Chapter Text
Seokjin decides to blow up his spotless, completely scandal free career on a Tuesday afternoon in the middle of a live shooting of Running Man.
If it were a recorded one, he has no doubt his agency coupled with the editors of the show would have rather earned the ire of the fans by making his presence as minimal as possible as opposed to this. This being--getting associated with an omega in the most reckless of ways.
This being--him boldly declaring, in the middle of a live shooting with over a million viewers, he would like to quantify, "Yeah, I'm the scum alpha who impregnated Kim Namjoon-ssi and ran away without taking responsibility for the child."
3 Years Ago
It begins with Running Man, not as all things do, but. As some things do, especially if you're named Kim Seokjin.
Honestly, if he'd known the number of things every Running Man shoot would have brought him, he would have just signed a free life long contract the first time they'd approached him.
But. That's for later.
Right now is Seokjin being led to the shooting spot, is him being stood next to the prettiest omega ever (who doesn't seem to be getting the same treatment Seokjin and the rest of the guests are getting, he notices, at the back of his brain, alpha instincts stupidly activated), and is him choosing the omega to be his partner for the game even as one of the directors makes an X with his hands, indicating that that is not part of the script.
He still goes ahead and does it, alpha brain rejoicing at the tiny look of surprise on the omega's face, even as the director calls cut, taking him aside to tell him that's not part of the script only for him to realise that it's not that Seokjin doesn't understand non-verbal cues but just chooses to ignore the ones he's not fond of.
(The director realises that after Seokjin still picks the omega.)
"Are you sure, sunbaenim?" The omega asks, voice the perfect shade of unembarrassed and nonchalant inspite of the director clearly exhibiting bias against him with his actions towards Seokjin. "You do not have to worry about me taking offence."
And.
"As long as you do not mind having me as your partner--"
"Not in the least."
"--Then don't worry about me. After all, I don't like losing and who of the other guests could compare to your IQ, Kim Namjoon-ssi?"
Namjoon's pretty lips part a little in surprise (and Seokjin would like to apologise about the distance he'd placed in his head by referring to him as omega previously, begging that the readers understand it was his alpha speaking and not him , as closely intertwined as the two of them are).
You know of me? Namjoon's eyes seem to be asking, even as the slightest burst of petrichor hits Se0kjin's ridiculously sensitive alpha nose, seeping through the scent blockers. Seokjin had always been told of speculations of Namjoon's scent but to actually feel it against his skin, even if it's tinged with a healthy shade of suspicion--for a second he empathises with his wolf and wishes for nothing more than to roll around in the scent, to never wish for the sun on rainy days.
But. Seokjin wears his human skin a little more tightly, offers Namjoon a half smile in reply because the disgruntled director has started shooting again, and whispers to the wind-- I might know just a little more than what you'd think, at the cost of sounding like a stalker.
("Also, sunbaenim, Namjoon-ssi?"
"You're my senior--"
"I'm not a rapper."
"But I debuted after you--"
"If we consider your underground hiphop days, by those standards, should I be calling you sunbaenim, then?"
Namjoon's eyes widen, almost imperceptible, and there's something tinging his scent that's not just suspicion.
"Then?"
" Hyung, ideally," Seokjin says, because he's shameless like that, and watches the faintest shade of incredulously fond pink rise up Namjoon's cheeks. "But if that's too familiar then... Seokjin-ssi works."
"Ahjussi?" Namjoon's left dimple peeks out, and Seokjin's swept off his feet, even as he fusses, like he normally does. "Seokjin-ssi," he amends, a slight curve to his lips, and Seokjin's wolf howls in delight at how right the syllables of his name sound, coming out of Namjoon's mouth.)
It takes Namjoon two hours of shooting to get sort of comfortable with him. It's a sort of inevitability, and while Seokjin would attribute the general phenomenon to his ridiculously attractive face and charm, in this case he'll humbly pass on the credit to the scriptwriters who decided it would be fun to handcuff partners and let them play hide and seek in a haunted house against the other teams.
Seokjin and Namjoon place first, because Namjoon's a force to be reckoned with, but as happy as being first on the scoreboard makes him, for the first time, Seokjin's just happy that Namjoon hasn't let go of his hand when they're finally declared winners.
He's aware it's a leftover reflex of having held hands throughout the game to keep in pace with each other, but--
(Seokjin hadn't suggested it. He isn't such scum and he understands concepts like respect and consent and boundaries and treating people like they're humans in front of their subgenders.
Omega, his alpha whines pitifully, and Seokjin stuffs the unwanted voice back where it came from.)
Three hours of shooting later and Namjoon steals bites of Seokjin's food, vegetables in particular, and that endears Seokjin so much that he starts planning a whole vegetable farm in the backyard of the massive villa he intends to build for himself and Namjoon.
Four hours later, Seokjin's protective instincts flare up in the face of a not so whispered conversation between a few of the staff members, attributing Namjoon's rise in fame to his sleeping around, because it doesn't make sense that an omega rapper bested the alphas to lift the SMTM 8 title.
