Archive of Our Own

Chan flops backwards onto the couch with a dramatic huff. His entire body aches and sweat is present in places that sweat has no business being. He feels disgusting, and not in a good way.

The rest of the members seem to be feeling much the same. Seungcheol had taken Seokmin by the hand, the younger trailing behind him down the hallway to the bathroom. Their oldest had won the rock-paper-scissors battle for who got to shower first when they got back to the dorms after practice, and Seokmin had been in a flirty mood that he knew would get him in trouble later all throughout their rehearsals. So, in Chan’s mind, their shower would likely take even longer now. Great.

“Ugh,” Chan whines eloquently, slinging an arm across his face to cover his eyes. The cold air conditioning makes the exposed skin on his stomach speckle with goosebumps now that the sweat from practice is beginning to dry.

“You shouldn’t lay on the couch when you’re gross like that,” Seungkwan frowns judgmentally, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. Chan doesn’t need to open his eyes to picture the exact expression on his hyung’s face. 

Chan snickers, choosing violence, “Hansol-hyung fucked you in this exact spot less than twenty-four hours ago,” Seungkwan wheezes in protest, “Our couch has seen so much worse.”

“Didn’t Jihoon and Soonyoung also try watersports on it once?”

“And it’s Cheol-hyung’s favorite place to dole out punishments when he wants extra eyes. Or if Channie baby wants hyungs to watch~” 

Now it’s Chan’s turn to squawk in protest. His cheeks burn red but he laughs. It’s not like Mingyu is wrong. Sometimes he does want his hyungs to watch. Sue him.

A sinfully long, beautifully high pitched moan floats down the hall from the bathroom and Chan groans. “We’re never gonna get to shower at this rate.” 

The couch dips at Chan’s feet and he feels Mingyu lift his legs onto his lap. “Eh, it’s alright. Minnie’s been so on edge lately. He needs this.”

“Does he have to need it in the shower,” Seungkwan whines, and Chan is glad someone had said it. They were all struggling with being down two boyfriends, and now that it was doubled to four it was taking, well, double the toll on everyone, it seemed.

“I could always lick you clean,” Hansol leans over to tease, nipping lightly at Seungkwan’s sweaty neck. Seungkwan squeaks again and bats him away. 

The sound of the tap being turned off saves Hansol from further attack as Seungkwan yanks him down the hall towards the bathroom before anyone can protest. Chan is too tired to fight it anyway. He’s been losing the shower order battle for ten years, he’s more than used to it by now.

“If you’re willing to wait and go last with me,” Mingyu leans over Chan’s prone body, hands bracketing his head on either side of the couch cushions,  purring directly into his ear, “I’ll make it worth it.” 

Chan hums, and doesn’t even open his eyes to weave his hand into the back of Mingyu’s hair to pull him closer. Their mouths brush and Chan melts further into the cushions with a happy sigh.

—

One very relaxing cold-ish shower with Mingyu later finds Chan toweling his hair dry and struggling to keep his eyes open long enough to brush his teeth. From the bedroom down the hall, he can hear what must be the members talking to Jeonghan and/or Wonwoo on speaker phone. Those two have the most flexibility with their schedules to talk to them in the evenings like this. Chan’s stomach twists when he thinks about how it’s been days since he’s talked to Jihoon and Soonyoung. If he starts going down that rabbit hole, he’ll spiral with how tired he is.

Jisoo welcomes him onto the giant king-sized bed they share for cuddling and other completely pure and wholesome purposes after Chan pulls on an oversized sleep shirt (one of Hansol’s maybe? All of their clothing is basically a shared wardrobe at this point) and snuggles up to Jisoo with a content sigh.

“Is that my Channie baby?” Jeonghan sing-songs and Chan is too tired to notice that what he’s feeling isn’t just the butterflies in his tummy from hearing the voice of a loved one he misses so much.

“Hi, hyungie.” Chan simply greets, rather than dramatically insisting that he is not a baby like he usually would. Jeonghan takes it in stride, but the others easily pick up on the note of worry as he continues to chat lightheartedly with Chan.

