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The morning had started like any other, with San's hands buried deep in soil and the familiar scent of earth mixing with the delicate perfume of opening roses. His flower shop existed in that liminal space between dream and reality, where beauty bloomed under careful attention and love could be expressed through the language of petals and stems. Each arrangement he crafted told a story—celebrations and sorrows, apologies and declarations—but none had prepared him for the story unfolding in his own life.
Two weeks had passed since that unforgettable evening when they gathered with their closest friends around the dinner table, small blue gift bags trembling in his hands like vessels carrying the most precious secret. The memory still lived vivid in San's chest: the way anticipation had thickened the air as everyone held those tiny white onesies, the profound silence that stretched between disbelief and joy when understanding finally dawned, the moment when Wooyoung's radiant smile had illuminated the entire room as he guided San's palm to rest against his still-flat stomach. Ten weeks, he had whispered through tears of happiness, ten weeks of carrying their miracle in secret while San remained blissfully unaware that everything they thought they knew about their future had already begun shifting into something larger and more wonderful than either had dared imagine.
These precious days following the revelation had been painted in cautious optimism mixed with overwhelming tenderness, each morning a careful balance between hope and the lingering protective instincts that whispered warnings about celebrating too early. San had found himself watching Wooyoung with new eyes, cataloging every subtle change in his mate's scent and silhouette, marveling at the way cedar and spice took on new depths that made his alpha instincts sing with protective satisfaction. The lawyer's usual composed demeanor had softened around the edges, replaced by something more vulnerable and precious—a quiet joy that seemed to emanate from within, transforming ordinary moments into something sacred.
Now, as San arranged white lilies with the same reverence he might handle spun glass, the weight of anticipation settled heavy in his chest. Twelve weeks. The milestone that marked the transition from cautious hope to confident reality, the point where whispered confessions could become joyful proclamations to the world. Wooyoung had circled the date on their calendar with careful precision, his lawyer's mind finding comfort in the concrete nature of medical timelines even as his heart raced with possibilities too precious to name aloud.
The bell above his shop door chimed with familiar music, and San looked up to find his mate standing in the doorway, one hand pressed protectively over the subtle curve that had begun to reshape his silhouette. There was something different about him this morning—a nervous energy that reminded San of the way Wooyoung prepared for important court cases, all focused determination wrapped around a core of barely contained emotion. The omega's scent carried undertones of anxiety threaded through with excitement, creating a complex bouquet that spoke of momentous occasions and life-altering possibilities.
"Ready?" Wooyoung asked, though his voice carried the sort of careful control that suggested the question was more about his own readiness than San's. His free hand worried at the hem of his loose sweater, a gesture so unconsciously protective that San felt his chest tighten with overwhelming affection.
San set down the lilies with deliberate care, wiping his hands on the apron that had become his uniform in this sanctuary of growing things. The shop felt different today, charged with the significance of what lay ahead, every bloom seeming to lean toward them as if nature itself was holding its breath in anticipation. In a few hours, they would see their child for the first time—not just as an abstract concept or a flutter of possibility, but as a real, tangible being with a heartbeat and tiny limbs that moved with purpose. The ultrasound appointment loomed before them like a doorway to an entirely new world, one where they would finally be able to hold photographic proof of the miracle growing within Wooyoung's body.
The drive to Dr. Kim's office passed in comfortable silence punctuated by Wooyoung's unconscious humming—a nervous habit that emerged whenever he was processing complex emotions. San found his gaze drawn repeatedly to the gentle swell of his mate's belly, still small enough to be hidden beneath loose clothing but unmistakably present to those who knew how to look. Each stolen glance filled him with the same sense of wonder that had overwhelmed him that evening three months ago, the profound realization that their love had created something entirely new and precious, something that would change them both in ways they were only beginning to understand.
The waiting room at Dr. Kim's office hummed with quiet efficiency, the scent of antiseptic doing little to mask San's nervous energy. His leg bounced restlessly as he held Wooyoung's hand, their fingers interlaced in a grip that had grown tighter with each passing minute. Twelve weeks. The magical number that meant they could finally breathe, finally believe that this miracle growing inside Wooyoung was real and here to stay. The omega's pulse fluttered against his wrist like a caged bird, betraying the calm facade he maintained while they waited for their names to be called.
"Jung Wooyoung?" The nurse's voice cut through San's spiraling thoughts, her kind smile doing nothing to ease the butterflies performing acrobatics in his stomach.
Wooyoung squeezed his hand reassuringly as they followed the nurse down the familiar hallway, their footsteps muffled by carpet that had seen countless expectant couples walk this same path to discovery. The examination room felt different this time—brighter somehow, as if the possibility of good news had changed the very quality of light filtering through the windows.
Dr. Kim entered with the sort of professional warmth that had made them choose her practice in the first place, her beta scent neutral and calming as she reviewed Wooyoung's chart. "How are we feeling today? Any changes since our last visit?"
Wooyoung's hand moved unconsciously to his still-subtle bump, the gesture so natural now that San wondered when it had become second nature. "The morning sickness is actually getting worse," he admitted with a rueful smile. "I thought it was supposed to ease up by now."
"Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't," Dr. Kim replied, settling onto her rolling stool with practiced ease. "Every pregnancy is different. Speaking of which, are you ready to see how things are progressing?"
San found himself holding his breath as Wooyoung settled back on the examination table, lifting his shirt to expose the gentle swell that had become San's favorite pillow. The ultrasound gel made Wooyoung hiss softly at its coldness, but his eyes remained fixed on the monitor with an intensity that spoke of wonder barely contained.
The probe moved across Wooyoung's skin with clinical precision, and San watched Dr. Kim's expression shift from routine concentration to something that made his heart skip several beats. Her eyebrows rose slightly, then she paused, adjusting the angle of the probe with deliberate care. "Oh my."
The change in her tone immediately caught both parents' attention, and San felt Wooyoung's grip tighten on his hand. "Is everything okay?" San's voice came out smaller than he'd intended, years of conditioning making him expect the worst even in moments of joy.
