Chapter Text
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A power-nap fails to remedy the situation.
If anything, Jungkook wakes up looking even worse.
The Omega’s exhaustion is now painfully apparent, sitting heavily in the weary slump of his shoulders and the constant drooping of his eyelids as Jungkook hunches forward in his seat at the table, poking listlessly at his breakfast without taking a single bite. The poor sweetheart looks utterly miserable, although he’s clearly trying his best to pretend otherwise whenever he thinks the hyungs are watching him - offering a tiny flicker of a very strained smile when their eyes meet, answering their gently probing questions with a quiet but insistent “I’m fine, hyung, really” and “no, nothing hurts ”.
Seated across from him at the table, Namjoon shares another concerned glance with Hoseok as Yoongi hovers worriedly at Jungkook’s elbow, trying (and failing) to coax their youngest bondmate into eating.
“How about some French toast?” the Beta suggests, stroking the Omega’s hair with one hand as he tops up Jungkook’s waterglass with the other.
At least Kookie’s drinking. It had come as a relief to all of them when the Omega had chugged a full glass of water the moment he sat down, even if it’s that’s only thing he’ll take willingly at the moment (he’d declined the offer of juice, various fruit smoothies and banana milk, which were normally his go-to beverages). While it’s far from ideal, it’s still a comfort to know they don’t need to worry about dehydration on top of everything else.
Namjoon’s glad (in a guilty sort of way) that Tae and Jimin aren’t here to witness the escalating situation.
He adores his Alpha-pups, and under normal circumstances his primary pack-guarding instinct would be to keep them within arm’s reach at all times, but they’d already been restless and unhappy about leaving the Den (and sleeping Omega-sub) to attend their scheduled salon and stylist appointments, and that was before Jungkook had woken up from his power-nap looking ten times worse. The pack’s youngest Alphas are still relatively new to their position as dominant hyungs (and the plethora of hormone-triggered instincts that comes with the territory); seeing Kookie in his current state would be difficult for them both.
And honestly, Namjoon’s barely keeping his own inwardly-spiralling emotions in check. Having two panicky Alpha-subs to worry about certainly wouldn’t help matters.
“I could even try my hand at crepes?” Yoongi perseveres, his fingers sliding down to squeeze the Omega’s nape in a tender sort of comfort-scruff. He offers a soft, easy smile when the submissive’s sleepy eyes flicker upwards to glance at him. “With honey and fresh strawberries? You love strawberries.”
Someone less familiar with Yoongi’s particular brand of fretful fussing would likely be fooled by his outward calm.
Namjoon, however, has been on the receiving end of the Beta’s instinct-driven caretaking more than the rest of the pack combined. As Jin and Yoongi’s sole submissive for those first couple of years (back in his uni days when they were still a relatively young triad, before the arrival of additional packmates had sufficiently divided Yoongi’s attention and mellowed the Beta’s nesting impulses, somewhat), every little papercut had been treated with the same immediate intensity as a mortal wound.
And for someone whose depth perception occasionally goes a little bit wonky (Namjoon knows he’s clumsy, he’d stopped denying it years ago after Jin and Yoongi had strictly forbidden him from touching anything sharper than a butter knife following yet another visit to the hospital for butterfly stitches), bumps and bruises had often been a daily occurrence. Yoongi’s cure-all back then generally came in the form of a loving scruff, a gentle reprimand (for trying to navigate the Den with his nose in a book, or texting-and-walking, or standing on a chair to reach the top row of his tallest bookshelf instead of using the “perfectly functional step-ladder that hyung bought you for that specific purpose, puppy”) , and stubbornly parking himself in Namjoon’s lap to hand-feed the Alpha kimbap and tangerines until he’d sufficiently reassured himself that Joon was okay.
And Namjoon can hear that familiar (albeit subtle) edge to Yoongi’s voice now, the Beta’s stress levels steadily rising with every breakfast option that Jungkook sleepily turns down.
“Or maybe hyung can make those fancy steamed eggs we talked about,” Yoongi persists. His tone is calm, his smile unwavering, but the slight pinch of a wince around his eyes just screams fretting-Beta. “From that cooking show last week, remember? You said you really wanted to try them.”
There’s a slightly longer pause this time, and Yoongi’s forced-calm coffee scent turns sweetly, optimistically mocha, before Jungkook shakes his head again with a tired sigh and the Beta’s expression falls.
This time, unfortunately, Jungkook notices.
“M’sorry, hyung,” the Omega says, all at once looking sad and guilty, bottom lip protruding in a tired little pout as he lists sideways to lean against Yoongi, cutely apologetic even as he seeks comfort from his dom. “I’m not trying to be difficult, honest.”
Yoongi makes a low, faintly pained sound as he wraps his arms around the Omega’s shoulders to cuddle him closer, stooping a little to drop a kiss against the crown of Jungkook’s head.
“Hey, hey, shhh - you’re not being difficult,” the Beta soothes. “Hyungs would never think that about you.”
The Omega looks unconvinced, teary-eyed gaze flickering tentatively towards his Alphas.
“Not for one second,” Hoseok hurries to reassure him, hushed but sincere as he leans forward in his own chair, muscles tensed in a way Namjoon knows all too well (the urge to leap over the table and gather their sad-sleepy-ailing Omega into his arms and whisk him away to the safety of the pack-nest is already a growing itch beneath his own skin).
Unwilling to upset his submissive with such a blatant overreaction, Namjoon settles for reaching out to squeeze the Omega’s wrist where it rests on the table beside his untouched breakfast. He strokes the pad of his thumb firmly back and forth against the faint bump of the Omega’s distal scent gland, immediately getting the pup’s attention.
With a soft, needy little hum, Jungkook turns his wrist a little, pushing up into the contact desperately. His subdued-with-fatigue scent finally blooms its usual warm-caramel for a brief moment as the Omega tips his head further to one side, resting his temple against Yoongi’s midriff and showing them his throat readily, eyelids drooping.
