Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

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︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹

Johnny would say he's fucked. But honestly, when has he ever not been?

He should have seen it coming, really. That familiar, almost ridiculous sense of impending doom that always creeps in when life has been a little too quiet for a little too long. Things never stayed calm around him. Not for long at least.

His mother's dream had always been simple. As far back as he could remember, or at least since she realized her eldest son could walk and charm just about anyone in the room, she had held on to the same belief: her children should love and be loved.

It had become her life's goal, her quiet obsession. And unfortunately for her, Johnny, her firstborn, remained her greatest disappointment in that regard.

Growing up, he used to think it was sweet. Admirable, even. That quickly changed when he turned thirteen. That was when he got his heart broken for the first time. It had been a silly crush, really. Three days of holding hands during recess, a few shared snacks, and then it was over. Not even in person. Just a folded note passed from desk to desk until it reached him, already unfolded by too many hands.

At thirteen, it had felt catastrophic. Like the end of something important, even if he could not have explained what. Now, looking back, it was just embarrassing, almost laughable.

At nineteen, he abruptly broke things off with his teenage sweetheart, with the kind of heartbreak that did not just fade but lodged itself somewhere under the skin. He left soon after.

He moved to Seoul on his own, with nothing but a half-packed suitcase and a head full of hope. It was supposed to be a fresh start, a sort of clean break. He had thought that distance would make everything easier. It didn't. Not really.

At first, he kept to himself. Classes, work, long walks back to an apartment that never quite felt like his. That changed when his roommates decided he was, in their words, "too quiet to be trusted" and started dragging him out with them.

That was how he ended up at those crowded college parties he never would have gone to on his own. Too loud, too many people, too much happening all at once.

The air was always thick with too many scents layered on top of each other, clashing, and impossible to sort through. It made his head ache more often than not. He always ended up regretting it the next morning.

But that was where he met her.

She wasn't the kind of person you noticed immediately. Not the loudest, not the center of attention either. She barely danced that night, staying close to her friends, laughing more than she spoke.

But Johnny noticed anyway.

He first noticed the way she laughed. Something about it felt real. It cut through the noise enough that he found himself moving before he could think better of it, weaving through the crowd just to reach her.

Then came her scent. Through all the noise, all the overlapping scents pressing against each other, hers stayed clear. Not stronger, not louder. Just... easier to find. Like his senses kept circling back to it without asking. Not because she stood out. Because somehow, she didn't get lost in the crowd.

They ended up talking the entire night. And, like always, it happened too fast. He fell first, like he usually did. Or maybe they both did. Because in the morning, it already felt like something inevitable. By the end of the week, he was convinced it was something real. By the end of the month, he couldn't imagine waking up next to anyone else.

They thought they had found it. Something that made sense. Something that would last. They quickly got married. Maybe by fear that this feeling would slip through their fingers.

And then came Sakuya. To this day, he remained the only thing he had ever done without a single ounce of regret.

He tried to make it work. He really did. For a while, it almost looked like it might. But what they had built hadn't been strong enough to carry what came after. Not the expectations. Not the weight of it. Not the parts of themselves they had never really understood to begin with.

They stayed together for a year and a half after Sakuya was born. Long enough to try. Not long enough to fix what had never quite fit in the first place. She left eventually, not out of cruelty, but because she couldn't take it anymore. And Johnny, for all his flaws, had understood. Some things could not be forced into something they were not.

His mother, at the time, had been horrified. A rushed relationship, a child so young, and a marriage that had barely held together. To her, it had been proof of everything she feared: impulsive choices leading to a life built on instability.

Then came the divorce. His mother did not believe in time as a solution. To her, anything that failed to work properly had to be corrected, and if it couldn't be corrected, it had to be replaced entirely.

Which was how he found himself thrown into an endless parade of carefully selected blind dates, each one more promising than the last. Not just to help him move on, but to correct what she saw as a mistake. To rebuild properly this time. To give Sakuya the kind of family she believed he should have had from the start. One that fit her idea of what a stable, respectable household was supposed to look like.

He ruined them all. With great pleasure, obviously.

There was the florist who cried after he "accidentally" mentioned his allergy to pollen halfway through dinner. The heiress who stormed out when he pretended not to know who her father was (a performance so committed that he spent the entire evening blinking innocently and asking "Who?" until his friends later nicknamed him "the Howl," a title that followed him for months every time the story was retold). And the novelist who tried to psychoanalyze his "fear of emotional intimacy as an alpha through the 21st century" before dessert. That one, he had left him with the bill.

To say his mother was furious would be an understatement. Every Thursday night, for nearly two years, he faced her wrath through long ("endless, truly", Johnny would complain) dramatic calls about "wasted potential" and "ruined reputation". But Johnny was born a fighter, not a lover ("Not really", Doyoung would argue, but in hard times, there is not a lot you can do if not fight to survive).

And somehow, miraculously, he won the war.

Six years without a single blind date. A record he intended to have engraved on a plaque. He had even patted himself on the shoulder the day his mother sighed and said, "Maybe I should give up on you."

He celebrated like a man freed from a curse with a victory run half naked around the block (eight times, for good measure and good luck), a dozen cheap cans of beer, and a long smug text to his little brother and two very confused neighbors who unfortunately witnessed his madness.

But now... well. Now, he regrets even thinking of celebrating. Because the moon, and more importantly his mother, always found a way to make him pay for his arrogance.

Last spring, his little brother got married. Needless to say, his mom was in heaven, as she was finally able to fill her afternoons with wedding planning rather than the suffocating tea parties thrown by high-society omegas determined to stay in her good graces.

Like always, she didn't disappoint. Her enthusiasm seeped into every detail of the wedding: fireworks, doves, and a ten-layer cake big enough to qualify as a minor architectural feat.

And just like that Johnny was thrown right back onto the hunt in the blink of an eye. From the moment his brother's fiancée posted a blurry photo of them online, her hand held up proudly with a ring catching the light and the caption "he finally put a ring on it!!!!", he should have known the chase would start sooner rather than later.

Blind dates began reappearing on his calendar with the persistence of spam emails. His mother moved fast, and her recommendations arrived like quarterly reports (read: frequent and impossible to ignore). He'd been dodging her attempts for months now. Sometimes by lying, sometimes by quite literally fleeing the country under the guise of "Mom, I swear I would have been delighted to meet her, but you know how it's like life-threatening levels of urgency at work. These extremely necessary business trips don't exactly wait for me."

Until the call. That was all it took for his last illusion of freedom to crumble. So much for having things under control.

"Hyuuuuuuuuuuung."

Johnny did not talk right away. He leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on his monitor, rolling his mouse lazily between his fingers.

"...Why are you calling me?"

A soft gasp echoed through the speaker.

"Wow. That's cold. No hello? No 'how are you, Jaehyun, my beloved younger brother? The most precious living thing on this ea-' "

"You don't call unless something's wrong. So I'm asking, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Jaehyun replied, affronted in a way that sounded entirely performative. "Why do you always assume I'm the problem?"

Johnny snorted.

"Pattern recognition?"

"That's rude."

"That's accurate."

A pause. Then, quieter, almost sulking:

"...You've changed."

Johnny sighed, already tired.

"I'm working. Be quick."

"Can't I just check on you?" Jaehyun tried again, lighter now. "See how you're doing? Ask about Sakuya? I do it all the time."

"By text."

"...You're obsessed with details."

"Jaehyun."

Another pause. This one is less playful. Johnny's hand stilled on the mouse.

"You're circling," he said, narrowing his eyes at nothing in particular. "I can hear it. Just say it."

"You might want to sit down."

Johnny let out a short laugh.

"I'm already sitting. Try harder."

Jaehyun huffed softly, like he was being personally inconvenienced.

"Fine. Ruin the drama."

There was another pause. Longer this time.

"Do you remember when Mom came to visit me eight months ago? Her whole... 'intervention era'?"

Johnny's grip tightened.

"No," he said immediately. "Absolutely not. Don't even start."

He dragged a hand through his hair, again, already irritated.

"For God's sake, not you too. I'm not entertaining this. Don't you have work? A job? Responsibilities? A wife to bother?"

"I multitask," Jaehyun said lightly. "Also, she thinks this is funny."

"Of course she does."

"I think it's funny too."

"I'm hanging up."

"Wait."

The shift was immediate.

Johnny stilled.

"I don't think you're going to be able to avoid this one."

Something in his tone made Johnny straighten slightly.

"She's coming...," Jaehyun added.

Johnny's fingers stopped moving entirely.

"...to Seoul. To see you. And Sakuya. And," Jaehyun continued after a beat, almost too casually now, "she sounded pretty done with your extended period of celibacy."

Johnny stared at the monitor on his desk, its glow reflecting faintly in his eyes, though he wasn't actually seeing any of it.

"No," he answered, quieter. "She's not. Don't tell me she's-"

"Yeah."

Jaehyun exhaled, but there was still that unmistakable thread of amusement underneath.

