Chapter Text
By the time the music ended for what could have been the millionth time that night, Hanbin found himself bowed over with his hands on his knees, breathing deep and hard. Sweat from his brow was dripping onto the hardwood flood underneath him, creating dark spots that held his attention almost hypnotically, and reverberating through the room he could hear identical gasps of air mirroring his own.
His body felt heavy and weary. His muscles ached and burned and threatened to give out on him. There was a pounding at his temple that could easily evolve from a headache to something worse.
And still.
Still, he forced himself to straighten up, and at least pretend as if he wasn’t close to collapse.
“Hanbin.”
The uncharacteristically gruffness of Jiwoong’s voice snagged Hanbin’s attention from where he’d been turning towards the sound system in the room. Instead the noise had him pivoting back towards the group.
Jiwoong looked as sweaty and tired as Hanbin felt.
There were dark patches of dampness from sweat underneath Jiwoong’s arms, and on his back, and he’d long since stripped down to a simple pair of pants and the lightest shirt possible. The air conditioner was running full blast in the room, but with bodies in motion and the constant sweating, it felt almost unbearably hot.
“I think we’re done,” Jiwoong said in a definitive way.
Hanbin shook his head. “We’re not done.”
Jiwoong frowned. “It’s almost three in the morning.”
Hanbin’s eyes flickered over to the clock on the wall. The last time he’d looked, it had only been a little after midnight. And though he’d been tired, he hadn’t felt heavy and weary like he did now. Where had the time gone?
Kinder now, Jiwoong reached out to snag his upper arm in a careful way and say, “Look around you.” Once more, with just as much certainty, he repeated, “I think we’re done.”
Half the pack were collapsed on the ground. Now that Hanbin looked to them, he could see the pile that Ricky, Taerae, and Gyuvin had made. They were a mess of limbs and clothing all threaded through each other, leaning against one another as if they needed the additional support. Ricky looked like he might be sleeping sitting up, and Taerae still hadn’t caught his breath.
Further back in the room, Matthew was sitting against one of the walls, legs pulled up to his chest, hair matted to his forehead. He looked …
Hanbin felt a stab of guilt.
Matthew almost looked lost in a way, shoulders slumped in, hands hanging down a bit lifelessly at his sides. He looked done, so very done, but also seemed to be fighting to keep aware.
If he could have, Hanbin imagined he might have tipped over and passed out then and there.
They’d been in the practice studio since seven that night. Usually their dance practices lasted two or three hours, and left them exhausted, but not beat down. And half the time the dance practices amounted to the betas chasing each other around, and Hanbin and Zhang Hao sliding into their own space in a way that had become so natural it was like second nature.
No, Hanbin argued with himself, it was instinctive.
It was a primal alpha urge to press into Zhang Hao as much as the omega would allow. It was every bit of him that he usually ignored—behavior that was crude and archaic at best—surging to the top to urge him to make a claim.
Because, he’d deduced over the past few days, that was the only thing that made sense. There was no other explanation for how much he craved Zhang Hao all the time, and wanted to lay in his nest, and scent him, and make it clear and obvious to everyone else that Zhang Hao was his.
Even a hundred years ago, none of those feelings overwhelming him would have been considered improper or outdated. In some parts of the world they still weren’t.
But this was the twenty-first century. This was modern Korea. And Zhang Hao wasn’t property to be claimed.
The urges were just remnants of biological imperatives, and even if Hanbin was ever surer that Zhang Hao returned his feelings, there was no cause to act on any of it.
He looked to Zhang Hao now, though. He found him the furthest away, kneeling on the floor next to Yujin, a hand braced against their youngest’s back, helping him drink carefully from a cool bottle of water. His whole attention was on Yujin, and he was saying something in a soft, likely soothing tone, his hand rubbing along Yujin’s back.
Hanbin let out a low breath of air.
Zhan Hao was … he was so attractive. He was growing more attractive with every passing day.
