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The quiet of the apartment was broken by the faint crinkle of the ice pack every time Megan shifted.
She was stretched out on the couch, left leg elevated on a careful pile of pillows, ankle wrapped in a bandage that felt a little too tight and an ice pack that had already started to warm. She was wearing one of Yoonchae's oversized black shirts and a pair of athletic shorts that left the bruised, swollen skin completely visible.
Yoonchae appeared from the hallway carrying a tray. On it sat a glass of water, a plate of fruit cut into tiny pieces, two anti-inflammatory pills, and a neatly folded blanket.
—Not again...—Megan muttered the second she saw her coming — i already told you I don't need you treating me like I'm about to die. I just twisted my ankle, Yoonchae.
The alpha didn't answer right away. She set the tray down on the coffee table, knelt in front of the couch, and checked the bandage with firm, almost clinical fingers. Megan's scent had a grown stronger since morning. Yoonchae breathed it in quietly, feeling her own instincts pull tight.
—You're not sick, but you are hurt. And as long as that ankle can't hold you up, I will. It's simple.
—I'm a whole year older than you. An entire year. I'm not a kid you have to hand-feed and tuck in every five minutes. I can get up to go to the bathroom by myself. I can—
—You can't. — Yoonchae cut in, that calm tone that always got under Megan's skin.— You tried an hour ago and almost fell, Megan. If I hadn't been there, you'd be on the floor right now crying from pain and wounded pride.
Megan opened her mouth to argue, but Yoonchae was already settling the blanket over her legs, covering her up to the waist. Then she held out the water and the pills.
—Take them.
—I don't wan to.
—Megan...
— Don't treat me like I'm weak just because I'm an omega and you're an alpha. That's so... so cliche.
Yoonchae went still for a second. Then she rose just enough to bring herself level with Megan's face. Her dark eyes held no irritation, only that quiet determination she always wore when something truly mattered to her.
—I'm not treating you like you're a weak.— she said.— I'm treating like you're mine. And my omega is hurt, so yes, I'm going to keep bringing you cut-up fruit, I'm going to keep changing the ice, and I'm going to keep tucking you in even if you yell at me. You can protest all you want. I'm still doing it.
Megan felt her ears burn
—You're impossible. —she muttered, but she took the pills and drank the water in one go. —An impossible, stubborn alpha.
—And you're an impossible, stubborn omega who refuses to stay still even after twisting her ankle practicing choreography at three in the morning— Yoonchae shot back, a faint spark of amusement in her eyes —now eat the fruit. It's cold, the way you like it.
Megan looked at the plate. Grapes, mango, and a couple of strawberries cut into quarters. Exactly how she like them.
—Only because I'm hungry...
Yoonchae's mouth curved into the smallest smile, the only Megan ever got to see.
—Yeah, of course.
A few quieter minutes passed. Megan ate slowly, occasionally sneaking glances at her alpha, who had settled on the floor beside the couch, back against the edge, scrolling through something on her phone with one hand while the other rested near Megan’s bandaged leg, ready for anything.
When Megan finished the fruit, Yoonchae stood, cleared the tray, and returned with a fresh ice pack wrapped in a soft towel. She knelt again and carefully removed the old one.
—Cold— she warned before placing it.
Megan grimaced when the chill touched the swollen skin, but she didn’t complain. Yoonchae adjusted the position of her leg, rearranged the pillows, and then, without asking, leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to the bare skin of Megan’s knee.
The omega tensed.
—What are you doing?!
—Taking care of you— Yoonchae answered like it was obvious. Want me to bring the remote? Or should I put a movie on?
—I’d rather you stop treating me like I’m five— Megan huffed, though the fight was already draining from her voice. —I’m older than you, Yoonchae, by a year, that counts.
Yoonchae lifted her gaze. She studied her for a long moment, with that calm intensity that always made Megan feel like the world had gotten smaller and warmer at the same time.
—I know—she said quietly. —I know you’re older. I know you’re independent. I know you hate asking for help. But I also know your ankle hurts, that you’re frustrated, and that your omega is restless because she can’t move the way she wants. So let me. Just… let me.
Megan opened her mouth to protest again. The words were already forming on her tongue, pride still intact and ready to defend itself.
Yoonchae leaned in.
And kissed her.
It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was firm, decisive, exactly the kind of kiss she used when she wanted to silence Megan without raising her voice. One of Yoonchae’s hands braced against the back of the couch; the other settled carefully on Megan’s cheek, holding her steady while her mouth covered Megan’s and stole every complaint that had been about to escape.
Megan went rigid for a second. Her heart slammed so hard it almost hurt. Her omega let out an internal squeak, startled and deliciously nervous. Then, clumsily, she kissed back. Her lips moved against Yoonchae’s with a little awkwardness, a little embarrassment, and a lot of built-up need. The taste of fruit was still on her tongue; Yoonchae’s mixed with it until it became addictive.
When they finally pulled apart, Megan was flushed all the way down her neck. Her breathing had gone a little uneven. Yoonchae only looked a little more dark-eyed, a quiet satisfaction settling over her features.
—Quiet— the alpha murmured against her lips. —that’s how I like you better when you’re hurt, fewer protests, more… this.
Megan swallowed. She wanted to say something clever, something that would salvage a scrap of dignity, but all that came out was a rough whisper:
—You’re… so unfair... — she said while trembling slightly
Yoonchae smiled and stole another short, almost playful kiss.