Dr. Kim's smile was radiant as she turned the monitor toward them, pointing to what looked like abstract art to San's untrained eye. "Everything is more than okay. Do you see this here?" Her finger traced shapes on the screen that gradually resolved into something miraculous. "And this here?"
Wooyoung's sharp intake of breath filled the room, his free hand flying to cover his mouth as understanding dawned. San stared at the screen, his brain struggling to process what his eyes were showing him.
"Twins," Dr. Kim confirmed gently, her voice warm with the joy of delivering good news. "Identical twins, from the looks of it. That would explain the increased morning sickness—your hormone levels are higher than we typically see with single pregnancies."
The world seemed to tilt sideways, and San was grateful he was already sitting down as the magnitude of this revelation washed over him. Two babies. Two perfect, miraculous babies growing safe and sound inside his beloved mate.
"Twins," Wooyoung whispered, his voice thick with emotion as tears tracked down his cheeks. "San, we're having twins."
San could only nod, words completely inadequate for the explosion of joy and terror and overwhelming love that threatened to split him open. His hand found Wooyoung's, their fingers intertwining as they stared at the screen showing their children—plural, miraculous, impossible.
Dr. Kim continued her examination with professional thoroughness, pointing out tiny limbs and the strong flutter of heartbeats that sounded like the rhythm of their new life. She printed picture after picture, each grainy black and white image a treasure more precious than any flower San had ever cultivated.
"Do you want to know the sexes?" she asked as she cleaned the gel from Wooyoung's skin, her tone carefully neutral.
San and Wooyoung exchanged a look, having discussed this possibility in theoretical terms but never imagining they'd face the choice so soon. "No," Wooyoung said finally, his voice steady despite the tear tracks on his cheeks. "We want to be surprised."
The drive home passed in a blur of excited chatter and stunned silence, their conversation jumping between practical concerns and pure wonder. Two cribs. Two of everything. San's mind reeled with the logistics even as his heart soared with the impossibility of their good fortune. Wooyoung kept one hand pressed against his belly while the other held the strip of ultrasound photos Dr. Kim had printed for them, the black and white images that served as their children's first portraits. San found himself stealing glances at those photos every time they stopped at traffic lights, each viewing revealing new details he had missed before.
"Your mother is going to lose her mind," San observed as they pulled into their parking space, already imagining the phone call that would undoubtedly wake half the neighborhood with its volume.
Wooyoung laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained in the confines of their car. "Your parents are going to start planning the nursery before we even get inside. My father will probably try to build two of everything himself."
They sat for a moment in comfortable contemplation, the ultrasound pictures scattered between them like promises of the future. San reached over to trace the curve of Wooyoung's barely-there bump, marveling at how something so small could contain such enormity.
"Two," he murmured, the word carrying all the wonder and terror and joy he couldn't quite articulate.
"Two," Wooyoung agreed, covering San's hand with his own and pressing it more firmly against his stomach. "Our little miracles."
The alpha turned off the engine but made no move to exit the car, instead reaching over to cover Wooyoung's hand where it rested on the ultrasound photos. "Are you scared?" he asked quietly, because he knew his mate well enough to recognize the undertone of anxiety beneath the wonder in his voice.
Wooyoung considered the question seriously, his gaze fixed on the images of their children. "Terrified," he admitted finally. "But also... I've never been happier about anything in my entire life. Does that make sense?"
San nodded, understanding completely. The fear was there—practical concerns about logistics and finances, deeper worries about their ability to provide everything two babies would need simultaneously, the overwhelming responsibility of shaping two separate lives with their own unique needs and personalities. But beneath all of that ran a current of joy so profound it seemed to originate in his very bones, a happiness that felt too large for his body to contain.
They sat in the car for several more minutes, hands intertwined over the precious photos, watching their house as if seeing it with new eyes. Soon those rooms would echo with different sounds—crying and laughter, the patter of small feet, conversations in the simplified language of early childhood. The quiet space they had created together would expand to accommodate four heartbeats instead of two, and somehow San knew that rather than diminishing what they shared, the addition would only make everything more rich and complex and beautiful.
"We should call everyone," Wooyoung said eventually, though he made no move toward the house. "Yeosang is going to lose his mind when he finds out he's going to be an uncle to twins."
San smiled at the thought of their friends' reactions, imagining the chaos that would ensue when they shared this latest development. The dinner party where Wooyoung had first announced the pregnancy felt like a lifetime ago. Now they had an even more significant revelation to share, one that would undoubtedly result in an outpouring of support and excitement that would carry them through the challenges ahead.
"In a minute," San said, reluctant to break the spell of this moment. "Let me just... look at them one more time."
Wooyoung smiled and tilted the photos toward the afternoon light streaming through the car windows, and together they studied the grainy images that represented their future in its most tangible form yet. Two tiny beings, already moving and growing, already changing everything simply by existing. Their children—children, plural, a concept that would take time to fully absorb—waiting patiently for October to arrive so they could finally meet the parents who had been dreaming of them long before they knew there would be two dreams to nurture.
The news spread through their chosen family like wildfire, each member responding with their own unique brand of excitement and support. Hongjoong appeared at their door that very evening, arms laden with every pregnancy book he could find at the bookstore, his usually composed demeanor cracking with genuine emotion. "I may have gotten a little carried away," he admitted, dumping the stack onto their coffee table with the reverence of someone handling sacred texts. "But I figured you'd want to be prepared for everything."
Mingi followed close behind, his excitement manifesting in the form of a detailed spreadsheet that he'd apparently been working on since receiving their text message. "I've calculated the optimal sleeping schedules for twins," he announced with the pride of someone who'd just solved world hunger. "And I've already started a playlist for when they're old enough to appreciate good music."
Seonghwa's response was characteristically practical, arriving the next morning with armloads of groceries and a determination to stock their freezer with meals that would sustain them through the challenging months ahead. "You'll thank me later," he said simply, already organizing their kitchen with the efficiency of someone who understood that preparation was the greatest gift he could offer.
Yeosang took a different approach, appearing with a leather-bound journal and a gentle smile that spoke of deeper understanding. "For recording everything," he explained, pressing the book into Wooyoung's hands with careful ceremony. "Every milestone, every moment you want to remember."
