…spatial awareness.”

Jongho coughs. “San likes it.” 

Another pause. Yunho observes the room. San with hopeful eyes, Seonghwa’s growing nervousness, Jongho’s gamble of words. 

“...Fine,” Yunho says at last. 

“Appa…” San curls his small fist in the hem of his father’s jacket, eyes wide and pleading. “Play with me?” 

Anticipation runs through Seonghwa. Not because of his boss joining but because he hasn’t ever seen Yunho spend time like this with San. He was never a bad father, no, he provided San with everything the pup needs–the necessities, education, extra lessons on piano, allowed play dates with his friends yet never actually spent time with him. Seonghwa can tell that San misses his father. By the way he tries to stay up until Yunho comes home. By the way he asks Seonghwa every morning if his father left for the office early, that if not, would result in a swift run to the master bedroom. 

But the lack of bonding between them truly frustrated Seonghwa. To the point that he glares at the alpha who’s stretching the silence without giving an answer, regardless if he is his boss or not, making sure the older man clearly sees him. 

“It’s okay, baby, appa must be busy,” Seonghwa tries to steer San away from Yunho. 

“I…” Yunho starts, the hand he stretches curling to a fist. “How about after dinner?” 

Surprised, Seonghwa glances at San, who beams, satisfied with the answer. He lets go of the pup so he can rush to his father and drape his arms around Yunho’s obnoxiously long legs, giggling and nodding.

And Seonghwa watches them, the tension having left his body at the sight of them. 

…

“Sannie?” Seonghwa calls. San has been feeling down ever since he came from the kindergarten today, very silent and responses limited to one or two words. He barely tasted the caramel pudding–his favorite–that Seonghwa prepared with the cooking lady for dinner, leaving it half-eaten on the table as he excused himself. Seonghwa manages to give him a bath and change him into pajamas, but when Seonghwa comes back from taking a shower himself so that he could read a bedtime story to the pup, he is nowhere to be found.  

So there he is, walking around the house, looking for San. When he turns around the corner, he sees ahjumma Shuu sitting at the bottom of the short staircase that leads to the attic, somewhere Seonghwa has never stepped foot into.

“Ahjumma?” Seonghwa wakes her up, worried that she might nod off to sleep while on the ground. “You shouldn’t sleep here. What’s wrong?”

She yawns, a bit unguarded since it’s Seonghwa. Then she points to the attic. “Young master is up there.”

“Oh…” Seonghwa shifts, a bit awkward. “I’ll go get him–”

“No one but the master and young master can go up there, unless it is to clean,” she says, voice stern but still gentle. 

“I’ll wait outside then,” Seonghwa replies. “You can go to sleep.”

She stares at him for a moment before nodding. Seonghwa takes ahjumma’s spot at the bottom of the stairs after she leaves, resting his head against the wall. He wonders what San must be doing in there, alone and all, but he also does understand the step he must take back when someone needs space, even if that someone is a child, a pup. So he waits, clock ticking by in his mind as he counts. An occupied mind wouldn’t allow him to sleep. 

But when the attic door opens, he twists his body so fast that sharp pain shoots up his back. 

San peeks out, wary eyes falling upon Seonghwa. A second later, he opens the door wider, eyes speaking of a plea that he doesn’t want to voice. Seonghwa understands. He was the same when he was a pup, unofficially adopted into his uncle’s family after his own mother passed away, peeking out from the corner room he had been given and watching the others be a family while he…was never a part of them.

“Hi, baby,” Seonghwa coos, not attempting to get up, wanting to make sure of San’s intentions. “You were gone when I came back. I was looking for you when ahjumma told me that you’re here.”

“Hwa…” San says, voice tiny. “Here… come here…”

A pause to breathe. “Are you sure?”

Insistent nods.

Seonghwa walks over, letting San grasp his right hand with both of his and lead him into the attic. He doesn’t know what he expected inside of it. The inside of the attic is fully made of wood: the floors, the ceiling, the walls with polished wood embedded into them. It doesn’t hold the modern sleekness of everywhere else in the house, yet a homey, cozy space remained that anyone would feel welcome to.

One side of the ceiling is open, fine glass fixed resembling somewhat of an observatory. The stars are blinking in the sky–barely visible as the brighter city lights shadow them, but visible enough that one would want to spend a night in the lounge chairs cushioned to perfection watching them whisper to each other. San tugs Seonghwa, grabbing his attention from the stars beyond. He climbs onto a chair by himself, making Seonghwa sit on the other. Seonghwa assumes the spare chair belongs to Yunho. There are only two of them in the entire room, right in the middle, right under the glass ceiling. Surrounded by side tables and stands with pretty ornaments that glow in the dark, representing the night sky. A hanging cluster of stars here, a glowing orb resembling the moon there. The room looks like something out of a dream.

Seonghwa looks at San, who seems to be deep in thought.

