Chapter Text
It started with Namjoon, as most things did.
He was more than just the head Alpha, he was their base, the foundation rock that everything else was built upon. It was initially just practicality - Namjoon had crunched the numbers, and sharing an apartment off-campus with one roommate was more economical than paying to share half of a cramped dorm room on-campus, even with commute fares factored in . He met Yoongi in college, the two sharing a couple of pretty dull general education courses, and while they had usually ended up on opposite ends of every class discussion, Namjoon had found Yoongi’s heavily accented way of speaking appealing, like he didn’t care what anyone else thought of him, and when they’d started talking in the brief minutes between classes, they had clicked together on so many things that shared coffees had turned into shared meals turned into sharing a modest three bedroom about 20 minutes from the center of campus.
They cohabitated well for the most part. Yoongi was a silent ghost of a roommate, slipping out of the house in the dim, cool hours for PT and slinking back in for a shower and a nap while Namjoon was making a fresh pot of coffee for them both. It was easy-going and it was comfortable. Except for the heats, of course.
They didn’t directly speak about them, but sometimes over their morning coffee Namjoon would notice the flecks of blue starting to form amidst the deep browns in Yoongi’s eyes, and that was his sign to make up an excuse to visit his family home for a couple days. Yoongi would mention casually that he had a test coming up he was stressing over, so he’d be hunkered down in his own room studying. Both of them knew better.
There was only one time Yoongi suggested that Namjoon just stay for the duration of his heat. It had started early, and Namjoon had come home to a distinct earthy smell filling the entire apartment . Yoongi was curled up on the couch, his hand slotted between his knees, staring blankly at the TV as it blared some asinine variety show, looking dead to the world. From a glance Namjoon saw that he was still wearing his ACUs from his afternoon workout, and that he hadn’t taken his usual shower. He had probably been there most of the day. The camouflage outfit seemed to swallow him more than usual today. Even as far away as he was standing, Namjoon could see that Yoongi was sweating like he had a fever.
“Yoongi?” Namjoon breathed quietly, still startling the older boy despite his efforts.
“Oh, Namjoonie,” Yoongi managed in a strange sounding mumble. It was as if part of his mouth had been numbed and he was only speaking with half the usual muscles. The nickname was new, too. “You’re back…”
Namjoon felt a chill raise goosebumps on his arms at the way Yoongi’s eyes seemed glazed, distant, and not at all like the usual Yoongi. “Um, I think I’m gonna head home for tonight. Tae said he wants some help with some English homework.”
“No~” Yoongi whined, then threw one arm up against the back of the couch towards Namjoon, a half-hearted attempt at catching Namjoon’s hand. Luckily, he missed. His voice was sleepy and pleading, almost cutesy in his complaint. “You can stay. Tae isn’t taking English this semester.”
It was a breach of unspoken contract - of course Tae didn’t have English, and even if he had, Namjoon wouldn’t drop everything to go help him with his homework for it. But Yoongi wasn’t supposed to call him on it, at the risk of breaking the precarious balance. “Well, I still think I should go…” Namjoon quietly murmured, working his fingers against the fabric of the couch and finding his palms sweaty. He tucked them into his jeans pockets. “Is there, ah… anything I can do for you before I go?”
Yoongi, who had turned to pout at the screen as if to ignore Namjoon, lazily flopped his head back, neck popping as he blinked slowly at Namjoon, a little trace of a smirk on his face.
“Wrong question, Namjoonie.” The words dripped with Yoongi’s natural lilt like venom, his voice deep and with a fire-crackle sort of edge.
A sudden tension rose between them, neither daring to look away, and Namjoon would remember for years afterwards the sudden headiness of that earth-like smell, and the way his head felt dizzy and how it seemed as though an invisible rope was tugging him down to bend over the back of the couch. He found his tall frame halfway folded before Yoongi finally blinked, a moment of clarity through his haze. He scowled suddenly, waving at Namjoon’s face.
“I shouldn’t have asked. Just get the hell out of here.”
Still haunted by the intense sky-blue that had washed over Yoongi’s eyes, turning them into a stranger’s, Namjoon was out of the door in under ten minutes. They never spoke of it again.
~~~~~
“Yoongi, we’re friends, right?” Namjoon said. Yoongi looked up from his pancakes and wriggled his eyebrows at Namjoon, a comical expression of doubt that made Namjoon’s lips curl up into a smile.
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, I was just wondering...If you wanted to come visit my family sometime?”