“Good boy,” Yoongi murmurs, stroking Jungkook’s hair, quick as ever to offer praise for even the slightest show of submission from their youngest bondmate. “Always such a sweet Omega for your doms, Koo-love.”
Jungkook’s scent blossoms anew, his pout receding a little more as he seems to perk up for a moment at the positive attention, but the burst of caramel sweetness only lasts a few seconds before fading away again.
It’s just not right.
After six weeks of newly-mated bliss, Namjoon’s grown accustomed to the entire Den smelling wonderfully happy-sugar-sweet at all hours of the day, so its sudden absence is glaringly apparent in a way that’s deeply unsettling. If he didn’t know any better, he’d assume the Omega was wearing blockers.
But his weak scent doesn’t smell sick, either - at least not in any sort of way that Namjoon’s used to.
When his Alpha mates are unwell, their scents turn bitter, with a faint sort of burnt edge that’s impossible to miss. And on the very rare occasion that Seokjin gets sick, or pushes on through exhaustion to the point that he gives himself a migraine in the process (which had sometimes been a monthly occurrence, prior to Jungkook’s arrival), his lovely vanilla scent turns sharp and sour in a way that automatically triggers instinctive alarm bells in the rest of his bondmates.
Jungkook’s scent is registering as vaguely abnormal, but only in the sense that it isn’t raising any immediate red flags when it definitely ought to be.
As pack-Alpha, Namjoon relies heavily on his secondary senses to guide him in caring for his bondmates; it’s irking him that Jungkook’s subdued-but-otherwise-unaltered scent doesn’t align with his current visibly-unwell appearance.
“Hyungs are just worried about you, sweetheart,” Namjoon tells the Omega gently, thumb still stroking a firm, rhythmic back-and-forth caress against his wrist in an effort to keep Jungkook marginally more alert and focused on the conversation at hand. “We don’t mean to push you about eating breakfast - if you’re not hungry, you’re not hungry. Maybe you’ll feel better in a little while and Yoongi-hyung can fix you those fancy steamed eggs for lunch, hm? Why don’t you let Alpha take you back to bed until then - we can cuddle, maybe even watch some anime, and hyung’s fingers are all yours if you want them.”
Jungkook whines softly - a cute, sulky sort of sound, his weary pout immediately plumping back up again to full capacity as he shakes his head.
“Ugh, I wanna,” the Omega laments mournfully, lifting a hand to knuckle at his droopy eyes sleepily. “But I can’t , hyung. Gotta leave for work soon.”
There’s a silent pause from the assembled hyungs as the three of them trade startled glances.
Vaguely stunned disbelief slowly fades to a wincing sort of realisation as it dawns on each of them in turn that the pack’s long-established ground rule pertaining to sick submissives (specifically, the general understanding that ailing subs are to be kept safely at home where their bondmates can tend to them properly) has yet to be explicitly communicated to their newest Omega.
Damn.
“Ah, angel…” Hoseok voices hesitantly after a beat. “I really don’t think…”
The Alpha falters as their Omega’s glassy doe-eyed gaze swivels towards him, and Hoseok swallows visibly, before shooting Namjoon a faintly panicked look that screams help me . Their gentle sunshine-Alpha always been a tender-hearted dominant, generally more inclined to discipline Tae and Jimin with a playful growl or a loving scruff-and-shake rather than a firm nip (even when the latter is fully deserved), and undoubtedly the prospect of saying or doing anything that might upset their vulnerable, sickly Omega is a daunting one.
Namjoon reluctantly rallies his own willpower for the conversation ahead.
Being pack-Alpha comes with certain responsibilities, and in Seokjin’s absence, that unfortunately includes being the one to stand firm and say no in the face of sad, pouty subs.
“Kookie, sweetheart, you’re not going to work today,” Namjoon informs him calmly, his tone kind and carefully measured even if his words are direct. “You need to rest.”
The Omega blinks at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, before he sits a little more upright in his chair, pulling his head away from the soft cushion of Yoongi’s aproned midriff to stare at his pack-Alpha with a (rarely seen) teeny-tiny frown of discontent.
“But I have to,” Jungkook says slowly, like Namjoon’s the one who’s confused here. “I’m on reception from eleven ‘til one, and I’ve got a bunch of classes booked for this afternoon-”
“Baby,” Yoongi interjects softly, brushing the Omega’s fringe back from his brow and leaning down again to plant a gentle kiss there. “You’ve slept half the morning away and you still can’t keep your eyes open. That’s not normal - not for you, not for anyone.”
When Jungkook’s plump lips part again (likely in an effort to refute the claim), Namjoon gives the Omega’s wrist another gentle squeeze to refocus his attention.
“And you haven’t eaten anything since last night,” the Alpha reminds him softly. “It isn’t like you to lose your appetite. I know how much you love your job, bunny, but you’re in no fit state to be coaching intensive back-to-back gym classes.”
Jungkook’s lips have pursed unhappily, the tiny crease in his brow deepening, although his scent still remains strangely muted rather than souring the way an Omega’s normally would when they’re becoming distressed.
“Hyung, I can’t just call in sick, not at the last minute,” Jungkook protests imploringly. “It wouldn’t be fair on the rest of my team. Especially since I’m not actually sick.”
Hoseok sighs, a pained sound. “Angel-”
“I’m not, though,” the Omega insists, soft and plaintive as he glances rapidly between the three of them, eyes growing impossibly big and faintly shiny with the threat of real tears. “I’m not sick.”
“We don’t know that for sure, puppy,” Namjoon tries diplomatically.
The Omega pulls his wrist away from the Alpha’s grip with an unhappy little mmph! as his weary expression is replaced by one of growing frustration.
“Yes we do ,” Jungkook insists, stubborn and tremulous, and it’s the closest to genuinely upset he’s ever been without Seokjin around to immediately remedy the situation; a sliver of alarm is already lancing painfully through Namjoon’s chest at his mate’s escalating distress. “I don’t have a fever, I’m not throwing up - I can’t just…just take the day off because I’m tired. I already told you I’m fine, but none of you are fucking listening to me-”
Just as abruptly as the wave of heated frustration had overtaken him, it’s gone again, and Jungkook sits there frozen in place - glassy eyes wide, lips parted mid-rant, breath hitching audibly - before all at once his expression crumples, and he presses the heels of both hands to his eyes with a high, tearful whine, ducking his head as his shoulders slump.
