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The morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains of their bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the nest of blankets and pillows meticulously arranged in the corner. San hummed quietly to himself as he adjusted a particularly plush cushion, his nimble fingers working with practiced precision. The nest was his pride and joy—a safe haven he'd created with love and care for his husband, though anyone who didn't know better might assume it was Wooyoung who had crafted it.
San stepped back to admire his handiwork, a pleased smile gracing his delicate features. His scent—sweet like honeysuckle with hints of vanilla—permeated the air, so unlike the typical musky, domineering aroma most alphas exuded. It had been a point of contention throughout his life, the way his natural fragrance confused people, made them question his designation. But Wooyoung loved it, often burying his nose in the crook of San's neck just to breathe him in, claiming it was the most comforting smell in the world.
The sound of the shower shutting off pulled San from his thoughts. Moments later, Wooyoung emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips, water droplets glistening on his shoulders. Despite his omega status, there was nothing submissive about Jung Wooyoung. His presence filled the room immediately—confident and bold—his scent a surprising blend of cedarwood and spice that many mistook for an alpha's.
"You've been busy," Wooyoung noted, nodding toward the freshly constructed nest. His voice held that particular tone of affection that never failed to make San's heart flutter.
"Is it okay?" San asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice despite knowing Wooyoung would love anything he created. "I used those new blankets we got last weekend."
Wooyoung crossed the room and wrapped his arms around San from behind, pressing a kiss to the exposed mating mark on his alpha's neck. The gesture sent a pleasant shiver down San's spine. "It's perfect, Sannie. You always know exactly how to make it just right."
San giggled—actually giggled—and turned in his husband's embrace, his cheeks flushing a pretty pink. For all his alpha designation, San had never fit the stereotypical mold. He was strong, yes—his broad shoulders and well-defined muscles spoke to that—but there was a softness to him that transcended physical attributes. It was in the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, how his laughter bubbled up like champagne, the gentle manner in which he touched everything dear to him.
"We should get ready," San said reluctantly, though he made no move to break their embrace. "The shop opens in an hour, and you have that consultation at nine."
Wooyoung groaned, resting his forehead against San's shoulder. "Remind me why I decided to become a lawyer again?"
"Because you're brilliant and passionate about justice," San replied without hesitation, his voice filled with admiration. "And because you love arguing too much to do anything else."
That earned him a playful nip at his collarbone. "Watch it, flower boy," Wooyoung warned with no real heat. "Or I might have to remind you who wears the pants in this relationship."
San raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You're literally wearing a towel right now."
"Semantics," Wooyoung dismissed with a wave of his hand before releasing San and moving to their shared closet. "What are your plans for the shop today? Any special arrangements?"
San followed, pulling out a soft lavender sweater and dark jeans for himself. "Mrs. Kim's daughter is getting married next month, so we're finalizing the floral designs. Then I have that workshop with the elementary school kids in the afternoon."
Wooyoung smiled fondly as he buttoned up a crisp white shirt. He loved tailored suits and button-downs that accentuated his lithe but muscular frame—another way he defied expectations. "You're going to have those kids wrapped around your finger in minutes. Remember how the last group wouldn't stop following you around like ducklings?"
San's cheeks flushed with pleasure at the memory. He loved sharing his passion for flowers with children, their uninhibited wonder and curiosity matching his own enthusiasm. "They were adorable. One little girl told me she wanted to be a 'flower alpha' just like me when she grew up."
"Smart kid," Wooyoung remarked, sliding into his suit jacket with practiced ease. "Recognizing excellence early."
They moved around each other with the comfortable synchronicity of a long-established routine, exchanging small touches and glances as they prepared for the day ahead. San set about making coffee—one of the few culinary tasks he could manage without disaster—while Wooyoung prepared a quick breakfast. The kitchen filled with the scent of cooking eggs and toast, mingling with their natural fragrances in a way that marked the space unequivocally as theirs.
"You're getting better," Wooyoung commented as San successfully poured coffee into mugs without spilling. "Maybe someday I'll let you near the stove again."
San winced at the reminder of his last cooking attempt—a birthday dinner for Wooyoung that had ended with the fire alarm blaring and their friends arriving to find them frantically waving towels at the smoke detector. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm perfectly content being the taste-tester for your culinary experiments."
Wooyoung laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained, as he slid a plate of perfectly cooked eggs and toast in front of San. "Such sacrifice. Truly, your bravery knows no bounds."
They ate quickly, sharing tidbits about their upcoming day and planning for the weekend gathering with their friends. As always, San found himself captivated by Wooyoung's animated expressions, the way his hands gestured emphatically when he spoke about a particularly challenging case, the spark of determination in his eyes.
"Oh, before I forget," Wooyoung said between bites, "Yeosang called yesterday. He and Seonghwa finally set a date for the wedding. June 26th."
San clapped his hands together excitedly. "That's perfect! Spring flowers will still be in season. I already have so many ideas for their arrangements—Yeosang's going to look stunning with a crown of white camellias and baby's breath."