Of course Hanbin could have spent his days staring at Zhang Hao’s ethereal and conventional beauty. A blind man could have noticed Zhang Hao’s attractive features. But rather it was Zhang Hao’s actions within their pack that drove Hanbin’s infatuation.
Hanbin had known his fair share of omegas before meeting Zhang Hao. He’d even dated two before, though they’d been short lived and juvenile relationships. He was no stranger to how omegas were inclined to act, or their preferential behavior.
It felt different with Zhang Hao, though. Maybe it was because they were in a pack, and Hanbin had never been in a pack with an omega before. But Hanbin felt his heart race a little bit, and pleasure bloom in his chest, when he watched Zhang Hao within the pack.
Zhang Hao wasn’t just attentive with their betas and Gunwook and Yujin—he was genuine and authentic in his affection. He was gentle when he needed to be, but also stern and a figure of authority when the situation called for it. He made sure they ate properly, and coordinated their bathing times, and made sure they acted appropriately in public. He comforted them, supported them, encouraged them, and praised them. He had an almost intuitive way of knowing when to push, and when to pull back.
Hanbin had watched Zhang Hao sit up with Yujin almost an entire night weeks ago, stroking back his bangs, singing softly to him, comforting him when he was struck with a devastating pang of homesickness.
Zhang Hao was the one who had taken Matthew to and from the optometrist three times in two days when he’d started experiencing motion sickness and blurred vision.
And he was certainly the one who’d mended Rickey’s favorite shirt—a gift from a beloved aunt, and known instinctively that Ricky would struggle to know how to ask for such a thing.
He was … he was someone always available for their pack, always on call, never complained, and almost always was willing to compromise for the sake of keeping the peace.
There was no denying that Zhang Hao had preferences, lines he wouldn’t cross, and things that he felt passionately about. Zhang Hao had personal interests—enjoyed spending time doing what he wanted to do, and could be selfish when the mood struck him.
Yet he was everything to their pack that some omegas never managed to figure out, or that took decades for them to master.
Maybe Hanbin was head alpha because he’d been placed into that position of authority. But Zhang Hao was their head omega for an entirely different reason.
Hanbin was tumbling head over heels in love with him for who he was as a person, but also who he was as an omega. There was perfection in Zhang Hao, to Hanbin, and he wanted a taste of that feeling so, so badly each day.
Jiwoong must have followed his vision, because he remarked, “Hao looks pretty tired, don’t you think?”
“He does,” Hanbin mused slowly. Zhang Hao was paler than normal, concern and something that looked like sadness on his face as he tended to Yujin.
“And I think,” Jiwoong added, “Gunwook is already out.”
Not too far from Yujin and Zhang Hao, Gunwook was curled up on his side, his chest rising and falling in an even way. For someone as tall and sturdy as Gunwook, he could certainly look tiny and precious curled up on the ground, or particularly when he was sleeping.
Jiwoong squeezed his hand at Hanbin’s arm. “I know you’re worried about getting the dance perfect, but the pack is wasted. Let’s go home and rest, yeah? We have to come right back here tomorrow for more practice. Short of sleeping overnight, we have to leave at some point.”
Zhang Hao’s head turned then. It turned and in a deliberate fashion his eyes caught Hanbin’s.
Hanbin swallowed hard.
There was an intensity to Zhang Hao’s eyes as they watched each other, and in no uncertain terms, a warning.
Zhang Hao was done. Hanbin could see it painted across his features. It was possible Zhang Hao wasn’t even done for the night for himself. But for the sake of Gunwook, Yujin, and the betas, he was most certainly done.
And there’d be no arguing with him. Hanbin had already figured that out already.
“Okay,” Hanbin gave in, twisting his hand up to grasp at Jiwoong’s forearm in a firm way. “Can you start getting everyone up and on their feet? I’ll go talk to Hao, and then we’ll go home.”