“Sorry, m’sorry,” the Omega warbles tearfully. “That was so mean-”
The sound of their bondmate’s distress hits all three of them like a physical blow - Hoseok gives a visible full-body flinch as he jerks up from his seat, and Yoongi’s expression is veering towards frantic as he immediately goes in for another comfort-scruff, his scent wavering dangerously close to panicked-burnt-coffee for a handful of seconds before the Beta clearly makes a deliberate effort to mask his own distress and the kitchen suddenly blooms warm with the scent of soothing mocha.
Namjoon finds himself already down on one knee beside his Omega before he even registers the movement, blood pumping loudly in his ears and his instincts on high alert as he carefully pulls one of Jungkook’s hands down from the Omega’s face to cradle it against his own cheek, rumbling a low, soothing pur and desperately trying to project an outward sort of calm despite the chaotic turmoil of emotions within him.
His Omega is crying, and right now that feels entirely like Namjoon’s fault, even if the rational part of his brain knows that it isn’t, not really - Kookie is exhausted and emotionally vulnerable, and more than likely coming down with something, so tears were always going to be an unfortunate inevitability.
(However, trying to convince his guilty-frantic-fiercely-protective inner Alpha hindbrain to accept this reasonable explanation and calm the fuck down is like trying to put out a volcano with a watering can.)
His heart is hammering away against his ribcage, a growing sense of alarm clawing its way up his throat, but Namjoon deliberately takes several deep, steadying breaths and forcefully squashes those feelings back down again, careful to keep his own scent as forest-pine calm as possible to avoid upsetting his already-distressed bondmate any further.
Or any further than he needs to, at least.
Truthfully, all he really wants to do is sweep the tearful moppet into his arms and pretend this entire conversation never happened, but Namjoon’s been caring for fussy, ailing submissives long enough to know when to press a tactical advantage.
“You’re not yourself today, bun,” he reiterates, pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s palm. “Even if you maybe don’t feel sick just now, Alpha knows when something’s wrong.”
Yoongi gives a quiet hum of agreement, eyes full of concern and pale lips pinched in a thin, worried line.
“And you’re starting to look a little flushed,” the Beta adds worriedly, pressing the back of his hands to Jungkook’s cheek again, then to his brow.
Namjoon allows himself to cling to the desperately-optimistic belief that Jungkook’s suddenly-flushed skin is attributed to his current tearful state rather than the side-effect of a looming temperature spike…but that’s only because the notion of his youngest bondmate being feverish when Seokjin isn’t here to provide a reassuring explanation as to why just isn’t a possibility he’s ready to acknowledge at this particular moment, not with his ready-to-fortify-the-Den-and-guard-the-nest-and-growl-at-strangers Alpha hindbrain already chomping at the proverbial bit.
“I can call the gym for you, sweetness,” Hoseok offers, having rounded the table to stand beside Yoongi, one arm wrapped around the Beta (seeking or offering comfort, it’s hard to say which - likely both, knowing their sweet sunshine dom), and his free hand outstretched to stroke a tender knuckle down the Omega’s faintly pink cheek. “Your boss seems super chill, I’m sure she’ll understand. Everyone needs to take a sick day every now and then.”
“But I don’t wanna miss work,” Jungkook weakly tries to protest, his voice wavering, shiny tears clumping his dark lashes together.
“Kookie,” Namjoon murmurs, low and steady, reaching up to gently pinch his bondmate’s chin and tilting the Omega’s face down towards him to hold his gaze calmly. “We love you more than anything, and none of us like seeing you so upset, but it’s because I love you that I’m not going to budge on this one. You’re staying home today, and that’s the end of it.”
Jungkook’s chin wobbles dangerously in his tender grip. “B-but Alpha…”
Flinching internally (because usually he loves hearing that word fall from Jungkook’s lips, but right now it’s carving out an aching hollow in his chest), Namjoon takes a deep, bracing breath and hardens his pathetically crumbling resolve.
Time to pull out the big guns.
“Do I need to call Jin-hyung?” he asks softly.
As expected, the threat of potentially disappointing his beloved Omega-dom (not that Kookie ever could, but the pup doesn’t know that) puts an immediate end to any lingering resistance, a fresh sheen of tears swimming in Jungkook’s pretty eyes as he rapidly shakes his head.
“N-no, I’ll listen.”
With another soothing rumble, Namjoon cups Jungkook’s face between both hands and leans up to kiss his sad, wobbly pout, experiencing both relief and guilt in equal measure.
He feels like a bastard for having pulled the Jin-hyung card at a time when his little Omega is already so vulnerable, but it was either that or lean a little harder into his given authority as pack-guardian and Alpha-dom to ensure that his pup obeyed him and stayed home (where he’ll be safe) , and Jungkook’s upset enough already without Namjoon going all firm and dominant on him.
Goddess, this is always so much easier with his other maknae-pups.
On the rare occasion that Jimin or Tae get sick (or overexert themselves and need wrangling into bed for a few hours of total relaxation) and put up a token protest to the pack’s doting intervention, Namjoon has zero qualms about dishing out firm settling nips and dominant scruffs to abruptly take the fight out of them, bodily hauling his pups into the pack-nest and wrestling them down for a nap with a warning rumble that ensures they stay put. His sweet puppies respond best to firm, decisive dominance, even if it comes in the form of a heavy hand being applied to a tender rump.
Oftentimes the maknae-Alphas will actively seek out that firmer edge of dominance from their hyungs (Namjoon and Seokjin, predominantly) as a form of comfort and reassurance, especially if a gruelling modelling schedule has kept them away from the Den (and the pack) for any significant length of time. And Namjoon can’t deny that he finds a certain degree of primal satisfaction in feeling Taehyung relax so easily in his hold after a quick nip, or watching Jimin go all boneless and pliant over his knee the moment he’s bared for a settling spanking.