“You feeling okay, baby?” Jisoo mumbles into Chan’s hair as he continues to rub his back after the call with Jeonghan ends. Chan melts again, maybe, possibly, feeling a bit floatier than he should be right now. He’s too tired to communicate this with his hyungs like he’s supposed to, choosing to burrow back into Jisoo’s hold. Forming words feels impossible, anyway. And he’s sure he’ll sleep it off and feel much better in the morning.

—

Surprise, surprise — Chan does not feel much better in the morning.

Now that he’s awake and has a decent night of sleep behind him, he’s more than aware that he is supposed to talk to his hyungs about how he’s feeling. 

It’s a system they worked out years ago. The polyamorous relationship between the 13 of them had not come easy by any means. It had taken months, years even, to get to where they were now. And with so many of them entering headspaces so often, it became practically the number one Golden Rule — Communicate When You Are Feeling ‘Weird’. 

It wasn’t actually called that, but Chan’s mental labeling system does a good enough job. This particular rule was one of few Chan had never actually broken before, but others in their group had and Chan so did not want to deal with the agreed-upon punishment that came along with this particular infraction. 

So, true to his word and the promise they’d all made to one another at Soonyoung’s family cabin on the lake six years ago, he texts Jeonghan in their private chat during a practice break.

Chan: hi hyung, hope you’re having a good day <3

Chan: I’m feeling floaty, can you and I have some time tonight? 

Chan bites his lip, knowing the third message is crucial in Jeonghan knowing what exactly he needs tonight.

Chan: just us? 

Chan: if you’re busy I can handle it, promise

Not a lie. Chan knows himself well enough to recognize that while he is feeling the urge to enter the particular headspace he feels comfortable enough only to share with Jeonghan, it’s not toppled over into a need. Chan can handle it. 

Chan stares at his phone, waiting for a response until he’s forced to put it away when Seungcheol leads them back into practice. Seungcheol and Mingyu had stepped into leading more of their practice sessions now that Soonyoung wasn’t there to keep them in line and focused. Seungcheol is such a natural dom when he steps into any sort of leadership role that Chan finds himself missing Soonyoung’s softer approach sometimes. The way Soonyoung would always talk to Chan just a bit softer, scold and correct just a touch lighter than he would on the other members. 

Seungcheol does not share the same sentiment.

Especially now, since there are only nine of them rehearsing for the upcoming tour, there is no room for error or slacking off or missing beats. Seungcheol leads and they all follow, the others taking it in stride when Seungcheol makes corrections or barks out critiques. From the lustful way Mingyu is staring at Seungcheol, Chan figures Mingyu can barely wait until practice is over to pounce on their leader. 

As soft as Seungcheol can be, when he’s in the zone like this, even Chan knows not to step out of line. Focusing on not messing up, rather than just doing the choreographies that he knows by heart at this point, is probably what makes him stumble in the first place. He knocks into Junhui’s shoulder during the transition, a stupid mistake, a rookie mistake he has no business making this far into practice. Chan’s face flushes red, easily hidden by the sweat and signs of exertion typical for a three, going on four, hour long practice like this one. Junhui steadies Chan after he apologizes for bumping into him. 

Jun leans up to brush Chan’s sweaty bangs back from his forehead. His eyes are soft, kind, searching. The butterflies in Chan’s stomach make a reappearance. 

“You okay?” He asks softly, just for the two of them. 

Chan knows he should say he isn’t, but he can’t admit it without also being ready to say why. Even though they’ve all been together for so long, trust one another implicitly, and have each seen the others in a very wide variety of situations and positions, Chan still can’t bring himself to say it. 

Junhui, as much as Chan loves and trusts him, isn’t Jeonghan. Jeonghan isn’t here.

God, Chan wants Jeonghan.

Chan initially nods in answer to Junhui’s question, but the wave of nausea that immediately follows after lying to his hyung, a hyung that doms him most of the time, has Chan backtracking before the disappointment has time to show on Junhui’s features. 