"She's on a mission, hyung. The one where you get rescued from your tragic and eternal loneliness."

Johnny let out a breath, disbelieving.

"You're joking."

He leaned back, running a hand down his face.

"Don't tell me she thinks she can just show up and fix whatever she thinks needs to be fixed like it's one of her little projects."

"I wish I was joking," Jaehyun said. "I'm calling because you told me not to freak out when she did it to me. So I'm being nice. This is me being nice."

"You're enjoying this."

"A little."

"You're unbelievable."

"I'm helpful."

Johnny scoffed.

"I thought we were past this. She said she understood. She said she'd drop it. Why now?"

"She didn't drop it," Jaehyun said. "She just... paused."

"That's worse."

"She thinks she's being patient."

Johnny closed his eyes briefly.

"You're divorced. You're single. You're raising Sakuya on your own," Jaehyun continued, softer now. "She thinks she messed up somewhere. And now that he's getting older, she's decided he needs an omega around. Someone to guide him. Balance things out."

Johnny's eyes snapped open.

"I am doing perfectly fine guiding my own son," he said, voice dry.

"I know," Jaehyun said quickly. "I do. We all do. But you know how she thinks. In her head, an omega means stability. Home. Structure. She just wants what's best for you. In her own way, twisted or not."

Johnny could hear Jaehyun rolling his eyes as he spoke. He let out a humorless laugh.

"In her head, an omega means someone who stays in the house and takes care of everything while the alpha goes out and works," he shot back. "That's not stability, that's a stereotype she refuses to let go of."

"Hyung-"

"No," Johnny cut in, sitting forward now. "I won't play along just to make her happy. They're people, Jaehyun. Not some role you slot into a family to make it look right. Some omegas want that life, sure. And good for them. They should get to choose it. But it is a choice."

His voice tightened.

"And I get one too."

Silence on the other end.

"I don't need to 'complete' anything," Johnny went on, quieter but no less firm. "And Sakuya doesn't need someone brought in like a solution to a problem that doesn't exist."

Jaehyun did not interrupt this time. Then, gently:

"I know. She just thinks she's helping."

Johnny leaned back again, exhausted now.

"Yeah. Well. She's not."

There was a faint rustle on the other end, like Jaehyun shifting in his seat.

"I've gotta go," he said. "Work. Try not to spiral, okay?"

A beat.

"Hey," Jaehyun added, tone turning lighter again, almost smug now. "For what it's worth... It turned out fine for me."

Johnny let out a short, incredulous laugh.

"Of course it did," he shot back immediately. "She paired you with your best friend. The one you'd been in love with for a decade and were still too blind to notice. Of course it worked."

There was a pause.

"...That is not-"

"It absolutely is."

"You're rewriting history."

"I'm correcting it."

Another pause. Then a quiet scoff.

"...We're happy, though, you know...?."

"I never said you weren't."

"Wow. Supportive."

"I'm hanging up."

"Love you too, hyung."

The line went dead.

The call ended. The silence didn't. For a moment, Johnny just sat there, staring at the dark screen of his phone as if it might ring again and announce that this had all been a joke. It didn't.

He wanted to scream. Or sweep everything off his desk in one dramatic motion. The reports, the files, the overpriced pen he never used. Maybe even that stupid "World's Worst Boss" mug Mark had given him last Christmas, launched it straight into the wall and watched it shatter, just to hear something break.

He wanted to punch something. Preferably the air. Preferably fate. Instead, he stayed still. His knuckles had gone white around his mouse. His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it. He forced himself to breathe. Inhale, exhale.

It didn't help.

Something under his skin refused to ease, restless and directionless. His scent shifted with it, the familiar grounding presence slipping out of reach as frustration bled through everything.

His scent was supposed to be controlled, almost restrained in a sort of quiet landscape more than an oppressive presence. More like a small stone temple hidden deep in a pine forest after rain. Cool air, damp earth and something mineral lingering beneath it all. Now it was... like a storm waiting to lash out.

Johnny dragged a slow breath in through his nose, like he could force it back into a more neutral state by sheer will alone.

He couldn't.

The words echoing in his head. 'The best for me.' Right. Great. Exactly what I need right now.

When his eyes finally lifted from the monitor, they drifted almost instinctively toward the glass wall separating his office from the rest of the floor. Doyoung was at his desk. Of course he was. It was only 9:48 a.m, after all. Where else would he be, thought Johnny.

He was sitting, calm and focused. Like the shatters of the world couldn't reach him, entirely unaffected by the apocalypse happening inside Johnny's skull.

His sleeves were rolled neatly, his shoulders relaxed as he was jotting something down on a post-it. Every gesture seemed measured, as if Doyoung was the embodiment of the word order itself. He leaned slightly over the desk, hair slipping into his eyes.

The glass between them muted everything, but Johnny could almost imagine the faint scratch of pencil on paper, the soft hum of Doyoung existing, head slightly tilted.

Even from here, his scent carried, lingering in the air.

It never spread in a way that demanded attention. Johnny had noticed that early on. Quiet, but intentional. Like clean cotton softened by the warm, toasted scent of green tea and roasted rice, always lingering faintly in the corridor, something lived-in, something safer.

Something about watching Doyoung like that always grounded him. The steady rhythm of his movements, the quiet confidence in the way he worked. It pulled Johnny back from the edge every single time. There was something profoundly reassuring about the way Doyoung occupied space. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was the bond they'd built over the years, but being near him always steadied the chaos in his head.

Johnny had long lost count of how many times he had watched new employees walk in tension, shoulders drawn tight, only to visibly relax minutes later.

His wolf instinctively tried to latch onto that familiar scent, but it was already fading beneath his own, now thick with his rising anger and hard to separate from anything else.

Doyoung wasn't just his best friend, he was his anchor. The first person Johnny thought of when something good happened. The first person he wanted to call when something went wrong. The one who could tell the difference between his real smile and the one he used in board meetings. The one who stayed by his side.

When the divorce papers were signed and Johnny had pretended it didn't hurt as much as it did. When the custody battle dragged on longer than it should have. When Sakuya woke up crying in the middle of the night. When Johnny had no idea how to answer questions about things he himself didn't understand. Doyoung was there, he had stayed.

He had been there in hospital corridors, in courtrooms, in parent-teacher meetings. He had signed documents without hesitation (a/n : pls don't), he had stepped forward when Johnny faltered, he had never once made it feel like a burden. He had simply woven himself into his life until his presence felt inevitable.

Johnny's gaze softened as he watched him now, leaning slightly over his desk, trying to read something on his computer.

He could spend the rest of his life like this, honestly, sitting behind glass walls, stealing glances while Doyoung worked. Letting him scold him for skipping lunch. Listening to him reorganize papers over and over. Watching him exist, completely at ease in a way Johnny had never quite managed.

His chest tightened. Then, it loosened again. God, Doyoung made living look so easy sometimes.

He didn't need more than that. He didn't need a spouse like his mother liked to think. Who needed a spouse when he already had his best friend?

Johnny leaned back slowly in his chair, eyes still fixed across the glass. Doyoung had been there through everything: through sickness and exhaustion, through joy and failure, through moments Johnny would rather forget and moments he never wanted to lose. He had stood beside him without demanding recognition, without asking for promises. Content, it seemed, just being part of their lives. At least he hoped he was.

The phrase surfaced uninvited. Through better or worse. For richer, for poorer. Johnny stilled. Isn't that what married people promise each other? The realization settled slowly, like something clicking into place after years of being slightly misaligned. Technically, they were already married. Legally. On paper. Signed and sealed under circumstances that had nothing to do with romance and everything to do with survival. His family didn't know that. His mother certainly didn't need to know. Him marrying a beta would probably send her straight into madness. She probably wouldn't even talk to him anymore, Johnny thought, bitter. Wait-

If she wanted proof he was settled, stable, balanced, if she wanted to see an omega in his life, someone steady enough to "guide" him and Sakuya, then what exactly was she asking for that he didn't already have? Someone new would mean risking inviting a stranger into something that was already established. But Doyoung...

Doyoung already knew how to stand beside him. He already knew how to hold his hand in front of lawyers and look convincing in front of judges. He already knew how to shield Sakuya with quiet authority. They already functioned like a family, like a unit.

Even their wolves' instincts never seemed to clash. They settled into each other without effort, like they had figured it out a long time ago. Johnny had heard people describe that kind of thing before, usually in the same tone they used when talking fondly about bonded pairs, about how their wolves recognized each other before anything else did. He had never really thought much of it. After all, platonic bonds were pretty common.

Johnny's pheromones began to pick up, though not entirely from angerness this time. It wasn't insane, it was practical, he told himself. If his mother wanted a spouse, then he would show her one. If she wanted proof that he wasn't alone, he would give her something she couldn't argue with, right? What if she doesn't approve, huh? He was already a grown up!

He ran a hand slowly through his hair, eyes never leaving Doyoung. Maybe it was reckless. Maybe Doyoung would look at him like he had completely lost his mind, which wouldn't be far from the truth.