Jiwoong nodded. “I’ll text a manager to bring the cars around.”
Despite his legs threatening to bow out on him, Hanbin wiped a hand across his forehead and started off towards Zhang Hao.
“Hanbin,” Zhang Hao said the moment he was close enough. He barely waited for Hanbin to kneel down before he was added, “Yujin is exhausted. He’s struggling to focus. He’s sweating more water than I can get into him. Hanbin—”
“Hey.” Hanbin reached out right away to place a hand on the back of Zhang Hao’s neck.
It had been an instinctive thing to do. It was something than an alpha could do to a beta without thinking twice to calm them down. It could lead to scruffing, or even something more playful. It was a motion Hanbin had done with the betas a million times over.
It was something different with an omega.
Zhang Hao stilled almost right away, and Hanbin was close enough he could see his pupils dilatate.
And still Hanbin could not bring himself to lift his hand, even with his thumb stretched dangerously close to Zhang Hao’s scent gland.
“It’s okay,” Hanbin soothed, leaning forward to bump his forehead against Zhang Hao’s. Between them Yujin rested comfortably, fitting perfectly as if he belonged—as if he was their pup. “Hao, listen to me. Are you listening?”
Quietly, Zhang Hao replied, “I’m always listening.”
Hanbin took only a moment to steady himself, then he apologized, “I’m sorry for not noticing how tired everyone is sooner. I’m sorry for letting you and Gunwookie and Yujinnie get this tired.”
Hanbin leaned back, but did not lift his hand.
It meant something that Zhang Hao hadn’t pulled back, tried to jerk against the hold, or bite his hand off.
Hanbin was really was playing with fire at the notion of losing fingers with his hand placement.
“It’s time to leave,” Zhang Hao told Hanbin. He shifted a little to press in close to Hanbin. “You agree, right?”
It was posed as question, but it wasn’t really one. And there was such an edge to the words that air caught in Hanbin’s chest.
“Are you okay?” Hanbin asked. Zhang Hao almost looked faint now. Hanbin tried to remember what he’d had to eat during dinner. Zhang Hao was nearly always guilty of fussing over their pack members and paying more attention to their food than his own. On more than one occasion Zhang Hao had completely forgotten to eat.
In Hanbin’s opinion, he was already too thin for that sort of thing.
“I’m exhausted,” Zhang Hao said plainly. “It’s time to go home.”
Yujin had practically fallen into Zhang Hao at that point, eyes closed, body limp. He wasn’t asleep, Hanbin could see twitches and movement that gave way to the truth that he was still awake, but he wouldn’t be like that for long.
Hanbin agreed, “Let’s take our pack home.”
From a short distance away Jiwoong gave a thumbs up, and Hanbin suddenly felt now like it was the perfect time to stop.
The cars were idling out in front of the dance studio fifteen minutes later, and then it was Hanbin and Jiwoong who were hoisting members into the two vehicles that would take them back to their dorm.
Zhang Hao had tried to help, with his arms full of Yujin and sending worried glances in Gunwook’s direction, but Hanbin had practically picked him up and tossed him into the first van.
“Everything okay back there?” Hanbin asked when he finished helping Jiwoong get Matthew in the second van, and everyone was accounted for. They’d split how they normally did, with Hanbin taking the lead in the first vehicle, and Jiwoong in charge of the second, but instead of lively chatter that usually filled the spaces, there was only quiet peace.
“We’re good,” Jiwoong promised, and he was the one who had Gunwook asleep against him then, petting Gunwook’s damp hair fondly while Matthew, Ricky, and Gyuvin dozed next to each other in the last row of the van.
Only then did Hanbin feel content enough to climb into the other with the rest of the pack.
They didn’t talk on the way back to the dorm, or even on their way up to it. Hanbin instead found himself, Zhang Hao, and Jiwoong far more focused on getting everyone into bed, than anything else.