"Save some of that enthusiasm for when you actually talk to him," Wooyoung advised with a fond shake of his head. "You know how he gets when people make decisions for him."
"Says the man who once tried to reorganize Yeosang's entire apartment while he was on vacation."
"That was different," Wooyoung protested. "His organizational system was an affront to logic. I was performing a public service."
San snorted, collecting their empty plates and depositing them in the sink. "And how long did he refuse to speak to you after that?"
"Two weeks," Wooyoung admitted grudgingly. "But he came around eventually. And you have to admit, his spice rack makes so much more sense alphabetized."
They finished their morning routine with practiced efficiency, and soon they were standing at the door, ready to part ways for the day. San adjusted the collar of Wooyoung's suit, smoothing away imaginary wrinkles, while Wooyoung fussed with San's hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear.
"Dinner at home tonight?" San asked, leaning into Wooyoung's touch.
"Actually," Wooyoung replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I made reservations at that new restaurant you've been wanting to try. The one with the rooftop garden dining."
San's eyes widened with delight. "Really? But it's not even a special occasion."
Wooyoung cupped San's face in his hands, his touch gentle despite the strength in his fingers—the same fingers that could curl into fists to defend what he loved, that could lift San with ease despite his alpha status. "Loving you is special occasion enough."
The words made San's heart swell, and he couldn't help the soft, pleased sound that escaped him as Wooyoung leaned in for a kiss. It was tender and unhurried, a promise of more to come later. When they pulled apart, San knew his cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright with happiness.
"I love you," he whispered against Wooyoung's lips.
"I love you more," Wooyoung countered, pressing one last kiss to San's forehead before reluctantly stepping back. "Now go make the world more beautiful with your flowers, alpha."
San preened at the endearment, his inner alpha responding to the praise from his soulmate with undisguised pleasure. It never failed to amaze him how Wooyoung could make him feel so cherished, so seen for exactly who he was.
They parted ways at the corner where their paths diverged—Wooyoung toward the sleek office building that housed his law firm, and San toward the charming storefront of his flower shop, "Blooming Petals," its windows already catching the morning light in a kaleidoscope of colors.
The shop was San's sanctuary, a place where his gentle nature was not just accepted but celebrated. The bell above the door chimed welcomingly as he entered, greeting him like an old friend. The sweet, heady perfume of countless flowers enveloped him, and he breathed deeply, feeling the last vestiges of morning sleepiness dissipate.
He moved through the shop with practiced ease, checking on each arrangement, each potted plant, ensuring they had enough water and light. His fingers trailed lovingly over velvet petals and sturdy stems, his murmured words of encouragement a secret shared between him and his beloved blooms.
The morning passed in a pleasant blur of customers seeking advice, selecting bouquets, and sharing stories of the loved ones who would receive them. San listened with genuine interest, carefully crafting each arrangement to reflect the feelings they wished to convey. It was a form of wordless poetry, this language of flowers, and San was fluent in its most nuanced dialects.
During a lull in customers, his phone buzzed with a message from Wooyoung.
"Kicked ass in court this morning. Judge ruled in our favor. Celebrating tonight with extra dessert—the kind you eat off plates and the kind you don't. 😉"
San felt warmth bloom in his chest and heat rise to his cheeks at the implication. Despite years together, Wooyoung still had the ability to make him blush like a teenager with just a few words. He was composing a reply when the bell above the door jingled, announcing a new customer.
San looked up with his customary welcoming smile, only for it to falter slightly as the scent hit him—unmistakably alpha, aggressively so, as if the man had deliberately amplified his natural musk to ensure everyone in the vicinity knew his designation. It was a common enough occurrence; some alphas felt the need to establish dominance in every space they entered.
"Welcome to Blooming Petals," San greeted politely, setting his phone aside. "How can I help you today?"
The alpha—tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of swagger that spoke of assumed superiority—looked around the shop with barely concealed disdain before his gaze settled on San. His nostrils flared slightly as he scented the air, confusion momentarily crossing his features before being replaced by something like contempt.
"I need flowers," he stated unnecessarily. "Something impressive. For my mate."
San nodded, professional smile firmly in place despite the discomfort prickling at the back of his neck. "Of course. What's the occasion? And does your mate have any favorite flowers or colors?"
The alpha waved a dismissive hand. "I don't know. Just make it look expensive. Red roses or whatever."
Resisting the urge to sigh at the lack of imagination, San moved toward the premium roses, selecting the most vibrant blooms. "Red roses are a classic choice for expressing romantic love," he explained, his passion for his craft evident despite the customer's attitude. "Would you like to include any other flowers to complement them? Perhaps some baby's breath for innocence and everlasting love, or—"
"Just the roses," the alpha interrupted, checking his watch impatiently. "And hurry it up. I've got places to be."
San nodded again, focusing on arranging the roses with the same care he would give any order, regardless of the customer's demeanor. As he worked, the alpha prowled around the shop, examining displays with critical eyes.
"Didn't expect to find an alpha running a flower shop," he commented suddenly, the words carrying a distinct undercurrent of judgment. "Figured this would be omega territory."