But the more Johnny thought about it, the more the idea settled into place. It wouldn't even be pretending, not really. They already shared responsibilities, space, silence and burdens.

They had been through worse. Much worse. Mostly because of him, admittedly, but that was beside the point. This wouldn't be anything new. Just... an adjustment. A slight shift in their lives.

Still, asking Doyoung to go along with it was something else entirely.

Doyoung could play along when needed, but he had never liked lying without reason. And this... this had to count as a reason. It had to. Johnny refused to believe he was this close to being cornered with no way out.

────୨ৎ────

For the past hour, he had been stuck in that familiar, creeping unease, butt stuck to his chair. His wolf wouldn't settle, his thoughts running in tight circles, jumping from one worst-case scenario to another, like he was trying to plan an escape with no exit in sight.

And somehow, this was still the only plan that didn't collapse halfway through in his mind. Now, an hour later, he finds himself still at his desk, still staring through the glass that separated them.

Still at his desk, Doyoung laughed softly at something someone said. The sound didn't reach him, but Johnny saw it in the curve of his mouth.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as something in him stilled. The noise in his head narrowed, until everything pointed in one clear direction. He was going to ask him!

...or maybe not.

His grip tightened slightly on the armrest.

No, he could wait. There was no rush. It wasn't like his mother was going to show up tomorrow, right? He had time. He could think it through properly, find the right words, the right moment. And everything will work perfectly!

He shifted in his chair but the restlessness didn't ease. If anything, it grew even more, quiet at first, then insistent, threading through his chest. He hadn't even noticed how long he'd been sitting there. Or how the air around him had changed again.

Johnny exhaled again, slower this time, but his thoughts wouldn't settle. They kept circling back, over and over. His wolf didn't like it.

He could feel it clawed at him, scraping along his ribs in pointed, impatient bursts, like it was trying to force him up, to move, to close the distance he was stubbornly keeping. The tension in his shoulders only worsened with it, tight and unrelenting.

Ask him.

Don't ask him.

Ask him.

Don't.

Just go!

Then the doubt came rushing back in twice as strong, because what if he said no? Johnny straightened slightly, jaw tightening. No, he shouldn't rush this. A few more hours wouldn't change anything. Right? His fingers tapped once against the armrest. Then again.

His gaze drifted to Doyoung, smiling again. Johnny stood up abruptly.

Yeah, finally.

He wasn't waiting. He couldn't.

No.

He stopped.

The momentum drained out of him just as quickly as it had come. Again.

No. No, this was a terrible idea.

Johnny exhaled sharply and dropped back into his chair, dragging both hands over his face. What was he even thinking? Asking Doyoung something like that, out of nowhere, in the middle of a workday, while clearly not in his right mind?

Go you coward!

No.

At the end of the day, he'd do it properly. Like a normal person. He leaned back again, forcing himself to stay still, to breathe, to-

The door opened abruptly, startling him. Doyoung stood in the doorway, a faint crease between his brows, a file in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

"I knocked," he said, stepping inside. "...thrice. You didn't answer."

Johnny frowned slightly. "Sorry, I didn't hear-"

"You wouldn't have," Doyoung said, calm but certain. He set the glass down on the desk without breaking eye contact, along with the file. "I could smell you from my office. You were already in your head before you even realized it yourself."

Johnny stilled. The room did feel wrong. Too dense and too full of his own pheromones. It clung to everything. The desk. The chair. The air between them.

His scent had spread far beyond what it should have, turning sour, almost biting. And Doyoung felt all of it. He always did. Years spent around Johnny had changed that. Betas weren't known for reading pheromones this clearly but then again, most betas didn't spend this much time around an alpha like him.

His own scent started to respond without permission.

His own soft and toasted scent began to unfold into the room, threading gently through Johnny's pheromones. It was easing into it, softening the edges, drawing the sharpness back down into something breathable. It was instinctive more than anything Doyoung would reckon.

And just like that, something in Johnny's shoulders loosened. The dull ache he hadn't even fully registered faded into the background, as if it had never properly settled there to begin with. His thoughts slowed, slipping out of focus, pulled under by something calmer, warmer, until Doyoung's voice stopped making sense altogether.

"What?" Johnny said.

Doyoung raised a brow, slower this time, studying him.

"What happened?" he repeated. "Your pheromones are everywhere. And they're-" he paused, searching for a word that wouldn't escalate things, "not quite...subtle about your mood. What's going on?"

Johnny stiffened back almost immediately.

"Nothing," he shot back, too quickly.

Doyoung didn't even blink. "Johnny."

"I'm fine," he added, already pushing himself halfway up from his chair. "It's just stress. Work. Marketing being as incompetent as usual. You know how it is."

Even to his own ears, it sounded weak. Doyoung tilted his head slightly, unimpressed. He moved closer, closing the distance as if it had never been there to begin with.

His scent didn't retreat. If anything, it pressed a little closer, trying to subtly ground him.

"No I don't know. Because usually, you're not two seconds away from drowning the entire floor in distress," he said calmly. "So unless marketing has suddenly made us go bankrupt, try again."

Johnny opened his mouth just to close it. He ran a hand through his hair for the hundred times today, even more agitated this time.

"I said I'm fine."

He wasn't. The air between them pulsed faintly, his pheromones spiking again in uneven waves of frustration. Doyoung stepped closer anyway, careful in his way. Just close enough that his scent settled more firmly around Johnny, like a much needed blanket during a cold evening.

Johnny inhaled, letting the familiar warmth of Doyoung's scent settle through him.

Doyoung stood there like something steady Johnny could hold onto. And before he could stop himself, he did. His hand closed around Doyoung's wrist. Not tight but not loose either. The contact wasn't unusual between them. They touched all the time without thinking twice about it. Passing by, brushing shoulders, hands finding each other without purpose.

Johnny didn't let go. His thumb shifted slightly against the inside of Doyoung's wrist, brushing over the scent gland there, a place more familiar than anything else. Doyoung still felt the heat of it.

"Johnny," he said again, even softer now, voice low.

Johnny exhaled. He didn't move. His own scent slowly began to clear up, the harsher edges smoothing out.

"I..."

The sound cut through whatever fragile calm had just formed. His grip loosened on instinct, but his hand didn't drop away immediately, like his body hadn't fully decided to let go yet. He stared at the phone for half a second too long before finally reaching for it, already unimpressed. "Yeah?"

Johnny listened for a moment, expression slowly flattening as whatever was being said came through. His scent shifted almost immediately. Cool control fraying at the edges, frustration bleeding back in before he could rein it in.

Doyoung felt it before he could think. Johnny's scent had shifted again. Whatever had settled earlier had come undone, the cool clarity of it gone, replaced by something faintly soured at the edges.

"Yeah," he repeated, shorter this time.

Who? Doyoung mouthed silently.

Johnny looked at him. His answer came just as quiet. Marketing.

Another beat, longer this time.

"...You're kidding."

He leaned back slightly in his chair, dragging a hand over his face. "He said what now!?"

Of course this little shit did. Some entitled young alpha they had signed as an ambassador, barely out of high school and already convinced the world revolved around him. Apparently, he had taken issue with something minor and turned it into a full-blown incident.

Of course marketing couldn't handle it. Of course it landed on him. The curse to be the one in charge.

Johnny exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Give me ten minutes."

He hung up without waiting for a reply. Of course. He had barely finished calling their department incompetent, and here they were, proving him right and making it his problem at the same time. Karma had never played nice when he was concerned.

────୨ৎ────

The next four hours dissolved into a blur of reports, strategies, and corporate damage control. By the time he resurfaced, his brain was mush, his tie felt like a leash, and the panic he'd tried to bury was clawing its way back up.

When he finally returned to his office, Johnny didn't stop. Didn't even glance Doyoung's way as he passed his desk, already entering his office.

Through the glass, Doyoung looked up from a stack of documents, eyes narrowing slightly at the sight. His gaze followed him, more focused now. He could almost see the gears turning in Johnny's head.

Behind the glass, Johnny was growing more and more on edge. Something in him refused to stay still, his wolf unsettled again, pushing at him in restless, uneven bursts, like the last four hours had only intensified whatever had been building earlier instead of wearing it down.

Moments later, Doyoung appeared at the door. "Do you think you can tell me now?"

Johnny looked away. "Actually, it's fine. No need to get worr-."

"The last time you looked this distraught, Sakuya had to get his teeth pulled for braces. Is it something concerning him?"

"It's not... Well, it's kind of about Sakuya. Maybe a lot more about me," Johnny admitted.

Doyoung frowned, stepping closer. "Then tell me."

"I'm trying to, but-" Johnny stuttered, words collapsing under the weight of his panic, his pheromones rising again, fear spiking. "It's complicated. Doyoung it's... I..."

"Breathe. Take your time."