—I know, now stay put, I’m going to make you tea. And if you move off this couch, I’m tying you down with the blanket. Not kidding.
Megan watched her walk toward the kitchen, the heat of the kiss still lingering on her mouth and her heart beating far too fast.
Yoonchae returned from the kitchen carrying a new tray, heavier this time. The soft clink of ceramic and the faint steam rising from a mug of tea announced her before she even stepped fully into the living room. Behind her, the kettle still hummed quietly, as if the apartment itself had decided to settle into caretaker mode.
Megan watched her approach from her spot on the couch, chin propped on one hand, the other resting loosely over the blanket. The ice pack had started to melt again, a cold dampness seeping through the towel and into her skin, but she didn’t complain. Not yet.
Yoonchae set the tray down with careful precision. This time there was more: a small bowl of warm rice porridge, a side of soft scrambled eggs, another glass of water, a fresh set of painkillers, and a second mug of honey-lemon tea already steeped the way Megan liked it, strong, not too sweet. There was even a little dish of chocolate-covered almonds, the expensive kind Yoonchae usually hid from her.
Megan’s eyes narrowed at the almonds.
—You’re bribing me now?
—I’m feeding you— Yoonchae corrected calmly, kneeling once more beside the couch. She tested the temperature of the porridge with the back of a spoon, then held it out. —Open.
Megan stared at the spoon like it had personally offended her.
—I can feed myself!
—You can. But your ankle is elevated, your balance is terrible right now, and if you spill hot porridge on yourself I’m going to have to clean it up while you pretend it doesn’t hurt. So open.
For a long second Megan held her ground, pride flickering stubbornly behind her eyes. Then something in her softened—just a little. Her omega had been restless all afternoon, pacing inside her chest, craving the steady presence of her alpha. The scent of Yoonchae had wrapped around the room like a second blanket. Resistance was starting to feel more exhausting than surrender.
Megan parted her lips.
Yoonchae fed her the first spoonful without a word, watching carefully to make sure it wasn’t too hot. Megan chewed slowly, eyes fixed on the alpha’s face, and something in her expression shifted. The usual sharp edges dulled. Her shoulders dropped a fraction.
—Another— Yoonchae murmured, already scooping more.
Megan took it. Then the next. And the next. She didn’t protest when Yoonchae wiped a tiny bit of porridge from the corner of her mouth with her thumb. She didn’t complain when the alpha switched to the scrambled eggs, either. By the time the bowl was half empty, Megan had leaned her head against the back of the couch and was watching Yoonchae with quieter eyes.
—You’re enjoying this too much...— she mumbled around a mouthful.
—I’m enjoying that you’re finally letting me— Yoonchae replied, voice low. She set the empty bowl aside and picked up the tea, blowing on it once before offering it. —Small sips.
Megan obeyed. The warmth slid down her throat and settled in her chest. When she finished, Yoonchae traded the mug for the painkillers and water. Megan swallowed them without argument this time.
The change was subtle but unmistakable. Her body had started to tilt toward Yoonchae almost without permission. When the alpha adjusted the ice pack again, Megan’s hand drifted out and caught the edge of Yoonchae’s sleeve, holding on. When Yoonchae reached for the remote to put something quiet on the tv Megan’s fingers tightened just enough to stop her.
—Stay— she said, soft and a little sulky. —don’t go back to the kitchen yet.
Yoonchae’s eyebrows lifted slightly. A small, private smile curved her mouth.
—I’m not going anywhere.
She shifted so she was sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, close enough that Megan could rest her free hand on Yoonchae’s shoulder. After a moment of hesitation, Megan slid her fingers into the alpha’s hair instead, absently carding through the soft strands the way she usually only did when she thought Yoonchae was asleep.
Yoonchae let her.
—You’re being clingy— the alpha observed, not unkindly. There was a note of quiet satisfaction underneath the words.
Megan’s ears pinked, but she didn’t pull away.
—…My ankle hurts. And you smell good. And you brought the good almonds. So shut up.
Yoonchae huffed a soft laugh and reached up, covering Megan’s hand with her own for a second before turning just enough to press a slow kiss to the inside of the omega’s wrist. The scent gland there was warm and faintly sweet. Megan shivered.
—Then be clingy— Yoonchae said against her skin. —I’m right here, you’re allowed.
Something in Megan finally gave way.
She tugged lightly at Yoonchae’s hair until the alpha understood and rose, carefully climbing onto the couch beside her injured leg. Yoonchae settled against the armrest and opened her arms without a word. Megan hesitated only a second before shifting closer, tucking herself carefully against Yoonchae’s side so her ankle stayed elevated. She buried her face against the alpha’s collarbone and inhaled deeply, shameless now.
Yoonchae’s arm came around her shoulders, steady and warm. The other hand smoothed the blanket over both of them, then rested lightly over Megan’s hip.
—Better?— Yoonchae asked quietly.
Megan made a small, muffled sound that might have been agreement. Her fingers curled into the fabric of Yoonchae’s shirt. The restless edge inside her had finally started to settle, soothed by the solid presence of her alpha and the quiet permission to be taken care of.
—You’re still annoying...— Megan mumbled against her skin, voice softer than it had been all day. —But… this is nice. Don’t stop.
Yoonchae’s lips brushed the top of her head.
—I wasn’t planning to.
Yoonchae kissed Megan again.