San's hands stilled momentarily before continuing their work. It wasn't the first time he'd heard such sentiments, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. "Flowers don't discriminate based on designation," he replied mildly. "They respond to care and attention, regardless of who provides it."
The alpha snorted. "Sure, but don't you think your talents would be better used elsewhere? Something more... suited to an alpha?"
The bell above the door chimed again before San could respond, and he glanced up with relief that quickly transformed into warmth as he recognized the newcomer. Yunho's tall frame ducked slightly through the doorway, his friendly alpha scent—fresh pine and citrus—a welcome counterpoint to the oppressive musk of the other customer.
"San!" Yunho greeted cheerfully, his smile wide and genuine. "Just the man I was looking for."
San returned the smile, grateful for the interruption. "Hey, Yunho. Give me just a moment to finish this arrangement, and I'll be right with you."
Yunho nodded easily, leaning against the counter with the comfortable familiarity of a longtime friend. His presence alone seemed to shift the atmosphere in the shop, his relaxed confidence a stark contrast to the other alpha's aggressive posturing.
"You're friends with the florist?" the customer asked Yunho, sizing him up with an evaluative gaze.
Yunho raised an eyebrow, his usually friendly expression cooling several degrees. "San? We've been friends since college. He's the best florist in the city—probably the country, if you ask me."
The customer made a noncommittal sound, watching as San put the finishing touches on the rose arrangement. "Seems like an unusual career choice for an alpha."
Something flashed in Yunho's eyes—a brief glimpse of the protective instinct that lurked beneath his gentle demeanor. "San follows his passion rather than outdated stereotypes," he replied, his tone pleasant but leaving no room for argument. "It's what makes him both an exceptional florist and an exceptional alpha."
The customer cleared his throat uncomfortably, suddenly very interested in his wallet as San wrapped the arrangement in premium paper. "How much do I owe you?"
San named the price, accepting the payment with professional courtesy. As he handed over the flowers, he added, "I hope your mate enjoys them. Flowers given with sincerity always carry the most meaning."
The alpha mumbled something that might have been thanks before making a hasty exit, the bell jingling in his wake.
"Charming fellow," Yunho commented dryly once the door had closed.
San exhaled slowly, some tension he hadn't realized he was holding seeping from his shoulders. "Thanks for the backup. Not that I needed it, but..."
"But sometimes it's nice not to face the idiots alone," Yunho finished for him, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Besides, I owed you one after you helped me pick out that anniversary gift for Jongho. He loved it, by the way. Said it was the most thoughtful present I've ever given him."
San beamed, genuinely pleased. "I told you he would. Jongho might act tough, but he's got a sentimental streak a mile wide."
"Don't I know it," Yunho agreed fondly. "The big softie cried when he opened the music box. Actually pretended he had something in his eye."
They shared a laugh, the earlier unpleasantness fading into insignificance. This was what San loved about his friend group—the easy acceptance, the understanding that transcended traditional expectations of their designations.
"So, what brings you by?" San asked, moving to mist some nearby potted plants. "Did Wooyoung send you to check up on me again?"
Yunho raised his hands in mock surrender. "Innocent this time, I swear. I'm actually here on official business." He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small envelope. "Jongho and I want you to handle the flowers for our vow renewal ceremony. Five years married deserves something special, don't you think?"
San's eyes widened with delight as he accepted the envelope, which presumably contained details about the event. "Yunho, I'd be honored! I already have so many ideas—those blue hydrangeas you love would be perfect for the centerpieces, and maybe amaryllis for Jongho since they symbolize pride and determination..."
He trailed off, noticing Yunho's amused expression. "I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?"
"Not at all," Yunho assured him. "Your enthusiasm is exactly why we want you to do this. Nobody puts more heart into their work than you do, San."
A pleased flush spread across San's cheeks at the praise. Even after years of running his successful shop, compliments about his work never failed to make him feel like he was floating. "Will you stay for tea? I just got a new jasmine blend I've been dying to share with someone who can appreciate it."
"Wish I could, but I'm due at the studio in twenty minutes. Rain check?" Yunho's work as a dance instructor kept him on a tight schedule most days.
"Absolutely. Tell Jongho I'll call him this weekend to start planning properly."
After Yunho left, the shop settled into its midday rhythm—a steady stream of customers seeking everything from simple bouquets to elaborate arrangements. San helped each one with genuine enthusiasm, his natural charm and extensive knowledge making even the most indecisive shopper feel at ease.
The afternoon workshop with the elementary school children was chaotic in the best possible way—twenty eager kids crowded around tables in the shop's back room, listening with rapt attention as San explained the meanings behind different flowers and helped them create simple arrangements to take home to their families.
"Mr. San, is it true that you're an alpha?" one little girl asked innocently as he helped her position a sunflower in her arrangement.
"I am," San confirmed with a gentle smile.
"But my daddy says alphas can't be good at pretty things like flowers," she continued, her forehead creased in confusion. "He says alphas are supposed to do important jobs."
San knelt beside her chair, bringing himself to her eye level. "What do you think?" he asked softly. "Do you think the flowers care whether an alpha or an omega or a beta arranges them?"