Yunho and Jongho arrived together, as they often did, with measuring tape and notebooks full of sketches for nursery designs. "We've been researching optimal room layouts for twins," Yunho explained with academic thoroughness, while Jongho nodded along with the sort of intense focus usually reserved for engineering problems. "There are specific considerations for shared sleeping spaces that maximize both safety and bonding."
The changes came gradually at first, then all at once like a tide that had been building unseen. Wooyoung's scent began to shift and deepen, the cedar and spice notes taking on new layers—something warm and protective that made San's alpha instincts sing with contentment. He found himself pressing his nose to the curve of Wooyoung's neck constantly, breathing in the intoxicating new fragrance that spoke of life and growth and the future they were building together.
The morning sickness that had been manageable became a daily trial that tested both their patience and Wooyoung's legendary stubbornness. San learned to keep crackers by the bedside, to prepare ginger tea at the first sign of nausea, to hold Wooyoung's hair back during the worst moments without making him feel fragile or broken. It was during one of these difficult mornings that Seonghwa appeared with a thermos of his grandmother's special remedy—a blend of ginger, mint, and honey that had been passed down through generations of omega caregivers.
"I found this recipe in grandma's book" Seonghwa said quietly, his alpha instincts driving him to research every possible remedy when he saw Wooyoung's suffering. "I made sure to get the highest quality ingredients." His gentle hands prepared the thermos with the same meticulous care he brought to everything, the blend of ginger, mint, and honey creating an aroma that seemed to settle Wooyoung's churning stomach even before the first sip.
The remedy became part of their morning routine, Wooyoung sipping the warm tea while San rubbed gentle circles on his back, both of them grateful for the tangible proof that they weren't facing this journey alone. Yeosang would often join them for these quiet moments, his presence a calming influence that required no words, just the comfort of someone who understood the complexities of omega biology and the unique challenges it could present.
"I hate this," Wooyoung groaned one particularly difficult morning, his forehead pressed against the cool bathroom tile as San rubbed soothing circles on his back. "I'm supposed to be the omega who glows with maternal radiance, not the one who can't keep breakfast down."
San's heart clenched with sympathetic pain, wishing he could take this burden from his mate even as he marveled at Wooyoung's strength. "You are glowing," he said softly, meaning every word. "Even green around the gills, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
The transition at work required delicate negotiations and careful planning. San found himself turning down more elaborate consultation requests, focusing on arrangements that could be completed without the heavy lifting that had never bothered him before but now made him anxious about leaving Wooyoung alone for extended periods. The flower shop became a haven where Wooyoung could rest between his own scaled-back court appearances, the sweet scent of blooms helping to settle his increasingly sensitive stomach.
It was Mingi who suggested the perfect solution, appearing one afternoon with the sort of mischievous grin that usually preceded his best ideas. "What if we set up a rotation?" he proposed, pulling out his phone to show them a carefully crafted schedule. "Someone could be with Wooyoung during the day when San has to be at client sites, and we could all take turns helping with the shop when needed."
The plan evolved naturally, each member of their chosen family contributing according to their strengths and availability. Hongjoong took over the artistic aspects of arrangement design, his creative vision translating beautifully to floral compositions that impressed even San's most demanding clients. Yunho and Jongho handled the physical aspects of delivery and setup, their combined strength making quick work of installations that would have taken San hours to complete alone.
"I can still work," Wooyoung insisted during one of their many discussions about practical adjustments, his hand resting protectively over his expanding middle. "I'm pregnant, not made of glass."
San approached from behind, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung's waist and splaying his hands over the growing bump that had become his favorite place to rest his palms. The soft rumble that escaped his chest was involuntary—a purr of contentment that seemed to emerge whenever he held his pregnant mate, as if his alpha hindbrain recognized the precious cargo Wooyoung carried and responded with protective satisfaction.
"I know you can," San murmured against Wooyoung's ear, his purr deepening as he felt tiny flutters of movement beneath his palms. "But you don't have to prove anything to anyone. Not even to me."
Their friends rallied around them with the sort of fierce protectiveness that spoke to chosen family bonds stronger than blood. Seonghwa appeared with home-cooked meals on Wooyoung's worst days, understanding without words that sometimes the smell of food cooking could trigger nausea but finished dishes were manageable. His presence became a constant comfort, arriving with perfectly timed cups of tea and gentle conversation that distracted from the worst of the symptoms.
Yeosang took over the more strenuous aspects of his graduate program, handling research trips and physical tasks with quiet efficiency that never made Wooyoung feel like a burden. More than that, he became Wooyoung's confidant during the moments when pregnancy hormones made everything feel overwhelming, offering the understanding that could only come from someone who had been there for him for a decade.
"Some days I feel like I'm disappearing," Wooyoung confessed one afternoon as they sat together in the shop, surrounded by the gentle fragrance of roses and baby's breath. "Like I'm becoming just a vessel for these babies instead of myself."
Yeosang's hand found his, offering the sort of grounding touch that spoke to deep understanding. "You're not disappearing," he said with quiet conviction. "You're expanding. There's a difference, even when it doesn't feel that way."
Yunho and Jongho appointed themselves official furniture movers when the time came to transform their spare room into a nursery, arriving with tools and enthusiasm that made the daunting task feel like play. Their combined engineering background proved invaluable as they carefully planned the layout to maximize both safety and efficiency, measuring twice and cutting once with the sort of precision that gave San confidence in their abilities.
"We've researched the optimal positioning for twin cribs," Jongho explained as they worked, his natural attention to detail evident in every carefully placed screw. "Close enough for the babies to sense each other's presence, but far enough apart to maintain individual sleeping spaces."
Yunho nodded along, consulting his notebook with academic thoroughness. "And we've positioned everything to minimize the walking distance between the cribs and the changing station. Sleep deprivation is going to be enough of a challenge without adding unnecessary steps to nighttime routines."
