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Jiung smells distressed omega before he even steps foot in the bar.
He’s just out to grab a new tube of chapstick from the drugstore nestled between a laundromat and a nondescript apartment complex, having run out of his favorite mint-oil-infused lip product. Winter air blisters his unprotected lips, toughening the battle between Jiung and the urge to lick them. That would only worsen the cracked, peeling skin, which then leads to bloody lips and the lingering tinge of iron on the tip of his tongue.
The alpha buries the lower half of his face into the scarf wound around his neck, the soft material snagging on the rough texture of his lips. He breathes out into the scarf in hopes the warmth in his breath will linger on the fabric and protect his face, then shoves his hands further into his pockets in an attempt to grasp at any heat hiding in the jacket.
Futile are his efforts. Jiung’s one of those people whose hands are cold in the most sweltering of summers and more or less resembling blocks of ice in the winter. One of Jiung’s friends had once made a joke about his fingers—long and about as warm as the glaciers in the Arctic.
“I think if I liked your finger, my tongue would get frozen stuck to it,” Keeho had guffawed.
As if Jiung would let Keeho and his tongue that’s been god-knows-where anywhere near his body, much less his fingers.
He turns the corner and side steps a mother and her three children rushing after a fourth, smaller and quicker child. The sight brings a huff of amusement to him despite the racket the youngest child, who’s wearing a Santa hat with blinking lights sewn into the fabric, is making. The hat has a bell attached to the tip, a pleasant melodic jingling announcing the child’s presence to the entire city. His lips stretch into a smile, a sharp shallow pain erupting as a new crack forms in his skin—Jiung would wince in pain if it didn’t mean opening his mouth any wider.
Feet scurrying even quicker towards the drugstore, Jiung pays no attention to the inviting glow of the bar two doors before from the store. He approaches the establishment and nearly speeds past the weathered door with chipped paint when a scent stops him in his tracks. The jingling of the child’s bell disappears instantly as his senses identify the foreign smell.
Sharp, bitter, afraid. Pain, with an undertone of sorrow. Pain.
He’s pushing the door of the bar open before his brain fully registers it, pure instinct pulling his feet over the threshold. The door shuts behind him, and instantaneously, the smell multiplies tenfold. Jiung inhales deeply without thinking, his animal hindbrain filling him with the sole purpose of finding—
There.
The corner of the bar top, facing the shitty TV playing some crappy Hallmark movie that’s been showing at this bar since the movie was filmed twelve years ago. A figure with short-cropped hair sits at the bartop, swamped in a massive winter jacket, their boots tucked underneath the barstool with ankles crossed over defensively.
The omega’s shoulders jerkily bounce up and down, but it’s impossible to discern the sound of their sobs over the ruckus of the bar and Nat King Cole crooning about chestnuts roasting on an open fire on the speakers. Jiung nearly blacks out from the mere potency of the scent, a strange hint of something Jiung can’t identify lying beneath the top notes of the omega’s scent. He blinks. Then hurries over to the bar and pulls out the stool next to the crying omega.
“Hey, are you oka—”
The prettiest thing with glassy brown eyes lets out a panicked squeak and throws a hand up in between his face and Jiung. The alpha almost falls over his chair in his haste to back away. He hadn’t meant to intrude, yet the pheromones emitting from the omega are nearly impossible to ignore, mouth already beginning to spew some lousy excuse for his biological response—
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“I’m s—” the poor thing hiccups through a sob, “—sorry.”
The hand blocking the omega from Jiung shakes. He feels the strange need to comfort the stranger, voice coming out low and gentle as he digs his hands deeper into his pockets to keep himself from reaching out and stilling his hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for, I’m the one who butted into your,” he pauses, eyeing the glass of clear liquid with beads of condensation dripping onto the bartop, “moment.”
He sniffles wetly. The hand drops into the puffy coat swaddling the omega’s body and roots around in one of the pockets sewn into the side panel of the jacket, allowing Jiung to see the tear tracks streaked across his flushed cheeks.
“I’m so stupid,” his voice wobbles, misery lacing each and every wave of pheromones he gives off. “I’m so, so stupid.” He grows more and more despondent and frantic as he searches around in his pockets.
“You’re not stupid,” Jiung blindly says with no real idea what he’s talking about.
“I am,” the omega whimpers, curling into himself and retreating further into his massive coat once he seems to give up on his search.
A pang of some sharp emotion shoots Jiung clean through the heart. He pulls out his handkerchief from the inside pocket of his own jacket, warmed by his body heat, and offers it out to the man—a silent peace offering.
The omega stares at the cloth from behind the collar of his coat. The question is evident in the way he squints at it. Another wave of tears slips out of his big, brown eyes.