“Sannie?” Seonghwa whispers, shifting in the lounge chair. When the pup looks at him, he goes, “I’m cold….” He shifts to his left. “Cuddle with me?”  

Seonghwa notices the barest hint of hesitance. But eventually San follows his wishes, crawling into Seonghwa’s chair, snuggling up to his chest. Seonghwa can’t help but coo, something warm tugging at his heart. They spend a few minutes in silence, watching over stars, Seonghwa humming under his breath. Then, “You know that I’m here to listen to anything…yes?”

San hums, fiddling with the hem of Seonghwa’s pajama top.

“You can tell me anything,” Seonghwa gently prompts.

“Sangie…” San starts. “Yeosangie’s eomma and appa came to take him home today…”

“Yes?”

“They were… they were in Paris last week… Sangie missed them so much…and they…came to pick him up… both of them…”

“Oh,” Seonghwa realizes. He hasn’t heard of who or what happened to San’s mother, and he hadn’t prodded anyone about it since he felt like it wasn’t his position, even if curiosity piqued in his mind sometimes.

“You miss eomma?”

To Seonghwa’s surprise, San shakes his head.

“I miss appa…” he says, his small voice breaking at the end.

Seonghwa hugs the pup closer to his chest. It’s heartbreaking. Not because San is yearning for an absent mother. But because he wants his existing father. Yunho is never a bad father. But as Seonghwa rakes through his brain to remember a day Yunho spent with San alone, going out, spending time together, having fun…for the life of himself he can’t remember. Seonghwa wonders if Yunho’s busy even to spare a few hours for his son. Sure, he hasn’t seen Yunho taking a break for himself either, but Seonghwa isn’t watching him at all hours of the day like he is San.

“I’m sorry baby,” he says instead, because it’s the only thing he can do. He can’t give empty promises to the pup, not knowing whether they will come true or not. So he pats the small head, feeling San nuzzle his face against his scent gland, which he hopes is soothing for the pup. Wooyoung has always told him that he smells like baby powder, subtly sweet, a hint of warm milk and the sweetness of honey blended into it. Maybe it comforts San, because he soon falls asleep to the sound of Seonghwa’s breathing. Seonghwa does too, a minute later, the chair comfortable enough and the cushions warm enough for him to slip into a sleep.

When he opens his eyes, it’s when someone tries to pick him up. He gasps awake, hand on the throat of someone before he even fully wakes up from his sleep. His vision is blurry, unfocused on the figure leaned over him. 

“Seonghwa.” 

Something curls in his guts. It sears into his skin and swirls like heat. Yunho stares down at him, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Seonghwa in his sleep-addled mind blurts something he never would have if he were fully conscious. 

“You’re bad.” 

Yunho blinks. “Huh?” 

Seonghwa observes the way Yunho's gaze hardens behind his glasses, and how his grip over the lounge chair tightens. Unkempt strands of hair fall over the alpha's forehead, his faint creases in the corners of his eyes and smile lines more visible. 

“You’re so bad…Jeong-ssi…” Seonghwa blinks slowly. “Sannie misses you…so much…but you can’t…spend one day with him?” He feels Yunho’s larger hand wrapping around his wrist, prying it away from his throat, but Seonghwa grabs his tie, dark blue and reflecting in the faint moonlight, yanking him closer with surprising strength. They’re so, so close that Seonghwa can smell the subtleness of cedar and amber. “You better make him happy…or…or I'll… hit you…” 

Yunho cocks an eyebrow. From his expression, Seonghwa can tell he is not taken seriously at all. From his expression, the omega can tell he’s going to lose his job too. A surprised gasp escapes his lips as Seonghwa straightens, panicking. Realization of him not being in a dream hits like a train crash, and he scrambles to apologize. He just scolded his superior. His boss. The one fucking man that pays his sole salary. 

“J-Jeong-ssi, I'm…I'm sorry, I d-didn-” 

“Let me take San to his room,” is all Yunho says. Seonghwa reluctantly gives the sleeping pup to Yunho, watching the way he carefully cradles San in his arms. So unfamiliar. Like he wasn't taught how to do it. Like he hasn't given himself the time to learn it. Yet he holds San so…lovingly. Momentarily, Seonghwa’s heart swells. Maybe one day, he would hold his own pup like that. 

Seonghwa trails behind them slowly, nerves fraying at the anxiety bubbling up in him. He helps Yunho tuck San into his bed, a hand smoothing over the pup’s soft hair. Seonghwa gulps. This will take a while. Probably. He doesn’t need to stay with Yunho. Most probably. So he quietly turns around, about to sneak away. His hand curls around the door knob, but he doesn’t get to turn it. 