Hongjoong and Mingi contributed their artistic sensibilities, helping choose paint colors and decorative elements that would work for children of any gender. Hongjoong's eye for color proved particularly valuable, selecting shades that would be soothing without being bland, while Mingi's technological expertise resulted in a sound system that could play everything from classical music to white noise with the touch of a button.
"Neutral doesn't have to mean boring," Hongjoong declared, standing back to survey their handiwork with critical eyes. "These babies are going to grow up in a home that celebrates creativity and individuality."
Mingi grinned, adjusting the speakers he'd installed with the care of someone handling precious instruments. "And they'll have the best possible soundtrack for their development. I've already started curating playlists for different stages of growth."
The nursery evolved slowly, each addition carefully considered and lovingly placed. San built the cribs himself, his hands moving with the same precision he brought to flower arrangements as he assembled each piece with meticulous care. Two matching cribs, positioned so the babies could see each other, with soft yellow bedding that would welcome boy or girl with equal warmth.
Every evening became a small celebration as their friends arrived to contribute to the ongoing project. Seonghwa brought samples of baby-safe cleaning products, determined to ensure the nursery met his exacting standards for cleanliness without exposing the babies to harsh chemicals. Yeosang contributed soft blankets in luxurious fabrics, each one carefully chosen for both comfort and durability.
"This one is bamboo fiber," he explained, running his fingers over the silky surface with obvious appreciation. "It's naturally antibacterial and incredibly soft. Perfect for sensitive skin."
Wooyoung's body changed with a grace that left San breathless with admiration. The subtle curves became pronounced, his mate's natural elegance taking on new dimensions that spoke of the life growing within. San couldn't keep his hands away, constantly reaching out to trace the expanding swell of Wooyoung's belly, to feel the increasingly strong kicks and movements that meant their children were thriving.
"They're active today," Wooyoung observed one evening as they lay together in their carefully reconstructed nest, San's palm pressed against a particularly vigorous patch of movement. "I think they're fighting for space already."
San's purr rumbled through his chest as he felt tiny limbs pushing against his touch, his heart swelling with protective tenderness. "They're going to be strong," he murmured, pressing kisses to Wooyoung's shoulder. "Like their carrier."
The shopping trips became group adventures, their chosen family descending on baby stores with the enthusiasm of people preparing for the most important event of their lives. Hongjoong took charge of aesthetic decisions, ensuring that every purchase met his standards for both beauty and functionality. Mingi appointed himself the technology specialist, researching baby monitors and sound machines with the sort of thoroughness usually reserved for recording equipment.
"Look at these," Wooyoung called from an aisle of picture books, holding up a volume about flowers that made San's heart skip with delight. "They can learn about your world from the very beginning."
San accepted the book with reverent hands, imagining himself reading these words to tiny listeners curled against his chest. "And they'll learn about justice and strength from you," he replied, selecting a book about fairness and standing up for others. "Our little lawyers and gardeners."
Yunho and Jongho took responsibility for the practical aspects, creating lists and checking them twice with the sort of methodical approach that ensured nothing important would be forgotten. Their shopping cart filled with bottles and diapers, receiving blankets and tiny clothes, each item selected based on careful research and consideration.
"We've read that twins often have different preferences," Yunho explained as they chose pacifiers in various shapes and materials. "It's better to have options and let them decide what they like."
Seonghwa focused on the nurturing essentials, selecting baby bath products and lotions with the same care he applied to his own skincare routine. "Their skin is going to be so sensitive," he murmured, reading ingredient lists with the intensity of someone who understood that the smallest details could make the biggest difference.
Yeosang contributed his understanding of comfort, choosing soft toys and blankets that would provide security without overwhelming tiny senses. "They're going to need familiar textures," he explained, running his fingers over a particularly soft stuffed animal. "Something that feels like safety."
As Wooyoung entered his third trimester, the changes became more pronounced and the reality of their approaching parenthood more immediate. His gait shifted to accommodate his expanding middle, and San found himself offering constant support—hands on the small of Wooyoung's back, arms extended for balance, the rumbling purr that seemed to emerge whenever he helped ease the weight Wooyoung carried.
Their friends adapted to these changes with the sort of intuitive understanding that spoke to deep bonds. Seonghwa began arriving with foot soaks and back rubs, his gentle hands working out the tension that accumulated in Wooyoung's increasingly strained muscles. Yeosang brought comfortable pillows and ergonomic supports, anything that might make the physical challenges more manageable.
"I feel like I'm carrying watermelons," Wooyoung complained one evening as San helped him settle into their nest, pillows carefully arranged to support every curve and angle. "Two very large, very active watermelons that have decided my ribs make excellent punching bags."
San's hands moved instinctively to cradle the tight swell of Wooyoung's belly, lifting gently to relieve some of the pressure on his mate's spine. The purr that vibrated through his chest was automatic now, triggered by Wooyoung's scent and the feel of their children moving beneath his palms. "Better?"
Wooyoung's sigh of relief was answer enough, his body relaxing into San's support with the trust of someone who knew he was completely safe. "Much. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'd never have to find out," Mingi's voice came from the doorway, where he stood with Hongjoong and the evening's dinner delivery. "We're all here for the long haul."
Hongjoong nodded, settling into his usual spot on their couch with the sort of comfortable familiarity that spoke to months of shared evenings. "This is what family does. We take care of each other."
The birthing classes became a weekly pilgrimage that neither San nor Wooyoung would have missed for the world. Every Thursday evening found them settled on yoga mats in the community center's multipurpose room, surrounded by other expectant couples whose excitement mirrored their own. The instructor, a gentle beta named Mrs. Chen, had been teaching these classes for over a decade, her patient wisdom evident in how she guided them through breathing techniques and positioning exercises with the sort of calm authority that made even the most anxious parents-to-be feel capable.
San threw himself into every exercise with the same dedication he brought to his flower arrangements, his hands learning the precise pressure points that would ease Wooyoung's discomfort during labor. When they practiced the supported squat position, San's arms became a living chair, strong and steady as Wooyoung leaned back against his chest, both of them marveling at how naturally their bodies fit together even in this new context.
