Work Text:
It starts on the commute home: a dull throb behind Sion's eyes as he clutches onto the pole in front of of him, swaying with the start and stop of the train. He breaks into a sweat in the already hot, overcrowded subway car. His tie is suddenly too tight around his neck as he weaves through throngs of people to get out on his stop. His limbs feel like lead as he drags himself from the station to his apartment, making it back just before dark clouds cover the sky. The migraine luckily doesn't fully set in until he collapses onto the sofa with a groan.
The days leading up to Sion's heat are worse than the heat itself.
Heats are predicable. Sion knows what his body needs once it starts. He knows exactly what to do to settle the simmer under his skin, his methods tried and true. Heats don't hurt either—at least not for him. It's just a single-minded focus that passes over in a few days. It's manageable, but better with a partner.
Pre-heats though? His symptoms are all over the place. A couple of times, he's been completely fine and he didn't even realize what's going on until he's fully under (which Sion doesn't really mind, all things considered, but it was super annoying trying to call out sick when he was too feverish to form a single though). Sometimes in the week leading up, his limbs ache. Sometimes it's his back and his hips, leaving him bed-bound and cranky. Sometimes he just gets a mild headache, and sometimes the throbbing in his skull—like right now—is unbearable. He gets too nauseous to stomach more than light broth and exhausted to the point that he once wondered—only slightly delirious and spurred on by another Twilight re-watch—if vampires really did exist, is this what it would feel like to have all the blood sucked out of his body, until just a sad little omega husk is left behind?
It doesn't help that his heat cycle is so irregular, too. It would be great if it came every three months like it's supposed to, but Sion's body likes to surprise him. Six months, five months, two months. Once, he went almost nine months without a single heat. He's tried different treatments, but heat suppressants make everything worse and and anything else he's tried over the years barely did anything.
He thought it would get better after moving in with Riku, but…
Sion sniffles. So it's going to be one of those days—the kind where he starts tearing up at the drop of a hat. It's Sion's least favorite. Everything just becomes too much all of a sudden and his eyes are replaced by two leaky faucets that refuse to be fixed.
He misses Riku.
They aren't mates technically, but they may as well be. They've been seeing each other exclusively for years. They're heat partners. They live together. They love each other. And all Sion wants is to do right now is bury his nose in his mate's neck and breathe in his scent until all of this is over.
Riku is a blend of all things comforting and perfect: tangerines with undertones of vanilla and jasmine that soften his bright, citrus scent into something warmer. Vanilla like the ice cream they shared on their first date. Jasmine like the flowers Sion got for him on their first anniversary. Tangerines like memories of summers in Jeju: peaceful mornings with his grandparents and sunny afternoons spent running around outside with his sister and cousins, hands and cheeks sticky with the juice of fresh fruit.
Back then, things were more simple. No job (ugh, he's going to have to call out tomorrow if this keeps up). No heats or pre-heats. No designation at all. Just little Oh Sion without a care in the world, who assumed he'd grow up to be an alpha just like his mom. Or maybe a beta like his dad. Maybe he could be like his cousin, Jaehyun, who—in the eyes of thirteen year old Oh Sion—was the coolest person ever.
One summer, Sion and his sister sat in harabeoji's study as he showed them their family tree, tracing it back as far as the records could go. Aunts and uncles, distant cousins, and great-great-grandparents; in their entire lineage, there wasn't a single omega. Until Sion.
Sion sighs and rubs at his eyes.
He misses Riku. But his mate isn't here. It's just Sion alone in this cold apartment in Seoul, rain starting to patter against the windows mockingly, hundreds of droplets versus one lonely omega. His head hurts.
With a heavy hand, Sion tugs his tie and scent blockers off, his own scent suffocatingly strong. He grimaces and drags himself off the sofa, leaving a trail of his work clothes behind him as he makes his way to the bedroom. Riku won't be happy about the mess, but Sion can't bring himself to do much about it. Riku won't like how he swallows down a painkiller dry either, but can't scold when he doesn't know.