She considered this seriously, her small face scrunched in concentration. "I think the flowers just want someone to love them and take care of them," she decided finally.
"I think you're exactly right," San agreed, his heart warming at her simple wisdom. "And I think creating beauty is one of the most important jobs anyone can do, don't you?"
She nodded vigorously, beaming as she returned her attention to her arrangement with renewed determination. San moved on to help the next child, but her words lingered with him—a reminder of why he persevered despite occasional encounters like the one with the alpha customer earlier.
By the time San closed the shop and set out for home, the sky had deepened to a rich indigo, streetlights casting pools of golden light along his path. His thoughts drifted to Wooyoung, anticipation building at the prospect of their dinner date. Five years of marriage, and still his heart quickened at the thought of seeing his mate after a day apart.
He was so lost in pleasant anticipation that he almost missed the muted sounds of conflict coming from an alley just ahead. San slowed his pace, listening intently. The unmistakable scent of distressed omega reached him, accompanied by the aggressive pheromones of what seemed to be multiple alphas.
San hesitated only briefly before moving toward the alley, his protective instincts surfacing despite his generally non-confrontational nature. As he rounded the corner, the scene came into sharp focus: a young omega, probably still in high school, backed against a wall by three alphas who looked to be about the same age.
"Come on, it's just coffee," one of them was saying, his tone falsely cajoling. "Don't be so uptight."
"I said no," the omega replied, their voice admirably steady despite the fear San could scent on them. "Please leave me alone."
"You heard them," San called out, stepping fully into the alley. "Time to go."
The three alphas turned, surprise evident on their faces as they took in San's approach. He knew what they saw—an alpha, yes, but not the intimidating type their posturing suggested they aspired to be. His flower-shop scent and graceful gait often led other alphas to underestimate him.
"This doesn't concern you," the apparent leader of the group stated, puffing up his chest in a display that might have been comical under different circumstances.
San maintained a calm exterior, though his heart raced. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—that was more Wooyoung's domain. But he couldn't simply walk away.
"When you corner someone who's clearly uncomfortable, it becomes everyone's concern," San replied evenly. "The omega said no. Respect that and move on."
The tallest of the three alphas stepped forward, scoffing. "What are you gonna do about it, flower boy? I can smell the greenhouse on you from here."
Before San could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"He might not do anything," Wooyoung declared, appearing at the mouth of the alley with dangerous grace, his omega scent somehow projecting an aura of authority that made even the young alphas falter. "But I will. And trust me, you don't want that."
Relief and affection flooded San as Wooyoung strode forward to stand beside him, their shoulders brushing in silent solidarity. Despite being an omega, there was nothing submissive about Jung Wooyoung in that moment—his eyes flashed with a protective fury that even the most dominant alpha would think twice about challenging.
"This is ridiculous," one of the alphas muttered, though he took a step back. "Two against three, and one of you is just an omega."
Wooyoung's smile was all teeth. "An omega who happens to be a lawyer specializing in designation rights and assault cases. I can have restraining orders filed before your tiny alpha brains can process what hit you." He pulled out his phone, holding it up. "Or I can call the police right now and explain how three adult alphas were harassing an underage omega. Your choice."
The bravado drained from the young alphas almost comically fast. With muttered excuses and averted gazes, they backed away and then hurried out of the alley.
Once they were gone, Wooyoung turned his attention to the young omega, his demeanor softening instantly. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"
The omega shook their head, relief evident in their posture. "No, they just wouldn't take no for an answer. Thank you both so much."
San offered a reassuring smile. "Do you need us to walk you home? Or call someone to pick you up?"
"My house is just around the corner," they assured them. "I'll be fine now, really."
After making sure the omega had their contact information in case of any future trouble, San and Wooyoung watched them safely leave the alley before turning to each other.
"Fancy meeting you here," San said lightly, though his eyes conveyed deeper gratitude.
Wooyoung reached up to cup San's face, his touch gentle despite the adrenaline still evident in his scent. "I was on my way to the flower shop to surprise you. Good thing I decided to take this shortcut."
"My hero," San murmured, only half-joking as he leaned into Wooyoung's touch.
Wooyoung's expression softened further, his thumb stroking along San's cheekbone. "Says the alpha who confronted three others without hesitation." Pride colored his voice. "That was brave, Sannie."
The praise made San's chest warm with pleasure, a soft, pleased sound escaping him before he could suppress it. Wooyoung's eyes darkened at the reaction, his scent shifting subtly to reflect growing desire.
"Our dinner reservation," San reminded him weakly, though he made no move to pull away from Wooyoung's touch.
"We have time," Wooyoung assured him, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of San's mouth. "And I suddenly find myself needing to remind my alpha just how much I appreciate him."
The intensity in Wooyoung's gaze made San's breath catch. Five years together, and still a look from Wooyoung could make him feel like they were experiencing their first attraction all over again—that heady, overwhelming pull that had drawn them together despite every conventional expectation.
"Here?" San asked, glancing around the deserted alley with a mixture of scandal and intrigue.