"Twins often come faster than single births," Mrs. Chen explained during one session, her voice carrying the sort of practical wisdom that came from years of experience. "The important thing is to stay calm and trust your body's signals." She demonstrated breathing techniques on a volunteer couple, her hands guiding them through the rhythm that would carry them through the most intense moments.
Wooyoung absorbed every piece of information with the thoroughness of someone preparing for the most important case of his life, his notebook filling with carefully organized notes about stages of labor, pain management techniques, and signs that meant it was time to head to the hospital. San watched his mate's focused concentration with growing admiration, seeing how Wooyoung channeled his natural analytical mind into preparing for the physical demands ahead.
During the relaxation portion of each class, San would settle behind Wooyoung on their shared mat, his hands resting protectively over the growing swell of his mate's belly while his voice rumbled through guided visualizations. The sound of his alpha purr mixing with Mrs. Chen's soothing instructions created a cocoon of safety that made Wooyoung's shoulders drop with relief, his body finally able to release the tension that accumulated throughout each day.
"You're going to be incredible," San murmured during one particularly peaceful session, his lips pressed against Wooyoung's ear as they practiced the breathing that would help them through early labor. "The strongest, most beautiful omega in the world."
The other couples in their class became familiar faces, their shared journey creating bonds that transcended the usual social boundaries. There was Suho and Minjoon, expecting their first child with the sort of nervous excitement that made them ask detailed questions about every possible scenario. Across the room, Hyunwoo practiced massage techniques on Yejun with the sort of focused intensity that suggested he was determined to be the perfect support partner.
"It's amazing how different everyone's approach is," Wooyoung observed one evening as they walked to the car, his hand resting on San's arm for balance as his center of gravity continued to shift. "But we're all working toward the same thing—bringing our babies safely into the world."
The classes gave them confidence in their preparation, each session building on the last until San felt genuinely ready to be Wooyoung's anchor during labor. They practiced positions and breathing patterns until they became second nature, their bodies learning to move together through the choreography of birth with the same harmony they brought to every other aspect of their relationship.
On their final class, Mrs. Chen pulled them aside with a warm smile that spoke to genuine affection for her students. "You two are going to do beautifully," she said, her eyes crinkling with the sort of joy that came from watching couples transform into families. "Trust yourselves, trust each other, and trust the process. Your babies are lucky to have such dedicated parents."
The weeks blurred together in a rhythm of doctor visits and preparation, each appointment bringing new reassurances that their twins were growing strong and healthy. Dr. Kim monitored everything with careful attention, noting Wooyoung's blood pressure and the babies' positions with professional satisfaction. Their friends took turns accompanying them to appointments, each offering their own brand of support and encouragement.
"Everything looks perfect," she assured them during their thirty-six-week appointment, her smile warm as she cleaned ultrasound gel from Wooyoung's impressively rounded belly. "The babies are in good positions, your body is handling the pregnancy beautifully, and we're right on track for a smooth delivery."
Yunho and Jongho had accompanied them to this particular appointment, both taking notes with the sort of serious attention they usually reserved for academic lectures. "What should we expect in terms of timing?" Yunho asked, his notebook already half-filled with carefully documented information.
"Twins often arrive a few weeks early," Dr. Kim explained, her patient tone suggesting she was accustomed to anxious friends asking detailed questions. "Everything could happen very quickly once labor begins, so make sure your hospital bag is packed and ready."
Jongho's hand shot up as if he were in a classroom. "We've prepared multiple contingency plans for transportation and communication. Should we review them one more time?"
Dr. Kim's smile was indulgent as she nodded, clearly charmed by their thorough preparation. "It never hurts to be overprepared, especially with twins."
They were thirty-eight weeks and three days when their careful planning met the chaotic reality of nature's timing. The evening had started like so many others—dinner with their chosen family at Seonghwa and Yeosang's apartment, laughter and conversation flowing as easily as wine for those who weren't carrying precious cargo.
Seonghwa had outdone himself with the meal, preparing dishes that catered to Wooyoung's increasingly specific cravings while ensuring everyone else was well-fed. The apartment was warm with the scent of home cooking and the comfortable buzz of conversation, Yeosang moving between kitchen and living room with the sort of graceful efficiency that made hosting look effortless.
Wooyoung had been quieter than usual, his hand moving frequently to his lower back with the sort of discomfort that had become routine in recent weeks. San noticed, of course—he always noticed—but Wooyoung waved off his concerned glances with the stubborn independence that had first attracted San all those years ago.
"I'm fine," he insisted when San asked for the third time if he needed to go home. "Just the usual aches and pains. These babies are running out of room, that's all."
The conversation flowed around them, Hongjoong regaling the group with stories from his latest recording session while Mingi provided enthusiastic commentary and sound effects. His animated gestures had everyone laughing, the sort of infectious joy that made even Wooyoung's discomfort seem manageable.
Yeosang and Seonghwa moved in their usual harmony, clearing dishes and preparing dessert with the efficiency of a long-established partnership. Their synchronized movements were a thing of beauty, each anticipating the other's needs without conscious thought.
Yunho and Jongho had commandeered one corner of the living room, their laptops open as they debated the merits of various parenting philosophies with the theoretical intensity of people not yet faced with screaming infants at three in the morning. Their research had become increasingly detailed as the due date approached, both determined to be as prepared as possible for their role as honorary uncles.
San kept one eye on the conversation and one on Wooyoung, noting the increasing frequency with which his mate shifted position and the way his breathing had become slightly more focused. Experience with Wooyoung's stubborn streak told him to wait and watch rather than push, but alpha instincts made him hyperaware of every small change in his mate's behavior.
It was during Mingi's animated reenactment of a workplace mishap that Wooyoung suddenly went very still, his hand flying to his rounded belly with an expression of surprise that made San's heart skip several beats. The room seemed to freeze as Wooyoung's eyes widened, his gaze dropping to where a spreading dampness was beginning to appear.
"Oh," Wooyoung said very quietly, his voice carrying a note of wonder mixed with realization. "I think... I think my water just broke."