Riku should be here; they should never be apart like this. But all Sion has is their bed and Riku's clothes. The hoodie Riku wears around the house is folded neatly at the foot of the mattress. A single tear slips down Sion's cheek as he pulls it on, surrounding himself with the scent of tangerines. He rubs at his cheek roughly—because seriously, is that something to cry over?!—and tightens the hood around his head. It isn't even close to enough, though. He needs more than this.
They haven't done laundry yet, so Sion digs through the treasure trove of scents to find some of Riku's shirts, the shorts he wears to sleep sometimes, and one of his towels. The undertones of jasmine as stronger here, settling over Sion's shoulders and wrapping him up in a gentle hug.
The bed is made every morning with the precision that can only be found in hotel rooms and wherever Maeda Riku resides. Sion smiles, even as his eyes water. They're both messy sleepers; Riku sweats a lot and Sion rolls around until the blanket is tangled between his legs and his pillow is half off the bed. It would make more sense for them to each have their own blanket, but they haven't gotten around to actually doing it. This just works for them. Sion likes being able to use Riku as his personal furnace when his feet get cold, and Riku says he likes Sion's scent on his skin.
He pulls back the blanket and drops the clothes onto the sheets, collapsing onto them in a similarly crumpled pile of limbs. Far from his best work, but it'll have to do for now.
The nest is complete with the Mew plush toy Riku won for him years ago at an arcade, months before their first real date, back when Sion would frantically pull up Naver every two days, searching: omega dating omega, can omegas date each other, im an omega who likes an omega.
That was six years ago.
They met through a friend of a friend, just before Sion started graduate school. Riku showed up at Shotaro's birthday party with a year of living in Korea under his belt and these gentle doe-eyes and soft dimples that Sion couldn't stop thinking about days later.
Dating is weird when you're raised to be an alpha whose supposed to be into omegas and betas. Weirder when you end up being an omega yourself and everyone flips the script—if you can't be an alpha, you should at least mate with one.
And even more weird when he apparently looks like an alpha (whatever that means), when he smells like coffee with the smallest hint of chocolate, unusual for an omega and overpowering in a way that isn't the most appealing for people with a preference for his designation.
But Riku…Everything just made sense with Riku.
("You smell like tiramisu," Riku told him once, nose pressed to his nape and big hands on Sion's waist.
"Really?" Sion leaned back. His lips twitched up when Riku's fingers began to slide up towards his chest. He'd describe his own scent as mocha: dark chocolate and a dash of milk mixed into what was meant to be an Americano. "Most people say I just smell like pour-over coffee."
Riku nuzzled him. "There's more sweetness there, if you pay attention."
"Mmn, and you give hyung lots of attention, don't you, Riku-ya?" Sion smiled. He didn't even have to look to know Riku was blushing.
Keep giving hyung lots of attention.)
Tiramisu and tangerines are an odd combination, aren't they? But it's the mix of their scents that starts to ease Sion's migraine. He nuzzles Riku's towel and takes a deep breath.
He misses Riku so much.
His sweet, lovely Riku with his goofy laugh and kind eyes. His Riku who works harder than anyone Sion knows, incredible at anything he sets his mind to. Riku, who comes from a traditional line of omegas and wanted to be with Sioneven though he could've been with anyone else, should've been with an alpha like everyone says he's supposed to be. Riku, who knows him so well, who understands him, and—
He isn't sure how long he's been curled up when the front door clicks open.
"Hyung?"
Sion sits up quickly. Maybe too quickly, his head spinning. His throat is dry and his voice comes out hoarse. "Yeobo?"
"Sionie-hyung?" There's the familiar sound of Riku taking his shoes off, a rustle of a plastic bag. And then Riku—handsome in his button down and one of Sion's ties, glasses slipping down his nose—is in their bedroom, frowning. "Hyung, it started already?"
According to Riku, Sion's undertones become stronger when he's in heat, his scent softening until he smells like melted milk chocolate. More than once, Riku could tell when Sion's cycle was about to start before Sion even realized it. With that sharp nose of his, of course he could immediately pick up on Sion's pre-heat.