But Namjoon’s inner Alpha practically recoils at the thought of handling his youngest bondmate so firmly.
Kookie’s far too gentle, far too sweet, far too fragile - their subby Omega needs kind words and the comforting touch of a gentle dom, not a quick nip-and-scruff.
The poor love would probably cry his tender little heart out if Namjoon frowned at him sternly.
Not that Namjoon would.
Fuck, it hurts to even think about scolding Jungkook, never mind disciplining him. Goddess help the hyung-line if their sweet Omega ever decides to embrace his fellow maknaes’ bratty button-pushing ways, because Jin will likely be the only one of them with enough willpower to actually put his foot down in the face of Jungkook’s tears.
“Can Alpha take you back to bed, sweetheart?” he asks tenderly, already pushing himself to his feet, chest aching with the need to hold his clearly-distraught Omega close and kiss all his troubles away.
Jungkook’s bottom lip wobbles again , a tiny sound of distress escaping him as fat teas finally tumble free from glistening, red-rimmed eyes, and he reaches for Namjoon needily.
The Alpha doesn’t hesitate to lean down and sweep the Omega into his arms.
And clearly Namjoon’s instincts have finally kicked fully into overdrive, because usually there’s at least a little bit of strain whenever he decides to bodily carry his big, muscular maknae around the Den (usually after the pup’s fallen asleep across their laps in the living room following a little after-dinner playtime, and needs to be carefully transferred to the nest - where he invariably wakes up again and cutely demands another cock), but right now the added weight in his arms isn’t even registering on a physical level, at least not above the blaring hormone klaxon going off in the back of his mind that’s triggered an absolutely overwhelming urge to protect-defend-provide-comfort, the likes of which Namjoon has rarely experienced outside of Jin’s heat or the pups’ ruts.
“You’re okay,” he soothes, voice low and rough around the lump in his own throat, turning his head to nuzzle at the Omega’s temple as Jungkook immediately buries his nose against Namjoon’s scent-gland. “Shhh. Alpha’s got you, baby.”
Taking a moment to gather himself, he shares a brief, significant glance with his fellow doms.
Hoseok already has Jungkook’s phone in hand, and nods tightly when he makes eye contact with Namjoon, a confirmation that he intends to follow through with his previous plan to call in sick on Jungkook’s behalf. And Yoongi - strong, dependable, trying-not-to-look-worried Yoongi - is already busy tidying away Jungkook’s untouched breakfast, the Beta clearly redirecting his overwhelming impulse to fuss into a more productive avenue (as is his usual habit), but at Namjoon’s concerned glance he offers the Alpha a brief (albeit strained) reassuring smile and nods encouragingly towards the doorway.
Namjoon turns to go, but then hesitates at the last moment, glancing back at Yoongi again.
“Jin-hyung?” he mouths, and indicates Jungkook with a dip of his chin as the Omega nestles his face even further into the crook of Namjoon’s neck - a hot, wet tongue strokes insistently against the Alpha’s scent-gland as the upset submissive instinctively seeks to self-soothe by stimulating the release of Namjoon’s dominant pheromones straight from the source.
Yoongi winces a little at the reminder, but nods, and offers another flicker of a reassuring smile, tapping his own chest in a silent but familiar “hyung’ll handle it, pup” that Namjoon still hears and finds just as comforting now as he first did eight years ago.
Grateful not to be the one to field that particular phone call (and feeling vaguely guilty about it), Namjoon ducks out of the kitchen with his clingy Omega held close in his arms, and heads determinedly for the pack-nest.
This part, at least, he can confidently handle on his own.
Caring for overtired, slightly fussy submissives is Namjoon’s speciality.
…
Almost exactly an hour later, Jungkook spikes a low-grade fever.
The Omega’s been sleepy and clingy and tearful since the fallout of their earlier discussion in the kitchen, only soothed for brief periods by Namjoon’s murmured reassurances and a brisk clit-rubbing, but his rising temperature exacerbates things significantly, and suddenly the pup desperately wants all three of his doms in the nest with him at all times.
“Hyung, no, don’t leeeave,” the Omega wails, jolting upright in Namjoon’s arms, a hand outstretched imploringly towards Hoseok’s retreating form. “I need you, come back-”
Poor Hoseok almost trips over his own feet in his haste to return to the nest, the Alpha’s expression faintly panicked as he reaches out to let Jungkook cling to his arm, offering absolutely no resistance at all as the muscular Omega stubbornly pulls him all the way inside until Hoseok’s practically sprawled on top of the rest of them.
“Koo-love, Hobi wasn’t going far,” Namjoon tries to reason diplomatically, rubbing a soothing hand between the Omega’s shoulders and wincing at the heat that radiates into his palm, “One of us just needs to grab some meds from Jin-hyung’s cabinet to settle your fever.”
“No,” Jungkook whimpers, clinging to all three of them. “Stay.”
Yoongi coos, quiet and fretful, petting the Omega’s nape. “Babydoll, he’d come straight back, I promise.”
“No,” the feverish sub insists firmly, clinging even tighter. “Stay. Need you.”
“Puppy,” Namjoon warns him gently, but apparently even that tiny little hint of a reprimand is a step too far.
Abruptly, Jungkook’s wide, fever-bright eyes dart upwards to stare at him in surprise, before rapidly pooling with fresh tears as his expression crumples. The Omega’s lips plump up in a distressed pout, chin wobbling, a high whine catching in the back of his throat.
The heart-wrenching sight acts as an immediate sucker-punch to his assembled doms, who surge into action with a hurried litany of faintly alarmed reassurances, leaning in to soothe and kiss and nuzzle their distressed Omega as Jungkook hiccups a miserable little “sorry, hyungs” and knuckles at his tired eyes.
Namjoon’s genuinely never felt so awful in his life, and his own eyes sting with the threat of stress-induced tears.
