Chapter Text
Jimin keeps his cards face down on the table, peeking at them by lifting the corners. His brows are pinched together, arms folded, the arrow of his mouth floor bound. He cast a quick sideward glance towards Yoongi. The Omega’s in a similar state.
“Please tell me you have something,” Yoongi whispers under his breath.
Jimin has zilch, nada, nothing.
This isn't about money. This is about pride.
He can’t even flip the table like he did last Friday, earning him a scolding.
“What do you want me to do?” Jimin hisses urgently. “I don’t have any pairs.”
Yoongi rests his head on the table. “We’re gonna get beaten by a couple of one-year-olds.”
“Papa, are you ok?” Hana asks, head tilted, slobbering on her cards, probably the last pair of aces if Jimin’s counting is correct.
Yoongi peeks at her through one open eye, blue as a sapphire, cheek still flush against the wood grain. “Papa is having a tiny meltdown. Don’t worry about it.”
Hana stares back at him, the same bright blue eyes, made warmer only by the rose gold of her hair. She laughs, “I never said I was worried. Sorry, Papa.”
She slaps down a pair of aces, drool and all, leaving one final card in her clutches. Hana has all the ruthlessness that a young Alpha typically does at that age.
Jimin inhales sharply, about to surrender when his phone goes off. He checks it, sliding it halfway out of his pocket. It’s like being greet by an old friend, with a warm hug. It’s his deliverer.
“Bedtime,” Jimin says, flashing his canines.
Hana’s smile morphs into a frown, tears glassing over her eyes. “I— but— you guys took too long. I was gonna win.”
Yoongi springs up from the table with the energy of ten. “Oh, no complaining. Up we go, duckling.”
He lifts the girl by the armpits, even as she weakly attempts escape, hitting his chest with her last card. “No, I wanna keep playing. Please, Papa.”
She looks helplessly at Jimin, who makes a face halfway between remorse and amusement. “I was gonna win, Dada. I was gonna win.”
Jimin waves innocently as Yoongi carries her away like a disgruntled DMV Patron. Then he focuses in on his son, who’s quietly sitting there with wide eyes.
“Are you ready to go to bed, Kiwi?” Jimin hums.
The boy places his cards on the table, a pair of twos that would have won him the game. He reaches upward, clenching and unclenching his tiny fingers. “Yes, father.”
Jimin scoops him up, the boy finding the junction between his arm and shoulder, resting his head there.
“Are you tired, sweet boy?” Jimin coos.
Kihyun doesn’t answer. Instead, he busies himself with a loose thread on Jimin’s sweater, not quite picking at it, just twirling his fingers around. “I don’t want to sleep, father.”
“I know,” Jimin says, before kissing the top of his head. “I know, honey.”
The boy’s colored in midnight just like him, dark hair, and dark red eyes. The only thing different is that he has Yoongi’s pale, flawless skin. The contrast is utterly charming, if only a bit unsettling. Kihyun’s already managed to completely win over all his teachers in daycare, Hana, the exact opposite.
“I know they’re just dreams, father,” Kihyun mumbles. “But they feel so real.”
Jimin rubs his back gently. “I can sing to you, how about that? Do you want me to sing?”
Kihyun grabs at his sweater more firmly now, burying his face in the folds of the fabric. “Yes, father.”
Jimin hums a made-up tune, rocking the boy, who clings to him tighter. Yoongi appears in the doorway, smirking triumphantly. He’d successfully put Hana to sleep first, and that victory is etched in his delicate features.
The Alpha’s red eyes flash just once. First of all, it’s not even fair. They both know that Kihyun is the tougher one to get to bed.
“Do you need help?” Yoongi asks, almost smugly.
Jimin narrows his eyes, turning his body away as he sings. But Kihyun reaches out for his Omega father, hand finding purchase in his platinum blond locks. “A storm's coming, Yoongi.”
A chill shoots down Jimin’s spine through his only response is to hold his son tighter. Kihyun’s bright. It’s not a surprise that he picks up cues and words, stringing them together in a way that almost means something. But that’s not—
Yoongi immediately frowns. “We talked about this, Kihyun. I’m your parent, your father. You can’t call me by my first name like that. It’s disrespectful.”
The tired boy catches himself, burying his face in Jimin’s sweater again. He’s very timid for an Alpha, which Jimin finds refreshing. Kihyun is a lot like himself when he was young. The chastisement is more than enough for the child.