Sion tries to smile. His eyes are heavy. "Welcome home, Riku-ya."
"Oh, hyung." Riku rushes over to the bed and places a cool palm to Sion's forehead. "Why didn't you call me?"
Because Riku was at work. He had to have dinner with his colleagues, and even though Riku doesn't particularly like them (and Sion definitely doesn't like them), he couldn't just not go. As hard as his brain is trying to trick him, misery seeping into his bones, he knows that logically he could manage a few extra hours. He's a grown man. This is far from his first pre-heat.
Still, Sion curls his fingers into Riku's shirt, craving the sweetness of flower and citrus. All he finds is smoke. A traitorous lump forms in his throat. "You smell like barbecue."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry, hyung." Riku settles onto Sion's lap. He pulls his scent blockers off, then guides Sion's face to his neck, finally letting the smell of tangerines and cream cut through the meat and grease. "I'll take shower."
A low growl rumbles in Sion's chest. His mate just got here. How could he leave Sion alone again already?
"You can join me," Riku purrs. The vibrations instantly soothe Sion's nerves. "A bath would be nice right now, wouldn't it, hyung?"
Sion nods slowly. It would be nice to wash up. He could've done it himself. Or at least, he should have. But it is admittedly easier to make his way out of the room with Riku's arm slung around his waist. It's easier to let Riku peel their clothes off gently until the only thing left are a pair of matching necklaces they picked out together last year.
Not exactly engagement rings, but they may as well be.
(Plus everyone who knows them says that they're basically married. Their friends have been saying it for at least two years now. A six year relationship is significant, and it's also not much at all when Sion looks at his parents and his grandparents. But when he met Riku, it was like they had already known each other for a lifetime.)
"I missed you today." Riku runs his fingers over the tie he stole from Sion's side of the closet, folding it with care. This morning, he batted his eyes and pouted until Sion helped him put it on, claiming that Sion has been smelling extra good lately (he always says that), that he wanted a hint of mocha close to him to get him through the day. "I think part of me knew you were going into heat soon."
Sion slips his arms around his…His boyfriend. His partner. His fiancé and his mate, laws be damned. His Riku.
Sure, Sion can manage by himself. But the years between first presenting and spending a heat with Riku weren't exactly great. Riku didn't just relieve his heat, but he taught him so much: how to properly make a nest, how to ease his hip pain, how to roll with the fluctuating waves of hormones.
Riku's omega is the opposite of his in some ways. His cycles are regular and his pre-heats pass by with little fanfare. His actual heats are much more intense though, leaving him unbearably feverish and teary-eyed until Sion takes care of him.
"Come on," Riku whispers. He slips his hand into Sion's and guides him under the warm stream of water.
It's actually a little ridiculous how quickly the shower helps—especially as the smoke cloaking Riku washes away and allows his bright scent to shine. The heaviness in Sion's skull starts to ease up bit by bit, and he can finally blink without feeling like his eyes are about to fall out.
"Does anything hurt?"
Sion shakes his head, but he rests his forehead on Riku's shoulder—just because.
Long, soapy fingers slide over his ribs and his back. They've done this a thousand times before, and they'll do it thousands of more times, but the warmth in Sion's chest never changes. A soft palm rests on Sion's neck before rubbing at the muscle Sion hadn't even realized was tense.
Sion purrs, loud and content.
"Ah, hyung's so cute like this," Riku chuckles softly. His fingers are practiced and sure.
"Nn, my Riku's cuter," Sion replies stubbornly. He squeezes Riku's waist. "Always."
That pulls out a squeaky giggle from Riku. He nuzzles Sion's temple and keeps massaging his neck and shoulders until he deems Sion relaxed enough (he hasn't been fully relaxed since the day he started law school). Riku's hands settle low on Sion's hips.
"Can I wash you here?" Riku asks. He always asks, in part because before his heat, Sion tends to get overly sensitive to the point of discomfort. In part because it's always been important to Riku, omega to omega, to ask. "Or do you want to do it yourself, hyung?"
Sion leans in closer and presses his nose to where the scent of tangerines is strongest. "Can you do it for hyung?"