The silence that followed lasted exactly three seconds before the room erupted into carefully controlled chaos. Seonghwa was already moving toward the linen closet, his training kicking in as he gathered towels and supplies with practiced efficiency. Yeosang appeared at Wooyoung's side, his gentle hands offering support and reassurance.
"It's okay," Yeosang murmured, his voice steady and calming. "Everything is going to be okay. Seonghwa, should we call the hospital?"
Hongjoong was already on his phone, his usual composure intact as he dialed Dr. Kim's emergency line with fingers that barely trembled. "Dr. Kim? It's Hongjoong calling for Wooyoung and San. Yes, his water just broke... thirty-eight weeks and three days... no, no pain yet, but..."
Mingi was pulling the car around before anyone had to ask, his excitement channeled into practical action as he warmed up the engine and checked that the hospital bag was in the trunk where they'd stored it weeks ago. His usual exuberance was tempered by genuine concern, the weight of the moment not lost on any of them.
Yunho and Jongho had sprung into action with military precision, consulting their carefully prepared checklists and making sure every contingency was covered. "Hospital bag is in the car," Yunho reported.
"I'm calling ahead to let them know you're coming," Jongho added, his phone already pressed to his ear. "They said to come in as soon as possible since it's twins."
San found himself frozen for a heartbeat, staring at Wooyoung's serene expression with something approaching panic. This was it. After months of preparation and anticipation, their babies had decided they were ready to meet the world.
"Sannie," Wooyoung's voice was calm, almost amused as he reached for San's hand. "Breathe, alpha. We've got this."
Seonghwa appeared at San's other side, his presence grounding and reassuring. "You do have this," he agreed, his voice carrying the sort of certainty that came from years of medical training. "Everything is going to be perfect."
The drive to the hospital passed in a blur of traffic lights and San's racing heartbeat, Wooyoung timing contractions with the sort of methodical focus he usually reserved for legal briefs. Their friends followed in a convoy of concern and excitement, Hongjoong navigating while Mingi drove with uncharacteristic caution, Yunho and Jongho in the backseat with their laptops still open, researching last-minute information about twin deliveries with the sort of intensity that would have been comical if the situation weren't so monumentally important.
"They're about five minutes apart," Wooyoung reported as they pulled into the hospital parking lot, his voice steady despite the obvious discomfort. "Right on schedule for textbook labor, according to every book I've read."
San marveled at his mate's composure even as his own hands shook with excitement and terror in equal measure. Wooyoung was facing the monumental task of bringing their children into the world with the same determined grace he brought to everything else, while San felt like he might vibrate apart from the intensity of emotion coursing through him.
The labor and delivery ward welcomed them with professional efficiency, nurses moving with practiced ease as they settled Wooyoung into a room that would serve as the first earthly home their babies would know. Their friends hovered in the hallway, respecting the privacy of the moment while making their presence known through gentle knocks and murmured offers of support.
San hovered anxiously until Wooyoung caught his hand and pulled him down to sit beside the bed, their chosen family visible waiting outside in the lobby where they had arranged themselves in a comfortable vigil. Seonghwa had claimed the chair closest to the door, Yeosang sat beside him, his presence calm and steady, ready to offer whatever support might be needed.
"Stay with me," Wooyoung said simply, and San realized that despite his mate's outward calm, there was something vulnerable in his eyes that spoke to the magnitude of what they were about to experience together.
"Always," San promised, lifting their joined hands to press a kiss to Wooyoung's knuckles. "Every step of the way."
The hours that followed tested every limit San thought he knew about himself. He watched Wooyoung work through each contraction with breathless admiration, his mate's strength evident in every measured breath and focused push. San's purr became a constant rumble, offering what comfort he could as they moved together through this ancient dance of bringing life into the world.
He could feel their friends maintaining their vigil, Hongjoong pacing with nervous energy while Mingi sat with his headphones on, probably listening to calming music. Yunho and Jongho had their laptops out again, no doubt researching everything they could about the process happening just beyond their reach.
"You're incredible," San whispered during a brief lull between contractions, smoothing sweat-dampened hair away from Wooyoung's forehead. "The most amazing omega in the world."
Wooyoung's smile was tired but radiant, his eyes shining with determination and love in equal measure. "We're almost there," he murmured, his hand moving to the swell of his belly where their children waited to make their debut. "I can feel them getting ready."
Dr. Kim arrived with the sunrise, her professional assessment confirming what San's heart already knew—their babies were ready to make their debut. The final stage of labor passed in an intensity of sensation and emotion that left San feeling like he was witnessing the creation of the universe itself.
"I can see the first head," Dr. Kim announced moments later, her voice carrying the excitement that even experienced professionals felt when witnessing new life. "One more push, Wooyoung."
The sound that filled the room when their first baby emerged was unlike anything San had ever heard—a perfect, indignant cry that announced the arrival of a completely new person. San's vision blurred with tears as he watched Dr. Kim lift a tiny, perfect form, slick with vernix and the evidence of the journey from womb to world.
"It's a girl," Dr. Kim announced with a smile, her voice carrying outside the room to where their friends had gathered with bated breath. "A beautiful, healthy girl."
The nurses moved with practiced efficiency, clearing the baby's airway and performing the necessary assessments while San stared at his daughter—his daughter—with something approaching religious awe. She was impossibly small and perfect, her tiny fists waving in protest at the bright, cold world she'd been thrust into.
"She's perfect," Wooyoung whispered, his voice thick with emotion as the nurses placed their daughter on his chest for those first crucial moments of skin-to-skin contact. "Look at her, San. We made her."
Before San could find words adequate to the moment, Dr. Kim was moving with renewed focus. "And here comes baby number two. Ready for another push?"
Their son followed his sister into the world with the same indignant announcement, his cry joining hers in a duet that spoke to the bond they had shared in the womb. The nurses worked quickly to ensure both babies were stable and healthy, their professional voices a constant stream of reassurance.
"Another healthy baby," Dr. Kim confirmed, her smile radiant as she placed their son beside his sister. "A boy this time. Congratulations, you have one of each."