A hand is placed against the wood just above his shoulder. Seonghwa startles, breath hitching as the door rattles softly behind him. The sudden movement traps him there, Yunho’s arm caging him in, cutting off an easy escape. Slowly, slowly, Seonghwa turns his head. And gulps. Yunho is right there behind him, too close for Seonghwa to breathe without inhaling a noseful of his pheromones. Close enough that Seonghwa can feel the heat radiating off him, can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, making him wonder how it would feel between his–

“Going somewhere?”

Seonghwa shakes his head, a wordless answer to Yunho’s question and a movement to rid himself of ridiculous thoughts. 

“You thought you could say all that,” Yunho says, voice low and controlled, “and just walk away?” 

The words send a shiver down Seonghwa’s spine. 

“I apologized,” the omega says quickly, though his words come out weaker than intended. “I didn’t mean–”

Yunho’s other hand comes up, firmly wrapping around Seonghwa’s wrist, the same one that had grabbed his tie earlier and pinned it lightly against the door beside his head. Seonghwa inhales sharply, his heart booming in his ears. He’s aware of every second ticking by, every fraction of Yunho’s touch on his wrist. He’s aware of Yunho, who is–curse his height–gazing down at him like a panther fascinated by its prey. 

“Then why are you nervous now?” Yunho shifts even more closer, and Seonghwa, even with his impressive streak of impulsive actions, is helplessly looking up at the alpha. His back presses further into the door, nowhere left to go, nowhere to look except at Yunho. Or…his lips…

He tears his gaze away too late. 

“Ah,” Yunho murmurs, and Seonghwa wants the grounds to open up and swallow him whole. He wants a meteor to hit earth and disintegrate anything and everything but his precious San. “I see,” Yunho chuckles under his breath, while Seonghwa squirms, embarrassed to the roots. His ears burn with shame, and his scent quivers in anticipation, with a hint of fear. Fingers curling against the door, his mind screaming at him screaming at him to stop, to apologize again, to end this, but something reckless and warm and terrifying pushes forward instead. 

“You're-” his voice falters, then steadies. “You're bad,” is what Seonghwa declares, before he pushes the alpha back and hurriedly slips out of the room. Yunho doesn't come after him, he's not obliged to, but the ache throbbing at a corner of his heart tells him that it doesn't exactly dismiss the rejection the way Seonghwa so easily did. 

From the next morning, Seonghwa ignores Yunho. This is not him being disrespectful, not intentionally, maybe just a bit petty, but that is how he copes. He still does his job right, perfectly fine even. Breakfast is served on time, San is dressed, his schedule is neatly arranged. But when Yunho walks in the dining room in all the glory of an adonis, Seonghwa doesn’t even look at him. Maybe once... Just a little. Hmph.

“Good morning,” Yunho says. 

“Morning, Jeong-ssi,” Seonghwa is polite. His eyes flick past the alpha like he’s just another piece of furniture. It shouldn’t bother Yunho, but it does. Seonghwa can feel his gaze scorching into his back as he crouches in front of San adjusting the collar of his periwinkle blue uniform, smoothing his hair with a softness that San giggles and leans into. And Seonghwa smiles, warm and easy, affection pouring out of him unasked. Without even a single glance in Yunho’s direction. 

It gets worse over the next few days. 

Seonghwa doesn’t confront Yunho again, he doesn’t want to make the barely closed wounds bleed again. But he makes it a point to display his displeasure visibly and loudly to Yunho. A part of him knows he’s playing with fire, but that’s what makes his heart thrum with something hot and scorching. 

When Yunho leaves early without seeing San, Seonghwa’s gaze lingers a second too long. Unhappy. Unimpressed. When Yunho comes home late, Seonghwa is there in the hallway, the pup cradled in his arms after waiting too long to catch a glimpse of his father. He doesn’t talk, wordless as he watches Yunho’s expression flicker, judging. And he knows he’s slowly getting under Yunho’s skin. 

But then, Yunho learns to adjust. Not exactly because of Seonghwa, but because of him seeing how his unthinking actions reflect on his pup. 

He comes home earlier, whenever he can. Sometimes it’s before the evening dawns, sometimes it’s just enough to catch San before bedtime. The first time he does, San lights up like Yunho hung the stars himself. 

“Appa!” 

Yunho freezes for half a second before crouching down, awkward but trying, arms opening just a bit too stiffly. San barrels into him anyway. Just as he raises his gaze from San to the omega lingering at the doorway, Seonghwa is already turning away from him, not wanting Yunho to see how it affects him.

Movie nights happen once a week. San always gets to choose what they’re watching, and Seonghwa always gets to choose what they are eating. And Yunho just…participates. 

Not only does he come to the movie dates well early, cleaning himself up after work and slipping into the baggiest, most comfortable clothes before taking up half the sofa with his delectable–ahem–annoying body length. Seonghwa always sits on the floor right in front of the alpha for some reason. San would change his seat according to his mood. Sometimes he would be comfortable on the omega’s lap, legs spread out copying Seonghwa’s because he doesn’t know that Seonghwa can’t sit cross-legged. Sometimes he chooses Yunho’s lap, curling up and nuzzling into his chest, almost purring when Yunho scents him by the movie’s end. 