"If you'd actually watched the show, you'd realise it's because he has pure, unmatched talent that's the wet dream of most wannabe alpha rappers," Seokjin says, as mildly as he can, but he's aware he reeks of barely contained lightning sulphor.
The staff scuttle away, more than embarassed, even if Seokjin's superior nose can smell frustration and he knows he's going to get flamed for it, but--
"You don't have to defend me, you know," Namjoon murmurs from behind him, a lazy expression on his face, looking completely unbothered by everything that everyone's whispering behind him and the more he looks unbothered, the more Seokjin wants to punch something because to remain so unfazed means to have spent so many days breaking yourself and putting yourself together on your own.
Or maybe, Namjoon's just that strong.
You don't have to defend me, more so when the cameras are on, Namjoon says, and Seokjin's heart aches. But if he were to say something comforting, that wouldn't be very on brand for him so instead what comes out his mouth is--
"Oh no no, that wasn't me at all. That was my younger brother, he's a huge fanboy of yours, by the way."
Namjoon raises a delicate eyebrow.
"I'm not kidding, I think you would have heard of the phenomenon sibling bindings? We're one of those rare cases where our wolves are so connected that sometimes his consciousness possesses mine, my vigor no match for his youth, especially given he's still a pup."
And. It's a load of bullshit.
But. The more Namjoon's lips curve upwards, even if but the corner, the more Seokjin wants to make up shit. The more he wants to make him smile.
"Don't laugh, I'm serious ."
Namjoon hmms , shadows of his dimples peeking out, mirth dancing in his eyes, and asks, saccharine sweet,
"So you mean to say you haven't heard my stuff?" Seokjin blinks, wanting to take back his bullshit all of a sudden, even as he knows Namjoon's messing with him. Feels cold sweat run down his back, as Namjoon goes on, the faintest pout to his lips, "Figures. I'm too no name for someone like you to bother with."
And before Seokjin can say something-- anything the director drags them back to play the next game, and all Seokjin can do is whisper to the wind--
I've found you very impressive too, even if it's true that Jungkook introduced you to me.
He thinks Namjoon hears it anyways, even if he sulks a bit and threatens to change partners at the end with a card he obtains.
Comfortable enough, Seokjin thinks, and his alpha floats a little on cloud nine.
Five hours later sees them all suiting up for the final game. Is them taking a break before they head into the segment Running man is most famous for--the Name Tag game. It's the directors telling them that all teammates are on each of the opposing two teams and Seokjin falling into despair, because what? He wouldn't be able to rip apart the competition and offer the prize to Namjoon?
It's also Namjoon settling down beside him, name tag firmly stuck to his back, out of his own accord, as the staff bustle about, and comment--
"I didn't realise you had a brother."
You've protected him well, he hears under the comment, and it warms Seokjin's heart, even as his mouth chooses to say, feigning hurt--
"I cannot believe you would pick my unpresented pup of a sibling over me. I cannot believe that this connection we forged is only for you to--"
"He's clearly a pup, like you said," Namjoon cuts him off dryly, a wry tilt to his lips. "And really, Seokjin-ssi, you should have gone into acting, not like you're wasted as an idol, but."
Seokjin blows him a flying kiss, a conditioned reflex at this point when someone disparagingly compliments him and witnesses a smattering of red bloom across Namjoon's cheeks.
And maybe it's that hint of vulnerability painted across Namjoon, or maybe it's just that there's something about Namjoon's wolf that his own sings to that prompts him to say what he says next--
"He's training to be an idol--"
"You're unhappy about it."
"I don't mind that he's training hard, it's just," Seokjin hesitates, less because he doesn't want to tell Namjoon, but more because uttering the words out loud somehow make it more tangible and something that he'll need to confront soon. Which, he realises, he needs to do sooner and later, especially if it's regarding his brother. "I don't think his agency cares about realising his potential. He has such big dreams even though he's only 16, and..."
Seokjin talks. Without realising how much time has passed, without realising how weighed down his soul had been until he borrows wired earphones to share a sample of his brother covering The Astronaut and feels free-r than he has in days, especially when Namjoon says,
"I think I understand what you mean. I can sense the untapped potential in him--"
"Woe is me that my brother's vocal prowess has far surpassed mine in the eyes of the prettiest omega ever--"
"Are you jealous of your own pup of a brother, Seokjin-ssi?" Namjoon's eyes curve up.
"And shouldn't I be? Before I know it, he'll knock me off my throne of nation's favourite son-in-law and I'll be left behind in the dust." Seokjin wipes fake tears off his cheeks.
"Don't worry," Namjoon pats his shoulder, half consolingly, "You'll definitely retain the title nation's favourite samchon."
Seokjin splutters.