So Chan shrugs, because it’s not a lie, but he also isn’t quite ready for his hyungs to know the whole picture. No one but Jeonghan does, and Chan had already told Jeonghan how he’s feeling. So technically, no lie.

So why does Chan still feel like shit about it?

—

Chan feels Junhui’s heavy gaze the rest of practice, after insisting he feels okay enough to run the choreography one more time. Seungcheol seems to have picked up on the shift too, easily toning down his corrections after checking in with Chan and being much more gentle with him than he had been earlier.

Chan appreciates it, because he really had not wanted to burst into tears in front of all of them, as was known to happen when he was with Jeonghan when he felt like this. But the attention came with cons; namely Chan feeling like he was toppling over into the floaty cotton headspace much more quickly than he was comfortable with.

He clings to Jisoo on the van ride home. All of them are back to being able to fit in one van again. Chan does his best not to let himself think about why that makes him so sad. 

He’s quiet, and he knows the others notice it, but Jisoo is carding his hands through his hair and Chan is finding fewer and fewer reasons to keep fighting it. 

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the hyungs found out. 

They hadn’t judged Mingyu for his puppy headspace. Even though Mingyu had been absolutely mortified when Jihoon helped him tell the others about it and invite them to participate, they’d all settled into it so well and now Mingyu is their puppy more often than he isn’t. And they’d made it work when Soonyoung had asked about a collar, wanting something to help him feel grounded and to remind him of what they all were to each other outside of the public eye and their Seventeen group rings. 

They’d established a non-verbal signal to tone down the teasing in public when Seungkwan had shared that it made him uncomfortable sometimes. They had all been ecstatic when Seungcheol and Jeonghan had come to each of them to ask if they would be okay with their two oldest members stepping into more of a Dom role - inside and outside of the bedroom.

Chan can’t think of one time, outside of the golden-shower-on-the-shared-dorm-couch situation, that had not gone well when they’d been open and honest with each other. 

And even though Jihoon and Soonyoung hadn’t been as in to that particular kink as they’d thought, they still laughed it off together after and everything went right back to normal.

The voice in the back of Chan’s mind also calls upon the conversation they’d had together about boundaries. With all of the different kinks and headspaces thrown into the mix between the thirteen of them, it had been important to sit down and talk through who was okay with what and who wasn’t. Seokmin scenes with Wonwoo for things they both enjoy and Joshua doesn’t; Jeonghan takes over for Minghao and Junhui when the usual pair both feel too subby to dom the other; Seungcheol and Mingyu were known to pair up when Mingyu felt particularly adventurous or, rambunctious in his puppy headspace. 

Each of them follow the traffic light system and share the same safe word. They have different group chats for different scenes and a ‘bedroom reservation system’ for members who prefer the comfort of privacy. They have color-coded door flags for ‘the door is closed, keep it that way’, and another for, ‘the door is closed, but no one inside minds if you open it’. 

Deep down though, Chan knows exactly what the problem is.

None of them have ever brought up a headspace that has, for the most part, nothing to do with sex. 

Even Mingyu’s soft submissive puppy headspace has sexual undertones that the others play into, because that’s what Mingyu likes and what everyone else is okay with.

There’s no template for Chan to shadow, no one else’s awkward conversation for Chan to follow in the footsteps of. Not for this.

The only reason Jeonghan knows is because the two of them had discovered it together. It had happened during another scene, one that had started off heated, stress pouring off of both of them in waves during comeback season, each aching to take the other apart to decompress. 

Chan had felt off and he hadn’t known why — not until Jeonghan landed an extremely well-placed “let me take care of you, baby,” and Chan had fallen the fuck apart.

He didn’t like the term age-regression, or the term little space, or any other label he’d scoured the internet with Jeonghan trying to find. None of them fit quite right. The handful of times he’d been able to enter his softer, floatier headspace, he’d just wanted to snuggle close to Jeonghan and be held, cared for, and loved. Jeonghan, despite teasing him for everything else, never once teased him for this. He seemed to understand what Chan needed more than Chan himself did sometimes. 