"Of course." Riku's touch is even softer than usual as he lathers Sion up, then rinses the soap away. He washes himself much faster, laughing fondly when Sion clumsily tries to help, squirting too much conditioner into Riku's waiting palm.
"I wish you called me the moment you started feeling sick," Riku sighs as he turns the water off. He wraps one towel around Sion's shoulders and another around his waist.
"I'm fine, yeobo." He smiles as Riku meticulously dries off his arms and chest.
"We weren't even meeting a client." Riku dabs at Sion's back. "They just wanted to drink for the sake of it, and if the whole team is there, then...Ugh. I could've been back ages ago."
"Seriously, Riku-ya. It's not that bad." He wants to ask more. How dinner went, if anyone said anything unsavory.
The thing about Riku's colleagues is—they're kind of shit, to put it lightly.
Designations are supposed to be private; even if it's on file, no one has to reveal themselves in the workplace unless they want to. Of course, as is any rule designed to do the absolute bare minimum—mostly unhelpful in practice to anyone, least of all omegas—it's easy to poke holes in it. It's easy to find out who betas are, since they don't have the same extended medical leave. Most alphas have no qualms about revealing their nature. So when it comes to omegas…
For Sion, when the topic of enlistment comes up, he has to decide if he wants to lie about it, change the topic, or tell them that he never went at all. Riku is great at putting on a facade. But when he went into an unexpected heat in the middle of a random Tuesday (possibly triggered by Sion's own unexpected cycle that just ended two days prior), it was obvious to everyone what was going on when he had to rush home, the scent blockers doing little to cover up creamy citrus.
When he called Sion up sobbing, it wasn't because of the pain in his body.
Things changed for Riku after that. Nothing bad enough to file a complaint with the little protections that do exist ("There isn't much that can be done at this stage," Taeyong-sunbaenim told Sion over their mid-day coffee, the corners of his lips tugging downwards). It isn't easy being a known omega in the corporate world.
He's been trying to find a new job, spending hours prepping for interviews to no avail. Sion's been trying to tell him to just quit—now he could take care of both of them until Riku finds something new, at least for a few months.
Maeda Riku is easy-going and mellow on most days, but he can become downright mulish. Fire burned in his eyes at Sion's suggestion: "I'm not giving them the satisfaction."
It sucks. It really fucking sucks. Sion prides himself on keeping his head held high, comfortable in his omegan nature even when people try to build rigid walls around him. But even he has off days, and it's then when Sion wonders why he does what he does when it feels like he can't make even the smallest change.
It's one thing to be an omega, and it's a whole other issue to be an unmated omega (on paper) running off to attend to a mystery partner's cycle, and another omega at that. He can't put Riku in a worse situation than he's already in just because he had a bit of a headache.
"Hyung always takes care of me," Riku mumbles. It isn't the first time they've had this conversation. It probably won't be the last. "I want to be able to…"
"You do, Riku-ya. You are." Sion steps closer into his touch. Riku gets too far into his own head sometimes, but Sion needs him to know no one could make him feel more loved than this.
Riku just sighs and towels Sion's hair off, mouth stuck in a pout. Sion softens. Does Riku even realize how sweet his expressions are? But before Sion can lean in for a kiss, Riku is securing the towel around his shoulders again and guiding him to the bathtub.
The tub is tiny, just barely allowing two adults to indulge in a lower body soak. Sion has to bend his knees to fit even by himself. Their last two apartments didn't have a tub, and this place is further out from their jobs, but when Riku offhandedly mentioned that he missed being able to take baths more often, Sion knew this would be perfect. What his Riku wants, his Riku will get.
Riku turns the water on, still pouting cutely as he checks the temperature. And then he's fussing over Sion again. He adjusts the towel around Sion's shoulders again and runs his fingers through his hair, mumbling, "Can't have you catching a cold, should've brought the robes…"
"You'd take care of our pups so well," Sion blurts out.
Riku's fingers slow to a stop. Sion blushes.