Namjoon pays him no heed, going on, features smoothening into seriousness--
"Like you said though, for him to reach that stage of ultimate potential--"
"I don't think YM can help," Seokjin finishes, setting his antics aside. "And my agency won't take him until he's presented, which is going to take a couple more years." Seokjin plays one of his brother's own compositions, and. Ideally he knows this isn't something he should be doing, sharing unreleased music so freely, especially given how little he knows Namjoon, but all he can give as an excuse is that... It's because it's Namjoon that he's doing whatever he's doing.
Namjoon who tells him, eyes solemn, with the wisdom of someone who's spent a good amount of time in the dark pockets of the industry--Namjoon, who he knows, definitely had it harder than him due to his unique status as an omega rapper, "YM won't help him, but, if you think you can trust me, I might know someone who can help."
"Who?"
"A friend," Namjoon says, pulling out a visiting card from his wallet, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face. "It's a new agency but. Yoongi hyung is the best. And he'll treat him like the pup he is."
D-Nation.
Seokjin turns over the card in his hand thoughtfully.
Min Yoongi / Agust-D
"It's your call," Namjoon says, "No hard feelings regardless, I know it's a gamble to place your trust in a complete newcomer, even if he is a sort of established artist."
And.
Seokjin turns the card over in his hand again.
The director calls them over.
Namjoon flashes a smile at him, neither of them realising at that moment how much of an impact Namjoon's words would have on Jungkook's life (for the better, of course), and walks away, calling out behind him,
"No hard feelings if you lose either, Seokjin-ssi. See you on the other side."
Seokjin sees him on the other side, of course. Sees him, Namjoon's team on the verge of losing, because it's just the two of them, and nothing against Namjoon's strength but--
Darwin's theory of evolution gave alphas an unfair advantage with regards to bone structure and physique that omegas would find hard to match.
It's sort of set in stone, when the cards look that way.
And yet--
Seokjin's the one who trudges back to his team, five minutes later, his own ripped name tag clutched triumphantly in Namjoon's hands.
"How did you lose?" Someone asks, and all Seokjin can think as a reply is a singular, dangerous, softly called out hyung .
"You should have gotten into acting more than me," is all Seokjin can say, as Namjoon collects the prize with his team, thinking back to that moment he'd been about to rip off Namjoon's tag when the omega had stumbled (pretended to, he knows later), and called out, like he'd been unable to stand up, the most plaintive of hyung s.
" Hyung," he'd said, an honorific he'd refused to use all this while, refusing to deviate from Seokjin- ssi . Hyung, he'd said, voice melting into something painfully sweet, face and button nose scrunched up in a way that tugged on every single of Seokjin's heartstrings, and he'd been unable to do anything but fall to his knees in front of the omega crouching on the floor. Had been unable to do anything but try to find a way to gently ease him up, to figure out what was wrong, to set it right immediately, that he'd barely noticed when Namjoon leaned over to neatly rip the nametag off his back.
"Thank you, hyung,* he'd said after that, easily getting up, the slightest of smirks tugging across his face and Seokjin should have been mad at being played, but he had only himself to blame, never mind that all he could do as he watched Namjoon walk away was try to coalesce his heart into tangible form from where it had melted into all but an adoring puddle of sticky sweet cotton candy.
And.
Filming ends, with dirty looks from the rest of his team. Because that's how life is (even the dirty looks part). Seokjin plays around with the card Namjoon had given him, toys around with the idea of getting Namjoon's number from his manager, goes on a world tour and--
Life goes on.
Because sometimes that's how life is.
Sometimes you meet people who are so right but they pass by as fleeting as bright fluffy clouds leaving behind an indescribable sweetness in their wake with nothing tangible to hold onto.
Seokjin remembers Namjoon's dimples as Jungkook signs with D-Nation, is haunted by Namjoon's smile as he registers for his mandatory military service and hears hyung in his dreams the day he shaves his hair and says goodbye to his idol life, atleast for a bit.
Present
The shooting doesn’t start like that, of course. The start is him being approached by one of the newer directors, an unfamiliar face (and most of them are newer faces he realises, all the older ones inconspicuously slinking away when they see his face and he’s reminded of three years ago and how they must have been reproached for his actions then) and being told, in no uncertain terms, that he ought to pick Jieun as his partner at the start of the game.
“You’re rigging it this blatantly?” Seokjin asks, wearing his most charming smile, reminded of the last time he’d been filming for running man, and suddenly feeling the intense itch to ask his manager to find one RapMonster for him. There’s nothing entirely too familiar about the show for him to be feeling everything that he’s feeling but his alpha rears its head restlessly like it hasn’t in a bit, and—
“If the spotlight is on the two of you our ratings would rise exponentially, not to mention,” the little beta director beckons him closer and murmurs in a whisper, “It’ll have people not questioning why the screentime has been split so oddly between the guests, so…”
He trails off, but Seokjin is not wet behind the ears that he wouldn’t understand to read between the lines. They have a guest they had no choice but to host, who they could have definitely done without so they’re just trying to minimise backlash.
It has him very very interested even as he perfunctorily nods, the absolute gentleman that he is.