“It’s okay,” Jiung encourages him. “I don’t have a m—“, too much information, Jiung, “—you’re free to use it.”
A distrustful sniff.
“Really.”
A hand darts out of a pocket and snatches the handkerchief. The omega dabs his eyes with it, then proceeds to furiously blow his nose in it for a solid five seconds. After pulling the cloth away, the tip of his nose is rubbed a bit red, almost as if he’s been out in the cold. It’d be easy to reach out and warm up the omega’s face, if not for Jiung’s aversion to touching strangers and his weird, cold, dead hands.
“Thanks,” the man warbles. His scent turns just the slightest bit sweeter. The hint of that strange note intensifies as well, filling out to mask some of the sadness drowning his scent. Jiung’s nose twitches. “I’d, uh, give you your hanky back, but…”
He holds out the used handkerchief in his palm, eyes cast downward. The tips of his ears are tinged with red blush.
“Please, keep it,” Jiung assures the man, curling the omega’s fingers back over the cloth.
The omega flinches, causing his hand to jerk out of Jiung’s. Hot embarrassment floods throughout the alpha’s veins. “I’m so sorry,” he rushes to apologize, drawing his hand back towards his pocket. “I wasn’t thinking—“
“Your hand is so cold.”
Jiung flexes his hand a couple of times. With an awkward laugh, he meets the man’s gaze. “Yeah, they do that. All the time.”
Unexpectedly, the man scoots his barstool closer to Jiung and the alpha’s nose fills with the omega’s warm, musky scent. It’s intoxicating. Jiung’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth. The omega reaches out with a hand and all Jiung can do is stare, wide-eyed, at his rosy, rosy cheeks and his eyes now glimmering with curiosity, not tears. “Can I…?”
“Um. Yes.” He hasn’t the foggiest idea about what the man is about to do to him, but he can’t find it within himself to care.
The omega gently pulls Jiung’s hand out of a fist and brings it close to his face. He pauses, brows pinched until Jiung realizes he’s waiting for permission. Hastily, the alpha nods. The man gives him a little smile before lifting Jiung’s hand to his forehead, laying the backside of it right below his hairline. Blazing heat radiates off of the omega’s skin, warmth instantaneously leaching out of his forehead and into Jiung’s appendage.
“You’re really hot,” Jiung remarks.
All traces of distress fade from the omega’s face as he takes in the chill of Jiung’s hand. The strange, strange heady smell completely overpowers the sharp edge of the omega’s scent. A sigh of relief escapes from his lips, parted and a bit swollen from the teeth that had been worrying at them moments prior. Jiung forces his eyes back up to the omega’s.
“This feels so good,” the omega quietly admits. His eyes slip closed, looking so trusting and vulnerable that Jiung feels a surge of protective anger towards whoever caused him such anguish.
The man blindly grabs Jiung’s other hand and holds it to his cheek. Worry grows in the alpha’s gut as the skin there burns hotter than should be normal. “You’re burning up, Mister…”
“Intak.”
“Mister Intak.”
One of the omega’s eyes slips open. “Just Intak. I’ve already snorted into your handkerchief, I don't mind skipping the formalities.”
Jiung laughs at that—Intak’s not wrong. “I’m Jiung.”
“Jiung,” Intak repeats. Beneath Jiung’s palm, Intak’s cheek squishes up in the telltale shape of a smile. His scent gets sweeter, a little headier.
“Would taking your coat off help, Intak? You feel like you’ve got…I don’t know, a fever or something. It might help you cool off.”
“Sure,” the omega murmurs hazily, still enjoying the cold of Jiung’s hands. He makes a noise of protest when Jiung takes his hands back to help him take his jacket off, half-lidded eyes crinkling at the corners unhappily.
“I’ll be quick,” Jiung tries to soothe Intak.
As soon as the massive coat comes off Intak’s body, the metaphorical shoe drops right on top of Jiung’s head. Suddenly, it all makes sense—the coat, the fever, the scent.
It had been hidden by the padding of the coat, and is still barely noticeable underneath his sweater—but, undeniably, there it sits. A subtle bump right about where the omega’s stomach should land.
Stating that the omega is pregnant would be far too obvious. So, Jiung asks the next question that jumps to the front of his brain.
“How far along are you?”
Intak’s gaze sobers up. He folds his hands over his stomach, almost as if he’s self-conscious. The sad scent returns.
“13 weeks.”
Jiung’s limited knowledge of birthing cycles puts Intak in the earlier stages of his pregnancy; but here before him sits an omega who’s not only alone, but also—
“You’re wondering where my mate is,” Intak says.