Even when Chan had slipped so deep when the news of Jeonghan’s enlistment had come out, sobbing into the older’s arms and letting the name that ached behind his ribcage pass his lips for the first time, not even then had Jeonghan teased him. 

He couldn’t say the same about the others. He didn’t know how they would react. He didn’t know how to have this conversation with them, not without Jeonghan. And Chan had insisted, repeatedly, that he didn’t need to. That he wanted to keep this just between the two of them. Chan knew Jeonghan well enough to know the older didn’t completely approve of his decision, but he went along with it because of how infrequently it happened, and because it was such a firm boundary to Chan. One that he had not been willing to budge on.

Back in the van, Jisoo continued to hold Chan close as his eyelids grew heavy under the exhaustion of such a busy day. Preparing for the overseas leg of the tour had been running all of them ragged. Normally Chan would be pairing up with Seokmin right now to check in with the members, make them all laugh, offer a snuggle or something else if anyone was in the mood. 

But right now, Chan feels heavy and his chest aches. He wants Jeonghan.

He shifts a bit in Jisoo’s hold, trying to pull his phone out of his pocket. Maybe Jeonghan had messaged him back, maybe they could spend some time together tonight—

“Nuh uh,” Jisoo mumbles into Chan’s hair, voice a bit more stern than Chan had been expecting. “Rest, baby. Give it here.” 

The older leaves no room for argument and Chan reluctantly hands over his phone. This, also, is normal between the two of them. Chan usually loves his Jisoo-hyung’s soft dom persona, the way he cracks down most firmly on the rules around rest and self-care and sleep. All twelve of them were terrible at silly things like feeding themselves and getting eight hours of sleep, but being tuckered out or—Chan wriggles a tiny bit at the memory, still caught between two headspaces—fucked to sleep by Jisoo was definitely a good way to end a long day.

But by the way Chan’s stomach twists at the thought of sex right now… he knows. And he knows he needs to call Jeonghan. He’s slipping, whether he wants to or not.

—

Jisoo doesn’t hand back Chan’s phone when they get back to the dorm. Chan whines the tiniest bit, tugging at Jisoo’s sleeve imploringly, wishing he’d get the damn hint already. Chan just wants to call Jeonghan and let his voice soothe away the aches and all the other icky things he’s feeling right now. If he’s really lucky, he might be able to snag one of Jeonghan’s hoodies from the closet without anyone calling him out for it, and if he’s really, really lucky, Jeonghan might even sing him to sleep.

Tears prickle at the corner of Chan’s eyes at the mere thought. The audio recording Jeonghan had prepared for him before enlistment that he’d been listening to the past few nights to help him fall asleep had nothing on the real thing. 

Conversation flows around and above the dorm around them but Chan simply lets Jisoo grip his hand and lead him through the apartment. They shower first, which normally Chan would celebrate, but he’s too busy melting under the spray of hot water and Jisoo’s talented fingers as the older washes his hair. Jisoo turns to quickly wash his own and rinse the two of them off. Chan allows himself to be toweled dry, unable to offer anything more than tired sounds of acknowledgement when Jisoo asks anything that resembles a question. 

Chan completely misses the ‘this door is closed, keep it that way’, flag draped over the handle of his bedroom door as Jisoo ushers him inside. Seungcheol sitting on the bed in the way of Chan’s pillows, the sanctuary from which he was planning to use the last of his energy to call Jeonghan, does finally snap him back into awareness. Chan startles, furrowing his brows. Seungcheol and Jisoo don’t usually meet him in his room like this, that’s only if he’s acted out and earned himself a pun—

No.

Chan’s stomach sours so fast it makes his head spin. He feels cold suddenly, despite the steam from the bathroom shower still clinging to his skin.