He moved around the desk and stepped even closer, turning Johnny's chair so that it faced him. The motion was gentle but firm, the kind that didn't leave room for protest. Not like Johnny would even think of protesting. Then he stepped between Johnny's legs, close enough that Johnny had no choice but to look up at him.

"My mom-my brother-she think-I mean he said-"

"Hey, slow down," Doyoung murmured. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. But you need to breathe first."

"I-I..."

Doyoung exhaled, long and patient, then reached up and cupped Johnny's face between his hands. His palms were warm. "We'll go home, relax, and you can explain everything when you're ready. Okay?"

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and thought vaguely that if his brother could see him right now, sitting there like an idiot, struck dumb by his best friend and fake husband, he'd probably call it divine justice. Johnny nodded, helplessly and grateful, when a loud noise interrupted them.

They turned their faces toward the door. And that's when they saw them. Two of their friends crowded by Doyoung's desk. Only one of them was pretending to look busy. Haechan's eyes widened comically as he mouthed, we saw that, whereas Mark looked two seconds away from hiding behind a plant. Johnny froze. Doyoung's hands were still on his face, cupping his cheeks, still awfully close to each other .

Perfect.

Doyoung straightened slowly, his hands falling to his sides. The warmth vanished with them, leaving Johnny cold in a way that had nothing to do with the air. Haechan and Mark stepped into the office. Mark more reluctantly than anything, as Haechan dragged him by the arm.

Johnny cleared his throat, pushing his chair back to create some distance between their bodies. "Evening, guys."

Haechan didn't even try to hide his grin. He slipped into the office like he owned the place, immediately sidling up to Doyoung and looping an arm loosely around his, leaning in with exaggerated curiosity.

"Well," he hummed, brows wiggling, "this is... interesting. Did we interrupt something?"

Doyoung didn't even look at him before pinching his side, hard. Multiple times. Enjoying each time even more the scrunched look on Haechan's face as he tries to run away.

Haechan yelped, recoiling. "Wow... okay. That was so uncalled for." He rubbed his side dramatically, then turned to Johnny with a wounded look. "Did you see that? I get assaulted and no one even blinks."

Doyoung didn't even spare him a glance. "You'll live."

Haechan scoffed. "That's not the point."

Doyoung finally looked at Johnny, expression calm, almost expectant. "You're not going to encourage him, are you?"

Johnny hesitated for half a second. Then, very mildly, "I think we should at least let the HR hear his side of the story."

Haechan lit up immediately. "Exactly. Thank you. Finally someone reasonable."

Doyoung squinted his eyes at Johnny. "I see."

There was no real annoyance in his voice, just that pointed disappointment he used when Johnny was being particularly unhelpful. Mark, who had been hovering just behind Haechan and Doyoung, stepped in at once, nudging Haechan aside with his shoulder.

"It's okay," he said, a little too quickly, like he had just decided something important. "You don't have to deal with him."

He shifted closer to Doyoung, straightened a little, then added with complete seriousness and determination "I'll be your knight in shining armor. I'll defend your honor."

Doyoung's expression softened instantly. He reached out without hesitation, taking Mark's hands in his, staring at him with fondness.

"I knew I made the right choice hiring you," he said, voice warm with approval. "It's nice to have someone who understands loyalty here."

Johnny's jaw tightened. And before he could stop himself, a low, unmistakable growl slipped out of his throat. Haechan froze, then slowly turned his head toward him again, eyes lighting up with interest.

"Oh," he said, half-singing. "Someone's alpha is on edge today."

Johnny straightened slightly, clearing his throat. "Don't."

Doyoung, who had absolutely heard it, chose not to react. Mostly. If looking at Johnny with even more worried eyes than before could be called not reacting.

Haechan clapped his hands once, as if concluding a show. "Anyway. Since I've clearly been wronged today, I think it's only fair that Doyoung apologize to me."

Doyoung narrowed his eyes. "Apologize? For what exactl-."

Haechan smiled, already pleased with himself. "With drinks. Tonight."

Before Doyoung could open his mouth to protest, Johnny spoke first, his tone easy, "Sorry, we already have plans."

Haechan tilted his head, mock-innocent. "We, or Doyoung made you have plans?"

Johnny found himself smiling at the jab. He huffed a quiet breath, something softer settling into his posture now. "We," he repeated, a little more playful this time. "We'll just go home. Probably order takeout." He glanced at Doyoung for silent approval. "Relax a bit. The usual, you know."

Haechan made a face immediately.

"Wow," he said, dragging the word out. "A Thursday night like that? What are you, eighty?"

Mark snorted under his breath.

"Where's your party spirit?" Haechan went on, looking genuinely offended. "This is depressing. I refuse to accept this."

Doyoung didn't even hesitate. "You're the reason I have grey hair," he said calmly. "At this rate, I'm much closer to retirement than any kind of party life. Entirely thanks to you. So yeah, I would take takeouts in front of the TV any day. And don't you have a report due tomorrow at dawn?"

Haechan gasped. "That's defamation."

Mark laughed, glancing down at his watch. "We should go if you still want a booth," he said, nudging Haechan lightly.

Haechan clicked his tongue but let himself be steered toward the door. "Fine. But this isn't over," he added, pointing vaguely between Johnny and Doyoung as they stepped out of his office, still bickering under their breath.

Just before the door closed, Haechan elbowed Mark and stage-whispered, far too loud to be subtle, "I love when he says we. Or home. Or the usual."

Johnny blinked, caught mid-breath. "Yah! Haechan! then how am I supposed to-"

"Just let's go," Doyoung cut in quickly, cheeks faintly pink.

────୨ৎ────

They didn't say much as they left his office. The elevator ride was quiet. Doyoung glanced at him once. Johnny avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the slow descent of the floor numbers.

In the parking lot, Doyoung reached for the driver's side door, but Johnny stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I'll drive," he said, forcing a crooked smile. "Helps me relax."

Doyoung hesitated, then nodded and walked around to the passenger seat without a word.

The ride home was quiet except for the low hum of the engine and the faint sound of Doyoung tapping on his tablet, finishing emails, probably. Johnny's hands were steady on the wheel, but his thoughts were a storm. Every red light felt like an interrogation. Every turn, an escape route he didn't take.

When he finally parked in his building's underground lot, he didn't move. Neither did Doyoung. For a moment, the world held still, just the ticking engine, the blue light from Doyoung's tablet, and the soft weight of exhaustion. Then, quietly, Doyoung's hand came to rest on his knee.

"You're zoning out again," he said, voice low but not unkind.

Johnny exhaled, long and shaky. "Yeah. Sorry."

They got out of the car and made their way to the elevator. The hum of the city faded as the doors closed, leaving only the muted reflection of two men who looked far too exhausted. Inside the penthouse, they slipped off their shoes. Doyoung loosened his tie, rolling his shoulders, already shifting back into the calm that always seemed to follow him home.

"About this morning," he started, tone even.

Johnny stopped him, hands settling gently on Doyoung's shoulders.

"Later," he said, voice softer than he meant it to be. "Go shower. You've had a long day. I'll go check on Sakuya first."

For a second, Doyoung just looked at him with that unreadable expression Johnny could never quite name. Then he nodded. "Alright."

Sakuya's door was half-open, light spilling through the crack in a soft yellow line across the floor. Inside, the boy sat at his desk, back slightly hunched, chin propped in one hand, pencil moving idly over a notebook that was suspiciously too neat for any real studying.

"You're home early," Sakuya said without looking up. His tone was casual, but Johnny could tell he'd been listening, waiting, maybe.

"Yeah," Johnny replied, leaning against the doorframe. "Not such a busy day."

"That's new."

Johnny smiled, shaking his head. "Smartmouth," he said, ruffling his hair.

Sakuya finally looked up. "Something happened?"

Johnny blinked, caught off guard. "Since when do you read me that well?"

"Since always." The boy set his pencil down, turning his chair to face him properly. "You get weird when something's bothering you."

Johnny huffed a quiet laugh. "Weird."

"Yeah," Sakuya said, unfazed. "Like you're not really here, like you're somewhere else."

Johnny shook his head, half amused, and reached out to ruffle his hair again as he passed behind him. Sakuya made a small sound of protest but didn't move away. "So what is it this time?"

Johnny hesitated, then deflected out of habit. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Sakuya didn't look convinced, but he let it go for now.

"...Is it work?" he asked instead.

"Something like that," Johnny said, stepping further into the room. His gaze drifted briefly over the desk, the notebook, the familiar mess that wasn't really a mess. "How was school?"

The change of subject was obvious, but Sakuya humored him, rolling his chair back slightly. "Fine. We had that math test I told you about. I think I did okay."

"Only okay?"

Sakuya gave him a look that was unimpressed but tolerant. "Stop sounding like him."

Johnny laughed quietly and, without thinking too much about it, sat down on the edge of the bed.

"What, expecting the best?"

"No," Sakuya said, picking his pencil back up. "Asking like you already know the answer."