Somehow, however, Hanbin found himself lingering in the doorway of Zhang Hao’s room. The rest of the pack were sleeping soundly, but Zhang Hao was still awake, helping Yujin strip off the last of his clothing.
“You should shower before bed,” Zhang Hao was saying quietly as he peeled off the socks Yujin had been wearing. “You smell horrible.”
Sleep addled, Yujin said with a goofy grin, “You smell great. You always smell so good.”
Zhang Hao gave a huff of a laugh. “You’re barely awake. I bet you don’t even know what you’re saying.”
“You’re so pretty, too,” Yujin insisted, eyes closed as he stretched out.
“Not awake at all,” Zhang Hao reconsidered.
From his own bed, Gunwook gave a little snore.
“You’re right,” Hanbin offered from the door, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. “Everyone should shower. We all smell horrible. But …”
“But,” Zhang Hao continued for him in a fond way, “sleep is more important.”
Yujin shuffled a little more in his sleep, but then he turned over on his side, and relaxed so completely there was no doubt he’d faded from consciousness.
Zhang Hao lingered by his side, fussing with the blanket around him, fiddling with the pillow, and then ultimately smoothing a hand through Yujin’s hair before he seemed certain that it was safe to leave him.
“Hao,” Hanbin said.
He thought in that moment of the last time they’d been in Zhang Hao’s room together. They’d ended up in Zhang Hao’s nest. And then Hanbin had lost control at the … at the idea that Zhang Hao would allow another alpha into his nest.
He wasn’t stupid.
For as cryptic as Zhang Hao’s words seemed sometimes, Hanbin could usually follow them given enough time. And he’d been following a bread trail of crumbs for some time, piecing together information that led to a singular conclusion.
He was not okay with the idea of another alpha showing favor to Zhang Hao.
He was not okay with simply being friends with Zhang Hao.
His feelings for Zhang Hao were real.
He wanted desperately to be Zhang Hao’s alpha.
“Hanbin?”
Hanbin looked up then, and he saw Zhang Hao holding a hand out to him. Zhang Hao had moved to the edge of his bed—to the edge of his nest, and he was holding his hand to Hanbin, with a clear invitation.
Thinly, Hanbin replied, “Hao, I don’t know if—”
“You’re tired,” Zhang Hao said in an even voice. “You worked hard today.”
Hanbin sighed. “I overworked everyone.”
They were currently preparing for their next comeback. They’d already started recording the vocal samples needed for the mini album, and they’d just learned the choreography from their dance instructor. Now they were in the process of perfecting it, and getting ready to shoot the music video in less than a week. By the time they arrived on set, there was considerable pressure for them to have mastered it, and they’d hold the production up if they hadn’t.
It was hard, too.
Their debut, and their first comeback, had been a more youthful concept. Their debut had come in summer, and then their first comeback on the edge of fall. They’d played into their ages, with a lighter sounding track, and choreography that was meant to be both be fun, and easy to master. It had been the right call, too, with the music and theme of both releases lending itself to something fresh and fun.
This time, however, they were straying into a bit of a more mature concept. Yujin was still young, as was Gunwook, so they couldn’t do anything terribly mature. But they were coming back during colder weather, and the fun, summery song concept was out. In was something a little darker and thought provoking, and with a lot harder choreography to master.
The first time Hanbin had seen it, he’d been worried about their ability to have the stamina to perform it live with any kind of quality standard. Those fears had receded the more they’d practiced, but it was still so, so hard.
Hanbin had felt pressured to have them ready with the more complicated and difficult comeback, and he felt immense guilt that he’d been pushing that worry onto the others, and taking it out on them in the form of long practices that took everything out of them.
“Maybe,” Zhang Hao allowed, “but sometimes that will happen.”
“I’ll be better next time,” Hanbin insisted. Next time he wouldn’t need Jiwoong to tell him that they needed to end the practice. “I’ll be more observant.”