He’s this damn close to losing his composure (and the weakening control he has over his forcefully-kept-soothing forest pine scent), and he feels so fucking powerless, gods, he just wishes Seokjin were here-
The muffled beep-beep-beep-beeeep of someone typing on the keypad of the front door’s electronic locking system yanks Namjoon right out of his rapid downward-spiral
In a flash of movement he transfers Jungkook into Hoseok’s arms and vaults out of the nest, crossing the master bedroom in several brisk strides to plant himself in the open doorway with his feet braced apart and his teeth bared as he sticks his head out into the corridor beyond, ready to face the oncoming threat.
He hears the front door open, the rustle of someone dropping bags to the floor and the thump-thump of shoes being kicked off in a hurry, and a low warning growl rumbles up from deep within his chest at the rapid tread of footsteps approaching up the stairs.
Seokjin suddenly appears at the end of the corridor, and the growl catches in Namjoon’s throat, instant clarity banishing the hazy fog of hormone-triggered instincts from his mind (of course it’s Jin, he was expecting Jin, who else would it have been, fuck) .
“Hyung,” he breathes, slumping in relief, the tension bleeding out of him immediately.
The Omega sweeps towards him, handsome face devoid of its usual ever-present cheer, but his touch is gentle as he cups Namjoon’s cheek, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the younger man’s lips.
“Good work, Alpha,” his mate murmurs, and that quiet praise, that gentle acknowledgement of his appropriate display of nest-guarding, settles Namjoon’s rankled instincts all the way down.
With a gentle squeeze to his bicep, Seokjin slips past him and into the bedroom, already shedding his fancy three-piece suit with a speed and efficiency that’s honestly quite impressive, tossing the garments aside, quite uncaring of where they land as he crosses over to the nest.
“Hyung!” Jungkook chirps, looking brighter and happier than he has all morning as he surges up onto his knees, reaching for his Omega-dom keenly. “Hyung, you’re home!”
Seokjin makes a soft, soothing vocalisation, somewhere between a purr and a trill, a sound that Namjoon’s only ever heard him use around Tae and Jimin when the pups are achy and feverish in the early stages of their ruts.
“Hyung’s home, sweet boy,” Jin echoes, kicking out of his ridiculously expensive suit trousers with a lack of care for the luxury brand that’s entirely out of character (but absolutely understandable, given the situation), climbing into the nest to immediately gather his Omega-sub into his arms and pepper his flushed face with kisses.
“Dom’s got you, little one,” he murmurs lovingly, as Jungkook tries to cuddle impossibly closer. “I’m here now, shhhh. Settle down for me, that’s it…good boy, such a sweet Omega. There now, pretty thing, let hyung take a look at you.”
Hoseok and Yoongi make room for him between them without prompting, and Seokjin settles against the headboard with Jungkook cuddled up in his lap, the pack-dom murmuring soothing nothings as he feels the younger Omega’s brow and cheeks with a practised touch, before gently pinching Jungkook’s chin to angle his head up, nosing at the faintly swollen bump on either side of his neck.
“My poor baby,” Jin commiserates after a beat, tilting Jungkook’s head back down to kiss him. “Just as I thought - you’ve got a bad case of the Glands, sweetness.”
“The Glands?” Hoseok echoes, tucking himself up against Jin’s side and keeping a hand on Jungkook’s thigh, rubbing soothingly. “I thought that was something Omegas could only catch once?”
Namjoon nods in wordless agreement. Much like ‘the Gripes’, which specifically targets an Alpha’s endocrine system and mimics the symptoms of a mild rut without the overwhelming urge to pop a knot every five minutes (coupled with the general aches and pains normally associated with viral infections), ‘the Glands’ is an illness that transmits through close contact between Omegas and results in unpredictable hormone fluctuations not entirely unlike those experienced during heat, albeit without the desire to mate and get pupped.
Contracting the infection once is supposedly sufficient to ensure lifelong immunity, and typically both conditions are prevalent during the latter years of high school (sweeping through entire year groups within a matter of weeks and then going away again just as quickly), or mixed in alongside the typical ‘Fresher’s Flu’ during university induction week, and to Namjoon’s knowledge it’s considered fairly unusual for an adult of Jungkook’s age to be suffering from the Glands so late in life.
Feeling his brow furrow in renewed concern as he climbs into the nest behind Yoongi, Namjoon tucks himself up against the Beta and draws the smaller dom into his lap, soothing his restless need to cuddle. He knows Yoongi doesn’t mind, and it calms his own instincts significantly both to hold the Beta in his arms and to surround himself with Yoongi’s soothing mocha scent.
“That’s the general rule of thumb,” Seokjin confirms, cupping Jungkook’s cheek to brush another sweet kiss to the Omega’s lips. “But our Jungkookie’s never had it before. He was a late bloomer, weren’t you, pretty love?”
Jungkook’s lips plump up cutely in a renewed pout. “I got the vaccine right after I presented, though.”
The Omega-dom makes a low noise of sympathy and nuzzles at his cheek.
“I know, sweetness,” he murmurs. “But I had a feeling this might happen now that you’re working at OhMyGym. A lot of Omegas from the local high school go there because your boss offers a decent student discount, and you’ve probably been exposed to the virus more directly than you might’ve otherwise been. And I spoke to our doctor about the situation on the way here, after Yoongi described your symptoms and I first started to suspect the Glands - she says it’s pretty normal to catch it even after the vaccine, especially if you work in an environment with a higher than usual number of Omegas.”
Jungkook’s pout grows even more pronounced, but it’s endearingly sulky now rather than genuinely tearful, and Namjoon’s never been happier to see it. That faint glimmer of normality is wonderfully reassuring.
“Apparently the aim of the vaccine is to lesson the severity of your symptoms when you eventually catch it, rather than provide total immunity,” Jin continues, a gentle smile curling at his mouth at his sub’s mullish expression, “since getting the Glands as a fully developed Omega can be a little rougher on the body compared to going through it as a newly-presented teen.”