Seungcheol cocks a brow when Chan doesn’t say anything. Jisoo clicks his tongue in warning and normally that would be all it took to get Chan to bend, or at least bat his eyelashes and crawl up into Seungcheol’s lap to attempt to flirt and seduce his way out of whatever punishment the two had in mind. 

For the life of him though, Chan can’t piece together what Seungcheol would be waiting in his bedroom after four grueling hours of practice to punish him for. He hadn’t even done much today — he hadn’t picked a fight with Mingyu or tried to rile Seokmin up, hadn’t teased Seungkwan or poked at Minghao until the older looked irritated enough to strangle him. Chan had been quiet today, attended vocal practice and ran his lines for their concert speaking moments with Hansol over and over again and again and again until they were perfect, and he’d completed the last run through of Thunder at practice without messing up again. Was that what they were mad at him for? Making a few mistakes during practice?

“I didn’t do anything.” Chan crosses his arms over his chest, feeling small and flayed apart at the seams the longer Seungcheol stares at him. Jisoo is still behind him, blocking the only exit. Chan has been known to make a run for it before a punishment—he usually enjoys Jisoo blocking his way out and spinning him around to pin his arms behind his back until he relents and shuffles back over to Seungcheol in defeat. It’s a push and pull Chan usually loves.

Not right now.

“Are you sure that’s the story you want to go with?” Seungcheol’s voice is firm. Jisoo takes a step forward and places a hand on Chan’s lower back. Another warning.

Chan feels a bit lightheaded at how fast his heart rate kicks up. Seungcheol sighs in disappointment and Chan feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Three of us asked you how you’re feeling today. You had three chances to tell us you were close to slipping, Chan. Three opportunities that you instead used to be dishonest. Do you want to tell me why?” 

Usually, this would be the part where Chan’s eyes would start to water and his lower lip would wobble as he warbled out an apology. 

Instead, he takes another tiny step back. He bumps into Jisoo’s firm chest, who takes the contact as a cue to wrap his arms around Chan’s waist and hold him still. Normally Chan would find it comforting. Jisoo laces their fingers together and rubs his thumb back and forth across his palm. Their usual way of saying, ‘you’re okay, you’re safe, you’re loved’, during a scene. 

Jisoo’s hold normally feels so grounding, but now it feels like he’s trapped, held still to be picked apart by Seungcheol, who is still staring at Chan expectantly. Seungcheol’s hands twitch by his sides and Chan knows his boyfriend, his dom, is slowly losing patience with him. Chan would be too, if the roles were reversed and this was a normal day and he was dealing with his normal bratty submissive headspace. But they’re not, it isn’t, and Chan is falling.

“I-I’m, I…” Chan falters, eyes flicking to his phone screen as it lights up with a soft buzz on his bedside table where Jisoo must have plugged it in for him. “I messaged Jeonghan-hyung. I did tell hyung.”

Neither of them look the least bit relieved by Chan’s explanation. Chan’s confusion only grows, especially when Jisoo lets out a sigh and Seungcheol’s gaze sharpens further.

“And does the conversation we had in September before Jihoon and Soonyoung left not ring any bells?”

Fuck.

Chan flinches like Seungcheol had leaned over and smacked him across the face because he truly, genuinely, had forgotten about that. Between the whirlwind the first half of September had held with tour prep, Soonyoung and Jihoon enlisting, and everything else in between, it had completely slipped his mind. And with the complicated situation between him and Jeonghan, he hadn’t even thought about how their new rules would apply here.

Or how Seungcheol would, through no fault of his own, see it as Chan deliberately choosing to act out and be dishonest with them; breaking a rule he had never dared to before.

“Chan,” Seungcheol runs a tired hand down his face, “We all agreed to it. Anyone feeling out of sorts in any way, shape, or form, communicates it immediately,” which Chan had, “to a partner physically present,” which Chan had not.

“It’s…” Chan’s voice sounds weak, even to his own ears. “It’s… complicated.”

“No, it isn’t.” Seungcheol pats his lap and Chan flinches again. “We have these rules for a reason, Chan. To keep everyone safe and healthy. Are you going to come over here on your own or do you need Jisoo to help you?” 