“You’re going to cause chaos, aren’t you, hyung?” Park Jimin, his lovely devil of a manager, asks him, when the little director scampers away. Jimin, who’s been with Seokjin only since he’s stepped out of the military, not more than three months ago, but knows him so well that it’s sometimes scary.
(Not really, and this isn’t Seokjin underestimating Jimin’s potential to stab someone with a smile on his face, but rather under the confidence that Jimin treats him like an older brother, even if there’s a perpetually annoyed expression on his face.
Little brothers express affection in different ways, after all.
And some of them don’t talk to you at all again.)
“And now you’re sad because of he-who-shall-not-be-named,” Jimin tuts, rubbing his wrist against the scent glands on Seokjin’s neck discreetly under the pretext of fixing his collar. And. Seokjin ought to prickle given they’re both alphas, but—
His alpha settles a little, whines less, even if his ears droop.
“Usually,” Seokjin says, forcing his tone into lightness, “People refer to exes like that. Not—”
A little brother, he thinks, the words settling at the tip of his tongue, unable to say it out, the way he’s been unable to say Jungkook’s name without getting all chocked up.
“Oh hush , superstar,” Jimin murmurs, words unbearably soft, as he rubs his wrist against Seokjin’s—lemon and honey in the place of what Seokjin has heard third hand is the inexplicable scent of a pine forest. He wouldn’t know, not really. “You can’t go into the shoot puffy eyed and red nosed. Your fans are a little too sharp for that and I’ll have to deal with people sending trucks asking to get me fired because I’m not doing a good enough job.”
And.
That gets a smile out of Seokjin. Watery, helpless laughter.
“That’s more like it,” Jimin says, eyes curving into sweet smiles, as he steps away, always conscious of Seokjin’s image, of where they are, even when Seokjin forgets. “And since you’re sad I’ll give you one pass to cause chaos, without reprimanding you for it.”
“Really?”
Jimin nods. “I’ll even face Hobi hyung’s wrath for you, as he helps put out the fires that you’re inevitably going to end up setting.”
And.
“You promised,” Seokjin says, face lighting up a little, knowing that even without words, Jimin will understand the rainfall his scent bears is thanks to him and not his words. “Help me find out which guest is giving them so much grief so that I can pair with them on livestream?”
Jimin grins at him, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
The guest is someone called RM, an omega, and a single parent on top of that.
“That’s a problem, how?” Seokjin asks, even as he can see all the ways that could be a problem in an industry that thrives on selling their idols as marketable, single commodities to fulfil the fantasies of fans.
“Apart from all the regular reasons?” Jimin asks, one eyebrow arched, as he consults his tab. “Some anonymous source revealed a clip where he confronts Ilsung on running off after getting him pregnant and—”
Seokjin winces.
“Let me guess, Ilsung swore to the heavens that that was a lie?”
Jimin grimaces.
“He also went as far as to clarify on live stream that he’s not the father but that if RM’s that desperate, he’ll pay child support just so that they don’t end up on the streets.”
Seokjin’s alpha snarls , this ugly visceral thing, scent taking a particularly sulphuric tone to it.
He’s not going to pretend alphas aren’t pieces of shit, but this—
“This is inspite RM not even confronting Ilsung publicly?”
Jimin nods, a scowl on his face. “He really is trash but he’s popular trash, so inspite of RM releasing a statement saying he wants nothing of that sort and that he’s glad that someone like Ilsung isn’t his pup’s father, he’s just been in hot water.”
“Do you think he’s the pup’s father though?”
Jimin shrugs. “I think he is , given the type of scum he is, not to mention that RM-ssi has no reason to have reached out to Ilsung of all people in private, unless he believed it to be true too.”
Seokjin hmms , before asking, even as he wonders how much of a rock he’s been living under that he’s not aware of such news,
“And why did Running Man extend an invitation to someone who’s supposedly in the middle of such a scandal?”
Not like he’s ever been one to stick his nose into stuff, but. Stay long in the circle and it’s an inevitability that you hold pieces of news passed on through word of mouth during stuffy gatherings where words flow as loosely as alcohol.
“Oh, this happened a year ago, when you were in the military,” Jimin tells him. And. Well, that sort of made sense. Seokjin’s service period had been one and a half long years of him barely being privy to outside news despite having internet access, however limited that might have been, and throwing himself into training to not be reminded of the fact that he was a failure of an older sibling in the eyes of his younger brother.
“The public sentiment towards him right now is lukewarm, but he’s been breaking records with his stuff—“
“Despite minimal public support?”
“Billboard top 10 entry—”
Seokjin’s forehead furrows.
“Hip hop category,” Jimin clarifies. “That’s why you wouldn’t know. And he’s big enough that he has foreign artists noticing him that it’ll look bad if none of the entertainment shows here were to give him a platform.”