That, on the other hand, is significantly less reassuring, but Namjoon tries not to let his spike of concern betray itself in his scent.
Hoseok is less successful in tamping down on his own response, and Jungkook makes a soft unhappy noise at the sudden burst of burnt-spice, but Seokjin adjusts his hold on Jungkook to wrap an arm around the Alpha beside him comfortingly and Hoseok’s scent settles again almost immediately.
“So what can we expect?” Yoongi prompt, calm and focused, clearly readying himself to plan accordingly, one hand absently stroking Namjoon’s forearm where it’s wrapped snugly around his waist. “Fever, loss of appetite, cramping, hormonal fluctuations…”
Seokjin nods, his smile twisting into a grimace as he cuddles Jungkook closer.
“All of the above, unfortunately,” the Omega confirms. “It’ll essentially feel like a prolonged sort of pre-heat, but without the reward of the heat itself.”
“Ugh, not fair,” Jungkook whines, ducking down to smush his face against Seokjin’s shoulder. “I don’t want the Glands.”
They all coo in tender sympathy, Jin rubbing his cheek back and forth against Jungkook’s dark hair.
“I know, sweetheart,” the Omega sighs, faintly pained. “Hyung’s sorry you’re feeling sick; I’d take it away in a heartbeat if I could. But you’ll feel better soon, I promise. We’re gonna take such good care of you.”
Namjoon scoots closer, Yoongi still held tight in his lap (the Beta doesn’t protest the gentle manhandling, fully focused as he is on their Omegas).
“What can we do?” Joon asks, desperately aching to somehow be of service to his bondmates, especially now that they know what they're dealing with. “How can we help?”
Seokjin hums thoughtfully, cupping the back of Jungkook’s neck and as the Omega snuffles at his throat and layers little kitten-licks against the dom’s scent gland.
“Over-the-counter remedies aren’t going to be particularly effective,” he tells them after a beat, “since the symptoms stem from an existing hormonal imbalance rather than body fighting off the virus itself. Basic fever reducers and pain meds will only ease things to a certain extent. What he really needs is receptive dominant pheromones and a little hands-on comfort. Essentially, you’ll need to treat it like a regular pre-heat.”
Yoongi’s already nodding and climbing out of Namjoon’s lap.
“We can do that,” the Beta confirms, focused and confident in the way he always is when he has a task to complete.
Jungkook jerks his face away from Seokjin’s throat, gaze snapping in the direction of his retreating Beta-hyung, and he whines softly in protest even as Jin hushes him tenderly, tucking the Omega back down against him in an effort to stem the threat of oncoming tears.
“I’ll be back soon, bunny,” Yoongi promises, shooting him a reassuring smile. “Hyung just needs to make a quick pharmacy run and restock the fridge.”
From downstairs, there’s the familiar beep-beep-beep-beeeep of the front door lock again, but Namjoon’s instincts don’t flare into overdrive this time - not with Seokjin home to remedy things and the reassurance that his youngest Omega is no longer on death’s door.
“That’ll be the pups,” Hoseok says, looking as relieved as Namjoon feels (neither of them like it when their youngest Alpha duo are absent from the Den for extended periods, but especially during times of crisis).
The upset scrunch to Jungkook’s unhappy expression vanishes immediately as he gives another little chirp at the news of his returning bondmates.
“They’re home?” the Omega gasps, and abruptly leans as far away from Seokjin as the dom’s gentle hold on him will allow to sweetly holler, “Hyuuuungs! I need you!”
There’s the general sound of panicked flailing from downstairs (tripping feet and hastily-discarded bags and a flurry of curses as they flounder clumsily up the stairs in their haste to answer their Omega’s summons), and Jungkook sits back against Seokjin with a happy little wiggle, clearly pleased at their immediate response.
The maknae-Alphas both burst into the nesting room in a somewhat frantic state, Taehyung’s jacket hanging off one shoulder and Jimin missing a sock, panicked gazes snapping immediately towards their pink-cheeked Omega as he rises up onto his knees and reaches for them eagerly.
The pair lurch forwards as one entity, utterly entranced.
“Stop,” Seokjin says, quiet but firm, and the Alphas obey immediately despite Jungkook’s whining protests. Jin’s expression softens into a kind smile. “Thank you. Go wash up first, please - Kookie won’t like having too many foreign scents in the nest. And neither will I.”
Tae and Jimin both wince, glancing down at their clothes, noses wrinkling as they likely recall how many stylists and makeup artists have made contact with them over the past few hours.
“But, but hyung,” Jungkook whines, still making (frankly adorable) grabby hands towards his frozen bondmates. “My Alphas.”
Taehyung whimpers, his resolve clearly wavering, and his fellow model grips his hand in pained solidarity.
“Alphas will be right back, cutie,” Jimin promises, his voice only slightly strained (and honestly, Namjoon’s impressed - a weaker man would cave in the face of so much cute). “Just sit tight, okay? Five minutes.”
Jungkook pouts at them both, fresh tears brimming in his eyes.
“Two!” Taehyung chokes out, walking backwards robotically and dragging Jimin with him towards the door “Two minutes, honey, and we’re all yours. Gonna give you so many kisses, I promise, fuck, please don't cry-”
As they disappear into the hallway and make an audible scramble for the nearest bathroom, Jungkook sulkily plops himself back down to sit in Seokjin’s lap, and the elder Omega huffs a fond laugh.
“That pretty pout of yours is lethal,” he teases, even as he kisses Jungkook’s plump lips and cuddles him closer. “Don’t worry, sweetness, your Alphas won’t be straying far from the nest for the next couple of days. They’re always very attentive when I’m in preheat - imagine how much harder it’ll be to resist caring for such a pretty Omega?”
Jungkook gives another happy squirm and twists around to shove his nose back against Seokjin’s scent-gland, his recent abandonment clearly already forgotten.
…
“Shhh, little one,” Seokjin murmurs, brushing another tender kiss against his bondmate’s temple, feeling the heat of the Omega’s rising fever against his lips. “Just rest. Let hyungs take care of you.”