Today though, they’re watching something sad. They hadn’t known it was something sad, so when Seonghwa finds both himself and San being teary-eyed about it, Yunho questions. 

“Why are you two crying?” Yunho asks, quite in disbelief over Seonghwa’s red-rimmed eyes and San’s snotty nose that he seemed to be wiping with Seonghwa’s sweater. They both look up at him at the same time, in their own disbelief, lips puckered into a pout. 

“Because it’s sad,” Seonghwa whines, dramatic, but justifiable after seeing a puppy die in the animated movie. 

“Appa, why aren’t you crying?” San whines too, dimples visible as his lips downturn even further. “Aren’t you sad?” 

“It’s just a cartoon…”

Seonghwa gasps dramatically with a lungful of air. San mimics it. “Just a cartoon?! How dare you!”

“But it is–” 

“Soldier!” San shoots up, hands on his hips. “This calls for punishment! Attack!"

“Aye, aye, captain,” Seonghwa shifts into a kneeling position, grabbing a small cushion off the sofa. “Bring the enemy down!” 

“What even–” The cushion lands squarely on Yunho’s face. Seonghwa and San wait with bated breath for exactly one second before Yunho retaliates. The cushion drops, and in the next breath he grabs the nearest one, swinging it with far more precision than either of them expected. It knocks into Seonghwa’s shoulder, sending him off-balance with a startled laugh while San shrieks in delight, immediately scrambling to Yunho’s side only to betray him by smacking another cushion into his arm. 

Chaos erupts. Soft thuds, muffled protests and breathless giggles fill the room as Seonghwa lunges forward to gang up on Yunho, only to be caught by the wrist and tugged down, nearly toppling into him. San climbs over both of them like a victorious commander, declaring orders no one follows while Yunho who is laughing–actually laughing–shakes his head and pulls another cushion into the fight. The three of them are tangled in a mess of warmth, noise and something that Seonghwa would label as home, if not for the fact the reminder of him being here for a job blaring over his head. 

But his thoughts are interrupted when Yunho cups the back of his head, guiding his head so that Seonghwa looks at him. With both San and him sprawled over Yunho’s frame, Seonghwa feels something undeniable. 

“So…” Yunho starts, glancing at San yawning, mouth wide, showing off a couple of missing teeth. “Am I still…bad?” His expression somewhat reminds Seonghwa of a puppy, the lower cheeks being full adding onto the mental image of the thought, so Seonghwa reaches up, neatens the tousled hair on Yunho’s head. 

“No,” Seonghwa says, softly. “You’re doing good… Good boy…” A compliment that he so often gives San, but with Yunho’s darkening eyes, Seonghwa isn’t sure the alpha took the compliment in the same context. The arm that’s around him, securely holding him in place subconsciously tightens. Biting back a gasp, Seonghwa looks down at Yunho, who he can’t exactly figure out. 

Does the alpha want him? Or not? Does he expect something from Seonghwa? Or not? He’s confused, his thoughts jumbled in his head, mind swirling around every time Yunho looked at him like he needs something but when San yawns again, he takes it as a chance to escape the alpha’s hold. 

…

“I like my boss.”

Wooyung spits out the coffee he has been drinking, his cherry scent going wild as he watches Seonghwa who plops down next to them. Looking at the fellow omega in disgust, Hongjoong murmurs, “what the fuck, Wooyoung…”

“Did you hear what Seonghwa just said?!” 

“I did,” doesn’t stop Hongjoong from throwing another glance of disgust at Wooyoung’s messy face. “And I say go for it.”

“We haven’t even seen the guy!” Shrieks Wooyoung, attracting the attention of some people around them. The cafe they have chosen to visit on Seonghwa’s rare day off is not too busy, the soft hums of chitchat and plates and cutlery clinging resonate in the air, and that’s exactly why they have to watch what they say. Seonghwa smacks the back of the youngest omega’s neck, cursing under breath. The three of them have been together since college, yet he still can’t get used to Wooyoung’s outbursts at all. 

“He’s on the fucking news at least once a month, what more do you need?” Hongjoong says, looking over the pair of sunglasses that has slid down his nose. The waiter delivers the slice of lemon cake Hongjoong has ordered for him, ever the observant one in their group, and Seonghwa hums forlornly as he shoves an obnoxious spoonful of cake in his mouth. 

“Well he gotta meet us and get permission first.”

It is Hongjoong’s turn to smack Wooyoung. 

“Look… He knows that I like him… I don't… I don't need to confess or anything… it’s just… it feels like he’s holding back for some reason and I can’t figure out what.” 

“Maybe his dick is small.” 

“Wooyo, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” Hongjoong scolds as Wooyoung gasps. 