Wooyoung laughed, the sound bright and genuine as he took San's hand. "Not here. I have standards, you know. But home isn't far, and I'm suddenly thinking room service might be a better option than that restaurant."
San didn't need to be told twice. Hand in hand, they abandoned their original plans in favor of returning home, their steps quickening as anticipation built between them.
Their apartment welcomed them like a warm embrace, familiar scents entwining—San's honeysuckle sweetness and Wooyoung's cedar spice creating a harmony that sang of home and safety and love. They barely made it through the door before Wooyoung was pressing San against the wall, his kisses hungry yet reverent.
"So proud of you," Wooyoung murmured against San's throat, lips brushing over the sensitive skin near his mating mark. "My beautiful, brave alpha."
San's head fell back with a soft moan, surrendering to the pleasure of Wooyoung's praise and touch. In these moments, the contradictions of their designations melted away, leaving only two people who had found in each other exactly what they needed, conventional expectations be damned.
Later, tangled together in their nest of blankets and pillows, their bodies cooling and hearts gradually slowing to a steadier rhythm, San traced lazy patterns on Wooyoung's chest.
"Do you ever wonder what people would think if they could see us like this?" he asked, voice soft in the dim light of their bedroom.
Wooyoung's fingers carded through San's hair, gentle and possessive all at once. "You mean, if they could see how my big, strong alpha turns to putty when I tell him how perfect he is?" The teasing was affectionate, underscored by genuine adoration.
San pinched Wooyoung's side in retaliation, earning a laugh and a playful tightening of Wooyoung's arms around him. "I'm being serious," he protested, though he couldn't keep the smile from his voice.
"So am I," Wooyoung replied, his tone shifting to match San's more contemplative mood. "But no, I don't wonder, because I don't care. What we have works for us. Anyone who can't understand that isn't worth our consideration."
San nuzzled closer, breathing in Wooyoung's scent—now mingled with his own in the most satisfying way. "When did you get so wise?"
"I've always been wise," Wooyoung declared loftily. "It's part of my charm."
They lapsed into comfortable silence, the gentle rhythm of their breathing synchronizing naturally. San felt his eyelids growing heavy, contentment seeping through every part of him.
"Wooyoungie?" he murmured, already half-drifting toward sleep.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you for loving me exactly as I am."
Wooyoung's arms tightened around him, a kiss pressed to the top of his head. "As if I could ever love you any other way."
The weekend arrived with perfect weather—clear skies and gentle breezes ideal for their planned gathering at Seonghwa and Yeosang's apartment. San spent the morning preparing a special arrangement as a hostess gift, humming as he selected each bloom with careful consideration.
"Chrysanthemums for friendship, daisies for loyal love," he explained to Wooyoung, who watched from the kitchen doorway with fond amusement. "And these purple hyacinths—they symbolize asking for forgiveness."
Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. "Are we apologizing for something I don't know about?"
San grinned mischievously. "Preemptive apology for when you inevitably critique Yeosang's organizational system again."
"One time!" Wooyoung protested, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "It was one time, five years ago, and no one will let me forget it."
"Because it was legendary," San reminded him, carefully wrapping the stems. "Yeosang came back from that weekend trip to find all his books arranged by color instead of author."
"It looked better that way," Wooyoung muttered defensively. "More aesthetically pleasing."
San abandoned his flowers to cross the room and plant a kiss on Wooyoung's pouting lips. "You're lucky you're cute when you're indignant."
The pout transformed into a smirk as Wooyoung caught San's waist, preventing his retreat. "Cute enough that you'll defend my honor when Yeosang inevitably brings it up again today?"
"Always," San promised, stealing another quick kiss before returning to his flowers. "But I'll bring these just in case my defense falls short."
They arrived at Seonghwa and Yeosang's apartment building laden with San's carefully crafted arrangement and a bottle of wine Wooyoung had selected. The elevator ride to the twelfth floor was spent in comfortable silence, Wooyoung's fingers interlaced with San's, their shoulders brushing.
The door opened before they could knock, revealing Yeosang's serene face. His omega scent—clean linen with hints of jasmine—wrapped around them in welcome as he stepped aside to let them enter.
"Right on time," he noted approvingly. "Unlike some people." He cast a meaningful glance toward the living room, where Mingi's boisterous laughter could already be heard.
"Let me guess," Wooyoung said, slipping off his shoes. "Mingi and Hongjoong were either obscenely early or fashionably late?"
"Early," Yeosang confirmed with a roll of his eyes, though there was clear fondness beneath the exasperation. "Hongjoong wanted to help set up, which really meant he wanted to reorganize Seonghwa's music collection while Mingi raided our refrigerator."
San chuckled, presenting the flower arrangement with a flourish. "For you. The hyacinths are Wooyoung's idea—he's very sorry about any past, present, or future organizational offenses."
Yeosang accepted the flowers with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Thoughtful. Though it won't save him when Seonghwa finds out he was the one who taught Hongjoong that ridiculous filing system."
"Betrayal!" Wooyoung gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest. "After ten years of friendship, this is how you repay me?"
"ten years of friendship is precisely why I know all your secrets," Yeosang replied serenely, leading them into the apartment.