Jungkook mewls - a sleepy, needy sound - hand skimming down his stomach to brush against the blond head between his legs, until Jin gently catches his wrist and tucks his arms securely against his chest once more.
Glancing up, Jimin pauses in his ministrations, lifting his mouth away to lick at slick-shiny lips, pupils blown from the spiking scent of Jungkook’s arousal but gaze questioning and full of gentle concern.
“He’s fine, angel,” Jin promises. “Our pretty Omega always struggles to keep his hands still when he’s close, don’t you, precious? Does Alpha’s tongue feel too good?”
The Omega nods jerkily, eyes closed and cheeks flushed a dark pink from arousal and fever both, hips twitching a little, desperate and searching.
“We’ve got you, honey,” Taehyung soothes, kissing the tattooed thigh he’s currently cradling aloft in an open spread for ease of access. “We’ll take care of that sweet pussy of yours, don’t you worry.”
Jungkook whimpers again, then gasps out a pretty little “a-ahh, hyung” when Jimin ducks down to reapply his tongue where it’s needed most in firm, persistent strokes.
Namjoon rumbles a low purr of approval where he’s stretched out alongside them, echoed a beat later by Hoseok as the dancer continues to support Jungkook’s other thigh on the opposite side, and their Omega trembles at the sound, choked gasps spiralling higher as his hips kick up again to chase his orgasm against Jimin’s determined mouth.
“Good boy, Jungkookie,” Yoongi praises, sweeping into the room with his usual impeccable timing, carrying yet another tray of food which he immediately sets about arranging on the fold-out table he’d assembled at the nestside for that very purpose. “Look at you, coming so prettily for your Alphas.”
The Beta takes up a plate of something and a pair of chopsticks, and scoots carefully into the nest.
“Here, baby, hyung made you kimbap,” he murmurs sweetly, holding a piece to Jungkook’s lips.
Post-orgasm, Jungkook is always sweetly compliant, and they’ve discovered (quite by chance) that he’ll completely forget his previous lack of appetite for the brief span of a few minutes in the aftermath of a good climax. The pup will part his lips on command, chew and swallow as instructed, and obediently open his mouth again for the next bite without a peep of fuss, and it had been a relief to all of them to see him eat, even for those few brief moments. Yoongi has naturally been using this to his advantage, descending upon his flushed, sexually-sated darling with all the focused intensity of a nesting Beta to lovingly coax a few bites of food into him before the Omega regains enough awareness to remember that he’s not hungry.
This time, Yoongi succeeds in getting four pieces of kimbap into his pliant sub before Jungkook suddenly whines and purses his lips and squirms uncomfortably in Seokjin’s hold as a renewed wave of muscle cramping takes over.
“My poor baby,” Jin sympathises, a loving coo, shifting one arm from its locked position around the sub to reach down and rub quick, tight circles against the Omega’s swollen clit to distract him. “Shhh, hyung’s here.”
Jungkook stops squirming in discomfort and starts fussing for an entirely different reason.
“I know,” Seokjin coos, "Shhh, hyung knows you’re sensitive.” He kisses the Omega’s temple again but rubs a little more persistently, listening carefully to his lover’s pretty whimpers and gasping hiccups, allowing instinct and experience to guide him despite Jungkook’s tearful fussing. “My little one’s getting close again, aren’t you? Hyung can always tell. What is it, precious? Ohh, Alphas are stopping you from closing those pretty thighs of yours, aren’t they? Poor little love. I suppose that just means you’ll have to be a good boy and take it for me, won’t you?”
And Jungkook does, because even faintly feverish and semi drunk on hormones, he’s still an absolute sweetheart who responds beautifully to any form of intimate dominant touch. The submissive sinks deeper into Seokjin’s hold, hips pressing up keenly into the elder Omega’s expert touch, and shudders sweetly through another trembling orgasm
“So pretty, Omega.” Taehyung sighs, kissing Jungkook’s thigh again, reaching out to touch his quivering folds reverently when Seokjin moves his own hand away at last, cooing softly as Jungkook presses up into his touch. “Shhh, shhh, hey. What’s wrong, Koo-love, are you feeling empty? Aww, honey. Let Alpha fix that, c’mere…”
There’s a welt sort of squelch, and the rhythmic shnick-shnick of rapidly moving fingers, and Jungkook tips his head back against Jin's collarbone with a quiet wail, toes curling in the air.
Seokjin smiles, stroking the Omega’s tensing stomach until the trembling sub arches with a strangled gasp and a pretty cry, squirting beautifully all over Taehyung’s forearm.
“There, is that better?” he coos, once the bucking has stopped and the Alpha has withdrawn his fingers to resume petting the Omega’s quaking thigh. “Mm, your scent’s settling down nicely now. My little one responds best when there’s something inside of him, isn’t that right? Why don’t we see if we can’t ease that fever down with a little targeted milking, sweetness. Joonie, love, could you…?”
With a pleased rumble at his services being required once more, Namjoon rolls over a little further onto his side, pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s cheek and reaching down between the maknae’s parted thighs to give his wet folds a tender pat-pat before sinking thick digits inside to finger him briskly, hand moving with an ease and precision that Seokjin had personally trained into him (over the course of many years and multiple heats, although Joon had admittedly been a very quick study).
Among Seokjin’s mates, Namjoon’s the only one capable of rendering Jin completely undone within a matter of minutes (although Yoongi’s lovely hands and Hoseok’s slightly curved cock are a tie close for second place), and it’s always immensely satisfying to see the Alpha apply that same focused, determined passion into pleasuring Jin’s newest bondmate. The initial hesitance that Namjoon had displayed during those first few weeks of intimacy with Jungkook (when he’d turned to Jin for guidance in a faint sort of panicked way at the first overwhelmed mewl from the fussy little Omega) is long gone, and while he still asks for a permission with a silent, questioning glance before fucking Jin’s pretty submissive in the elder Omega’s presence (or popping a knot), Joon handles the maknae so beautifully it’s genuinely a delight to behold.