Johnny opened his mouth, then closed it again, chuckling despite himself. "And how's the group project going? You're still paired with Jiwoon?"

Sakuya made a face. "Yeah. He's... nice. But he talks a lot. Like, a lot, lot"

"Says the kid who barely says five words a day. That's not the worst thing in the world to talk a lot."

"It is when he keeps saying he wants to come over to 'talk to Doyoung-ssi again'."

Johnny stifled a grin. "Ah."

"See?" Sakuya pointed his pencil accusingly. "Even you know what that means. He has a crush."

"On me?"

"On him, Dad." Sakuya groaned, dropping his pencil dramatically. "Please. You'd have to be blind."

Johnny laughed, a real laugh this time. "Guess I'm out of touch with middle school romance."

"You're out of touch with your own romance," Sakuya muttered under his breath.

Johnny frowned, his ears not quite catching what his son was saying. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

He let it slide, watching his son go back to doodling in the corner of his notebook. The silence between them was comfortable now, filled only by the soft scratching of Sakuya's pencil. Johnny let his gaze linger on the boy, his son, so composed and yet still so young and for a moment, he wondered how he'd gotten so lucky.

He cleared his throat. "Your... uncle called today."

That made Sakuya pause. The pencil froze mid-line. "Uncle Jaehyun?"

"Mm." Johnny leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "He said your grandma's been worried. A lot."

Sakuya rolled his eyes. "When is she not?"

Johnny smiled faintly as he rubbed the back of his neck, a tell that Sakuya immediately noticed.

"What?" the boy pressed, suspicious. "What's going on this time?

"She... wants to pay us a visit," Johnny admitted finally. "Soon."

Sakuya blinked. "Oh. That's...okay," he said after a second. "I mean we haven't seen her in a while, so..."

Johnny nodded, watching him carefully. He hesitated again, choosing his next words carefully. "She thinks it's time I 'settle down' properly." He said, making air quotes with his fingers.

Sakuya's fingers tightened slightly around his pencil.

"...Properly how?"

Johnny exhaled slowly. "You know how she is."

Sakuya didn't answer right away, because yeah. He did know.

Silence stretched, heavier this time. Sakuya swallowed, then looked back up. "Is she bringing someone with her? Is that why you're so...weird about it?"

Johnny hesitated.

"Yes, she is."

"She thinks it would be better if there was... someone else here... with us" Johnny continued, choosing each word with care. "Someone who could take care of things. Of the house.."

"Someone as in an omega ?," he said quietly.

Johnny didn't deny it. "Yeah."

Sakuya's brows pulled together, something uncertain flickering across his face. "But... we're fine."

"We are," Johnny said quickly.

"So why would she..." He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose. "I mean she always says that kind of stuff," he said, voice tainted by a growing discomfort, "about how only an alpha and an omega can make a proper family, but we already have a family, dad," Sakuya added, quieter now.

Johnny's throat worked around a response. "I know." Then, almost like he was testing the thought out loud, he ventured, "...We don't... need...someone else, right?"

"What?"

Johnny opened his mouth, but Sakuya spoke first.

"... You're not saying yes, right?" he asked, voice thigh in a way that didn't sit right in his father's chest.

Johnny frowned slightly. "It's not about saying yes or no. She's coming. That part's already decided."

"That's not what I meant."

The boy looked down for a second, like he was choosing his words carefully, like he didn't want to say the wrong thing.

"...She's going to expect things, dad," Sakuya said quietly.

Johnny didn't answer. There was no accusation in it. Just something tired. Johnny leaned forward slightly. "Hey. It will not change anything here, okay?"

Sakuya's eyes flicked up to his.

"You say that," he murmured.

Johnny's chest tightened at that.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, softer now.

Sakuya rolled his pencil between his fingers, not really looking at Johnny anymore.

"...What if she brings someone," he said after a moment, "you're not going to... let her decide things, right?"

That was close enough, he thought. Close enough to the real question he wanted to ask.

Johnny shook his head immediately. "No. Of course not."

Sakuya studied him for a second longer, like he was trying to measure how true that was.

"...Okay," he murmured finally, not fully convinced.

There was a long pause.

Johnny swallowed, suddenly aware of how careful he needed to be. He leaned back slightly, just enough to sit more upright on the mattress.

"She just... wishes for us what she thinks is best. You know how she is."

Sakuya didn't answer him at first, averting his eyes away. Johnny shifted again on the bed, rubbing his palms against his knees.

"The... best, as if. She just wants us to..." He scoffed. "

"I don't think she means anything bad," he continued, choosing his words as they came. "She just... wants to make sure we're not missing anything important."

His son looked up, meeting his gaze. Johnny hesitated, and that was it. That tiny pause, that flicker of uncertainty landed in Sakuya like confirmation anyway, twisting everything into something heavier than it truly was.

"You're not siding with grandma, right?" His voice rose, disbelief lacing every word. "You can't! Dad!"

Sakuya's scent had shifted. Johnny felt it before he fully registered it. It wasn't strong or anything. The familiar citrus scent that usually clung to his son turned sour, edged with something akin to fear, setting his heart racing. Johnny's chest tightened.

He straightened. "It's not what I am trying to-"

"It kind of sounds like it is! "Sakuya cut in, pushing back his chair as he stood up too fast, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. "You're just... what, thinking about it? Like she just gets the right to decide that we're not enough."

"That's not what I'm saying," Johnny said quickly, even as he heard how unconvincing it sounded, caught off guard by Sakuya's sudden outburst. His son's scent clouded his mind, the brightness of it turning sour and overwhelming.

"Then what are you saying?" Sakuya shot back. "Because I don't need someone else. You don't need someone else. We don't need someone else. We're fine. "

Johnny opened his mouth, but Sakuya wasn't finished. Anger started to leak through his scent, the citrus growing acrid at the edges. Johnny's own scent shifted in response, cool and quiet like wet stone and pine, reaching for him on instinct, trying to soothe, but Sakuya's only flared in return, bitter and restless, refusing the comfort offered.

"We already have Doyoung in our life," Sakuya said, louder now, his voice shaking at the edges.

The seriousness in his voice landed like a punch in his father's gut. What could he even say? He couldn't promise it. Not like that. Not when there was nothing keeping Doyoung there except his own choice.

Johnny drew in a breath, the clash of it still hanging in the air, citrus turned sour against the damp calm of his own scent, pulling him back into the moment.

He should have stopped there.

He didn't.

"Doyoung is...," he started, slower, like he was trying to grasp something already slipping out of his control. "He's part of us, yeah. But he's also his own person, pup. He has his own life. And one day, he might..." The implication faltered before it could fully form.

The words tasted like ashes on his tongue before he could take them back. His wolf reacted before his mind could catch up. A tearing howl ripped through him, sudden and raw, something deep in his chest twisting hard enough to hurt. The mere thought of Doyoung leaving them, leaving him, the mere idea of that empty space where he had always been being the only thing that will be left behind, was met with immediate refusal. Like his wolf would rather be torn apart than let it happen.

Johnny's eyes squeezed shut, the sensation cutting deeper than he expected, tight enough to steal the air from his lungs. He forced them open again a second later.

Sakuya had gone very still. The anger drained from his scent so suddenly it left Johnny unsteady. In its place, something else surged in, filling the space between them. Unfiltered distress.

"...What do you mean?" Sakuya asked, his voice smaller now.

Johnny's stomach dropped at the sight in front of him. His son had curled inward, arms hugging himself as if to hold something together, cheek pressed to his shoulder, chasing the familiarity of his own scent.

"He's not going anywhere..." Sakuya rushed out, but there was no certainty in it anymore, just something tight and desperate. "Right?"

Silence pressed in around them.

Is that why you were acting so weird earlier?

He's leaving us?

But I've been so good. I've been trying. I even have good grades, I-

Did I do something wrong?

He doesn't want to stay anymore?

No.

No, no, that's not it.

He's not going anywhere.

Dad said that. He wouldn't lie. He wouldn't-

"Then, what? You're not actually agreeing with her, are you?" His voice broke, panic creeping in at the edges. "You're not... you're not going to tell him to leave, right?"

"Sakuya-"

"No, because if you do, if you make him go-" The words started tumbling out faster, tripping over each other. "I'll go with him. I mean it, Dad. You can't just replace him, you can't-he's-he's part of us, he's-"

"Sakuya."

But the boy couldn't hear him.

His breathing quickened, the air in the room tightening. His scent, sharp and wild began to spike, swirling with panic. It hit Johnny like static, his own instincts reacting without thought.

"Sakuya," Johnny tried again, standing, voice low but urgent now. "Hey, breathe, look at me."

"I won't let you do it!" Sakuya's voice cracked, trembling. "I won't! He didn't do anything wrong! He's good to us, and you're just-just-"

"Sakuya." Johnny's tone deepened, but it didn't reach him.

The boy was pacing now, talking faster and faster, his words collapsing into one another. "You always say we're fine, that we don't need anyone else, and now suddenly she comes and you're just gonna, what? Pretend Doyoung never existed? Pretend he's not the reason this place even feels like home?"