“You can’t talk to your mate that way!” the other starts, but when Hongjoong’s scent spikes, sharp cinnamon flooding their senses, Wooyoung sulks in his corner, all pouty and cute. 

“Hwa… He may be doing business, but he’s basically a public figure. Maybe there are things he has to figure out by himself before committing to you,” Hongjoong pats Seonghwa’s hand. Seonghwa soaks the comfort right up, especially since Hongjoong is not known for being touchy-feely. “Also… isn’t he a bit older? Who knows…maybe he has his own insecurities.” 

Seonghwa freezes. He hasn’t thought about it in that way. For someone like Yunho to have insecurities seems impossible, but as someone who works with pups, Seonghwa is surprised the thought hasn't ever crossed his mind. 

For him and the rest of the workers at the house, Yunho is a quiet, controlled leader who commands authority without ever raising his voice, the kind of man that people instinctively listen to because every decision he makes feels deliberate and thought through. He’s observant to the smallest shifts, even in Seonghwa, he notices far more than he lets on, an alpha capable of adjusting situations around him rather than making a spectacle of control. Seonghwa is attracted to that strength–and maybe those slender, veiny hands of his too–and the subtlest way Yunho adapts to San’s…and now Seonghwa’s demands, being older, yet seeking praises from Seonghwa so endearingly…

“Yup,” Wooyoung pops out the ‘p’. “Hwa’s in love.”

They linger longer than they mean to, talking over each other, gossiping, laughing too loudly, until Wooyoung declares they need “fresh air before Seonghwa starts crying over his alpha daddy,” and drags them to the park nearby. The afternoon melts into the later hours causing them to walk slowly under shaded paths, stopping to coo at passing pups, picking out matching bracelets from a street vendor, and later sitting on a bench while Hongjoong braids a tiny section of Seonghwa’s hair just because he can. They share snacks, take pictures, and at some point end up lying on the grass, pointing at clouds and arguing about what shapes they see, the kind of silly, uneventful things Seonghwa didn’t realize he missed so much. 

It’s only when the sky begins to dim that his phone buzzes. One short message from Yunho asking him to send his location, and it settles something heavier but warmer in his chest. 

“Duty calls,” Wooyoung teases, nudging him as they get up, and Seonghwa rolls his eyes but sends the location anyway before digging into his bag and dramatically presenting Wooyoung with a stash of Haribo gummy bears. 

“Three-month supply, as promised,” he says, grinning when Wooyoung gasps like he’s just been handed treasure, and Hongjoong laughs softly beside them. When the car pulls up a few minutes later, Seonghwa is surprised to see Yunho on the driver’s seat, motioning him to get on the passenger seat. 

“Hwaaaa,” greets San from the back, strapped to the backseat but trying to reach Seonghwa as a habit. 

“Hi baby,” Seonghwa smiles, twisting his body so he can see San properly and also….spying Wooyoung through the rear windshield waving excitedly as the car pulls away while Hongjoong…with his thumbs up, grinning like a maniac with his sunglasses on.  

“Hwa look what appa bought meee,” San excitedly shows him a box of Minion Legos. “It’s my favorite one! But there’s more in the back! There’s Zelda, some..some cars, a castle! And appa bought you a–”

Yunho clears his throat, and San falls silent. Curiosity tugs at Seonghwa’s heart, as he switches his gaze back and forth from the father and son, who currently has a hand over his mouth like he said something he shouldn’t have. Seonghwa tries not to torture the poor things. 

“Did you have fun at least? With appa?”

“Yes!” San throws his arms up, dimples present as he smiles wide. “I wanna go to Lotte again! Tomorrow?”

Yunho chuckles. “Maybe not tomorrow, tiger. I’ll take you there again next month, okay?”

“With Hwa?” Wide, hopeful eyes.

“With Hwa.”

“How about asking me first?” Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, but he’s not really mad at them. Not 

like he can be mad at them. 

“You’re gonna be here anyway.”

“Hyung–” Seonghwa stops himself. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Yunho says, but he does not look fine. Knuckles pale because of the grip he has on the steering feel, eyes focusing intensely on the road. “You can call me hyung.” 

“...Sure,” Seonghwa says, wary. 

…

“So…” Jongho circles Seonghwa from behind as the omega prepares San’s lunch box, hands clasped behind his back and eyes playfully narrowed. “What is this that I hear about you and Yunho hyung?”

“What did you hear?” Seonghwa wonders, oblivious to the gossip inside the house for the past few days. 

“Someone told me that he’s following you around like a puppy.”

“Well,” Seonghwa sighs. “That someone is wrong. Yunho hyung is–”

“Yunho hyung?!” Jongho exclaims, eyes wide. 

Seonghwa sighs again. “He’s just trying to spend more time with San.” 