“Like it’s ever bothered these frogs stuck inside a jar,” Seokjin grumbles. Grumbles, and thinks about another omega rapper in another Running Man in another era—someone he’d deliberately stopped himself from keeping tabs on, because instinctively, it felt like Namjoon deserved better than Seokjin? Better than someone who couldn’t even be there for his own brother. Better than someone who’d failed as an alpha, and—
He’d known that if searched for Namjoon again, he wouldn’t have been able to let go of him. Someone as bright as him, someone so beautiful and sharp tongued and—
He’s filled with the sudden urge to know what he’s doing, why he’s not blown up in the country to such a point that Seokjin has no chance but to acknowledge his face across billboards and listen to his music everytime he turns on the radio.
“Hyung,” Jimin says, snapping Seokjin out of his thoughts. “They’re going to start filming.”
Seokjin centres himself, reigns in his alpha, and thinks—
Maybe if not Namjoon-ssi, I can help this omega a little?
“You’re going to pick him as your partner, aren’t you, hyung?” Jimin asks him, like it’s a foregone conclusion.
Seokjin nods.
“That might do him worse than better if you’re not careful, hyung,” his manager goes on, lips pulling into a worried pout, and—
“Don’t worry, Jimin-ah, I’ll not do anything too explosive.”
Fifteen minutes later, as he spots Namjoon across the room wearing the number tag 9 and realises that he’s RM , he sends a silent apology towards Jimin and Hoseok, as he steps forward and picks him as a partner, before announcing to the world that he’s the father to Namjoon’s child and that he intends to take responsibility from that moment onward.
(A few hours later, Seokjin’s own fans throw him under the bus calling him a scum alpha trying to take advantage of a poor omega as they defend Namjoon, to the frozen backdrop of Namjoon’s utterly confused and bewildered face the moment Seokjin had said what he said.)
(His fans take him back once the eventual truth comes out, because they’re not that fickle, but none of them call Namjoon a single bad thing, and that’s enough for Seokjin, even if he has to pay Hoseok back in years of handmade coffee.)
The thing is, he doesn’t do it completely unprovoked. He does it because he spots Ilsung swagger in, as the mystery guest—spots him stand in line next to Namjoon, in spite of his indicated spot being someone else, and say, clearly for the cameras to hear, “I’m sorry you were left in such a bad position that you had to do what you did, but my offer from back then is still open.”
And.
Nobody says a thing . Not the staff, not the directors, not even any of the fucking participants and it has Seokjin’s blood boiling. At the number of connotations buried in Ilsung’s words, in the way he leers at Namjoon, his face turned the perfect angle away from the camera, and—
Because clearly he’s a piece of shit, he goes on with a faux half sympathetic look on his face,
“I’ll be Namjoon-ssi’s partner for the game. That’ll be a nice picture, yeah?”
And.
What drives Seokjin crazy is the way Namjoon doesn’t say a thing. Is the way he lets his head hang a little, even if the lines of his body are defiant—is the way he looks pale and wan and tired and—
Seokjin remembers the devilish smile he used to wear, remembers the confidence in every step he took defying the industry, remembers him calling out hyung--something that Seokjin could never stop hearing. Remembers the way the shitty part of the internet had degraded him for it, and the way he’d fired back on twitter with a casual, I’m not to blame for being too charming, and honestly if it were anyone but Seokjin-ssi, I would have said, I’m not to blame for taking advantage of alphas being alphas, given its society that allows them to be that way.
And.
That had been a dig at every alpha.
But all Seokjin had been left with was a smile on his lips.
So to see the very same Namjoon with no fire in his eyes, it has Seokjin aching , especially as nobody steps up for him.
Has him saying, having long back given the reigns to his alpha,
“I’d like to be Namjoon’s partner, given I’m the scum alpha who ran away after impregnating him." He says it with the most determined look on his face, as Namjoon stares at him, absolute disbelief in his eyes, as do the rest of the participants and Jieun , until someone in the staff comes to their senses and they hurry to cut the livestream and put on an ad.
It’s enough damage done, though, as Seokjin, Namjoon and #Seokjinfather rise up into the top 10 hashtags within the next few minutes.
It’s also sort of good that the cameras cut when they do because the next second Seokjin is face to face with a furious omega who smells nothing of petrichor but something that would leave anyone petrified, eyes as hard as diamonds, asking him,
“What that hell do you think you’re doing, Seokjin-ssi?”
And in spite of the fury every line of his body radiates, he doesn’t yell. Doesn’t scream. Doesn’t raise his voice. He sounds perfectly poised and normal, and when Seokjin looks back at the moment he’ll find it so ridiculously hot, but right then—
“Taking responsibility?”
“Are you joking around? Do you want to absolutely bury my reputation? Why would you say that when anyone with two working brain cells would be able to figure out that the timelines in no way match because you were in the fucking military when I got pregnant with Soobin?”
“Soobin?” Seokjin murmurs, utterly entranced. “Do you have pictures?” He goes on, a little out of his mind, over Namjoon’s mumbles of ‘Brain cells which half of the netizens do not have, oh fuck me.’