“Oh, Hanbin,” Zhang Hao chuckled out, and Hanbin wondered if he’d missed something.
Zhang Hao gestured a little more with his hand. “If you want, come lay down.”
Zhang Hao had always said something like that, each time he’d invited Hanbin into his nest. He’d always given him an out of some kind, with a tone that implied he wouldn’t be upset if Hanbin decided to decline getting into his nest. It made Hanbin feel as if he could choose whatever was best for him, and not just what his alpha instincts wanted.
The problem was, Zhang Hao asked him if he wanted to, and Hanbin always wanted to.
They both did really smell horrible. It was undeniable as they climbed into Zhang Hao’s bed. They’d have to shower first thing in the morning, and the bedding would have to be washed. Not even Hanbin’s cedar smell, or the floral scent of Zhang Hao could hide how dirty they smelled.
But …
But as Hanbin extended his arm, letting Zhang Hao rest his head against it in a way that wound them together on the twin bed, there was something animalistic about it all. They’d worked hard, and hard work bore fruit. They were exhausted, but each of them knew it would be worth it in the end. So ultimately, the foul smell was almost pleasing, if only because of what it meant.
“I’m sorry,” Hanbin offered once more when they’d settled down. He was brave enough to wind his free arm around Hanbin and pull him in close. Zhang Hao’s face pressed into the juncture of Hanbin’s neck, and under the blankets his knees bumped Hanbin’s. “I just want the comeback to be perfect.”
“We don’t need to be perfect,” Zhang Hao told him.
Hanbin felt contrary to that. He often felt that if they weren’t perfect—or even when they were, people found reasons to pick them apart. For some people, they were never good enough singers, or dancers, or never had enough stage presence. There were plenty of critics who found reason to criticize their pack, and it ate away at Hanbin how unfair it all was.
“You can’t listen to them,” Jiwoong had told him with a shrug the first time they’d talked about it. “You’ll never please everyone. People will always hate us just because—no actual reason needed. You just have to learn to ignore it all. They don’t matter, Hanbin. Only we matter.”
It was good advice from someone who’d been through the industry ringer, and dealt with some of the worst in people. But Hanbin took any slight against his pack seriously. He couldn’t just ignore them. He could only pretend like he didn’t care what they had to say.
Even though Zhang Hao was tucked into his side, Hanbin could feel the omega’s hand at his back, soothing as it often did, stroking in a small but meaningful way. Zhang Hao’s fingers were almost ghost-like, soft and delicate as they moved, but they were a peaceful lull.
“You’re doing a good job,” Zhang Hao praised. “Comebacks are difficult and stressful. You’re a good pack leader and you’re doing well.”
Hanbin hummed a little, then said, “You’re so good at taking care of the pack. We could never do this without you.”
In the background, Yujin wheezed a little in his sleep, and Gunwook flipped around, but otherwise Zhang Hao and Hanbin were safe in the sanctity of the nest.
“It’s easier now,” Zhang Hao revealed, and Hanbin wished he could see his face in the darkness of the room. “My uncle was right. I had to settle into my omegan instincts that were going a little crazy, but it’s easier now. I have urges, and sometimes I give into them, but they’re easier to manage. It’s easier for me to think about what I’m doing, before I do it.”
Hanbin rested his hand at the curve of Zhang Hao’s waist, wanting to hold it in a firmer way, but too afraid to repeat what had happened before.
Instead, he settled for saying, “You’re the best omega this pack could ever have. I’m serious, Hao. You take care of everyone. And you’re teaching Gunwook how to be a good omega. He can’t be with his parents right now, so he’s relying on you, and you’re teaching him so well.”
Hanbin had even spoken to Gunwook’s parents not that long ago, assuring them that Gunwook was in good hands with Zhang Hao. Having only been presented for a short while, it was important that Gunwook have strong omegan role model to learn from. His parents had been concerned that he wouldn’t have that role model. Hanbin had never been so happy to persuade them otherwise.