Yoongi stared at Namjoon, tongue tucked into his cheek as he contemplated this. Namjoon could see him working the gears in his head, as if trying to find an ulterior motive that Namjoon might have for taking him somewhere. At long last, he went, “Sure?”
“Great.” He beamed, turning back to his scrambled eggs. The restaurant clattered and sang around them, the ever-present clanking of plates, voices blending into a dull roaring sound. Namjoon ate his breakfast quietly with Yoongi for several more minutes. Yoongi enjoyed the quiet, enjoyed the calming scent that Namjoon gave off. He always smelled like the smoke of a burning woodfire, masculine but simple, a comforting smell that allowed Yoongi a calming breath.
Yoongi didn’t have a lot of Alpha friends, in all honesty. He had never seen himself as particularly attractive, but there was something about his Omega scent that was decidedly alluring, apparently. Perhaps it was the Omega scent in combination with his short stature, (remaining short had come as a bit of a surprise to him) but hadn’t mattered until Alphas had started hovering over him, leering and assuming that just because his status was Omega, that he would roll over and do what they wanted.
The first couple years after his Presenting had been rough. Very rough. There were reasons why Yoongi walked around campus and chose the most populated paths, avoided alleys at night. He didn’t like the club scenes his friends like to frequent, but went anyways. That was how he met Van. Van was an exchange student. He was in freshman year, like Yoongi. An Alpha with a bright smile and (to Yoongi’s relief) he hadn’t said anything about Yoongi’s height or Omega status .
They’d ended up making out roughly, crudely, in the back of the club, blue lights flashing around them and music thrumming through their bodies, the ground vibrating almost as much as their skin.
Yoongi didn’t have many Alpha friends. It wasn’t that he disliked them as a whole, really. Status didn’t determine the line between fuckboy and sweet boy next door. And Yoongi had evidence of this, by the quiet Alpha sitting across from him, glasses perched on his nose as he read the dessert menu. Yoongi was grateful for Namjoon. For his calming smell, the quiet way he garnered respect, and the way he seemed to look out for his friends, no matter what type they were.
“Hey, Joonie,” Yoongi chuckled, looking past the Alpha’s shoulder and across the Mom’n’Pop’ restaurant. Namjoon looked up, his spoon held in his mouth as he had been spreading more ketchup on his plate. “Don’t look now, but she’s here.”
Of course, Namjoon looked, eyes wide as they found the by-now very familiar figure of Kiara, the Omega girl from their Feminism In Film class. Her red hair was long and curly, and she brushed it over her shoulder as she waited with her friends for an open table. As if able to sense their gazes, she suddenly glanced their direction, and Namoon jolted, turning back around and moving to look busy, knocking over his glass of ice water and the syrup all in one go.
“Shit!” Namjoon hissed, reaching to yank napkins out of the napkin holder. Unfortunately for him, the holder had been way overstuffed, and the napkins just kept tearing instead of slipping out as they should have. Yoongi kept looking Kiara’s way, seeing the way she softly smiled. She had seen Namjoon’s reaction. “God damnit,” Namjoon swore into the puddle of syrup.
“You should just ask her out, you know. I bet she’d say yes.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” Namjoon frowned. “Kiara’s way out of my league.”
Yoongi scoffed, handing the napkin he’d left by his plate unused over to his friend, then reaching for more creamer for his coffee. “In what way? You’re both Nobles, you both are obsessed with getting straight As, both nerdy as hell…”
“Okay, but have you seen her? She looks like she’s photoshopped in real life.” He sighed, staring forlornly at the remainders of the sticky mess he had made. “She’s gorgeous. Besides, most of the exchange students are just looking for a fling, so. She has her pick of the litter, as they say.”
“She doesn’t give a fuck about the litter-picks. And besides, have you fucking seen yourself? Namjoon, you’re a good-looking guy .” Yoongi said the words flippantly, but then wondered if he should have regretted them, by the awkward way they made eye contact across the table, Namjoon’s face suddenly shy. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Joonie. I don’t mean I think of you that way. Let’s just keep it simple - you’re great, but you’re not my type.”
“Y-yeah, I noticed.” But Namjoon still looked over his shoulder, his posture suggesting his awkwardness. “Do you...do you really think I have a shot?”
“Bro, I think she’s looking for your little Sub-Alpha ,” Yoongi arched an eyebrow suggestively, “And she’s just waiting for you to offer it to her.”