"Hyung?" Riku presses the back of his hand to Sion's forehead. He's so damn cute with his wide eyes. "Our pups?"
And it's…It's not like they haven't talked about it before. Really, Riku is the one who brings it up more than him, sighing wistfully over baby clothes and saying things like "you'd make such a good father, hyung" then continuing about his day like he didn't just turn Sion's entire world on its side.
Sion didn't give parenthood much thought before he moved in with Riku. Not that he was adamantly opposed to it, but it wasn't really on his radar. He has five and ten year plans mapped out, and kids weren't penciled into them. But, as he's learned in the last decade, life is unexpected.
His mate loves kids. Riku spent a lot of his youth taking care of his younger cousins, and then his nieces and nephews. He's the first to volunteer when Youngho-hyung needs someone to babysit the twins (which means Sion is also volunteering), and their fridge is half covered in drawings from pups ranging from toddlers to pre-teens. Kids adore Riku, always clinging to his side and giggling while he plays with them. And he's so natural with them, gooey affection clear on his pretty features.
And the more time Sion spends with pups, the more he finds himself coming back to Riku's words. Maybe he could be a father. Maybe he could raise a pup, provide for them and give them as much love as is in his heart and more.
They talk about it sometimes, albeit vaguely, curled up in their nest, late in the night when one of them (usually Sion) can't sleep. Marriage, mating, having kids. Logically, it's just wishful thinking; a fantasy that only omegas with an alpha or beta could turn into a reality. But then in the darkness of their room, Riku would grin, brilliant and sweet, and Sion would think: I'd do anything for him to keep smiling like that.
So maybe it's random. But is it really?
"Hyung's gonna find a way to give you pups." It's out there now. He isn't going to take it back when he means it. There's a lump forming in his throat again. "A family."
"Sionie-hyung…"
Riku blinks a few times, his eyes welling up with tears and—oh no, if Riku cries right now, then Sion definitely will too. So he squeezes Riku's waist with a grin. "Ah, but if you have them, would they be pups or kittens?"
Riku lets out a wet chuckle. "Hyung."
"What, what?"
Riku sniffles and takes his lower lip between his teeth, fixing his gaze on the tub. "I think the water is ready."
He follows Riku into the bathtub, the temperature just right. "It's not just heat-talk, Riku-ya. I mean it."
Riku hums in acknowledgement, but he won't meet Sion's gaze (it's been years since he's last done that). He sinks into the water until it sloshes around his ribs.
Sion is broader, and when they stand, he's taller. But like this, since he's—as Riku so lovingly puts it—ninety percent legs, he's shorter as he settles against Riku's chest. Riku's hands and feet are bigger, but Sion is stronger, his arms and legs more built up than Riku's. Tangerines and tiramisu, but they compliment each other well, filling in each other's gaps instead of wearing each other down.
Riku's hands rest on Sion's belly, rubbing slow circles into his skin. His chest rumbles with soft purrs, his sweet scent filling the space around them. Tangerines aren't just summers in Jeju anymore. They’re rushed morning after a missed alarm and quiet evenings sprawled out on the sofa with a drama on as they doze off. They’re tangled fingers and overlapping laughter, coming together in a melody only they could make.
Tangerines and tiramisu. And maybe, one day, the mild scent of a pup with them. The patter of tiny feet on the floor. A small hand enveloped in their larger ones. A third voice joining theirs, giggling when Riku swings them around, cackling when Sion tickles them. They're both from coastal towns—between Mokpo and Fukui, would the baby love the ocean as much as they do? Playing in the sand and chasing the waves; would the sun shower their baby in kisses the way Sion is sure he and Riku would?
"I'd like that," Riku finally whispers. "I'd really, really like that."
"Hmm?" Sion blinks a few times. He hadn't realized his eyes slipped shut, that he let his head fall back onto Riku's shoulder.
"A family." Riku nuzzles Sion's neck, scenting him. "With hyung. I want us to make it happen."
Water splashes over the lip of the tub when Sion turns to kiss Riku. Or, he tries to. It's hard when they're both grinning this much. "We will make it happen. Hyung will look into some options."
