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Jonghyun made it up from the garage, through the front door, and into his bedroom without needing help. Dongju took it as a win.
Still, he wasn’t blind. The older man’s knuckles were white where he grasped the edge of the door, shoulders trembling with effort. He also wasn’t putting any weight on his left foot, the bulky boot all unwieldy and stiff and entirely alien on someone who had always moved so fluidly. It was like watching an eagle whose wings had been clipped. Dongju hated it.
He coughed and stepped forward. “Do you need—”
“No.” It came out sharp, almost accusatory. Jonghyun’s alpha scent flared for a half-second—it was like suddenly being dropped next to a roaring fire, and Dongju couldn’t help the instinctual flinch, the omega inside him shrinking back on reflex.
He didn’t know if it was the movement or the spike of distress in his own scent he wasn’t quick enough to stop, but Jonghyun stiffened. Something flickered in his scent—embarrassment? No, something else—before the alpha clamped down on his pheromones with an iron grip and took a shaky breath.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve—had a long day.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” A long two weeks, really, because that was how long it had taken for the hospital to finally release him. Dongju had never been shot before—and he meant to keep that streak, thank you very much—but he was pretty sure Jonghyun should have stayed a little longer. He’d insisted on leaving though, as soon as the doctor was willing to sign off on his discharge paperwork, and Dongju could understand it to a certain extent: alphas always felt safest on familiar territory.
Still, he wasn’t about to let his teammate go it alone, not with only one working leg and half his body still bandaged up. Jonghyun hadn’t even put up a token resistance when Dongju joined him in the taxi home, probably too exhausted to bother. Dongju was grateful for it; really, Kim Jonghyun’s stubbornness could win an Olympic medal all by itself.
As if in answer to his thoughts, the older man sighed. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know.”
“Hey, I live here too.”
That got him a sideways glance, just a flicker of annoyance behind those thick-framed glasses. “You’re staying here, not living here.”
“Tomato, potato.”
“That’s not—” Jonghyun huffed, but there was no mistaking the way his scent lightened just a bit as the corner of his mouth quirked up like he couldn’t help it. Dongju grinned, his omega most definitely not thrumming with satisfaction at how he’d pleased the alpha.
The mirth lasted all of three seconds, the amount of time it took for Jonghyun to take another step into the bedroom, sniff the air, and pause. “Wait.” His scent wavered, somewhere between confusion and indignation. “Have…Have you been sleeping in my bed?”
Fuck. Dongju had washed the sheets three times, even tossed some scent neutralizer in with the final load even though it risked fucking up the machine. But he should’ve known better: Jonghyun had the best nose out of anyone he’d ever met. God, why hadn’t he just stayed in the guest room? Why did he have to go and invade Jonghyun’s space even knowing the risk?
…Well. He knew why. He knew exactly why, even though admitting it out loud scared the shit out of him.
He cleared his throat. “You really expected me to stay on the floor? Your bed can fit like ten people.”
It was the world’s weakest excuse, and it was also a testament to just how exhausted Jonghyun was that all he did was sigh and step further into the room. “Whatever. Just…leave me alone, Yoon Dongju. I don’t have the energy to deal with you right now.”
“Sure thing, Sarge.” Dongju snapped him a lazy salute for good measure before turning and trying his best not to stomp like a moody teenager back down the hall toward the guest room. The door closed behind him and he glared down at the sad lumpy sheets on the floor, torn between indignation and embarrassment because fuck this guy. Why, out of all the alphas in the world, did Yoon Dongju have to end up being drawn to the one who pissed him off the most?
Because that was why he’d been sleeping in Jonghyun’s bed these past two weeks. He’d tried, those first couple of nights, to force himself to stay in the guest room, to resist the pull that tugged at his heart like a retreating ocean wave, swirling and deep and insistent. But then every time he closed his eyes he saw the same thing: the gunshot ringing out in the dark, Jonghyun jerking back, face pale with shock before tumbling into the water. In his dreams Dongju dove in after him and grabbed him and pulled him back up. In his nightmares he searched futilely forever in the dark, grasping desperately over and over in the murky black for something, anything that would bring his alpha back, but the ocean swallowed Jonghyun up, leaving only sucking awful emptiness.
He’d given in and moved to the older man’s bedroom almost immediately. And it helped: surrounded by the familiarity of the alpha’s scent, Dongju slept better than he could remember doing in a long time. Something about Jonghyun’s presence, even the slightest trace of it, just settled Dongju’s nervous system, spoke to the omega deep inside him in a way that echoed of safety and home. And he wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what that meant.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been close to an alpha. There were plenty of them in school and at the academy, always sniffing around with greedy gleaming eyes and their pheromones choking the air with desperate dominance, intrigued by this omega who was not only male but also didn’t think twice about beating the shit out of anyone who got on his bad side. And they all did, eventually: typical dumbass alphas, preening and posturing and trying to get him to show his belly like a good little omega. There was something triumphant in breaking their faces, in showing them that he was more than just what his hormones dictated, that he wasn’t just some panting bitch to be bred.