Namjoon choked on his pancake. “ Yoongi! ”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Yoongi laughed. “But trust me, as your friend: you’ve got a shot, so just go for it already. I’ll bet if you gave it a chance, and she got to see the guy I see, she’d like Kim Namjoon a lot. To be honest, you’d probably be a breath of fresh air from all the usual Alphas that hit on her.”
Namjoon looked as though he wanted to ask for clarification, but decided against it. He leaned down to rest his chin in his hand, not realizing his sleeve had gotten stuck in some residual, unspotted syrup. “So… what about you and Van?”
“What about us?”
“Are you two… a thing?”
Yoongi sat for a moment, chewing on the end of his straw, and considered. “Yeah. I’d say we’re a some thing.”
“And do you know what that something is?”
“Why? Do we need a label to get your stamp of approval?” Yoongi’s tone carried a snap like a whip, not malicious but defensive, a shield going up quickly.
“No, no, I’m just.. I’m just a little curious, that’s all. And maybe a bit worried.” When Yoongi arched an eyebrow at that, Namjoon added, “As your friend, that is.”
Yoongi scratched at his earlobe for a moment. He really didn’t know what he and Van were. He knew they met up a lot, hung out in similar circles. He knew what Van smelled and tasted like so well by now, that he could sense him in his dreams in every way. But beyond that? Reaching further than the physical? He didn’t know. Van had a lot of quirks, a lot of issues. A lot of fears, that he had whispered to Yoongi in the quiet hours when they were too exhausted for another round. So Yoongi knew his own feelings towards Van, but the other direction of the street was currently too congested to know where it was leading.
“I don’t know,” Yoongi shrugged. “I’m just leaving it as it is, I guess.”
Namjoon nodded, as if he understood. Somehow, Yoongi was certain that he didn’t. “Okay, then.”
“Okay, then.”
~~~~~
Timing was a weird thing. Namjoon and Yoongi had a system. Yoongi had PT early in the morning, so he was often up before Namjoon. This wasn’t quite the case, on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays after Namjoon got his job working nights at a hotel lobby. The work was pretty easy, he said, although there were a lot of nuanced rules, and there were sometimes some very sketchy customers who came in during weird times and behaved and smelled oddly to the Alpha. But it offered Namjoon some flexibility and the ability to work on his homework while earning a modest paycheck to go toward the house, which was great. It changed things a bit oddly because Namjoon would be coming home when Yoongi was getting ready to go out, but they still ran into each other, low voices mumbling hellos in the hallway of the apartment as one undressed and the other dressed.
Yoongi worked part time as a cashier at a nearby convenience store. It was easy, mindless work, so he didn’t mind it. But it definitely wasn’t on his list of things he wanted to do forever, to be certain. One thing he and Namjoon always seemed to be in agreement on was that they wanted more for themselves. For Namjoon, this was intellectually - the way the Alpha’s eyes lit up when he was given a challenge was, in Yoongi’s humble opinion, beautifully poetic and heartwarming. Yoongi himself, while convinced he could be content with a common 9-5 time job, wanted to earn enough money to live comfortably. Living in fear of debt or homelessness was something his parents had done, and which he had no intention of repeating.
It was on one such day that Yoongi was working the convenience store counter, approximately 2 hours and 56 minutes until the end of his shift, when he ran into his mother.
Yoongi was always told he had the mannerisms and bearing of his father, but he liked to think that there was definitely something about his face that spoke visually of his mother. The softness of the cheeks, a certain little quirk to the mouth, somewhere along there. He liked to think it because he liked to think his mother was beautiful. She was a strong Omega, with shoulder length hair and a beautiful glow to her that just emanated firm domesticity. She was the human version of a rubber eraser. Able to bend to suit the needs of those around her but undeniably steady, firm and able to wipe away all traces of the mistakes and fear from her children with the wave of a hand and a worldly word. Yoongi loved his mother.
Her smell wafted through the convenience store, the smell of wax and graphite pencils, and Yoongi looked up in surprise, ignoring the sticker on the counter that he had been picking at with his broad thumb. Their eyes met when she turned with her drink to the front desk, and her mouth made a little “o” shape before a smile broke out across her face. She smelled so good and familiar, Yoongi wanted to embrace her, to bury himself in the smell and Scent her as he always had. Instead, he smiled toothily, leaning forward to swipe her drink through the machine. He was taller than her, now, and naturally his shoulders bent forward a little, trying to match her, to stay the little boy he’d been for her.
She called his name softly, and asked how he was doing. He said fine, and asked how the family was doing.