Things have been changing for better, day by day. Some victories, some losses. But hope, Sion has found, is something worth hanging onto.
"Okay." Riku cups his cheek. "But not right this second. I want you to rest, hyung."
Ah, Riku knows him too well.
Sion presses his lips to Riku's palm, then his fingertips. "Your fingers are like raisins, Riku-chan."
Riku huffs, his eyes twinkling. "I bet yours are, too. Should we go to bed?"
Sion steals one more kiss before Riku helps him out of the bath and into the other half of a set of matching bathrobes. Riku bought them when they first moved in together—one of the many couple items they have.
He settles onto the bed, eyes slipping shut, exhaustion claiming him in full force now that he's horizontal again.
A few months ago, Daeyoung got them to finally try out the baking class he teaches on weekends (as if being a high school teacher didn't keep him busy enough). They're thankfully low-commitment, and even though both him and Riku admittedly aren't great at baking, the handful of times they've gone were fun. Last class, Daeyoung challenged them to a lava cake—when you cut into the chocolate cake, melted chocolate is supposed to ooze out. Their cake ended up undercooked and runny, but the one Daeyoung made was delicious.
That's how Sion feels right now as Riku fixes up the nest into something more comfortable; his insides are melted and sticky and warm. The headache lingers, and his limbs are still heavy, and he's so tired—but he squirms around, a grin spreading across his face.
"Pretty," Riku mumbles before he curls up next to Sion. "I'm guessing you didn't eat yet, hyung?"
Sion shifts closer until he can rest his head on Riku's shoulder and slip one leg between Riku's thighs. "Not hungry."
"You're always telling me to eat and getting mad when I forget. Now look at this hyung," Riku nags, but there's no heat in his voice. He nuzzles the top of Sion's head. "Tell me what you want to have, or it'll be whatever I want."
"Whatever Riku wants."
"Hyung…" There's a fifty percent chance that Riku just rolled his eyes. "How about juk?"
Sion hums softly. That's usually his go-to for pre-heats. Normally, he'd make it himself, or at least prepare it in advance for Riku to warm up later, but thought of being in the kitchen for more than two seconds nearly makes him whine. "Dakjuk. No…Jeonjuk."
"'Kay." Riku strokes his hair. "I'll order from that place in Myeongdong. But tomorrow I'll cook for hyung."
With great effort, Sion lifts his head to squint at Riku. "You'll cook?"
"Yeobo." Riku pouts. "I've gotten better…"
Sion doesn't mean to make a face but he can't help it. He loves Riku more than anyone or anything in the world, but his cooking expertise start and end with fried eggs and bacon à la Howl’s Moving Castle. "Ah…"
"Unbelievable." Riku sniffs, but his eyes glimmer with mirth. “I’m trying to make sure my hyung has a nice, homemade meal and here’s Oh Sion, bullying his wife. You're lucky you're sick right now…"
Sion bites the crook of Riku's neck. "Maybe I'll eat you."
Riku laughs softly. His hand trails down to rub Sion's back, tilting his head to the side to let Sion bury his nose against his scent gland.
They fall into a comfortable silence, Sion's breathing falling in rhythm with Riku's. His mind drifts: sunlight spilling into their kitchen on a warm, spring day. Riku leaning against the counter, Sion at the stove, and their baby is there too. Maybe they're a little older now, standing on a stool, chirping in a sweet voice: Appa!
His backs of his eyes prickle—ah, here he goes again. Sion squeezes his eyes shut, but a tear slips away anyway. He isn't even sad. It's just—
"G-get the recipe from Daeyoungie," Sion forces out. His voice betrays him and wobbles at the end. Ugh.
Oh Sion doesn't cry much—not like his mate does. Riku could cry over a cloud if it's in just the right place in the sky. But, he likes that about Riku. He admires it, even if it's hard sometimes to allow himself to let go.
Riku pulls him closer until he can wrap one arm around him. Jasmine and tangerines bloom when he starts to purr. "Okay. I will, hyung."