Johnny's chest tightened. "That's not-"

Sakuya's voice cracked again, and when he looked up, his eyes were glassy. "You can't make him leave, Dad. I swear, if he goes, I go too."

And just like that, the air broke. His breathing was shallow, quick, his shoulders trembling. His scent filled the room, thick and frantic, overwhelming every rational instinct Johnny had left.

Johnny stepped forward, carefully, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal that might bolt if he moved too fast. "Hey," he murmured. "It's okay. Nobody's leaving. Do you hear me?"

Sakuya's eyes darted to him, wide and lost.

Johnny reached out, his voice shaking just slightly. "I didn't mean it like that, kiddo. I just wanted to tell you what she said. That's all."

The boy didn't answer, still caught somewhere between anger and panic.

And for the first time in years, Johnny felt completely powerless, not because he didn't know what to say, but because he finally realized just how much Doyoung meant to both of them. And how much he wanted to protect it.

"We'll figure it out. Like we always do." he added, a little too quickly.

────୨ৎ────

The air was still trembling between them when the sound of soft footsteps echoed down the hall. The door creaked open.

"Guys?"

Doyoung's voice was quiet, hesitant carrying just enough edge to slice through the tension in the room. He stood in the doorway, hair still damp, towel draped loosely around his shoulders, wearing a loose shirt that clung faintly to his collarbones. He took one look inside and froze.

Sakuya was standing in the middle of the room, chest heaving, his eyes wide and wet. The pup scent in the air was almost metallic with panic. Doyoung felt immediately this instinctive pull in his gut and before he could even say anything, Sakuya moved.

He ran straight toward him.

The boy collided with his waist, arms locking tight around him as though afraid he'd vanish. His face pressed into Doyoung's chest, trembling.

"Hey, hey..." Doyoung murmured, stunned but gentle, one hand coming up to the back of Sakuya's head. "What's going on?"

He looked up then, eyes finding Johnny's across the room, questioning silently. There was confusion there, yes, but more than that, concern. He hadn't heard everything, just the rise and fall of their voices, the tremor of distress threading through the walls.

Johnny didn't answer right away. He couldn't.

Because at that moment, all he could see was his son clinging to Doyoung, like he was the only solid thing left in a world that had tilted without warning. The sight hit something deep, protective, wordless.

Before he even realized it, Johnny was moving too.

He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around both of them, pulling them close, one arm around Sakuya's back, the other resting on Doyoung's shoulder. The boy trembled once, twice, before finally exhaling against Doyoung's chest.

"It's okay," Johnny whispered, voice rough but steady. "I'll never let it happen, Sakuya. You hear me? Never."

The words were soft, meant only for his son, but Doyoung heard them too. His hand, still cradling the back of Sakuya's head, went still for a heartbeat. He didn't fully understand, not yet, but he felt the weight of it. The quiet finality in Johnny's tone. Whatever it was, it mattered.

For a long moment, none of them spoke. The room felt smaller, quieter, their breathing syncing in uneven rhythm. Slowly, the tension ebbed, Sakuya's scent mellowing, his heartbeat easing under Doyoung's palm.

Doyoung stayed like that until he felt the tremors subside. Then, gently, he began to ease out of the embrace.

"Okay," he said softly, brushing his thumb over Sakuya's cheek as he pulled back. The boy's face was flushed, his eyes glassy, but his breathing had evened out. "That's better."

He glanced up at Johnny, and without thinking, reached for his hand the way he always did. Johnny's fingers tightened briefly around his.

Sakuya's arms were still looped around Doyoung's middle, loose now, clinging less out of fear and more out of habit.

"I'll call the restaurant," Doyoung said finally, his tone returning to its usual calm. "We could all use some dinner."

Sakuya sniffled, looking up. "Which one?"

"Probably the usual," Doyoung replied with a faint smile. "Unless you want to change?"

Sakuya shook his head, voice small but sure. "The usual's good."

"Alright then." Doyoung gave a small nod, his hand brushing over Sakuya's hair one last time. "While I'm downstairs, you two should... talk, hm? Whatever happened, clear it up before it grows teeth."

Johnny exhaled slowly, nodding. "Yeah. We will."

Doyoung lingered a second longer in the doorway, eyes moving between the two of them : father and son standing close now, both visibly calmer.

He gave them a small, reassuring smile. "Don't make me come back up here to referee, alright?"

Sakuya managed a tiny laugh. And then Doyoung turned, padding quietly down the hallway. He paused halfway, glancing back once, just long enough to see Johnny ruffle Sakuya's hair, the boy leaning into it like he used to when he was small.

Something in his chest eased.

Whatever storm had just passed, it had left something solid behind.

For a while after Doyoung left, silence settled over the room again, not tense anymore, just fragile, like the quiet after a storm. The hum of the apartment felt louder than usual, a steady heartbeat beneath the quiet.

Sakuya was still standing close to Johnny, staring at the carpet. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie.

"...I'm sorry," he mumbled eventually, voice small. "For freaking out."

Johnny shook his head immediately. "Hey. No. Don't apologize for that." He crouched down so they were at eye level. "But... maybe you can tell me what happened back there? You scared me a little, buddy."

Sakuya hesitated, chewing on his lower lip. His gaze flicked away, toward the open doorway where Doyoung had disappeared moments ago.

"I don't know," he said finally. "It just- it sounded like you were gonna let Grandma make you send him away. Like she said before. That he shouldn't be here." His voice wavered. "And I just- I couldn't let that happen."

Johnny frowned, gently resting a hand on his son's shoulder. "Sakuya, why would you think I'd ever do that?"

"Because..." The boy's voice broke a little, barely above a whisper now. "He's not really my...parent."

Johnny froze.

Sakuya pressed on, words tumbling faster, like if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to start again. "I mean, I know he is. On paper, yeah. You both told me that. But what if one day he decides he's tired of it? Of me? Or if you change your mind? What if Grandma keeps saying stuff and you start to believe her, and then he...he leaves?"

Johnny's chest tightened. He hadn't expected that. He exhaled slowly, reaching forward to brush a hand through Sakuya's hair. "Hey. Look at me."

Sakuya looked up, reluctantly. His eyes were wet and shiny in the lamplight, that same nervous spark Johnny had seen years ago when he'd first come home from court, scared the adoption wouldn't go through.

"Doyoung's not going anywhere," Johnny said firmly. "You hear me? Not while I'm breathing. Forget what I said earlier, okay?"

Sakuya blinked, trying to hold back tears. "You promise?"

"I do," Johnny said softly. "And I mean it. You're his kid, Sakuya. You know how many times he's corrected me when I say my son instead of our son?"

That earned a tiny, watery laugh from Sakuya. Johnny smiled back.

"But," Johnny continued, sitting down on the edge of the bed, motioning for Sakuya to join him, "there's something else I need to talk to you about. And I wanted to do it before I told him."

Sakuya sniffled and nodded, curling up beside him.

Johnny took a deep breath. "So... I might have thought of something to stop her. Something crazy."

Sakuya perked up a little, curiosity pushing through his unease. "Crazy how?"

Johnny hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "You remember how Doyoung and I had to pretend to be married?"

Sakuya nodded slowly. "Yeah. You even did that photo thing. With the suits."

"Right," Johnny said, smiling faintly at the memory. "It worked then. So... I was thinking maybe we could do something like that again. Make it look like...like we're still the picture-perfect family. The three of us. Just until she leaves."

"I'm in," Sakuya said instantly.

Johnny blinked. "You are?"

"Of course. It's Doyoung." Sakuya said it like it was obvious, like the sky being blue.

Johnny's throat tightened again, for the second time that evening.

"Alright," he said quietly. "Then we'll do it. Together."

Sakuya nodded firmly, the last of his earlier panic fading into something steadier. "Together."

From somewhere down the hall, faintly, they could hear Doyoung's voice, calm and polite, probably ordering takeout like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sakuya smiled faintly at the sound. "We should tell him after dinner. He might freak out."

Johnny chuckled. "Yeah, you're right. After dinner."

────୨ৎ────

Downstairs, the house felt too still. Doyoung leaned against the counter, towel still damp around his shoulders, the faint scent of his shampoo rising with the steam that clung to his skin. He was scrolling through the takeout menu he already knew by heart, the calm routine a way to anchor himself. His fingers hovered over the call button longer than necessary.

He could still hear the faint murmur of voices upstairs : Johnny's deeper tone, Sakuya's uneven one. He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, a bad habit he took from Johnny. They're talking. That's good. They apparently needed to.

When the restaurant picked up, he almost missed the greeting.

"Oh, hello," he answered, voice shifting into something polite but familiar. "It's me again."

A soft laugh came through the line.

"You say that like you don't order from us every other day," the woman replied, amused.

Doyoung huffed a quiet breath, the corner of his mouth lifting despite himself. "It's not my fault your noodles are addictive."