San watched through tears as the nurses completed their initial assessments, both babies crying lustily in protest at their sudden displacement. The sound was music to his ears, evidence of strong lungs and healthy systems, the first words his children would ever speak.
"Twins," San breathed, the word carrying every emotion he couldn't articulate. "Our babies."
The nurses worked with gentle efficiency, cleaning and weighing each baby while Dr. Kim attended to Wooyoung, ensuring that the delivery had been completed safely. "Both babies are doing beautifully," one of the nurses reported, her voice warm with professional satisfaction. "Excellent birth weights and APGAR scores."
"What are their weights?" San asked, his voice hoarse with emotion as he watched the nurses bundle his children in soft blankets.
"Your daughter is six pounds, two ounces," the nurse replied, lifting the tiny girl with reverent care. "And your son is six pounds, four ounces. Excellent weights for twins."
The babies were placed in the warming bassinet, their cries settling into contented murmurs as they found comfort in each other's presence. San stood transfixed, watching his children move instinctively toward each other, seeking the familiar comfort they had shared in the womb.
"They know each other," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "They're already looking for each other."
Dr. Kim finished her work with professional thoroughness, ensuring that Wooyoung was stable and comfortable before stepping back with a satisfied smile. "Everything went perfectly," she announced, her voice carrying the sort of professional pride that spoke to a job well done. "You should both be very proud."
The room filled with the soft sounds of new life—tiny whimpers and sleepy murmurs as the babies adjusted to their new environment. San reached out with trembling fingers to touch first his daughter's downy hair, then his son's perfect tiny hand, marveling at the reality of these children who had lived in dreams and imagination for months.
"We need to take them to the nursery for their newborn procedures," one of the nurses explained gently, her voice carrying the sort of professional kindness that made difficult moments bearable. "Standard assessments, hearing tests, that sort of thing. You'll be reunited in a few hours."
San felt his heart clench at the thought of separation, but Wooyoung's hand found his, squeezing with reassuring strength. "It's okay," Wooyoung murmured, his voice tired but certain. "They need to make sure everything is perfect."
The nurses moved with gentle efficiency, wheeling the bassinet toward the door where their friends waited with barely contained excitement. San watched his children disappear down the hallway, his alpha instincts screaming at him to follow, to keep his babies in sight at all times. Only Wooyoung's hand in his kept him anchored to the bedside.
"They'll be back soon," Wooyoung said softly, his exhaustion evident in every line of his body. "And then we can hold them properly."
The room felt strangely empty without the soft sounds of infant breathing, but it was quickly filled with the excited voices of their chosen family as they finally received permission to enter. Seonghwa led the way, his medical training evident in how he assessed Wooyoung's condition with quick, professional glances even as his face shone with joy.
"How are you feeling?" Seonghwa asked, settling into the chair beside the bed with the sort of gentle concern that spoke to years of friendship. "Any pain? Discomfort?"
Wooyoung's smile was tired but radiant, his hand still clasped tightly in San's. "Exhausted," he admitted with characteristic honesty. "But incredible. Did you see them? They're perfect."
"They're beautiful," Yeosang agreed, his voice thick with emotion as he took his place on Wooyoung's other side. "Absolutely perfect."
Hongjoong hovered near the foot of the bed, his usual composure cracking with genuine emotion. "I can't believe they're actually here," he said, his voice carrying the sort of wonder that spoke to the magnitude of what they had all witnessed. "After all these months of waiting and preparing..."
"They're real," Mingi added, his excitement barely contained as he bounced on his toes. "Actual tiny humans that you two made together. This is the most incredible thing I've ever been part of."
Yunho and Jongho approached more cautiously, their natural respect for the solemnity of the moment evident in their gentle movements. "How long until they come back?" Yunho asked, his notebook already out as he prepared to document every detail of this historic day.
"A few hours," San replied, his voice still hoarse with emotion. "They're doing all the standard newborn tests to make sure everything is perfect."
"Everything will be perfect," Jongho said with quiet conviction. "They're your babies. How could they be anything else?"
The next few hours passed in a blur of comfortable exhaustion and excited anticipation. Wooyoung dozed intermittently, his body finally able to rest after the monumental effort of bringing their children into the world. San remained at his side, one hand always touching his mate, the other checking his phone obsessively for updates from the nursery.
Their friends settled into a comfortable vigil, each contributing their presence in their own unique way. Seonghwa monitored Wooyoung's recovery with medical precision, ensuring he was comfortable and well-hydrated. Yeosang provided quiet comfort, his presence a calming influence that required no words.
Hongjoong appointed himself the official photographer, capturing every moment of their waiting with the same artistic eye he brought to his music. "These are the moments you'll want to remember," he explained as he adjusted the lighting for yet another shot. "The anticipation, the excitement, the pure joy of it all."
Mingi had claimed the window seat, his laptop out as he worked on what he claimed was a "very important project" that would be revealed when the babies returned. The soft sounds of his typing provided a comfortable backdrop to their conversations.
Yunho and Jongho had spread their research materials across the small table, their notebooks filled with carefully documented information about newborn care and twin development. Their preparation was so thorough that San found himself feeling more confident about the challenges ahead, knowing they had such dedicated support.
"Have you thought about names?" Yeosang asked during one of Wooyoung's more alert moments, his voice gentle with curiosity.
Wooyoung's hand moved unconsciously to his now-empty belly, the gesture so natural that San wondered if he even realized he was doing it. "We've talked about it," he said softly, his eyes distant with contemplation. "But now that they're here, now that they're real... I want to see them again before we decide. Does that make sense?"
"Perfect sense," Seonghwa agreed, his voice warm with understanding. "Names are important. They should fit the people they belong to."
The conversation drifted to practical matters—feeding schedules and sleeping arrangements, the logistics of caring for two newborns simultaneously. Their friends offered suggestions and support with the sort of enthusiasm that made even the most daunting aspects of parenthood seem manageable.
"We've prepared rotation schedules for nighttime feedings," Yunho announced, consulting his carefully organized notes. "Each of us can take shifts so you're not completely overwhelmed."
"And I've stocked your freezer with enough meals to last a month," Seonghwa added, his practical nature showing through his excitement. "The last thing you need to worry about is cooking."