And Jungkook’s always so wonderfully receptive to the dominant touch of his pack-Alpha; quick to go lax beneath his hold, quick to surrender himself to the pleasure of Joon’s hands and mouth and cock, quick to beg for more and harder and “k-knot me, Alpha, pleeease”.
There’s a special sort of satisfaction in seeing that last request fulfilled - a primal sort of something that stirs within him, hungry and hot and pleased, whenever Seokjin watches Namjoon mount Jungkook and lock his knot inside. Perhaps it simply stems from Seokjin's own secret fantasy of one day seeing his perfect little Omega-sub pupped, chest swollen and belly rounded with offspring, kept safely tucked away in Jin’s nest for the duration of his pregnancy so that the pack can feed and pleasure him all day long.
They’ve talked about having pups, because of course they have - it had come up in conversation barely a handful of weeks into their relationship, when Seokjin first starting courting his sweet submissive (after helping Kookie through his unexpectedly early heat and realising that he couldn’t imagine a life without the the Omega-sub by his side); the two of them had been tucked up together in Jungkook’s nest as the younger man rode out the last waves of his cycle, trading soft kisses and hushed secrets in turn.
“I know it’s a big commitment,” the pretty Omega had acknowledged, sighing happily into Jin’s sweet kiss as the settling knotting-toy inside of him pulsed quietly in the background. “And it probably wouldn’t be for another few years at least, because I’d have to put my training at the gym on hold and I’d like to get a couple more PT qualifications under my belt first. But I’ve always liked the idea of starting a family of my own some day. Being part of a pack. Having a pup to nurse and protect..”
And Seokjin, who’d never really seen the appeal in carrying pups of his own (his instinct to care and protect was already more than adequately satisfied looking after his treasured submissive bondmates), at least not outside of the feverish desires that gripped him during his heat, had pictured his new Omega-sub being claimed so utterly by Jin’s Alphas as to leave him round and pupped and radiant with that special glow bourne by all expectant Omegas, and something in his brain had come to life in the dawning realisation of oh, maybe I do want pups.
And now, every so often (not quite daily, perhaps, but…honestly, close enough), whenever he’s cradling his Omega-sub in his arms while their Alphas attend to Jungkook’s needs so thoroughly, that delightful mental image pays him a passing visit. And if it succeeds in stirring that deep, hungry, primal something within him, he’ll oftentimes share the passing thought with his Omega - murmured heatedly against the shell of Jungkook’s ear as Namjoon’s knot locks inside of him.
“You’ll look so pretty, all swollen and round with our pup,” he’ll say, hand slipping low to splay possessively beneath the younger Omega’s navel. “Wouldn’t you like that, my love? Carrying a pup for me? Staying right here in our nest for all those long months, always so good and sweet for hyung, letting me take care of you?”
It always delights him to see how hard his pretty darling comes undone whenever Seokjin shares those whispered fantasies.
His sweet boy is clearly fully amenable to the idea of being a kept, treasured, thoroughly-pupped Omega. And even if it isn’t likely to happen for a few more years yet, just the knowledge that someday (one day) it might, is deeply satisfying in and of itself.
“Hyung,” a low voice prompts, and Jin draws in a sharp breath, pulled abruptly from his pleasantly-wandering thoughts.
Yoongi’s gazing down at him expectantly, chopsticks poised and kimbap held aloft to Seokjin’s lips, and the Omega offers his Beta a flicker of a grateful smile, accepting the proffered bite and then another a few moments later when his bondmate perseveres.
Judging by the bulging cheeks of his bondmates (including Namjoon, who’s busy chewing even as his hand continues to move rapidly, firmly coaxing Jungkook through yet another wailing orgasm), Yoongi’s done a full circuit with his plate of kimbap already.
Jin isn’t particularly hungry; their attentive Beta has been keeping all of them adequately fed and hydrated these past six hours, flitting between them with plates of snacks and iced beverages, hand-feeding those whose limbs (and cocks) were otherwise occupied, angling straws to accommodate for slightly awkward positions, and always ready with a damp cloth or a clean towel to mop up everything in the aftermath.
As is his usual way, the Beta hasn’t given any inclination that he needs or want to join in with the sexual intimacy himself. Their attentive pack-nurturer tends to get tunnel vision during his bondmates’ heats and ruts, so utterly focused on making sure that all the other essential needs are being taken care of (laundry and teeth-brushing included) that he oftentimes abstains from sex entirely quite by accident, at least until things start to wind down.
Which usually means that Jin gets to enjoy Yoongi’s intimate attention once the haze of heat has already lifted and his mind is no longer clouded by hormone-driven desperation. His Beta always gives him exactly what he needs, and the Alphas are often so exhausted by that point that Yoongi gets to have Seokjin all to himself.
Some of his fondest heat-memories are of the two of them watching daytime cooking shows together on Yoongi’s laptop (while their Alpha-subs lay passed out and snoring all around them), the Beta casually fucking Jin’s puffy, swollen cunt as he criticises the hosting chef’s choice of seasoning, and that wonderful combination of snarky running commentary and unrelenting pistoning hips always has Jin muffling delighted gasps and inelegant giggle-snorts into his pillow.
Jin adores him so much.
“Hyung,” the Beta prompts again, and Jin obligingly accepts the cube of watermelon from Yoongi’s fingers.
The nest appears suddenly, strangely silent, and Seokjin refocuses his attention on the Omega in his arms to find Jungkook sound asleep, the heat in his cheeks rapidly fading as his fever begins to break.
The hyungs breathe a collective sigh of relief.
“Oh thank fuck,” Tae whispers, and ever-so-carefully lowers Jungkook’s leg back down again, flexing his stiff arms as he rolls neatly out of bed and waddle-runs towards the door. “I’ve been needing to pee for like thirty minutes, but he cried last time I tried to leave the nest. Any longer and there’s a very real possibility I would’ve pissed myself…”