Namjoon glares at him.
“What, I repeat, Seokjin-ssi, are you playing at?” Namjoon takes a deep breath, steps closer, and Seokjin realises Namjoon’s a little taller than him, like this. He wonders why he hadn’t noticed it previously, three years ago. “Why would you say something like that when there’s already one asshole I can’t punch given that we’re in the middle of filming—”
“The cameras aren’t filming, you could punch me,” Seokjin offers, because wow , would you look at that, he’s lost all control over his alpha, clearly, not like he had ever had any since he’d spotted Namjoon across the room—Namjoon, who’d looked tired and pale and wan , a shadow of the proud omega in his memories; Namjoon, who’d taken the shit the Ilsung was giving him, even in that moment, with more grace than most of the famous players in the industry, and who still held his head high looking painfully lonely, and—
“Are you going into rut or something?” Namjoon asks him, disbelief clear on his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Just, the cameras aren’t filming so you can do anything you want—”
And. None of them know at that point, but—
The directors never managed to switch to streaming ads like it was thought, and they’d still been live. Seokjin’s besotted look had been displayed to the whole world as had Namjoon’s ice cold fury, and the dignity he held onto with both hands even as the situation had spiralled out of control.
It had left the haters reeling, had more than a few people spit on his name, had people being forced to acknowledge the known double standards of the industry displayed naked for the whole world to see, with how Ilsung had been allowed to speak the way he wanted to speak because all it did was harm the omega in front of him, whose reputation was already in tatters, while the moment Seokjin had started ruining his image they’d decided to cut the cameras.
(Much much later, because it’s the fact that everything was being streamed live that things didn’t get as messy as they could potentially have—that Ilsung’s reputation took a hit , while Namjoon was seen in better light, opinions of him gentling, as unfair as it was that it took another unplanned conversation in front of a camera for it to reach that point when people had no rights to treat someone so badly —does Seokjin realise that the cameras still rolling was thanks to Jimin, and all the strings he pulled, and it has him so so grateful, for family, new and not bound by blood.)
(And even later than that, he’ll realise that Jimin had alerted Namjoon of the fact that the cameras were still on—that they were still live, the moment things had started going downhill, so that he could decide how far he wanted to go, and how much he wanted to say, because he deserved that—the privacy he hadn’t been afforded the last time he’d had a conversation with Ilsung. It’ll have Seokjin realising how sometimes pack bonds are something as strong as red threads of destiny—that it’ll have family protecting each other even when you’re unaware of the bonds that’ll tie you together.)
“Why?” Namjoon asks, snapping Seokjin back to reality, looking so so confused, and the faintest bit upset , and it makes Seokjin’s alpha ache, as he says as honestly as he can—
“Because I don’t want you to deal with it alone.”
“And this is the best way you could do it? By casting aspersions on my already messy reputation?”
“I wasn’t—” Thinking , Seokjin wants to say, but doesn’t, because his words catch up to him, his human skin feeling a little too tight around his alpha. All he’d thought was protect ; that admitting to be the other parent would ensure that Namjoon wouldn’t face any ire alone; that he’d stand by Namjoon’s side from that moment onwards, except—
“Seokjin-ssi,” Namjoon says, voice gentler than Seokjin deserves, “If I didn’t know you through the eyes of someone close to you, I would spit on your words, but…” He exhales, steps back. “Thank you for your misplaced well intentions, but the best way to protect me would be to interact with me as minimally as possible.”
“Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin finds himself calling out, aware that he’s overstepping with his familiarity but unable to stop himself, even as Namjoon turns away, “I just. You’re not incompetent, and you can’t be blamed for a clip that was released without your consent. You don’t deserve to be treated the way you’re treated when you’re in no way at fault. Especially when you never wanted to publicize any of this and that asshole —”
“Kim Seokjin,” Ilsung snaps, finally stepping closer. “Mind your words.”
“I am,” Seokjin says, glaring at him, and later , he’ll realise his eyes flashed true alpha gold , though he doesn’t know in that moment that that’s why Ilsung steps back. “Stay out of this, the way you should have stayed out of Namjoon-ssi’s life if you didn’t want to take responsibility.”
“Why would I want to?” Ilsung snarls, all pretences stripped naked, expression morphing into something ugly. “We slept together, yes, but it was a mistake. And we used protection—”
“Protection sometimes doesn’t work ,” Seokjin snaps, even as Namjoon says, voice calm as ever, “I didn’t sleep with anyone else after that.”
And.
They’re ugly messy things spoken in front of a camera—things that thousands of people didn’t have to be privy to, but Seokjin will think, later, that if Ilsung didn’t care to keep Namjoon’s secrets a secret, he didn’t have any right to be shielded when he was unmasked.