"That's what I keep telling her," she said. "But she refuses to believe her cooking is the reason people come back."

He let out a small laugh at that. "I'll make sure to break the news to her gently."

"Please do," she replied lightly. "Same as usual?"

"Yes," he confirmed, then hesitated briefly. "Same address... and could you add an extra miso soup?"

There was a softer pause on the other end.

"For the little one upstairs?" she asked, like she already knew.

Doyoung's expression softened. "Yeah."

"Already on it," she said warmly. "He had a rough day again?"

"...More like a mathematics test," he admitted.

A beat passed, then his tone shifted, warmer, more personal.

"How is your husband, by the way?" he asked. "Still trying to escape the hospital?"

"He's been trying to convince everyone he can leave the hospital already," the woman said, exhaling through her nose. "Which, knowing him, means he's also bothering every nurse within reach."

That earned a fond sound of disbelief from Doyoung.

"That man," he said. "Johnny said the same thing when they visited him on Sunday. Apparently he keeps telling everyone he's 'perfectly fine' and trying to walk around when he's supposed to be in bed. Seventy-two and still convinced rules don't apply to him."

"And yet," she added warmly, "he behaved himself when Johnny and the little one came to visit on Sunday. He was grumpy the entire time, as usual," she continued, warmer now, "but he hasn't stopped talking about it since. Said the boy cheated at cards, and he 'let him win out of pity.' Don't tell him I said this," she continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "but he was very happy. He just refuses to admit it unless he's complaining."

"I'll keep it between us," Doyoung promised.

"Thank you, though," she added, softer. "For sending them. It meant a lot to him. He doesn't get many visits like that anymore."

Doyoung's voice was gentle. "They wanted to go. Johnny insisted, actually."

"Well," she said lightly, "tell them they can come again anytime. Even if Sakuya cheats at cards."

"I'll pass that on," Doyoung replied with a faint smile.

He hung up and braced his hands on the counter. The sound of water ticking in the pipes upstairs reminded him of the shower he'd abandoned mid-rinse. His chest tightened a little at the thought of Sakuya's face when he'd run to him earlier. How small he'd felt, how fiercely he'd clung, as if Doyoung could disappear at any moment.

He swallowed hard.

"God, kid..." he muttered, shaking his head. "You're going to give me grey hair before my time."

He smiled despite himself. Still, there was a flicker of unease he couldn't shake. He didn't know exactly what had triggered the panic, but Johnny's expression, when he'd whispered 'I'll never let it happen' had lodged itself somewhere deep.

Doyoung picked up the towel and rubbed his hair absently.

He didn't mind being left out of the conversation. It was better that way. But part of him ached to know what had been said, what had scared Sakuya so much. And what exactly Johnny was promising.

When he finally heard footsteps creak on the stairs above, he straightened instinctively. The warmth in his chest returned, steady and grounding, the same way it always did when he felt them close.

He let out a breath and said softly to himself,

"Alright. We're okay. It's gonna be okay."

The doorbell rang. Dinner had arrived.

────୨ৎ────

Later that night, when the house had gone quiet and Sakuya had retreated to his room with his headphones, Doyoung stayed behind in the living room. He was folding the throw blanket on the couch when Johnny appeared, hesitant, hands buried deep in his pockets.

"Can we talk?" Johnny asked, voice low.

Doyoung turned, catching the tone immediately. "You mean a serious talk, or the kind of talk that makes me regret asking questions later?"

Johnny winced. "The second one."

That earned him a wary look, but Doyoung sat anyway, tucking one leg beneath him. "Alright. Shoot."

Johnny didn't start right away. He paced, rubbed the back of his neck, then finally exhaled and faced him.

"My mom's coming. With the family. She called earlier, well, Jaehyun did. Apparently, she's decided it's time I... 'stabilize my household.'"

Doyoung's eyebrows arched. "That sounds ominous."

"She wants me to meet someone she thinks will 'balance us out,'" Johnny said grimly, making air quotes with a humorless twist of his mouth. "Probably someone they've already picked. Someone from a 'good family,' whatever that means."

Doyoung blinked slowly, his voice dropping. "You mean they think you should take a partner." His expression hardened. "You're joking."

"I wish I were." Johnny leaned back on the couch, rubbing the back of his neck.

The words hung heavy in the air. For a long moment, Doyoung didn't move. Then he let out a quiet, incredulous laugh. "And what, they just expect you to say yes?"

"Apparently," Johnny said, half smiling, half grimacing. "She's supposed to come to visit in a few."

"That's," Doyoung exhaled, the sound sharp and disbelieving. "That's insane."

"Tell me about it." Johnny rubbed his face, the frustration obvious. "But if I refuse without a solid reason, they'll just double down. They'll say I'm being stubborn, irresponsible, letting my alpha instincts run wild again. You know how she is."

Doyoung's eyes narrowed. "And where do I come in?"

Johnny hesitated for a second, then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

The way he said it, careful, almost too careful, made Doyoung straighten instinctively. "Johnny..."

"I need them to believe I already have someone," Johnny said finally. "Someone stable. Someone I've been with for years. Someone they can't question."

Doyoung blinked, slow and wary. "You want me to-"

"Pretend to be that person," Johnny finished, voice low but steady. "Please, I'm begging you."

Doyoung stared at him, his mouth parting in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"I am," Johnny said simply. "It's not as crazy as it sounds. We already live together, we share everything. You're family to Sakuya. My family doesn't know about the marriage papers, they'll just assume we've been together secretly all this time."

"That's your plan?" Doyoung's tone wavered between incredulous and exasperated. "To tell them we've been in a secret marriage for years?"

"Exactly," Johnny said. "If they think I'm already settled, that I've found someone, someone who's good for me and for Sakuya, they'll stop pushing. They'll back off."

Doyoung's brows furrowed. "Johnny, this is..that's not a small thing to ask."

There was a shift in the air then. His scent, usually so even, wavered. The cotton that usually felt like home turned uneven, a bitter edge of green tea rising through it, no longer soft or steady but fractured by something unsettled underneath, like a calm surface disturbed before it could fully break.

"I know," Johnny said softly. "But it would only be for the visit. A few weeks, maybe a month. Just until they go home."

"Do you even hear yourself right now?" he added, quieter. "You're an alpha. I'm a beta. Your mother barely tolerates anything that doesn't fit her idea of how things should be."

His gaze dropped for a second, then lifted again, more unsettled now.

"And you really think bringing me in like this would convince her?" Doyoung let out a short, humorless breath. "If anything, it would give her more reason to dig in. More reason to prove she was right, more reason to try and tear it apart until there's nothing left of it."

Johnny didn't even hesitate.

"So?" he shot back, like it was obvious. "You're the one always going on about how none of that should matter. Love is love, right? Alpha, beta, omega, it doesn't matter. People make it work all the time now. It's not like it used to be."

Doyoung let out a short, disbelieving breath. His scent shifted again, more restless now, the soft edges fraying in a way Johnny didn't or refused to register.

Doyoung ran a hand through his damp hair, still faintly smelling of soap from the shower. "You do realize how messy this could get?"

"I've thought about it," Johnny insisted, already stepping closer. "And I don't care," he went on, softer now but no less certain. "About what she thinks. About what anyone thinks. That's not-" He exhaled. "That's not the point."

Doyoung's gaze flickered, searching his face, something unreadable settling there.

Johnny continued, voice lowering, more earnest now. "No one makes more sense than you. You already fit. You always have."

Something in Doyoung's chest tightened at that.

There it was.

So close to something else it almost hurt to hear.

Years of it, maybe. Of not crossing that line. Of refusing to name it. Of pretending there were reasons good enough to keep things where they were. The world, Johnny's family, his subgender. As if that had ever been the real problem. The real problem was that Doyoung had never been what Johnny wanted.

Johnny, who had always gravitated toward omegas. Johnny, who had built a life, a marriage, a child with one. Johnny, who had never once looked at him like that. At least, not in any way Doyoung had ever dared to think of. And still...God, still a part of him wished, stupidly, that those words had been said in a different context. That they meant something else. Something real.

Johnny said, inching closer, his voice almost pleading now, "But if I bring someone new in, it'll be chaos. They'll dig into them, question everything, find every hole in the story. With you..." He hesitated, searching Doyoung's eyes. "With you, it makes sense."

He reached out without realizing it, resting both hands gently on Doyoung's knees. "You already know how my family works. You know what they expect, what to say, what not to say."

Doyoung looked down at Johnny's hands, large, warm, steady, and swallowed. "And what would this... pretending... actually look like?"

Johnny took a slow breath. "We'd have to act close. Not over the top, but natural, like we always are. Just... more intentional, like we did before. Dinners together, maybe holding hands outside once or twice. Sleeping in the same room, at least when they're around."

Doyoung's lips parted, a flush creeping into his cheeks. "You're not making this sound better."

Johnny smiled faintly. "It's just to sell it. You know how convincing we can be. We pulled it off back then."