The living room was already lively with conversation and laughter. Hongjoong, despite his small stature, commanded attention as always, gesticulating wildly as he recounted some story to an enraptured Yunho. Beside them, Jongho and Mingi appeared to be engaged in an animated debate about something sports-related, while Seonghwa moved gracefully between the kitchen and living area, ensuring everyone's glasses remained filled.
"The troublemakers have arrived," Hongjoong announced, pausing his story to acknowledge their entrance. His alpha scent—sharp mint and coffee—preceded him as he bounded over to greet them with enthusiasm disproportionate to his size.
Wooyoung immediately fell into their usual banter, matching Hongjoong's energy with practiced ease. San moved to help Seonghwa, their gentle alpha natures aligning naturally as they arranged snacks and poured drinks with quiet efficiency.
"How's the wedding planning going?" San asked softly, arranging crackers on a plate with artistic precision.
Seonghwa's smile was radiant, his happiness evident in the way his entire being seemed to glow. "Better than expected. Yeosang is surprisingly decisive about what he wants—unlike some alphas I could mention." He cast an affectionate glance toward Hongjoong, who was now attempting to demonstrate some complicated dance move to a skeptical Wooyoung.
"And you're letting him take the lead?" San inquired, genuinely curious. Seonghwa, for all his gentle nature, was known for his meticulous attention to detail and preference for control.
"It's his day too," Seonghwa replied simply. "And seeing him happy makes me happy. Besides, his taste is impeccable—have you seen the venue he chose?"
They continued to chat companionably as they finished preparing the food, their conversation flowing easily from wedding plans to work to mutual friends. By the time they joined the others, the gathering had shifted to the large dining table, everyone claiming their usual spots as if drawn by invisible magnets.
San settled between Wooyoung and Yunho, warmth spreading through him as he looked around at the faces of their chosen family. These were people who had seen past designations to the individuals beneath, who loved and accepted each other without reservation.
Conversation flowed like wine around the table, stories and laughter weaving together in a familiar tapestry of friendship. Hongjoong regaled them with tales from the music studio where he worked as a producer, his small hands gesturing emphatically as he described a particularly difficult client.
"—and then he had the audacity to ask if we could make his voice sound 'more alpha,'" Hongjoong concluded with an exasperated eye roll. "Whatever that means."
Mingi wrapped an arm around his husband's shoulders, his booming laugh filling the room. "You should have sent him to me. I could have taught him to growl like a proper alpha."
"As if you've growled a day in your life," Hongjoong retorted fondly, leaning into Mingi's embrace despite his teasing words. "The only time I've heard you make alpha noises is when someone tries to take the last slice of pizza."
The group dissolved into laughter, San's high-pitched giggles mingling with Wooyoung's more raucous cackle. Under the table, Wooyoung's hand found San's knee, squeezing gently in a silent gesture of affection that sent warmth cascading through San's chest.
"Speaking of stereotypical alpha behavior," Yunho interjected once the laughter had subsided, "you should have seen San in action the other day. Some entitled alpha was harassing a customer in his shop, and San shut him down with nothing but flower language and perfect manners."
All eyes turned to San, who flushed under the sudden attention. "It wasn't like that," he protested, though pleasure at Yunho's praise colored his words. "I just suggested that perhaps he should consider his mate's preferences rather than dismissing flowers as 'omega stuff.'"
"What San isn't telling you," Wooyoung jumped in, pride evident in his voice, "is that he managed to make the guy feel two inches tall without ever raising his voice or dropping his customer service smile. It was masterful—the alpha actually apologized before he left."
San ducked his head, embarrassed yet pleased by Wooyoung's fierce advocacy. "You always make me sound more impressive than I am."
"Or maybe you don't realize how impressive you actually are," Jongho suggested quietly from across the table. Despite being an omega, his presence was solid and grounding, a perfect complement to Yunho's sunshine energy. "Not everyone could run a successful business doing what they love while constantly pushing against societal expectations."
A chorus of agreement rose around the table, making San's cheeks flush darker with pleasure. Wooyoung leaned over to press a quick kiss to his temple, his scent wrapping around San like a protective shield against any lingering insecurity.
"Enough about flower shop heroics," Yeosang interjected smoothly, recognizing San's growing embarrassment. "Who's ready to get destroyed in Mario Kart?"
The challenge sparked immediate chaos, with everyone talking over each other to claim favorite characters and issue counter-challenges. The transition from dinner to gaming was seamless, a well-practiced choreography as plates were cleared away and controllers distributed.
San found himself sandwiched between Wooyoung and Seonghwa on the couch, controller in hand as the familiar music of the game filled the apartment. Gaming brought out San's competitive side in a way few other activities did—his fingers nimble on the controls, his focus absolute as he navigated the digital racecourse.
"Watch your back, Choi San," Hongjoong warned from his perch on Mingi's lap, his small form vibrating with competitive energy. "That blue shell has your name on it."
"Bold words from someone who hasn't made it past fifth place all night," San retorted without taking his eyes off the screen, expertly drifting around a corner to maintain his lead.