“I’m sorry, Papa. I forgot,” the boy whispers, still hiding in shame.
Yoongi sighs, weariness in his exhales, “It’s okay, Kiwi. I know you didn’t mean it.”
The Omega ruffles Kihyun’s midnight locks, and the child cautiously glances out. His eyes are so dark red, they’re almost purple, strange and beautiful. The boy doesn’t say anything more, resting his head back on Jimin’s shoulder.
“Go to bed, honey,” Jimin says. “I got this.”
Yoongi’s pouts, sighs, makes a soft, rebellious noise, and marches up the stairs to the master bedroom.
“Is Papa mad at me?” Kihyun whispers once the man is gone.
Jimin breaks from his humming to answer. “No, sweet boy. He just doesn’t want you calling him by his first name is all.”
Kihyun considers this, internal conflict evident in the furrow of his brow. “I’m sorry, father.”
“I know you are,” Jimin answers, kissing the boy atop his head again, continuing his rocking. The man ascends the staircase, adjusting for balance.
Kihyun goes back to playing with Jimin’s sweater threads, humming along with the song. They arrive at the boy’s room which is startlingly neat, by his own volition. Jimin sets Kihyun down on the bed, tucking him in.
“Comfy, Kiwi?” Jimin chirps, brushing the hair out of the boy’s eyes.
Kihyun nods. “Do you think you can buy me a dream catcher, father?”
“A dream catcher?” Jimin parrots, surprised by the sudden request.
“I don’t want to have any more bad dreams,” Kihyun whispers, eyelids drooping. “I want to be who am I now, and not who I was before.”
Jimin’s heart clenches. Fatherhood has pulled many, many punches, and he’s yet to learn to roll with them. What can he do but agree?
“Sure thing, I’ll get you a dreamcatcher,” Jimin whispers. “Now go to sleep. You have to be up early tomorrow.”
Kihyun nods, and he closes his eyes. “Good night, father.”
Jimin smiles, wishing he could convince the boy to address him as Dad, or Dada, but he’s already outgrown it, much preferring this title over anything else. “Good night, champ.”
The man shuffles over to his bedroom, where Yoongi will inevitably be awake and sulking.
True to form, the Omega is laying in bed, eyes wide open and glowing in the moonlit darkness. He sits on the precipice of glorious perfection, so breathtaking it hurts, even with a frown on his face.
“Yoongi,” Jimin calls.
“Don’t ‘Yoongi’ me,” the Omega hisses. “You traitor.”
Jimin laughs. He knows he shouldn’t but the sound fights it way past his throat, bubbling over into reality. He quickly covers his mouth, to his own chagrin. “Sorry.”
Yoongi’s frown deepens, as a wine-hued blush settles on his cheeks, and the tip of his nose. “It’s easy for you to laugh. They both love you.”
Jimin throws himself on the bed, head landing on Yoongi’s stomach. “We can always have another one. Maybe this time you’ll have an Omega, and they’ll love you the most.”
Yoongi’s hands thread through Jimin’s hair, giving him a half-hearted scalp massage. “So you’re not even going to disagree with me. They like you best, you admit it?”
Jimin laughs again, earning a vengeful tug of his hair. It’s not exactly pain, not exactly pleasure. The Alpha's body doesn’t know what to do with that except to send a jolt down to his belly, soft heat licking his insides.
“If you don’t want to drive the car, don’t start the engine,” Jimin warns. Yoongi’s hands linger for a moment, but ultimately he withdraws. The Alpha’s disappointed but they both have a long day tomorrow, with the restaurant catering a celebrity wedding.
“I’m worried about him, Jimin. He’s different. They’re both different. But at least Hana has friends, Kihyun just— It can’t be good for him to be all by himself like this,” Yoongi grumbles.
“They’re smart,” Jimin comments. “They’re just really smart. They get that from you, baby.”
The Alpha crawls upward, slotting himself in between the sheets, and urging Yoongi’s limp body to do the same. The older curses under his breath before he follows through.
“I was bright when I was a kid, yeah. I was decent with numbers, and I was good at reading,” Yoongi agrees. “But these guys are fucking prodigies. I’m scared for them, Jimin. What’s going to happen when they realize they’re the only kids like this?”
Jimin bites his lower lip, searching for Yoongi’s hand blindly. When he finds it, he gives it a squeeze. “I think they already know. It’s okay, baby. They’ll make it. They have us and they have each other.”