In a wistful way, Zhang Hao breathed out, “We’re a good team.”
Hanbin could feel him going limp, drifting into dreamland.
It only emboldened Hanbin to hold him a little closer, afraid that he’d follow suit quickly enough.
“We are,” he told Zhang Hao as he fell asleep, murmuring something in Chinese that sounded pretty.
But he didn’t just want to be Zhang Hao’s pack teammate. He wanted to be so, so much more.
And maybe … maybe it was time to take a chance.
He shifted a little, moving to his back and adjusting Zhang Hao against him.
It was a risk to even consider broaching something romantic with Zhang Hao, no matter how complimentary they were. It was a risk to them as individuals, but also to their pack, and that didn’t seem quite fair.
But Zhang Hao was … he was special in every way Hanbin had never dared to dream he could have. And if there was even a chance that he desired Hanbin in any way, Hanbin couldn’t help the selfish urge to act that was seemingly taking control.
In the morning Hanbin’s body was screaming at him. Everything ached, even worse than the night before, and there was a pang of hurt in him when he woke alone in Zhang Hao’s nest. It was a feeling that faded quickly enough when he heard Zhang Hao from the kitchen down the hall, ordering directions to other members of the pack as the smell of breakfast wafted towards him.
By the time Hanbin got on his feet, and was sure that he’d stay there, his stomach was urging him along.
“You slept in,” Gyuvin accused with a pleasant laugh when Hanbin emerged into the chaos that was their kitchen. It was already a tiny space, compared to the rest of the dorm, and not big enough to fit the nine of them at once.
Jiwoong and Zhang Hao were manning the stove, and other members of the pack were spread out, practically on top of each other, trying to organize prepared side dishes, move bowls and cups, and clear away items that had unnecessarily made their way into the kitchen.
“Hanbin,” Zhang Hao called out, delivering the kind of smile that made Hanbin’s knees weak. “You’re up.”
It looked like Hanbin had been the last to rise that morning, which wasn’t common. Usually he was one of the first up, with Jiwoong or sometimes Ricky who slept in odd patterns. He was almost never last.
“I’m up,” he repeated. His body ached, and he knew practice later that day would make it hurt even more. But he’d slept almost deliciously well in Zhang Hao’s nest. He’d slept contently, and deeply, and he felt refreshed for the day.
All things considered, he wanted to sleep in Zhang Hao’s nest every night.
And that was … wholly inappropriate. The thought crashed into him suddenly and violently, making his eyes jerk over to Yujin and Gunwook who were both in the small kitchen. They had both woken before Hanbin, and surely would have seen him in Zhang Hao’s nest. They would have known he spent the night in that nest. But neither of them seemed to be paying him much attention. Gunwook was carefully cracking eggs into a bowl, and Yujin was washing some fruit in the sink.
He didn’t know what it meant that neither of them had taken the opportunity to immediately start commenting on his actions.
Looking pleased, Zhang Hao said, “Everyone’s already had their shower. Go have yours. Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone eat before you get back.”
Almost immediately there was whining from Taerae and Matthew about being hungry, and then urging from them for Hanbin to hurry up and go.
More firmly, Zhang Hao eyed them all and said, “No one eats before he gets back. Stop grumbling about it. It’s proper. So help me finish up here, and then we’ll be ready when he is.”
“I’m going, I’m going,” Hanbin promised with a laugh, hurrying away.
“Your food is safe,” Zhang Hao promised. Hanbin had less certainty about his heart, in that moment.
Hanbin showered as quickly as he could, thoroughly scrubbing soap into his body, and then changing quickly. He felt bad at the idea of keeping the others waiting because he’d overslept, but it was also a curious thing that Zhang Hao had let him. Usually Zhang Hao made the rounds fairly early in the morning, gently coaxing the betas and Gunwook and Yujin up—and practically pulling Jiwoong and Hanbin out of bed. They almost never got to sleep in these days, and this felt like a treat of some kind.