“You think I want to ruin my career associating myself with you?” Ilsung asks, vile as he is, to the end. “So what if we slept together. I’ve slept with a bunch of people, all of them haven’t shown up at my doorstep claiming I put a baby in them. That child isn’t —”
“Yours,” Namjoon cuts him off, voice ruthlessly cold. “ Not yours. Maybe you’re the sperm donor, but Soobin is all mine. And besides,” he goes on, taking a step towards Ilsung, menacing down to his bones, “It’s not like I wanted you to accept responsibility in the first place, which the world would have known had you waited till the end, had your people not tampered with the clip. All I wanted was to let you know, because that was your right, and for you to also sign your rights away because I knew what sort of scum you were. I never needed any alpha to show me mercy.”
And.
Seokjin’s breath catches in his throat as Ilsung’s face goes ashen, the slightest.
“That—”
“You refused to hear me out fully,” Namjoon says, voice plunging into something icy, “You shut the door on my face, and then turned around and painted yourself the victim. You acted all magnanimous like you would provide, regardless, because I was a poor, confused, desperate omega, but all I’ve ever needed from you is to promise to stay the fuck out of our lives.”
“I’ll gladly do it,” Ilsung blusters. “You think I want to do anything with that bastard—”
Smack.
Namjoon steps back coolly, brushing his hands, like he hadn’t just slapped Ilsung hard enough for the whole building to hear.
“My lawyer will reach out to you with the papers. Also, you call my child that one more time, and…” It’s an open threat left hanging in the air but it’s enough to have llsung turning tail and fleeing, even as he pretends it’s because he cannot stand to be in the same room as Namjoon. No one says a thing, a few of the staff even looking at his retreating back with contempt and—
Seokjin feels his heart go thud thud. Sees the ice in Namjoon’s face thaw when he glances in Seokjin’s way, not completely though, and he thinks—
I’m fucked.
Thinks, I shouldn’t have tried running away from my destiny three years ago.
Feels, a tad regretfully, Would things have been different had I chased Namjoon back then? Would Namjoon have suffered less?
And maybe his inner simp was being too loud, because his dramatic ass manager chooses that exact moment to go—
“Oh no, did you guys forget to cut the cameras?”
Jimin, Seokjin thinks, was wasted in becoming his manager, a few minutes later, as the staff scramble to figure out a way to either continue or cancel filming for the day. Jimin should have gone into acting, swept a few Oscars for them, Seokjin thinks, ignoring the people bustling around them. He tells Jimin as much, wryly, and Jimin beams at him.
“You’re not worried I’m mad at you for not warning me that the cameras never cut from the start?”
“Hyung,” Jimin replies, as sweetly as possible, “ You’re not the main character here. You’re just the facilitator, and besides, it’s not like you don’t regularly do stuff that gives Hobi hyung a heart attack worrying about your reputation.”
“Yaah—”
“The person mainly involved was aware and that’s all that matters.”
“How did you even manage to signal that to him ?”
“I have my ways,” Jimin says mysteriously, before he straightens and adds out of the corner of his mouth, “Namjoon-ssi’s coming your way, act cool. Also, if you want to appear very charming, pretend you were in on the whole thing and that you knew that the cameras were filming the whole time.”
And before Seokjin can blink—before he can process Jimin’s words, Namjoon’s standing in front of him, still looking tired and wan but beautiful , something bright in his eyes that has Seokjin wanting to turn into an artist just so he can capture the loveliness Namjoon exudes in that moment, not like he thinks even Picasso could do a painting like that justice, but.
“Thank you for doing what you did, Seokjin-ssi,” Namjoon says softly, and then he offers him a full 90 degree bow that has Seokjin scrambling, panicking, trying to keep Namjoon from completing it, because—
“ For what , Namjoon-ssi?” He asks, flustered through and through.
“For giving me a chance to tell the world the truth that they wouldn’t have believed otherwise. For playing along, at the cost of tarnishing your reputation.”
And.
Seokjin sees Jimin wink at him from across the room, and thinks—he could be cool . He could act suave . Or, he could—
“I didn’t realise the cameras were on,” Seokjin tells him honestly. He doesn’t want to build this relationship on lies. He doesn’t want to screw up his destiny because of a lie, as harmless as it might be. “And by all rights, you should be mad at me, because if they actually cut the cameras at the point they did, I might have ruined your reputation beyond repair, for no reason .”
“No reason?” Namjoon asks, the edges of his lips curving up the slightest.
“For selfish reasons,” Seokjin amends, under his knowing gaze. “I was mad at Ilsung and I lost my cool in the stupidest of ways. I’m sorry.”
Namjoon chuckles at that. “You place too much importance on yourself if you think that would have ruined my reputation beyond repair. Regardless, things turned out well, so. Thank you for being a reason I could use my voice.”
“It was all you, and if there’s still people hating on you, that’s because of me—” Seokjin goes on, feeling guilt creep up a little, because that’s also true. Because from the snippets he’d seen on social media, most of the public opinion on Namjoon was turning favourable, but there were still haters who were smearing his name—were calling him all sorts of shit just because Seokjin had spoken for him, had said the stuff he said, and—
“Seokjin-ssi,” Namjoon cuts him off, a bemused curl to his lips. “Just accept the gratitude. You’ve done more for me than my PR managers ever managed to. And I’m not so fragile that I wouldn’t be able to handle a few haters. I’ve been doing this ever since I presented an omega and stepped into a rap battle.”