He'll probably have to call out tomorrow. Usually pre-heats last a few days, but when Sion's symptoms stockpile, his full heat comes a lot sooner. But Taeyong-sunbae needs the document he was drafting by mid-day tomorrow. Maybe after dinner he could get an hour or two or work in. That should be enough. Worst comes to worst, he could reach out to Jaemin-hyung and—
"Sionie-hyung." Riku is stern, but kind. Sometimes Sion wonders if he can read his mind. "Food will be here in twenty minutes. Focus on my voice until then, okay?"
Riku rummages around their night stand for a moment, making a soft, happy noise when he finds what he's looking for. "When I was six years old, I once saw…"
When he was a child, there was a book Sion's mother would read to him before bed. He didn't understand it back then, but he loved the colorful pictures and the lilt of her voice, the way she brought the words to life.
("Eomma, more!" Sion would say when she closed the book for the night.
She would shake her head, exasperated, and press a kiss to his forehead. Her strong espresso scent would wrap around him and linger even after she returned to her own room. "Sweet dreams, my little prince.")
He read it again, on his own, on a rainy day when the baseball game he was supposed to go to with his father and sister was cancelled.
("Our little prince, don't look so sad.")
And then again, years later, when he was recovering from presenting a month after his eighteenth birthday, his body too sore to carry him to school or the barn that houses the calves, where he liked to nap on the bales of hay.
("Good morning, my little prince," his mother said when Sion woke up after three days of unconsciousness, smiling even though he wasn't the alpha he knows she wishes he was. Smiling, even as her scent was closer to over-roasted coffee beans than the smooth espresso he was used to.)
He flipped through the worn pages of the book one last time before he left Mokpo for Seoul. His parents gave him a necklace—one that he still wears to this day, right next to the pendant he bought with Riku—and hugged him tight.
("Our little prince, make us proud.")
Before he presented, people always told Sion he was like his mother. She's strong, with a sharp-mind and a way with words that people would stop to listen to. Sion always admired her. He wanted to be like her, even as he grew older and realized she wasn't a perfect superhero that he'd see on TV.
She's stubborn and doesn't yield easily. She runs a tight ship and she has a vision; she doesn't like when things veer off-course. She's always thinking three steps ahead: Sion-ah try this, and Sion-ah you should do that. She tries to be open-minded—she's never actually let him feel less-than for being an omega—but she can't shake the traditions she grew up with. She's fiercely protective, baring her teeth at whatever she deems even the smallest threat to her pups, her mate, her legacy. She's a person.
And his mother loves him dearly—Sion knows she does. But even if he talks himself blue trying to explain it, she'll never understand what it means to be an omega. She'll smile and listen when he talks about Riku, but she doesn't understand why he didn't choose to be with an alpha instead.
("Sion-ah." She sighed and pulled him aside, like he was a rowdy kid who ended up in the emergency room for running around with a toothbrush in his mouth, instead of an adult who brought his partner of four years to meet his parents. "He's very nice. But why do you always insist on making things more difficult for yourself?")
It's…better now, in some ways. His mother is always kind to Riku, because she's always kind to everyone. Sometimes her scent goes burnt and acidic, sometimes she's blunt instead of careful with her words, sometimes she demands, and demands, and demands without realizing it. But Sion knows she's trying.
"…And the little prince had a very pretty burst of laughter…" Riku's gentle voice brings him back—back to their nest, rain streaming down their windows and painting the room gray.
It's weird that he's now around the age his parents were when they had him. They were so young, in the grand scheme of things. They're still learning now, so how much did they know back then? What kind of father would Sion be? He's just a person, too.
Riku pauses. Because he can always tell. "Sionie-hyung."
"I'm listening." He slips his hand under Riku's robe and presses his palm to his heart. "I'm listening."
Riku kisses the top of his head and flips the page. He's warm and solid under Sion's limbs, and when Sion mouths at his neck again, he's so distinctly Riku. Sion takes a slow, deep breath. And then another. Tangerines and tiramisu, inextricable from one another.
"Love you," Sion mumbles.
The last thing he hears before drifting off is Riku, always so sweet: "I love you, too."