“Sorry to keep everyone waiting,” Hanbin said when he returned to the kitchen. They didn’t have a proper kitchen table, there certainly wasn’t space for it, so they usually ended up taking their meals in the living room if they were all eating together.
From what Hanbin could tell, it caused Zhang Hao, and even Gunwook to some extent, anxiety related to the cleanliness of the room. But frankly Jiwoong was almost meticulous with his cleaning, and Taerae often pitched in to help, which left the room always clean enough and smelling quite nice.
Hanbin settled in to his customary seat at the low living room table, Zhang Hao on one side, and Matthew on the other.
Breakfast was a simple meal most of the time, and today was no different. A little over half a dozen side dishes were laid out with the rice, some egg, and a bit of fruit. It was certainly nothing special, but it smelled nice, and it likely tasted good, too. Hanbin didn’t know if Jiwoong and Zhang Hao liked to cook, or felt some obligation due to their positions in the pack, but they were getting very good at it.
“Well,” Gyuvin urged to Hanbin, “come on. Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”
In most packs, the head alpha took the first bite. It was something steeped in tradition, and even though they were living in a modern era, it was a holdover in a way. The alpha taking the first bite denoted their position in the pack, their importance, and their willingness to sacrifice their life if something was wrong with the food.
In Hanbin’s current pack, they almost always didn’t eat together. They had plenty of schedules together, but they also did a lot in units or subgroups, or even solo. There’d been a lot of brand endorsement deals lately for individual members. So the nine of them eating together was something special. It usually happened at breakfast, too, if it was going to happen.
Hanbin didn’t particularly care who ate first. It had never been something important in his own family.
But it seemed important to Zhang Hao. He was always prompting Hanbin to take the first bite. Maybe it had to do with the omega part of Zhang Hao, wanting Hanbin to eat quickly and well. Maybe it was because Zhang Hao came from China, which was still immersed in tradition and conservative values. Maybe it was something else entirely.
In either case, Hanbin picked up his chopsticks and moved to eat, commenting, “Everyone did great last night. Let’s eat well this morning.”
A roar of agreement went up with the betas, and Yujin was already diving in before Hanbin had even gotten a full bite in his mouth.
He was chewing, however, when the felt a sturdy weight on his thigh.
It surprised him for a moment as his eyes chased the origin of it, only to find it was a hand. It was Zhang Hao’s hand.
To anyone else at the table, it must have seemed like nothing was amiss. In a feat of dexterity, Zhang Hao was deftly manipulating his chopsticks with his left hand, while his right was perched on Hanbin’s thigh.
It could have meant nothing. Omegas were touchy by nature, even when they didn’t realize they were being. Touch was important to them. Physical contact was important. Especially with members of their pack. Touch meant affection, and most omegas were rooted in that. If it was just that with Zhang Hao now, it would have been considered completely normal.
It felt like it meant everything, though.
Quietly, with plenty of other conversations taking place at the table, Zhang Hao leaned a little close to ask, “Did you sleep well last night?” The words felt heavy and laced with meaning.
Hanbin tilted his head towards Zhang Hao, loving the teasing smile on his face, wanting to kiss him badly in that moment.
“I did,” he replied just as quietly. “I felt safe and warm and taken care of.”
If he’d never seen Zhang Hao preen before, he was certainly seeing it now.
Hanbin pressed on, “How about you? How did you sleep?”
Looking so, so pretty, Zhang Hao’s eyes softened, and he said, “I slept well, too. Safe, warm, and taken care of.”
Hanbin gave a rumble of agreement. And then, boldly, settled his free hand over Zhang Hao’s. He let his fingers curl around Zhang Hao’s, and he held on as tightly as he dared. He breathed in the comforting scent of lotus flowers, and for the first time, truly understood how much trouble he was in.