Yoongi sighs, pulsing back. The Omega sprouts the smallest of smiles, bright lapis eyes fluttering in the dark. “You’re smart too, ya know? Don’t sell yourself short.”
Jimin grins, warmth flooding his chest. He’s thankful that his problems extend to whether his kids are fitting in or not, and how they’re going to accommodate a 150 person guest list inside a 100 person seating area. It’s not life or death. It’s blissfully insubstantial, fading problems that will disappear with the ebb and flow of the tide.
“I’m just lucky,” Jimin replies.
Yoongi hums, turning over and pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. “Maybe.”
In the morning, after a hearty breakfast, Yoongi heads to the restaurant first to see where they can fit chairs. This leaves Jimin with the kids, dressing them up, getting their backpacks ready for daycare.
Hana is eager, having dressed by herself, hands tugging at the straps of her bag, already on her back. She’s buzzing at the start of the day.
“Come on, Dada,” she chirps. “I don’t wanna be late.”
Kihyun’s a bit more sluggish, waiting on Jimin to decide what colors to put him in. If it were up to the boy, he’d be wearing a tiny, black, three-piece suit, with a red tie. Instead, Jimin dresses him in a yellow hoodie, and dark, blue jeans.
Kihyun nervously tugs at the shoelace ties, smoothing out the fabric. “Are you sure this is okay, father? I feel too— ”
He searches for the word, probably scanning through the thousands of adjectives he knows.
“— yellow.”
Jimin laughs, causing his son to flush. Kihyun hangs his head, shoulders drooping, and the parent immediately feels a sense of guilt.
“I’m sorry, Kiwi” Jimin hums. “I think it’s just the right amount of yellow.”
The boy scans down again and nods, a pout on his face “Okay.”
“Now, let’s get a move on,” Jimin chirps. “Mrs. Go doesn’t appreciate tardiness.”
Jimin arrives at the daycare fifteen minutes early. Mrs. Go greets both Hana and Kihyun with a big smile. “Go hang up your coats in the closet. Scoot. And take out your projects!”
They do as she asks, Hana more enthusiastically so.
Jimin’s left alone for the two minutes of forced, awkward small talk. The Alpha used to run a criminal syndicate, sit at tables and play for livelihoods. He’s admittedly bad at talking about day to day things.
“So how’s the restaurant business going, Mr. Min,” she asks.
Jimin takes a half second to remember he had his name legally changed to Min Jimin, to shake off his aforementioned criminal life.
“It’s going,” Jimin offers, knowing full well that’s not enough to be considered polite conversation.
Mrs. Go nods, offering a sheepish smile. “It’s really nice to see an Alpha drop off their kids. You have no idea. I don’t mind if you’re not a talker as long as you’re a doer.”
Jimin bows his head gratefully. “Thanks.”
The elderly woman beams at him. “But I need to tell you that Hana and Kihyun should probably be placed in a more advanced class. I suggest you search out a high school that—”
Jimin frowns. “I-I- we, me and my husband, want them to be children for just a little longer. I hope you understand.”
Mrs. Go nods. “They’re more well-read than some of the teenagers I know. You can’t keep them at this level forever. At least consider it. I’m sure there are many schools willing to take on two gifted students.”
“I’ll have to ask Yoongi what he thinks,” Jimin offers, to which Mrs. Go nods.
“I wish there were more Alphas like you. Honestly, the world would be a much better place,” she says. “I hope he agrees. I have some forms that I’d like to give you.”
Other parents are starting to file in, soft smells, composed dominantly of Omegas.
“Sure,” Jimin hums. “I won’t keep you. Have a wonderful day.”
Mrs. Go waves him off, and turns to the next parent, having a more cheerful conversation than the one Jimin could provide.
The Alpha walks back to the parking lot, a slight drizzle wetting his hair. He slides into his SUV, missing his supercar for a ghost of a second before he sighs and puts the thing into gear. Yoongi’s waiting for him at the restaurant. And given Yoongi’s I don’t give a fuck stance in life, he’s probably already had it up to there.
Jimin rushes to work, unable to dodge the traffic like Yoongi. The Alpha does a sloppy park job on the street.
“I have had it up to—” Yoongi’s voice echoes down into the entrance way, pausing in mid-sentence, before resuming. “Baby, is that you?”
“I’m here,” Jimin chirps, climbing the stairs up to what he already envisioned in his mind.