Doyoung let out a shaky laugh. "Barely."

"Barely's still enough," Johnny said quietly. "And you're better at this than you think."

Doyoung leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms tightly. "What's in it for me, then?"

"Anything," Johnny said immediately.

Doyoung's eyes flicked to his, skeptical. "Anything?"

"Anything," Johnny repeated, softer this time, but no less certain. He leaned in without noticing, like the distance itself was a problem. "Whatever you want. Paid vacations, I'll sign it. The firm, it's yours if you want it. A beach house in Malibu, I'll find one by tomorrow. Or the Hamptons if you'd rather. I'll buy it outright. You won't even have to look at listings." He let out a breath, something uneven slipping through. "You don't even have to think about anything. Just say it, and it's done."

His gaze didn't leave Doyoung's.

"I mean it," he added, quieter now. "Anything. I just... I need you for this, Doyoung."

There was a long silence. The only sound was the faint hum of the city beyond the window, and the quiet, unsteady rhythm of their breathing.

Finally, Doyoung spoke, softer this time. "Is this really the only way to help you?"

Johnny's gaze didn't waver. "It's the only way to keep them from tearing us apart."

And for a moment, Doyoung didn't know what unnerved him more : the word pretend, or the way Johnny said "us" like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe Haechan was into something.

Something heavy moved in Doyoung's chest, resignation, maybe. Or something gentler he didn't want to name. Johnny stood up after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'll get you some tea," he said quietly, and left the room.

The silence he left behind felt alive, stretching around Doyoung as he sat there, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. He could hear the faint clatter of porcelain in the kitchen, the steady rhythm of Johnny moving around like it was any other evening.

Only it wasn't.

They were already a family. Everyone who stepped into the house saw it : the photos on the walls, the way Sakuya's old drawings took up the fridge, the way Johnny and Doyoung moved around each other like they'd done it for years. There was only one picture missing.

Doyoung's mind drifted to the blank spot above the couch, the faint square of lighter paint where a frame used to hang.

When Johnny came back with the tea, he handed one cup to Doyoung before settling on the couch, close enough that his knee brushed against Doyoung's leg. His own cup rested loosely in his hands.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Just the quiet clink of porcelain, the soft curl of steam between them. Doyoung took a slow sip before finally breaking the silence.

"I think we should put our wedding portrait back up then," he said evenly.

Johnny froze for half a second, cup midair. Then his expression softened, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips as he stepped closer, something almost eager in the way his scent brightened. Now lighter, warmer, threaded with something dangerously close to relief. If he'd been in his wolf form, Doyoung was fairly sure his tail would have been giving him away.

"You're sure?"

Doyoung just nodded, fingers curling around the warm porcelain. "If we're going to do this," he murmured, "we should at least do it right."

For a moment, Johnny just looked at him, silent. The words seemed to take a while to settle like he didn't quite believe Doyoung had said them out loud.

Then his breath left him in a quiet laugh, the kind that came from deep in his chest, not out of amusement but disbelief and relief all tangled together. He set the cup down carefully on the low table, as if it were suddenly too fragile for his hands.

"Doyoung..." His voice cracked faintly around the edges. "You don't have to."

"I know." Doyoung's tone was calm, steady. "But I will."

Johnny's throat worked as he tried to swallow whatever emotion had climbed up there. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees again, eyes tracing Doyoung's face like he was memorizing it.

"Thank you," he said finally. It was barely more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of everything he couldn't put into words. "You didn't have to, and you're still-" He stopped himself, shaking his head with a faint smile. "You're too good to me."

Doyoung didn't answer that. He just took a sip of tea, trying not to notice how warm his chest felt.

The rest of the evening passed in the kind of soft silence that only exists between people who've already said enough. They cleaned up the cups together without speaking, moving around each other in practiced synchrony. When the lights were dimmed and the house quieted, they both lingered in the hallway, the soft glow from the nightlight catching the edges of their faces.

Johnny turned first, one hand braced against the doorframe of his room. "We'll-" he started, then stalled, visibly tripping over his own words. "I mean...soon. As soon as possible," he corrected, a little too quickly, clearing his throat. "That gives us time to... to, uh..."

He made a vague gesture toward the apartment, like the words had completely abandoned him.

"...put things back in place," he finished, not sounding nearly as put-together as he probably intended.

There was a beat. And then Doyoung laughed. Not loud, not mocking, just soft, and a little fond despite himself.

Johnny blinked at him, faintly offended. "What?"

Doyoung only shook his head, the smile still there, quieter now but no less amused.

"You're just..." he started, then trailed off, like he wasn't sure how to say it without making it worse. "Nothing. It's just you, I guess."

Johnny frowned a little, clearly not satisfied with that answer. "That doesn't explain anything."

Doyoung's smile softened at the edges. "It doesn't have to."

Johnny held his gaze for a second longer, like he wanted to argue, then let out a quiet breath, something in him easing despite himself.

A beat of silence stretched, then he added, softer, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Doyoung said back, but his voice caught faintly halfway through the word.

Johnny hesitated, then reached out, just a touch, fingers brushing Doyoung's wrist. It wasn't meant to be anything, but it lingered a second too long.

"Thank you," he said again, low, almost apologetic.

Doyoung gave a small nod, eyes flicking down to where Johnny's fingers had been. "Get some sleep, Johnny."

"I'll try," Johnny said, smiling faintly, then stepped back into his room.

Doyoung stood there a few seconds longer, staring at the empty space between their doors, listening to the quiet click of Johnny's door closing. Then he turned off the hallway light, the faint echo of their conversation still humming in his chest.

────୨ৎ────

The morning light filtered through the curtains in long, pale stripes, painting soft gold across Sakuya's face. He was curled on his side, sheets tangled around his legs, hair a sleep-ruffled mess. Doyoung stood at the edge of the bed for a moment, watching him with that mix of fondness and quiet worry that had become second nature.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Sakuya's forehead. "Hey," he murmured. "Time to wake up, sunshine."

Sakuya made a small noise of protest, burying his face deeper into the pillow. "Five minutes..."

"You said that Tuesday," Doyoung said, voice gentle but firm. "And you were late for class. Again."

A muffled groan came from under the blanket. "You sound like Dad."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Doyoung replied, tugging gently at the sheets.

Sakuya squinted at him through one barely open eye. His voice was still raspy from sleep. "You never sleep in, do you?"

"Not when someone has school," Doyoung said, smiling faintly. "Come on, breakfast's almost ready

The boy peeked one eye open, pouting. "You're too good at this."

"That's my job," Doyoung said, smiling faintly.

Sakuya shifted, sitting up slowly, rubbing his eyes. "Did you... talk to Dad?" His tone was cautious, hesitant.

Doyoung's hand stilled for a second where it had been smoothing the blanket. "We did," he said finally.

Sakuya blinked. "And?"

Doyoung sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. "And you're both insane," he said, though his voice softened the words. "But apparently that's a Suh family trait, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

Sakuya let out a small laugh, the tension in his shoulders loosening. "So he told you?"

"He did," Doyoung said. "And I told him I'd help. For now."

Sakuya watched him for a moment, thoughtful. Then, with a sudden shyness that didn't quite fit his usual easy confidence, he mumbled, "So... does that mean I will have to call you Appa?"

Doyoung's heart clenched a little at that. He turned toward Sakuya, hand resting lightly on the boy's blanket. "You can call me whatever feels right to you," he said softly. "If that's 'Appa,' then yes. I'd like that."

Sakuya's lips curved into a small, sleepy smile. "Okay..."

Downstairs, the faint sound of dishes clinking carried up, the smell of coffee, toasted bread, eggs sizzling in the pan.

Doyoung exhaled, steadying himself. "Come on," he said, brushing Sakuya's hair again. "Your dad's cooking. You know what happens if we let him near the stove unsupervised."

Sakuya grinned, finally awake now. "Smoke detector breakfast?"

"Exactly," Doyoung said, standing and offering his hand. "Let's save the house before he burns it down."

They padded downstairs together, the light laughter between them carrying faintly down the hall.

In the kitchen, Johnny looked up from the stove, spatula in hand, startled at the sight of them. There was something in his expression: relief, maybe, or just that awe that came with seeing the two people he loved the most in the same room.

Doyoung smiled, deliberately calm. "You didn't start a fire," he said. "That's a good sign."

Johnny chuckled. "Almost did. The toaster didn't like me today."

Sakuya rolled his eyes affectionately. "Dad, I don't think the toaster will like you better tomorrow. He only listens to Appa."

Johnny froze mid-movement, eyes flicking to Doyoung not missing the way Sakuya had said it. Doyoung, for his part, only smiled, reaching for the plates.

"Sit," he said, tone light. "I'll serve before you turn the eggs into rubber."

As he moved around the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, Johnny caught himself watching him again, this time with something quieter, more grounded. They really did already look like a family.

Maybe, he thought, they just had to convince the rest of the world of what was already true.