The alpha flushes, not used to being so easily read. But Intak’s right: why isn’t his mate here right now? Don’t alphas get impossibly more protective over their mates when there’s a litter on the way? Why is Intak alone in this dingy little bar, listening to decades-old Christmas music and crying?
“It’s okay, you can ask. You’re the only one who’s cared enough to come up to me, anyway.”
The dejection in the omega’s voice sinks like a lead weight in Jiung’s gut. Unsure of what to say—because who is he to be intruding in Intak’s personal life?—Jiung repositions his hands on the other man’s face. As soon as his palms make contact with Intak’s cheeks, the omega leans into his touch ever so slightly. The alpha’s heart ka-thunks in his chest. “Are they the reason for…?”
Intak nods. “The drink isn’t alcoholic. I would never risk…”
His voice trails off as his arms tighten around his torso protectively.
“When did you find out?”
“Last week, but we’ve been tryi—“, Intak winces, “—well, I thought we’d been trying for a pup or two for a couple months.”
“You thought?”
Intak’s cheeks burn hotter, though it’s not more of his pregnant scent that Jiung smells—it’s embarrassment.
Then, the other shoe drops. And Jiung feels so, so stupid.
“Your mate didn’t take the news so well?”
“He,” the omega swallows thickly, “decided he wasn’t ready to step up.”
Before Jiung can stop himself, he asks, “Shouldn’t he have thought of that before—?”
Horrified at his own audacity, Jiung goes to slam his head against the bar top; but Intak’s brown eyes light up with mirth.
“You’d think, right?” Intak says with a dry laugh. “We’re not even mates—but he promised he’d mate me before our pup arrived.”
“He wanted a pup, then?”
The omega’s scent turns entirely bitter. “A whole litter of them,” then with another humorless chuckle, he adds, “at least, that’s what he said every time he knotted me.”
Cut and dry. Straight to the point. Jiung finds himself letting out a laugh, too.
“So, what happened?”
“Alphas and their breeding kinks. As soon as he realized being a father meant being responsible for something other than himself, hanging around wasn’t fun anymore, so he left.”
Rage boils in Jiung’s blood. The alpha side of his brain seethes with murderous intent—who in their right mind would up and ditch another human being like that? A human carrying their child?
Intak must sense the shift in his demeanor because he lays a hand over Jiung’s and musters up a small smile.
“Tons of omegas raise their pups alone,” he says. “It’ll be hard, but I’m not fragile.”
The fight leaves Jiung, replaced by a lingering sorrow instead. “You shouldn’t have to do it alone, though. I couldn’t ever imagine—well, I’d be scared as all hell.”
“Oh, I’m downright terrified,” Intak confesses. “I don’t know what to do. And I’m scared my pup is going to suffer because of it.”
“My friend gave birth to his first pup last month,” the alpha finds himself telling Intak. “And he spent most of his stay in the delivery room sobbing, worried he wouldn’t be able to give his kids the world. His husband had to scent him nonstop, right up until the moment their son was born.”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that even if you have a mate, that feeling of inadequacy doesn’t really go away, in a way?”
Intak’s eyes widen. He says nothing for a moment. And wow. Way to go, Choi Jiung. If saying the wrong thing at the wrong moment were an Olympic sport, he’d be a gold medalist. He should just kick it to the curb before his utterly stupid self says something else completely idiotic. Jiung wants to choke himself. Or become roadkill.
“That’s…”
Jiung prays for the kill shot.
“...actually, strangely comforting, you know?”
Intak’s giggle pierces through his cloud of self-loathing like a fire-tipped arrow. Jiung blinks. “It is?”
“I mean, yeah! It’s comforting—in a fucked up way—to know it sucks all around; though probably a bit less with someone else helping you out.” He wipes a tear off his lash line. “Just kinda sucks that my deadbeat ex couldn’t even stick around to keep me company during the holidays.”
An idea flickers to life in Jiung’s head. And once again, before he can filter his thoughts into an intelligible sentence, his mouth is moving.
“You know my friend that I mentioned?”
Intak nods, brow raised curiously. He looks unbearably cute.
“Tomorrow night, he’s holding a small get-together at his place—and he told me to bring a plus one.”
Intak blinks back at him. Jiung almost laughs at the puzzled expression on his face.
“Would you consider being my plus one?”
The omega’s face brightens instantly, a sweetness clearing over his scent. The intoxicating headiness returns. “You mean that?”
“Look, I know we just met, and it’s pretty sudden, but I just—“
Jiung looks away from the stars shining in Intak’s eyes.
“Just?”