Chan flushes and grips Jisoo’s arm tighter. His hands are trembling, vision going slightly blurry around the edges. His phone continues to buzz intermittently on the bedside table.

Jisoo shuffles the two of them closer to the bed, and the tears start to fall much sooner than they normally would as Chan is eased down over Seungcheol’s lap by firm hands. Chan shakes, feeling cold and exposed in all the wrong ways. Seungcheol gathers Chan’s wrist in one hand and pins them to his lower back. He knows there’s something he’s supposed to say right now, something he can say to stop what’s happening—

“Baby, what’s your color?” Seungcheol asks as his free hand comes to a gentle pause at the top of Chan’s waistband. 

There it is. Air fills Chan’s lungs like he’d been drowning without it before. They’d finally thrown him an anchor his panicking brain knows what to do with, a way out he can get across to them, no matter how out of sorts he’s feeling. 

Chan opens and closes his mouth, finally able to breathe out a word he’s never uttered with any of his partners before.

“R-red.”

Full stop. Complete silence. Seungcheol’s thighs tense under Chan’s torso and Jisoo sucks in a sharp breath, freezing from where he’d previously been repositioning himself near Chan’s head to keep a closer eye on his condition and body language during his punishment.

Chan opens his mouth again to offer an explanation, but all that comes out is a strained sob as he pulls his wrists out of Seungcheol’s now-lax hold and brings his hands to his face to hide behind them. 

Strong arms ease him up into a sitting position and Chan sags forward into Seungcheol’s chest, sobbing openly as whatever restraint, the thin grip he’s had on coherency and being an adult all day slips through his fingers like smoke. 

“Breathe, Channie. Deep breaths, can you breathe with hyung? Good boy, there’s a good boy…” Seungcheol’s grip on Chan is firm, unrelenting. The hand he places on Chan’s chest helps get his breathing under control.

“D-didn’t mean to l-lie, I’m so sor-sorry,” Chan hiccups and Jisoo shushes him, gently but firmly ordering him to continue focusing on his breathing. 

Chan’s phone sounds off again from the bedside table, this time with the obnoxious ringtone Jeonghan had assigned himself. Chan whines, making grabby hands towards the device. Jisoo gets the memo, finally, and leans over to grab it.

Chan sags back into Seungcheol’s chest, blinking tiredly as Jisoo answers the phone. 

“—here with him, he safeworded, do you know what’s going on? What does he need?” Jisoo speaks quietly into the phone as Chan slips down a few more notches. Seungcheol’s chest is so warm, and he’s whispering such sweet, comforting things into Chan’s ear. He feels so safe.

Jisoo leans over and gently presses the phone to Chan’s ear.

“—sweetheart, can you hear me?” 

The tears are back and Chan is so, so tired. He can’t fight it anymore. He’s slipping. He’s gone.

He just wants Jeonghan. He just wants—

“Mommy,” Chan whines into the receiver.

Jisoo nearly drops the phone and Seungcheol’s chest stops rising beneath Chan’s head. 

“Oh, sweet baby, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m here.” Chan is too far gone to respond verbally, or to feel guilty for pretending the warm body he’s nuzzling into belongs to Jeonghan.

Everything is better now, Chan knows mommy is gonna take care of it. His brain finally, finally shuts down, oblivious to the conversation going on around him. The sound of Jeonghan’s voice is more than enough now to keep him content.

“Jisoo? Who else is with you?” Jeonghan asks when it becomes clear Chan isn’t going to contribute to the conversation anymore. 

“It’s just me and Seungcheol. Can you… fill in the blanks? Please?” Jisoo’s voice is shaky and Seungcheol leans over to grip his free hand, lacing their fingers together as they both continue to comfort the shaking boy between them.

“What happened? What did he tell you?” 