“Seonghwa,” Yunho, who comes behind both of them, pauses, his gaze suspicious. “Can you put on my cufflinks?” 

“Y-yeah,” Seonghwa scrambles to clasp the cufflinks into Yunho’s jacket sleeve, stunned by the sudden appearance of the man. 

“Jongho…” Yunho narrows his eyes. “Shouldn’t you wait for me in the car?” 

Jongho opens his mouth. And then closes it. Then nods, and leaves. 

“You do remember I’m your son’s nanny, yes? Not yours,” Seonghwa asks, oblivious to Jongho’s hurried step, and ahjumma Shuu’s abrupt disappearance from the kitchen. 

“I’ll be home late,” Yunho replies, clearly dismissing what Seonghwa asked, but not unkindly. “Can you pick up San this afternoon?” 

“Hyung, I’m… I’m supposed to do that job, you know?” 

Yunho stares into his eyes. “You should realize by now that you’re more than that, moon bunny.”

“Whatever,” Seonghwa mumbles, but his cheeks feel warm. 

Seonghwa reaches the kindergarten fifteen minutes before it closes. He sits down at the benches provided in the garden for parents and nannies, seeing a few familiar faces already there. Absorbed into the latest gossip and affairs, Seonghwa doesn’t realize something is wrong at first. The late afternoon sun hangs low, warm against his skin as he waits for San to come out. When the pup does come out, squealing out Seonghwa’s name, a sticky hand from whatever snack he had eaten earlier grabbing onto the omega’s, is when Seonghwa feels something is wrong. 

It’s just a feeling where no evidence of a sound or sight can be seen, the kind where the hair of his nape stands still. Seonghwa pulls out his phone quickly. “Jongho? Can you come to the gate?”

“Why? Hyung, is something wrong?”

“Hurry up,” is what Seonghwa says, shoving the phone back into his denim pocket. There’s a man standing too close to the gate. Dresssed like a normal person, but the intention of his gaze being…unsettling. He’s not a parent, Seonghwa would have recognized the familiar tired smiles, the routine chatter. Not a teacher either. He doesn’t belong here. And yet…he’s watching. 

Not the crowd. 

San. 

Something cold slides down Seonghwa’s spine. His fingers tighten around San’s small hand, subtle but firm. “Stay close to me, baby,” he murmurs, voice light like nothing’s changed. The pup nods easily, leaning closer without question. Seonghwa shifts, turning his body just slightly, placing himself between San and the man. He starts walking calmly, unhurried, like he’s just another nanny heading home.

But the man moves.

Too fast.

A hand shoots out. San gasps, the sound sharp and startled as fingers latch onto his arm, yanking. And Seonghwa moves, sheer terror running through him. No thought in his head, no hesitation in his body. 

“Hey!” His voice cuts through the noise as he lunges forward, grip snapping onto the man’s wrist. He yanks hard, pulling San back and shoving him behind his own body in the same motion. “Let him go!”

The man swears, trying to wrench free but Seonghwa holds on, nails digging in hoping for the same pain that his heart is causing against his ribs. His baby is crying in fear, and that is all he can hear. Instincts kick in hard when the man reaches with his other hand, grubby and disgusting, shameless and underestimating. 

Something snaps in Seonghwa. 

Shifting forward, Seonghwa kicks hard. His foot connects solidly, right between the man’s legs. The reaction is immediate as a choked, broken sound leaves the man’s mouth as he folds in on himself, grip loosening completely. Seonghwa covers San fully behind him, glaring and practically spewing out venom with huffs of breath. 

“Don’t fucking touch my pup!”

Jongho comes in just then, having witnessed everything while running towards them, restraining the man with the help of a few bystanders. 

“Son of a bitch, how dare you get married without having me as the best man?” Mingi storms in, like always, into Yunho’s office. The alpha in return sends a disapproving look towards his best friend since diapers Song Mingi. 

“I’m not married, Mingi-ya.”

“Then how do you explain this?!” Mingi carelessly throws his phone on Yunho’s table, one of the ways the beta got so many cracks on the display, stubbornly never replacing the glass unless absolutely necessary. On the screen is an article of a photo secretly taken when he and Seonghwa went out with San for dinner, where the photo was taken when the omega was wiping the pup’s messy mouth and him staring….oh so lovingly at them. 

“That’s my mate.”

“Have you told him that yet?” Mingi deadpans, giving Yunho the most unimpressed look. Oh how Yunho finds happiness in riling his friend up.

“Not yet, no,” Yunho hides his smile behind a file. “You’re here to talk with me about the acquisition, not about my dating life.”

“I’m your friend first, you love sick idiot,” Mingi sighs, sprawling unattractively on the seat in front of Yunho. “Bet your princess doesn’t know you liked to be called puppy back then. What a loser.” 

A loud, sharp smack. Mingi yelps. 