He thumbs over the omega’s cheekbones, taking a second to compose his thoughts.
“No one deserves to go it alone,” Jiung finishes. He finds Intak’s eyes again. “And plus, it’s Christmas—you can swindle a baby book or two off of Taeyang if you need anything for your pup. Call it a holiday gift.”
“Taeyang?”
“Oh, you’ll love him and Keeho. And Shota. He’s the cutest baby I’ve ever met.”
At the mention of a baby, the omega’s mouth pulls to the side in a wide, lopsided grin. Jiung’s stomach does a cartwheel. “If you’re sure…”
Jiung lets go of his face and asks the bartender for a napkin and pen. After scribbling down his phone number and address of the party, he holds the napkin out to Intak.
“They keep the house warm, so you don’t need to worry about bringing that massive coat of yours,” Jiung says with a wink. “I’ll meet you there at seven?”
“Seven,” Intak repeats a little breathlessly. “Definitely.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jiung spots the television mounted above the bar. It plays the last scene of the aforementioned shitty holiday romcom, something about a woman who finds the true meaning of love and Christmas after falling in love with a magical snowman.
The woman makes some wise remark about the snowman, well, apparently he’s a real man now, and his hands—once cold and frozen, and now warm. Human. Alive.
Intak grabs his hand again. He doesn’t hold it up to his face anymore, not that he needs to. Jiung is pleased to report that the omega is significantly less feverish than before. Not that he had anything to do with that. Obviously.
“Your fingers are like popsicles.” He smells like late spring and warm winter.
The woman and her transformed snowman kiss. She seems to really enjoy how hot he is.
Humbug, probably.
“Your new friend is absolutely adorable,” Taeyang gushes over a slice of quiche the next evening. “Can I adopt him?”
“Gee, not even a month after Shota and you already want more kids?” Taeyang’s husband sidles up behind him and rests his head on Taeyang’s shoulder. He presses a kiss to the side of Taeyang’s head—it’s just the slightest bit sickening. “I’m not complaining.”
“Keeho, you horndog.” Taeyang knocks his head against Keeho’s. “Don’t you think Jiung’s new friend is the cutest?”
“Jiung certainly thinks so,” Keeho says, looking his fellow alpha up and down with a smirk.
“That’s not why I—look, I just didn’t want him to celebrate Christmas alone.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Taeyang sniffs. “I saw the way you looked at him when he met Shota. You totally got baby fever for a second there.”
“How convenient that he’s already pregnant,” Keeho muses. “Or maybe not.”
Jiung wants to bare his teeth at the alpha. He settles for turning his back to the lovely couple to sneak a glance at Intak, who’s currently entertaining the newborn with a song and dance. The alpha feels a smile creep across his face—Intak just looks so natural, swaying with the babe in his hands and poking at Shota’s pudgy cheeks.
“Dude, your alpha pheromones just went wild. Be more obvious, please.”
“Keeho, don’t kick the man while he’s down.”
“You’re right, my love, I’m sorry.”
“I love you guys, but please. I think parenthood has made you guys even more sappy.”
“That’s just the natural progression of it all,” Keeho sighs, stepping away from his husband to sling an arm around Jiung’s shoulders. “Now, listen: when two individuals love each other very, very much—”
“Yoon Keeho, you better not finish that sentence—”
“I’m going to go check on my baby,” Taeyang interrupts with an eye roll. “And check on my new favorite omega. Who also has a baby. In the oven.” He kisses Keeho again. He shakes Jiung’s hand, then pulls away with a curse about how ‘Jiung’s fingers feel like icicles’. “Welcome to manhood, Choi Jiung. Taeyang out.”
The two alphas watch the omega walk up to Intak and give him the brightest grin to ever grace the planet Earth. Taeyang coos over Shota with Intak.
“This whole ‘baby’ thing isn’t easy,” Keeho whispers to Jiung, serious for once. “Like, not easy. But that kid is the best possible thing in the whole wide world to share with my favorite person in the whole wide world. I love both of them more than I thought was humanly possible. And I really hope you find this kind of thing with someone, someday.”
Intak throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut when he laughs at the sight of baby Shota drooling all over Taeyang’s shirt. Jiung’s heart goes ka-thunk.
“Who knows? Maybe you met your someone. Your future some-people.”
“I just met the guy yesterday, Keeho.”
“Come on, dawg. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
“Exactly.” Jiung bites his cracked lips. He’d forgotten to buy chapstick after the bar.
“Alright. Baby steps?”
Jiung catches Intak’s eye from across the room. If he focuses hard enough, he can smell the warmth, the comfortability of Intak’s scent.
“Baby steps,” Jiung agrees.