“Not much,” Seungcheol starts, “He was feeling off today, a couple of us checked on him and he said he was fine when he wasn’t—”

“He messaged me,” Jeonghan snaps. Seungcheol starts to reply before he hears Jeonghan take a deep breath followed by a shaky exhale, “Which, fuck, I didn’t have a chance to tell you about. So you thought he was acting out on purpose and breaking the new rules. Right? Then what?”

“Jisoo helped him shower after practice, he and I were going to help him get the rest of the way down, I thought he was just being difficult before a punishment like he usually is but then he—” Seungcheol chokes on a wave of emotion, “He safeworded, Hannie. He’s never safeworded before.”

“And I’m so proud that he did. It isn’t your fault, baby. This doesn’t happen often. Only three or so times in the past year. I only know about it because it happened during a scene with me.”

Chan sniffles between the two of them, leaning to bring the collar of Seungcheol’s shirt into his mouth. He starts to suck on it. It’s equal parts cute and gross. 

“What is it?” Jisoo asks, not unkindly. “Some sort of little space?” 

“No, not really. But I need you both to listen to me,” Jeonghan’s voice sharpens, “Nothing about his headspace right now is sexual unless he tells you otherwise. Keep him completely clothed and do not leave him alone. Being nonverbal is normal for him right now, don’t push him to talk, it’ll just make him cry, he’ll start again when he’s ready. When he’s like this he… he just likes to be held and reassured. Keep telling him that he’s good, even if he doesn’t respond. Be extremely gentle with him — no teasing, no joking, don’t ask him more than one question at a time and don’t get frustrated if he can’t answer. Channie will be able to read both of you like a book right now. Take care of him. Do you understand?” 

“Yeah, of course, we can do that.” Jisoo answers breathlessly with wide, fond eyes as he runs a hand through Chan’s hair. “Why didn’t he… why didn’t he say anything before?”

“Don’t corner him about it tomorrow, let me talk to him in the morning and figure out what he wants to do. I… I didn’t like keeping this from you, either, but it wasn’t my secret to tell and he knows to come to me when he needs to.” 

Jeonghan takes a shaky breath on the other end of the line, Seungcheol hates that his lover is alone right now. “I wish I was there. I’m sorry. I know everything is so fucking complicated now with the others gone, too. What’s he doing?” 

“He’s almost asleep.” Seungcheol speaks quietly as Chan tucks his head further into the crook of his neck. “It’s… adorable. I’ve never seen him so soft.”

“He looks so young,” Jisoo muses and Jeonghan hums in affirmation.

“I don’t understand it completely, but you two need to know that he is extremely sensitive about this. Don’t tease him about it, or treat him any differently when he comes out of it. That’s what he’s been so scared of,”

“And,” Jeonghan adds, and somehow Seungcheol knows instinctually that he’s blushing on the other end of the phone, “Don’t you dare say a word about the name.”

“What name?” Seungcheol asks and Jisoo snickers lightheartedly, “I didn’t hear him call you anything. Jisoo? Did you?” 

“Nope, I heard nothing. Unless you want to refresh our memories—” 

“Alright, great, good talk. Don’t say a fucking word about this either but there’s a recording on his phone he likes to listen to before bed if he wakes up and needs help calming down.”

As if on cue, Chan stirs with the tiniest, softest whine Seungcheol has ever heard and he and Jisoo seem to both melt at the same time in response. 

Jeonghan pulls the phone away from his mouth and groans. His voice is sheepish when he speaks again. “Hold on,” Seungcheol hears him repeating ‘this is for Channie this is for Channie this is for Channie’ under his breath like a mantra before Seungcheol’s phone dings in his pocket.

“Play that for him and never speak to me about it. I’ve gotta go, stay with him tonight and I’ll be in touch in the morning. I love you both.”

“Love you too,” Jisoo and Seungcheol murmur in turn. Seungcheol hits play on the audio file Jeonghan sent and Jisoo’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets as the two stare at each other over the top of Chan’s head.