“You better keep your mouth to yourself, Mingi-ya,” Yunho casually flips a document as though he didn’t just smack the shit out of Mingi. “Or I’m gonna tell Jongho how you keep trying to ask him out but miserably failing–”

“You will not.”

“Try me,” Yunho grins.   

Mingi sighs deeply, but his tone turns serious. “Hey… Now that he’s in the spotlight…This…Seonghwa… You know that he doesn't just have you to handle, right?” 

“He’s strong,” Yunho says, voice now softer than before. “More than me. He knows how to take care of not only himself but also me and my pup.” 

The beta observes Yunho’s face. He comes to a conclusion on his own, and nods. An acknowledgement in trusting Yunho’s words. But then his phone rings, too loud in his vast office. An unknown number. Frowning, Yunho answers it. 

“Jeong Yunho-ssi?”

“Yes?”

“We’ve got a situation going on at your son’s kindergarten. Can you come as soon as possible?”

Yunho’s already running out of his office, Mingi hot on his heels. Yunho’s mind is running a thousand miles in a fraction of a second, his thought process a mess. The city blurs past in streaks of grey and red as Mingi floors the accelerator, one hand gripping the wheel, the other hovering impatiently over the horn like he’s daring anyone to get in their way. 

“They’ll be okay,” Mingi mutters, but Yunho’s still restless because they didn’t know what had happened. The alpha locks his gaze ahead, jaw set, heart pounding loud enough to drown out the traffic, every worst-case scenario flashing uninvited behind his eyes as the car rushes through lanes, reckless and fast. 

Yunho jumps out of the car before Mingi even shuts down the engine. His feet take him into the kindergarten painted baby blue and white, the place looking calm and serene despite the war in Yunho’s mind. It doesn’t take him long to reach San’s classroom, where he finds a few police officers talking with the class teacher, and Jongho. The moment they see him, they rush forward. 

“Jeong-ssi,” one of the police officers greets him, her lips curving in a small smile. “I’ll be blunt with you. Someone tried to kidnap your son.”

Yunho blinks. Okay. It isn’t so bad. ‘Tried’ means that San was not kidnapped. He’s not downsizing the crime that almost happened, but it has happened before, the reason he hired security in the first place. It had happened before to him, and now it’s happening to his son. When coming from generational wealth, that is to be expected, was what his own mother had said, after the first time it happened to Yunho. 

“He was saved just in time by his caretaker,” the officer’s smile widens reassuringly. “So Jongho-ssi managed to restrain him until we arrived.” 

“I’ll be at the station–”

“No,” Mingi cuts him off. “I’ll handle it. Go to them,” the beta gestures towards the corner of the room, where he sees Seonghwa sitting on the floor, curled around San as the pup clings to his chest. Yunho’s heart aches. 

“The pup seems unhurt but.. The omega won’t let us inspect him properly…” 

Yunho takes long strides towards the two. Then he slows, sitting down on the floor a couple of feet away from them in his pressed suit. 

“Seonghwa?” 

The omega doesn’t respond at first. His arms are tightly wrapped around San, like if he loosens even a little the world might try to take the pup again. There’s a faint smear of something on his pale pink sweater sleeve, dust maybe, and his hair has fallen loose around his face, sticking slightly to damp skin. His scent is all wrong–usually soft and warm like baby powder, but now sharp with remnant fear, unstable, clinging to the air in a way that makes Yunho’s chest tighten. 

He has forgotten it was Seonghwa’s first time. 

“Hwa…” Yunho tries again, softer this time. Seonghwa flinches. But his eyes lock into Yunho’s, wide and glassy, pupils blown, something wild and defensive lingering in them. 

“No,” Seonghwa breathes out, shaking his head before Yunho even asks. His voice is hoarse, like it’s been dragged raw. “He’s fine. I’ve got him.” 

“I know,” Yunho leans closer. “You did so well. He’s safe. You’re safe. You’re with me now.”

The words seem to sink in slowly, like they have to fight through layers of adrenaline and fear to reach the omega. For a long moment, he just…holds on. Like letting San go means…failure. But then San shifts, letting out a small whimper against Seonghwa’s collarbone, and something in Seonghwa finally cracks. Slowly, reluctantly, he loosens his hold just enough. 

But Yunho doesn’t take San away. Instead he moves closer, close enough that their shoulders nearly touch and gently guides them both into his arms. Seonghwa freezes at first, clearly not expecting it. His breath catches when Yunho pulls him in too, when he realizes he’s not being asked to let go but allowed to stay. 

“You did well,” Yunho murmurs, low and steady near his ear as he gently pats Seonghwa’s head. “You protected him,” a low growl escapes him. They are his–the pup, and the omega both. No one can touch them with the intention to harm, Yunho wouldn’t allow them.      

A broken sound escapes Seonghwa before he can restrain it. His head dips, pressing against Yunho’s neck, inhaling his scent. His fingers are curled in San’s jacket, no longer desperate but just holding. His body leans into Yunho’s hold. They both smell like baby powder and milk, so Yunho assumes Seonghwa scented the pup.