And.
Seokjin aches for him, but it’s an ache his alpha accepts as a challenge to make sure that Namjoon would never have to face such shit like that alone. That he would always have Seokjin in his corner, as long as he would have him, to ease the burden, atleast a little.
“Whatever happened to calling me, hyung, Namjoon-ah?” Seokjin asks, feeling a little bold, as Namjoon continues smiling at him.
And.
Namjoon beams, bright and unrestrained, as pretty as he’d looked three years ago, and says,
“You’re a good man, Seokjin Ahjussi,” before fluttering away, as his phone starts ringing, cooing out a gentle ‘Soobinie’ and Seokjin is left dazzled by his radiance, his alpha howling in happiness.
Filming continues, because they have to show something for it, given the shitshow that happened pre-filming , and they shift around a bunch of things to make up for the space left behind by Ilsung, but—
Filming continues and Seokjin boldly picks Namjoon as his partner again, saying, when asked for a reason, “I want to win, and I don’t think there’s anyone smarter than RM-ssi here.”
RM-ssi , he says, like he hadn’t called him Namjoon-ah half an hour ago.
Namjoon grins at him, mischievous and pretty and goes on to demolish the rest of their competitors and the running man cast at all the games, easily putting them on top of the table.
Namjoon sticks close to him even during breaks, even though no one’s staring at him with contempt any longer—even though no one’s judging him silently from a distance—except when he gets calls where he either sings to his son (and why hadn’t anyone told him how lovely Namjoon’s voice sounded as he sang?) or listens to him babble, the most besotted of smiles on his face.
“Would you show me a picture of him?” Seokjin asks, after the third call, and Namjoon smiles at him, bright and beautiful, before spending the next ten minutes showing Seokjin pictures of the most perfect baby he’s ever seen. And he’s not a huge baby fan but this kid, with shadows of what he thinks are dimples inherited from Namjoon, and baby features so perfect --he thinks he could love him with all of his heart.
“He’s perfect ,” Seokjin murmurs, more under his breath than anything. “But it also makes sense, given he’s yours.” Namjoon’s cheeks flush pink, petrichor wrapping him around, the coolest touch against the fire set alight in his veins.
Filming goes on, and they win, to no one’s surprise. There’s no one more relieved than the running man staff as they hand over the prizes and cut the cameras, actually , this time, herding them off the set.
“I don’t think either of us is getting invited again, Seokjin-ssi,” Namjoon tells him, as they step out into the cold Seoul night.
“Will you still not call me hyung, Namjoon-ssi?” Seokjin asks him, because he has his priorities right. Jimin rolls his eyes beside him, absolutely zero respect for his elders.
“We aren’t familiar enough for that—”
“What constitutes as familiar? Exchanging numbers?” Seokjin asks, already stretching his card in Namjoon’s direction and he’s graced with the sight of both of Namjoon’s dimples as he bursts into laughter. Seokjin drinks in the sight like a man starved of water in a desert.
“Make up with your brother,” Namjoon says, when he stops laughing, something knowing in his eyes, as he steps into his car, “And we’ll see.”
And before Seokjin can process what Namjoon said, he’s long gone, leaving behind nothing but confusion in his wake.
“He,” Seokjin starts, looking at the car that’s become nothing but a speck in the distance, “How does he know I’m not speaking with—” Jungkook , he lets the syllables curl in the air between himself and Jimin.
Jimin stares at Seokjin like he’s an idiot . “Maybe because he-who-shall-not-be-named is signed to his best friend’s agency? Which is also the agency Namjoon-ssi himself is currently signed to?”
And.
Later, Seokjin will think about how well Jimin knows him and he’ll be invited to Jimin’s lair in explanation where Jimin has a whole board dedicated to Seokjin with threads marking everything about him like he’s some sort of murder suspect on the run, but for right then—
“He’s that familiar with my—?”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Jimin says gently, “But we’ll have to leave that for tomorrow because I don’t think Min Yoongi-ssi will take very kindly to us slamming on his agency doors so late in the night.”
Seokjin begrudgingly gives in.
He doesn’t sleep well that night, though, and ends up scrolling through social media searching alternately for news about Namjoon as well as Jungkook, something within him settling after a few hours of intensive research, especially when he re-affirms how well Jungkook has done for himself (spiky hair regardless), independent of Seokjin in such a short time, and when he sees the netizens finally turn sympathetic towards Namjoon’s plight and his album sales within the country soaring in real time.
They’re both doing fine, his alpha tells him, even if he’s still a little uncomfortable that they’re both out of reach.
Hopefully soon they'll be closer , he reassures his alpha, falling into a sleep where they’re pack , and all their troubles are that of a distant past.