San felt overwhelmed by the love and support surrounding them, by the incredible fortune of having such dedicated friends who had become family in every way that mattered. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "All of you. I don't know how to..."
"You don't have to say anything," Hongjoong interrupted gently. "This is what family does. We take care of each other."
The soft knock at the door interrupted their conversation, and San's heart leaped as two nurses entered, wheeling the bassinet that contained his children. The babies were awake now, their tiny faces visible above soft blankets, alert eyes taking in this new world with the sort of serious consideration that spoke to developing awareness.
"Two very healthy babies," the head nurse announced with professional satisfaction. "All their tests came back perfect. They're ready to meet their parents properly."
The room fell silent as the nurses positioned the bassinet beside Wooyoung's bed, everyone holding their breath as if afraid to disturb this sacred moment. San stared at his children—his daughter and son—with the same sense of wonder that had filled him in the delivery room, but magnified now by the reality of their separate existence.
"They're so alert," Wooyoung whispered, his voice filled with awe as he gazed at the tiny faces looking back at him. "Look at them, San. They're really here."
San reached into the bassinet with trembling hands, carefully lifting his daughter and cradling her against his chest. She was impossibly light, her tiny body fitting perfectly in his arms as if she had been designed specifically for this moment. Her eyes, dark and serious, seemed to study his face with the sort of intensity that spoke to recognition.
"Hello, little one," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm your papa."
Wooyoung accepted their son with the same reverent care, his exhausted features transformed by pure joy as he held his child for the first time outside the womb. The baby's tiny hand found his finger, grasping with surprising strength as if he too recognized the voice that had spoken to him through months of pregnancy.
"They're perfect," Wooyoung said, his voice thick with emotion as he gazed at their son. "Absolutely perfect."
Their friends gathered around the bed in a loose circle, each face shining with tears and smiles as they witnessed this moment of pure magic. San felt surrounded by love, held by the bonds of chosen family that had carried them through pregnancy and would continue to support them through parenthood.
"So," Mingi said after several minutes of reverent silence, his voice carefully gentle. "Have you decided on names?"
San looked at his daughter, taking in her delicate features and the alert intelligence in her dark eyes. Something about her seemed to demand a name that spoke to strength and beauty, to the sort of grace that would carry her through whatever challenges life might present.
"Haneul," he said suddenly, the name emerging from somewhere deep in his heart. "Her name is Haneul."
Wooyoung smiled, the expression lighting up his tired features as he looked at their son. "And this is Jiho," he said with quiet certainty. "Our little Jiho."
"Haneul and Jiho," Hongjoong repeated, his voice carrying the sort of reverence usually reserved for sacred things. "Beautiful names for beautiful children."
San felt a deep sense of rightness settle over him as he held Haneul, watching Wooyoung cradle Jiho with the same protective tenderness. These were their children, their family, the future they had dreamed of through months of anticipation and preparation.
"Perfect," Seonghwa agreed, his voice soft with emotion. "They're perfect names for perfect babies."
The afternoon stretched into evening as they took turns holding the babies, each member of their chosen family receiving their first introduction to Haneul and Jiho. Yeosang held them with the sort of gentle reverence that spoke to his understanding of how precious and fragile new life could be. Hongjoong captured every moment with his camera, creating a visual record of this most important day.
Mingi revealed his "very important project"—a playlist specifically designed for newborn development, complete with lullabies and classical music that would supposedly stimulate brain growth. "I've researched the optimal frequencies for infant neural development," he explained with the sort of scientific enthusiasm that made even the most tired parents smile.
Yunho and Jongho pulled out other detailed charts and schedules, their organizational skills put to use in creating systems that would help track sleep patterns, and developmental milestones too. "We want to make sure you have every tool you need," Yunho explained as he walked them through the carefully prepared materials.
As the sun began to set, painting the hospital room in golden light, San found himself holding both babies while Wooyoung rested. Haneul was awake and alert, her dark eyes studying his face with the sort of intensity that suggested she was already forming opinions about this new world. Jiho dozed against his chest, his tiny body radiating the sort of peaceful contentment that spoke to feeling completely safe and loved.
"This is it," Wooyoung said softly, his voice carrying the sort of wonder that spoke to the magnitude of what they had accomplished. "Our family."
San looked around the room at their friends—Seonghwa organizing medical supplies with his usual precision, Yeosang reading aloud from one of the parenting books they had accumulated, Hongjoong editing photos with the sort of artistic focus that would ensure these memories were preserved perfectly, Mingi fine-tuning his playlist with the dedication of someone creating a masterpiece, Yunho and Jongho consulting their charts and making notes about feeding schedules—and felt his heart swell with gratitude.
"Our family," he agreed, his voice thick with emotion as he pressed a gentle kiss to each baby's forehead. "All of us."
The future stretched before them like an unwritten story, filled with sleepless nights and first smiles, first words and first steps, all the tiny milestones that would mark their children's journey through life. San knew there would be challenges—moments of exhaustion and uncertainty, times when they would doubt their abilities as parents—but looking around at the love and support surrounding them, he felt confident that they could handle whatever came their way.
Haneul stirred in his arms, her tiny hand reaching toward her brother as if she already missed the closeness they had shared in the womb. San adjusted his hold, bringing the babies closer together so they could sense each other's presence. Almost immediately, both children seemed to settle, their breathing synchronizing as they found comfort in their twin bond.
"They know each other," Wooyoung observed, his voice filled with wonder. "Even separated, they're still connected."
"They always will be," San replied, his voice carrying the sort of certainty that came from deep understanding. "They're family. Nothing can change that."
As the hospital room filled with the soft sounds of new life and the gentle voices of their chosen family, San felt a deep sense of completion settle over him. This was what he had dreamed of during those long months of preparation—not just the babies themselves, but this moment of perfect contentment, surrounded by love and facing the future with confidence and joy.
"Welcome to the world, Haneul and Jiho," he whispered, his voice carrying all the love and hope he couldn't quite articulate. "Your family is here, and we're never letting go."