They had been a small pack. Nuclear family packs were more common now, even though they were advised against . With two sons, his father hadn’t been worried about protection or balance, just concerned with providing a much more financially stable life than his own parents had ever been able to give him. Stable jobs, steady paychecks, predictable life. A good life.
When his older brother had presented as an Alpha, no one had been surprised. His father had a lot in common with his eldest son. Even their shoulders were the same, Yoongi had thought.
He had suspected he was an Omega long before the first heat came. He had suspected it hard enough that he’d already done the research on his own, and had been prepared for what to do even before his mother had walked in, pads and pills in hand. What he hadn’t suspected was the way she’d practically reeled on entering his bedroom. Hadn’t expected her to be so sensitive to his Omega hormones and Scent that she had actually fallen ill the next day.
It wasn’t a common case, the doctors said. But it was common enough that they had a pill to cover it.
The Suppressants had worn them both down, kept them bedridden. Yoongi spent his first year as an Omega not worrying much about how outside Alphas might see him, but about having the strength to get out of bed, most days. He stayed at home, as sick as his mother from the medicines, but the constant exposure to each other had just made matters worse. That was no life, as 9-to-5 and stable as it was, it wasn’t really living. Yoongi knew that his mother was too sensitive to Omega hormones as a Beta to withstand living so close to her son. She would constantly be pulled back and forth from Beta-Alpha to Beta-Omega, her body not sure which role to fill, who to be. It was torture. They barely ate from nausea, they barely slept from the itching, unsettled feeling under their skin. Yoongi stopped hugging her good morning, and eventually, barely spoke to her.
His father never directly blamed Yoongi’s Omega status as the cause of all their troubles. But it still felt pointed whenever he walked into the room and embraced his wife, or had his eldest son sit between them at the table. The distance that could grow under the same roof had astonished him, had left him feeling hollow. They didn’t want to blame him, but the facts were laying right there. They were living stable, contented, but not happy.
It was after almost a year of trying to put up with it that he had finally made the decision to leave home. He stayed with a couple of friends the first months, but rent was ridiculously high near the school. But he was able to attend, at least. It was hard to adjust to life without the suppressants, and he was still terrified that they had permanently damaged his Omega hormone balance. Luckily, the doctors said, everything seemed to be normal.
Yoongi breathed a sigh of relief. At last free of the weight of the Beta shifts, Yoongi was able to look at himself in the mirror and ask himself what he thought of being an Omega. He thought of pups, he thought of Alphas, and of pack status, and sex, and all that it went with. He was ready to start living beyond ‘stable,’ and into the new and intimidating.
It was a stroke of luck for him, finding Namjoon early on, he later realized. The Alpha was progressive minded like himself, always seeking for more in life and new ideas. Yoongi wasn’t sure when the transition happened from ‘friend/peer’ to ‘lead Alpha,’ but it wasn’t in that first year with Namjoon, he thought. Then, it was just equals. Different sides of the same coin.
“Take care of yourself,” his mother said, smiling tautly. He wondered if she could smell him.
But he just smiled, watching her take the plastic bag he held out to her. His hands looked so huge next to hers, so grown-up now compared to the boy he’d been not too long ago. They shared a look, a wordless apology, and she vanished. The tinkling of the bell signaled her departure, and Yoongi realized that he didn’t regret leaving.
She had still worn the same simple but elegant peacoat that she had worn when he was a child. Her hair was still the same. But she was happy for him, for what she saw in his face as they’d exchanged small talk. Yoongi wasn’t above or below her, anymore, but in a different ocean entirely.
Some things were fine to live with. Some things were meant to change.
Yoongi still let out a deep sigh, though, as he finished his shift. He was taking his vest off when there came a familiar chuckle behind him and the smell of woodsmoke. The Omega turned, seeing Namjoon there, his shoulders nearly filling up a whole aisle.
“Ready to go do some shopping?” Namjoon asked, holding up the notepad they’d had stuck to the refrigerator.
The supermarket was crowded, of course, given that it was nearly suppertime. As per their routine, Namjoon was in charge of the cart and not touching too much. His tall, lanky frame was leaned lazily over the handle of the metal cart. He clutched the notepad in one hand, a pen in his other hand that only worked half the time. When the ink would suddenly stop working, he always scrunched up his face and held the notepad closer to his nose, squinting at it in disgruntled dismay as he scribbled furiously until it started to work again.