Wooyoung whooped beside him, bumping shoulders playfully as he tried to overtake San's character. "No mercy tonight, not even for my beloved alpha."
"As if you've ever shown mercy in a game," San scoffed, leaning into the turns as if his body movement could influence his digital racer. "I still remember the Monopoly incident of 2023."
"We agreed never to speak of that again," Yeosang called from his position on the floor, where he was leaning back against Seonghwa's legs. "Some wounds don't heal."
The room filled with laughter and good-natured trash talk as race after race unfolded, alliances forming and dissolving as quickly as the digital landscapes changed. San found himself winning more often than not, his natural dexterity and hours spent playing with Wooyoung giving him a distinct advantage.
"One more race," Mingi pleaded after a particularly devastating loss. "I can't end the night like this. My alpha pride can't take it."
"Your alpha pride survived marrying Hongjoong," Jongho pointed out dryly. "It can survive losing at Mario Kart."
Hongjoong launched a throw pillow at Jongho's head with surprising accuracy for someone his size. "Watch it, muscle boy. This small alpha can still take you down."
Time slipped away unnoticed as they played, the comfortable rhythm of competition and camaraderie making minutes feel like seconds. It wasn't until Seonghwa quietly slipped away to the kitchen that San realized how late it had grown, the windows now dark mirrors reflecting their animated faces back at them.
The tantalizing aroma of Seonghwa's cooking soon wafted through the apartment, drawing everyone's attention away from the game. Yeosang paused the current race with an apologetic smile. "Dinner's ready. We can resume the humiliation after we eat."
They migrated back to the dining table, now laden with steaming dishes that showcased Seonghwa's culinary talents. San inhaled deeply, appreciating the complex aromas that promised a feast for the senses. His own cooking skills were notoriously disastrous, a fact that made him all the more appreciative of friends who could create such delicious meals.
"This looks amazing, Seonghwa," San praised sincerely, watching as the alpha's expression softened with pleasure at the compliment.
"It was a team effort," Seonghwa replied, shooting a fond glance at Yeosang. "My Sangie has quite the palate for seasonings."
Yeosang's cheeks colored slightly at the praise, though his expression remained serene. "Someone had to save you from under-seasoning everything."
They settled around the table once more, the earlier competitive energy giving way to appreciative silence as everyone savored the first few bites. San closed his eyes briefly, letting the flavors wash over his tongue, a small sound of contentment escaping him.
Wooyoung's hand found his under the table again, their fingers intertwining naturally. When San glanced at his mate, he was surprised to find an unusual tension in Wooyoung's posture, a subtle nervous energy that hadn't been there during the games. Before he could question it, Wooyoung squeezed his hand gently and turned his attention back to his food.
Conversation meandered pleasantly as they ate, touching on Mingi's recent promotion at the architectural firm, Jongho's upcoming vocal recital, and the latest drama in Yeosang's graduate program. San contributed occasionally but found himself increasingly distracted by Wooyoung's behavior—the way his mate kept exchanging meaningful glances with Yeosang, the slight tremor in his fingers when he reached for his water glass.
As the meal wound down, Wooyoung cleared his throat softly, drawing everyone's attention. The sudden focus seemed to bolster rather than intimidate him, his omega scent shifting to reflect determination and excitement.
"Before we move on to dessert," he began, his voice steady despite the nervous energy San could detect in his scent, "I—we—have a little something we'd like to share with all of you."
San blinked in surprise, turning to fully face his mate. "We do?"
Wooyoung's smile was tender as he pressed a quick kiss to San's knuckles. "Well, technically I do, but it very much involves you, alpha mine."
Yeosang was already rising from his seat, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I'll help you get everything ready."
Confusion rippled through San as Wooyoung stood as well, exchanging a conspiratorial nod with Yeosang before both omegas disappeared into one of the bedrooms. The remaining friends looked equally puzzled, with the exception of Seonghwa, whose serene expression suggested he might be privy to whatever was happening.
"Should I be worried?" San asked no one in particular, his heart beginning to race with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.
"With those two?" Hongjoong snorted affectionately. "Always. But probably not in the way you're thinking."
Before San could press for more information, Wooyoung and Yeosang returned, each carrying small gift bags that they distributed around the table with mysterious smiles. San received his last, Wooyoung's fingers lingering against his as he handed over the delicate blue bag.
"Don't open them yet," Wooyoung instructed, resuming his seat beside San. "First, I need everyone to close their eyes."
Curious glances were exchanged around the table, but one by one, everyone complied, eyelids fluttering shut. San hesitated momentarily, searching Wooyoung's face for any clue about what was happening, but finding only loving encouragement in his mate's expression.
"Eyes closed, Sannie," Wooyoung whispered, reaching over to brush his thumb along San's cheekbone. "Trust me."
San nodded, finally allowing his eyes to close. He felt Wooyoung guide his hands to the gift bag, helping him remove something that felt like tissue paper.
"Now," Wooyoung's voice carried through the darkness behind San's eyelids, "everyone reach into your bags and take out what's inside. But keep your eyes closed until I say."