Yoongi’s standing there with his arms crossed, looking like a supermodel. He’s clearly upstaging the bride, not that he’s trying in the slightest. She’s supposed to be the celebrity, a singer or something. Though, at this moment, it just looks like she’s upset that Yoongi’s so much more beautiful than her. But Jimin could just be a bit biased.
“I hate this place,” she screams.
Jimin quickly intervenes with a tight smile. “Baby, why don’t you go check on the food in the kitchen.”
Yoongi scoffs, exiting in the most theatrical fashion ever, flipping his hair at a length that he doesn’t have. “You traitor.”
Ms. Choi, the apparently famous singer, is bugged eyed, with not a hair in place. “How can you be married to that— “
Jimin cuts her off because if he hears the end of that sentence, he knows that he’ll be the one kicking her out. And that would be ugly.
“Ms. Choi, your wedding day is tomorrow. I am just heartbroken that you’re feeling so stressed. If there’s anything I can do, I will,” Jimin says, summoning his most sympathetic look.
The woman blinks twice, inhaling deeply, anger fading to sadness. “I— my mother in law is coming and I need everything to be perfect. There are not enough chairs for everyone.”
And Jimin has a great idea on the spot. “It could be a standing reception; how about that? Buffett style. We can have seating for the wedding party. That way your mother in law will have a place of honor.”
Ms. Choi nods. “Oh, well— Yes, yes that’s what I wanted! I was trying to— “
It’s clear that she didn’t have any idea of the sort, but Jimin’s okay to give away the credit if it will pacify this woman.
“Ms. Choi, you are a genius,” Jimin says. “We’ll get that set up right away. I promise you. Everything will be amazing!”
The woman brazenly hugs him, coating her strange soapy scent on him. She smiles. “Thank you so much. Mr. Min. You just understand me.”
Then she’s gone, taking a huge entourage with her. Jimin sags against the wall before he realizes that he needs to check on Yoongi.
The Omega is slicing up one of the roasts, consuming it by the handful in the kitchen. “Who does she think she is?”
Jimin laughs at the sight, Yoongi stress eating, not a care in the world. “Baby, you’re so cute.”
Yoongi flushes before he shoves some of the roast into Jimin’s mouth. It’s juicy, savory, spiced just right. The Alpha moans. “Fuck, how are you this good at roasts now.”
The Omega nods triumphantly. “I just want to remind you why you can’t go it alone.”
Jimin wraps his arms around the man. “I don’t need any reminders, baby. I know I couldn’t do this without you.”
Yoongi nods again, before he starts scenting Jimin right in front of all the cooks. He clearly doesn't like Ms. Choi’s smell all over him. He rubs his glands on every inch of skin he can find. Jimin flushes, trying to keep Yoongi at bay, but surrendering to the luscious mint and vanilla scent.
In the evening, Jimin prepares dinner for seven. Namjoon, Jin, and their son are coming over. They’re neighbors, living half a mile from one another. They have a meal together at least once a week.
Hana’s excited, hopping up and down. “I wanna show Changkyun my art project!”
Changkyun is Namjoon’s Omega son. The boy has taken the best features from both of his parents, which is saying something. Last White Day, Changkyun came home with no less than fifteen cards, along with assorted candies.
As fate would have it, both Hana and Kihyun have puppy crushes on Changkyun and things can get pretty wild in the house. Though, initially trying to tug him in half, the twins have since learned to share.
The doorbell rings, and Hana goes jolting for it, despite not being tall enough to unlock the deadbolt. Yoongi chases after her. It’s perfect timing. Jimin pulls out the steaks from the oven and the chicken tenders for the kids, hot and ready.
He plates them as Namjoon’s voice echoes down the hall. “Can you believe it? He’s going to the international spelling bee. I’m so proud.”
Hana’s already latched to Changkyun, pulling him along. That’s when Kihyun finally appears in the kitchen, having spent the majority of the hour in his room.
“Oh—” Yoongi gasps.
Jimin turns to look, two plates in his hands.
Kihyun is dressed in his Sunday best, a crimson bow tie, and a dark suit, product in his hair.
Namjoon laughs. “Oh, god, get the camera, baby. He really takes after you, Jimin.”
Jin takes out his phone with a devilish smile. “I’m ready.”
Changkyun wriggles out of Hana’s grasp, and gives Kihyun a hug. “Hey, Ki, I like your suit.”
The younger boy flushes. “Thanks.”
Jin and Namjoon are both recording it; they record everything. “Precious!”