“Eggs,” he stated. Yoongi leaned over, inspecting the carton and then gently setting it in the child seat, so it wouldn’t get buried. As he settled it in, he looked at the two holes that were meant for a child’s legs. He paused. He imagined a pup there, a small pup of his own, of maybe two years old. Chubby legs kicking out as they peered around with wide but angular eyes, soaking in the whole world.
I want kids, he realized. I want pups.
“What’s that?” Namjoon asked, leaning forward and tilting his head to the side in curiosity.
“Huh?”
“You said something?”
“Oh, I said ‘here,’ is all.”
Namjoon frowned, but looked back at his notepad. “Rice.”
“That’s on the other end,” Yoongi reminded. “We should put the grocery list in order of how we go through the store.”
“Oh, yeah.” Namjoon hovered the tip of his pen down the list, mentally rearranging them. “Pork belly?”
“Sure.” Yoongi gave a shrug, and they headed off down the aisle.
“You know,” Namjoon said after a moment, raising his voice over the clatter of the cart’s wheels. “We’ve saved a lot of money this year, being roommates.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure. I’m finally able to set a little bit aside for savings, like I wanted to.”
“And that’s with an apartment that’s really too big for us, you know.”
“Mm?” Yoongi was bending over the packages of meat, hunting for whatever looked the least fatty.
“I mean, we have that extra room and all. Imagine how much we’d save if we split the rent three ways.” Namjoon paused. “Or even four ?”
“And who are these three and ‘even four’ peoples that you speak of?” Yoongi smirked, the tips of his gums visible as he looked up at Namjoon.
“I dunno yet. But...I think we should keep an ear out, you know? It feels right. I’ve been thinking…” Namjoon’s voice dropped off, a little less reassured. “It’s almost like we’ve built our own little pack, isn’t it? I mean, we’re more than just roommates, but it’s not like we’re dating, but… something like that?”
“So you’re my Big Strong Lead Alpha?” Yoongi scoffed. He didn’t much like that idea, really.
“No, not at all. I mean.. I guess I’m the Lead Alpha by default, but you’re the Lead Omega by default, too, but …” Namjoon shrugged again, staring at the plethora of types of rice lining the walls of the new aisle. “Does it not feel that way to you?”
Yoongi stared at the rice, pondering. He realized that he had started to feel very at ease with Namjoon, in a way that was hard to explain to his other Omega friends. Certainly it was easy for other Alphas to misinterpret what it was. An Alpha and an Omega, living together, and nothing was going on? He supposed at first it had been more of a challenge for Yoongi, to see if hormones and status really would always be the leading factor in his life.
But with Namjoon? It wasn’t like that. They were a family, yes. But more than that.
He looked up, meeting Namjoon’s worried eyes. He nodded. “It feels that way. And yeah, if you think we should expand our little pack , then let’s keep an eye out.”
Namjoon beamed. Positively beamed . “Our pack.”
“Now don’t go getting any stupid ideas of lording over me, you little shit,” Yoongi snapped, but there was no bite to his tone as he held up a warning finger. “I’m still older than you. And you’re not my Alpha.”
Namjoon blinked owlishly, genuinely confused. “Um, obviously?”
“And I want a say in any new pack members that we get.” The words rushed out of Yoongi, a trace of fear breathed into each syllable in a way he hadn’t realized himself, until he was speaking them. He wanted to change and not accept the stability of what life had given him, but he was still more than a little scared at the idea of an ‘outsider’ coming into their bubble.
“Isn’t that normally how it works with us?” Namjoon shrugged. He pushed the cart past Yoongi, unconcerned.
Yoongi stared after him, the broad Alpha shoulders and the gently off-key Namjoon hum. Sure, that was how they had worked before, as roommates, but packmates was kind of different, the more he thought about it. He followed after Namjoon, thinking about how odd it was that Namjoon not only accepted the concept of getting Yoongi’s approval for any added pack members, but that he expected it.
But that was how it normally worked with them… wasn’t it?
It was a life that wasn’t ruled by hormonal status. A life where he didn’t feel like a burden for being Presented, and in Namjoon’s casual way, he had slipped into a figure of admiration and respect, rather than the gruffness that many lead Alphas felt the need to express. Yoongi wasn’t the lead Alpha, yeah, but what that meant was between him and Namjoon, whatever the world was doing in their archaic rules.
“Oh, shit, they have a sale on bread!” Namjoon called out over his shoulder. “Yoongi, do you want bread?”
Yoongi gave a soft smile, coming up and looking over Namjoon’s shoulder, able to catch a whiff of that distinctive trace of woodsmoke and Alpha . “Sure.”