San followed the instructions, his fingers closing around a small, soft object. It felt like fabric—some kind of clothing item, perhaps?
"Is everyone ready?" Wooyoung asked, his voice trembling slightly with what San now recognized as excitement rather than nervousness.
A chorus of affirmative responses echoed around the table.
"Okay," Wooyoung took a deep breath. "Three... two... one... open!"
San's eyes flew open, immediately looking down at what he held in his hands. For a moment, his brain couldn't process what he was seeing—a tiny white onesie, impossibly small, with delicate embroidery across the front that read, "Hello, I'm new here."
The room had fallen completely silent, everyone staring at their identical gifts with expressions ranging from shock to dawning comprehension. San's heart seemed to have stopped in his chest as the meaning slowly crystallized in his mind.
"Woo?" he whispered, his voice catching as he lifted his gaze to his mate's face.
Wooyoung's eyes were shining with unshed tears, his smile so radiant it seemed to illuminate the entire room. "Surprise, San-ah," he said softly, reaching for San's free hand and guiding it to rest against his still-flat stomach. "We're going to be parents."
The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them in that moment—Wooyoung's hopeful, loving expression and the impossible miracle beneath San's trembling palm. A child. Their child. Growing safe and protected within Wooyoung's body.
"You're pregnant?" San breathed, the words barely audible as emotion closed his throat.
Wooyoung nodded, a single tear finally escaping to track down his cheek. "Ten weeks yesterday. Yeosang went with me to the appointment to confirm while you were doing that wedding consultation."
Something clicked in San's mind—Wooyoung's increased protectiveness lately, the way he'd been turning down alcohol without explanation, his sudden aversion to the lilies in the shop that had never bothered him before. It all made perfect sense now.
"A baby," San whispered, reverence and wonder coloring the simple words as his vision blurred with tears. "Our baby."
The spell of silence broke as everyone began talking at once, exclamations of joy and congratulations filling the air. Yeosang was beaming with pride at having kept such a monumental secret, while Seonghwa dabbed discreetly at his eyes with a napkin. Hongjoong had launched himself at Wooyoung in a hug that nearly toppled them both from their chairs, while Mingi was already loudly proclaiming himself the baby's favorite uncle.
But San barely registered any of it. His world had narrowed to Wooyoung's face and the miracle they had created together. Years of loving each other exactly as they were—defying expectations, creating their own definitions of what it meant to be alpha and omega—had culminated in this moment of pure, undiluted joy.
"Are you happy?" Wooyoung asked softly, his voice audible only to San amid the celebratory chaos around them.
San couldn't find words adequate to express the overwhelming emotion expanding in his chest, threatening to burst through his skin. Instead, he surged forward, capturing Wooyoung's lips in a kiss that spoke volumes—of love and gratitude and wonder and joy so intense it bordered on pain.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and smiling through tears, San pressed his forehead to Wooyoung's. "I never knew I could be this happy," he confessed, his voice rough with emotion. "Thank you. For loving me, for choosing me, for carrying our child."
Wooyoung's hand came up to cup San's cheek, his thumb gently wiping away tears San hadn't realized he'd shed. "As if I could have chosen anyone else," he murmured. "You're the only alpha who ever saw me for exactly who I am."
"And you're the only omega who ever saw me," San replied, turning his head to press a kiss to Wooyoung's palm.
The celebration continued around them, friends offering congratulations and asking questions about due dates and symptoms and plans. San kept Wooyoung's hand firmly clasped in his, occasionally lifting it to press reverent kisses to his knuckles, unable to contain the overflow of affection.
Later, as they lay together in their bed at home, San's hand splayed protectively over Wooyoung's stomach, he tried to imagine how their child would grow up—in a home where love mattered more than designation, where strength and softness were equally valued, where they would be encouraged to be exactly who they were meant to be.
"What are you thinking about?" Wooyoung asked sleepily, his fingers combing through San's hair in a soothing rhythm.
"Our baby," San admitted, his voice hushed in the darkness. "Whether they'll be alpha or omega or beta. Whether they'll have your smile or my eyes. Whether they'll love flowers or law or something entirely their own."
Wooyoung's chest rose and fell with a contented sigh. "Whoever they are, they'll be perfect. Just like their alpha father."
Warmth bloomed in San's chest at the praise, his inner alpha preening even as he shook his head in gentle protest. "If they're anything like their omega father, they'll be exceptional."
Silence settled between them, comfortable and intimate. San found himself drifting toward sleep, lulled by Wooyoung's steady heartbeat and the intoxicating blend of their mingled scents. Just before consciousness slipped away entirely, he felt Wooyoung press a kiss to the top of his head.
"I can't wait to see you build them a nest," Wooyoung whispered, the words hovering like a promise in the darkness. "Our unconventional little family is going to break every rule in the most beautiful way."
The thought followed San into his dreams—a vision of future nests built for three, of tiny hands reaching for flower petals, of a home filled with laughter and love and the freedom to be exactly who they were meant to be. And in that dream-space between wake and sleep, San wondered what new adventures awaited them on this unexpected journey they were beginning together...