“Hyung… I was so scared,” he whispers, barely audible. “But I kicked him in the balls. Hard. He can’t have babies anymore.” 

Yunho is left stunned. Then…someone bursts into wet giggles. San hides his face in Yunho’s jacket, tiny shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“Moon bunny is strong,” he says, small fists curling with might as he peeks at Seonghwa from Yunho’s embrace. 

Seonghwa cracks a tired smile, saluting. “Moon bunny is.”

The criminal caught for the attempted kidnapping gets jailed. Seonghwa doesn’t know what happened, but his imprisonment happened like a flash of lightning, and he isn’t complaining about it. Both his and San’s life goes back to normal after a few days, the jittery glances and getting jump scares at random things slowly subsiding. Things gradually start to revolve around waking up at scheduled times, carefully prepared cutesy lunches and evening cartoon sessions again. 

One night though, Seonghwa sees Yunho in the living room awake at an ungodly hour. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, sleeves of his neatly-tucked shirt rolled up, carefully piecing together bright blocks. The soft lamp light illuminates his face, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration, lips pressed tightly together, the same kind of face that San makes when he’s picking carrots off his plate. 

It does something so strange to Seonghwa’s chest, warm and aching all at once and he slips away before he can be caught staring. Not that he doesn’t want to join Yunho and maybe tease him a little about it, but sometimes, time spent alone is time well spent. 

He’s halfway through changing into his pajamas when there’s a knock on his door. When he opens it, Yunho stands there, quieter than usual, holding out a bunch of Lego roses. 

“Sannie told me you’ll like them,” he says though his eyes don’t quite meet Seonghwa’s. A pause. Then, “These…aren’t from him though.” 

Seonghwa blinks, a smile threatening to appear on his lips. His fingers curl around the plastic stems as he takes them, heart stuttering in delight. Yunho exhales, the tension in his shoulders finally visible up close. “I’m not very good at this,” he admits, almost wry. “At…slowing down. Or saying things properly.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Seonghwa listens. 

“Seonghwa, you’re…incredible. You make decisions that I wouldn’t make. That I don’t understand. But I keep getting drawn to them. To you,” his gaze flickers up, searching for something in Seonghwa’s eyes, uncertain in a way Seonghwa has never seen before. “That day… when I almost lost San… I knew that I wasn’t scared for him alone. I was scared of losing you too. Letting you get hurt  because of me. But… Seonghwa, I’m selfish. I know I’m…older. Set in my ways. I come with more than just…myself. Probably not what you expect…” The alpha trails off, jaw tightening briefly before he finishes. Then, quieter, “But I’d like to try–if you’ll let me.” 

Seonghwa’s heart swells. So much that he feels like it will burst from feeling this warmth between them. 

“Why would you ever think I won't love you the way you should be loved?” Seonghwa asks, stepping forward, stopping inches away from Yunho, tiptoeing to reach him. Lips press against lips. Soft. Sweet. Yunho’s arms automatically lock around Seonghwa’s waist, pulling him even closer. The kiss is broken, but they press their foreheads together. “Hyung… all I’ve ever wanted was a family for myself. Growing up without one felt like a part of me was gone. That’s why I treat every pup I take care of, as my own… But I couldn’t trust anyone enough to jump into such things because…well. I didn’t want to trust someone, only to end up getting hurt.”

“San is a blessing,” Seonghwa smiles so beautifully that Yunho can’t take his eyes off him. “And you have become such a good father to him. When you came to us that day, and…and the way you hugged us both…I could not have found the most safest place anywhere else in this world than with you. I found myself trusting you enough to let you hold me and San. So please don’t ever think that you and San will ever be a burden to anyone.”

“Sannie’s eomma thought so,” Yunho replies, voice barely audible. 

“Good thing I’m not her then,” Seonghwa says, tiptoeing again to pepper kisses over Yunho’s face–the faint stubble the alpha will shave off in the mornings, the smile lines that will subtly appear as he speaks, the crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes.  

“Mmm,” Yunho hums, warmth glistening in his eyes. He leans down and places a warm kiss on Seonghwa's neck, soft, intimate, breathing in the cozy baby powder scent. He doesn’t move away, and neither does Seonghwa. The space between them feels different now—smaller, warmer, scents mingling like something has quietly settled into place. The alpha’s thumb brushes against Seonghwa’s waist, slow, absent, like he’s still getting used to the idea that he can.

“That answer…” Yunho murmurs, voice low.

Seonghwa tilts his head. “Hm?”

“I’m going to remember it.”

Heat creeps up Seonghwa’s neck, but he doesn’t look away.

“Good,” he says softly.

This time, when Yunho leans in, it isn’t hesitant.

It’s certain.