And perhaps that was what had drawn him to Jonghyun, despite his best intentions. The older man was unlike any alpha Dongju had ever encountered: he didn’t strut, he didn’t brag, he didn’t insist on stinking up every room he entered with his pheromones like he owned everyone there. Kim Jonghyun moved and spoke with that self-assuredness and unwavering confidence that was characteristic of all alphas, but he didn’t take up space and he didn’t judge Dongju for his alignment. Sure, they bickered, but Jonghyun criticized him for his attitude, his approach to investigations, his abilities as a cop. Never once had he ever treated Dongju like he was less than just because he was an omega.
Was it any wonder then, that the first time Jonghyun smiled at him, the omega inside Dongju perked its ears up in interest?
Anyway, it—wasn’t a problem. There was a word for how he felt about Jonghyun, how even the faded remnants of the alpha’s scent in the bedsheets made Dongju feel warm and safe and cared for, made him want to push his nose up under Jonghyun’s jaw where his scent gland was, and bite and draw blood and claim. But it was just hormones, just a set of primal instincts rooted in the scent-marking and pair-bonding tendencies of his long-ago ancestors. It didn’t mean anything.
Besides, he still loved Ji Hanna. He loved her smile, her hair, her unwavering dedication to helping others and the way she kissed him like he was someone precious, someone worthy. It didn’t matter that she was another omega: Dongju wanted her. He wanted to be with her. Hanna was his future, the bright shining destination at the end of all his roads. Ji Hanna was real, while these feelings he was having for Jonghyun…they were purely biological, based on chemicals and receptors and nothing more. They were contrived, completely and utterly fake.
Nodding to himself, Dongju punched his lumpy pillow, lowered himself onto the cold thin bedsheets, and closed his eyes. He could sleep just fine on his own; he’d been doing it for his entire life, after all. He didn’t need Kim Jonghyun.
Four hours later, he threw the blanket back with a curse, rose to his feet, and shuffled down the hall.
The bedroom was quiet and dark when he nudged the door open, Jonghyun nothing but a motionless lump beneath the covers. Dongju crossed his arms, shifting from foot to foot. God, this was stupid. He should just go back to his room, tough it out for the rest of the night—so what if he had an early shift in the morning? He’d pulled all nighters before, and besides, Jonghyun needed the rest, the last thing the alpha needed right now was some desperate omega trying to—
The lump on the bed shifted, Jonghyun’s scent flickering into groggy awareness as he lifted his head, blinking slowly, and Dongju felt his face heat up. Fuck. He’d forgotten how light of a sleeper Jonghyun was. So much for sneaking back out unnoticed.
He was just starting to formulate an excuse— had to piss and opened the wrong door, haha, sorry, I’ll just go now— when Jonghyun gave a tired sigh. His head fell back onto the pillow, and Dongju had just begun to wonder if he’d fallen back asleep when Jonghyun huffed and lifted the edge of the blanket.
Dongju stared. Okay, that was…unexpected. But then Jonghyun muttered, in a voice hoarse and raspy with sleep, “Just get in here, you dick,” and, well. Yoon Dongju may have been many things, but he wasn’t an idiot.
Jonghyun’s comforting scent exploded around him the instant he slid under the covers, and Dongju might have been embarrassed by the noise he made in response except he was too busy being overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being safe. Still, even as he sank down onto the mattress and felt all the tension leak out of his body, he cleared his throat. “For the record, this means nothing and you’re still an asshole.”
“Mmhm.” A bit of shifting, and suddenly Jonghyun pressed up against his back, all hard planes and warm solidity as an arm snaked around Dongju’s waist and he tried to scoot away, really he did, except fuck, it just felt so fucking nice.
Still, he couldn’t let Jonghyun go around getting the wrong idea here. “Hey, just so you know—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, will you shut up.” Jonghyun’s warm breath puffed over the back of Dongju’s neck, making him shiver. His scent was everywhere: warm and reassuring and everything he’d ever dreamed of, fuck.
“I’m fucking tired and you smell nice, okay,” Jonghyun said then, sounding well on his way back to unconsciousness. The arm around Dongju’s waist tightened just a bit. “So just let me sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
The last few words were slurred, the older man’s breaths slowing against Dongju’s neck, and for one moment he thought about arguing anyway. Because this wasn’t right, this wasn’t how things were supposed to go: Kim Jonghyun was Yoon Dongju’s rival, his challenger, the man he was constantly fighting for the affections of the woman he loved. He was not Dongju’s friend, he was not his alpha and he was most certainly not his…
Behind him Jonghyun murmured something incoherent and shifted closer, molding himself to Dongju’s back, nothing but warmth and safety and protection. His scent settled over them both, solid and assured, and Dongju sighed. Fuck it. Jonghyun was right: they were both much too exhausted for this shit. This thing between them, whatever it entailed and whatever it meant for their future…it could wait. Everything else: Min Ju-yeong, SCIT, Insung, Korea, the whole wide world outside this warm little room they were in…all of it could wait. All of it, except for Kim Jonghyun, the solidity of his scent, and the promise of something bright and wonderful that Yoon Dongju had never dared hope to have.
They’d duke it out in the morning. For now he was just an omega in the arms of his alpha, and that was more than enough.
Closing his eyes and allowing himself to sink into the comforting scent of home, Dongju hummed and followed Jonghyun into sleep.