Once things settled down, they have dinner and discuss their adjustment. The three kids disappear off into the living room, where Hana will undoubtedly show off her art project, a choreographed dance routine, to music composed by her younger brother.
Namjoon takes a sip of his wine, patting his belly. “Thanks for dinner, Jimin. That was delicious.”
Jimin beams, “I’m trying out a new recipe. I think it’ll do good at the restaurant.”
Namjoon approves with a thumbs up. “If only we could get reservations. You think knowing the owners— “
Yoongi sighs. “We are booked for three months. And tomorrow we have a wedding coming through. You know that— “
Jimin clears his throat. They signed a contract not to speak to anyone about the wedding. It was in case the media showed up and ruined the private affair. Yoongi seems to remember this at Jimin’s second cough.
“ — It’s a lot of work,” Yoongi changes course. “But it’s good money.”
Jin hums at this.
“I feel ya.” The older Omega rubs his belly, which is swollen again. “It’s better than being a baby factory.”
The couple hadn’t been trying for another child. It’d happened on its own, pulling Jin out of his fashion business just when the thing was starting to take root.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Namjoon apologizes. “It’s not like I can control it!”
Jin’s nose crinkles good-naturedly. “It’s fine. I think Kookang can do with another sibling. God knows, your two kids could use another playmate.”
Yoongi hums in agreement. “Another kid would be nice. I don’t like the look of any of the other neighbors.”
Jin laughs, “Too suburban for you?”
Yoongi nods. “Who has time for a whole five-star garden. It’s so impractical.”
Jimin follows along, warmth seeping all the way to his fingertips.
When bedtime rolls around, they switch kids again. Jimin’s able to tuck Hana in, in two minutes flat. He waits for Yoongi in the master bedroom, nearly falling asleep when the Omega finally makes an appearance.
Yoongi flops onto his side with a tired groan. “Did you promise our son a dreamcatcher?”
Jimin had completely forgotten. “Mayhaps.”
Yoongi sighs. “I already bought online. You have to run these things by me. What if it clashes with the decorum?”
The Omega curls into his side, wrapping his legs around Jimin’s torso.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Jimin whispers. “So much was going on and— that reminds me, Mrs. Go wants us to put our kids in a more advanced setting.”
Yoongi tenses. “And what did you say to her?”
“That I’d ask you, and that we want our kids to stay kids for a while,” Jimin says, hoping that’s the correct answer. When Yoongi kisses his cheek, he knows that it is.
“I love you, baby,” the Omega hums. “I’ll think about it, I promise. But for now, daycare works just fine.”
They snuggle in closer, pressing their foreheads together. Jimin’s wolf sighs contentedly, full and brimming. He scarcely remembers the other life he led. All he knows is this now, this beautiful world they’ve created together, in this small town in the mountains.
“I love you too,” Jimin chirps.
Yoongi smiles, lights dancing in his azure irises. He cups Jimin’s face, thumb stroking the sensitive skin of his cheek. “We’re doing good, right?”
“Yes,” Jimin hums. “We’re doing amazing.”
Yoongi giggles, placing a kiss on the tip of Jimin’s nose. “You were a champ today. Thank you for handling Ms. Choi.”
Jimin keens at that, loving the praise. “Thank you for getting that dreamcatcher.”
Yoongi wiggles in closer, arms wrapping around Jimin’s waist, pulling them flush against one another, in gentle reprieve.
“Do you ever miss it?” Jimin asks. “What we had before? Fast cars and late nights?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “I hated that life. I love what we have now, I love this. Even when I’m frowning, know that I wouldn’t change a thing about how we live now.”
Jimin’s heart sputters, beating brightly. “Me too.”
Sleep eats at the edges of the Alpha’s vision, blissful rest and a promise of another wonderful, hectic tomorrow.
But then, Yoongi’s cell phone rings. The Omega groans, cursing Ms. Choi’s name, even as he turns to answer it. Jimin sighs. “Just let it go to voicemail— “
The Omega shoots out of bed, straight up to sitting. The soft feeling Jimin had before evaporates. “Yoongi?”
The Omega talks in hushed whispers. “Where?” he asks, before pausing. “I’ll be there.”
Jimin pulls himself up by the strings, joints groaning in protest. “Baby, who are you talking to?”
Yoongi hangs up, eyes wide and stormy. He swallows audibly, hands shaking.
“It’s Taehyung.”