After their initial shock wears off, Chan twists a bit in Seungcheol’s hold as Jisoo helps them both to lie down. They bracket Chan on both sides, keeping him warm and safe. Jeonghan’s voice flits into the room through the speaker and the response it evokes in Chan— the way he immediately goes slack, settling against the two of them and letting out a sigh of relief as the last bit of tension melts from his body, has both of them watching in awe. 

The second Jeonghan moves from talking to singing in the recording, Chan is out like a light; Seungcheol and Jisoo not far behind. Jisoo grips Seungcheol’s hand tight with the one he’s not using to keep rubbing circles on Chan’s back. 

Jeonghan’s soft lullaby lulls the three of them to sleep like a wave softly lapping at the shore. 

—

Chan wakes up feeling a bit too good. He basks in the blissful silence for a few moments, enjoying about eleven-and-a-half seconds before yesterday's events catch back up to him.

Chan tenses before feeling the body beneath his do the same. So whoever he’s with is also awake. Great.

“Channie?” Jisoo. 

“G’mornin,” Chan slurs, feeling like he’s back in his own head for the first time in weeks, despite the rapidly fading morning grogginess.

“How’re you feeling?” Jisoo sounds tentative, unsure in a way he never usually is. 

“Better,” Chan blushes, arm tightening slightly around Jisoo’s torso. The other side of the mattress is empty and cold, meaning Seungcheol must be up and out of bed already. “I’m sorry.”

“None of that.” Jisoo’s voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. “Hannie wanted you to call him as soon as you woke up. Do you want me to step out so you can talk privately?” 

Worry that Chan didn’t even realize he had dissipates at Jisoo’s words. His hyungs know him so well. They always understand. He’s so lucky. How did he get so lucky?

“If that’s okay?” Chan confirms quietly.

“Of course it is.” Jisoo kisses the top of Chan’s head and ruffles his hair as he climbs out of bed. He pauses only long enough to lift his arms above his head and groan at the series of cracks his joints let out.

Chan giggles, “You’re like a glow-stick, hyung.”

Jisoo laughs and shoots him a mock glare with no heat as he exits the room. 

—

The line only rings once before Jeonghan answers.

Chan hadn’t allowed himself to even hesitate before unlocking his phone and pressing his hyung’s contact. If he let himself stew or get worked up or anxious, he’d talk himself out of calling and land in even more trouble.

“Channie,” Jeonghan’s voice is like a Pavlovian response for his tear ducts, apparently.

“Hi, hyung. I’m back in my own head. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“I thought I could handle it. And I did have it under control, I promise. But I forgot about the new rules and I only told you that something was wrong, but you’re not here.” 

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”

Chan swallows around the painful lump in his throat, forcing himself to continue. “I safeworded,” he whispers, hoping he’d said it quietly enough that Jeonghan had missed it.

Of course he hadn’t, “And I’m so proud of you for doing that, Channie. I know it’s scary, especially when it happens during a punishment. Are you feeling guilty?”

Leave it to Jeonghan to read him like a book, no matter how many miles away he is. “A little bit.” 

“That’s okay, and it’s normal, baby. Seungcheol will help you settle later if you need him to.”

“What if he… what if he’s mad at me?” Chan asks quietly, picking at a loose thread on his blanket. 

“He isn’t mad at you, baby. No one is. And I made them both swear to secrecy, no one but the four of us knows what happened last night, if that’s how you want to keep it.”

Chan does let the tears fall now. Even though Chan knows Jeonghan wants him to be open and honest with the rest of their partners about this, he had still protected his secret when Chan was too vulnerable to do so himself, and was continuing to respect Chan’s boundaries around his headspace even now, from so far away. 

“It wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. You told them what to do and they did it. I felt safe even though I… I kinda pretended Seungcheol hyung was you.”

Jeonghan laughs, the sound only slightly distorted by the phone line. Chan pushes on, “It really scares me, but I feel like they should know. Jun-hyung looked so sad and worried yesterday and I hated not being completely honest with him.”

“I’m home this weekend, what do you think about calling a family meeting and telling everyone then? Or would you prefer to do it individually?” 

The thought of having nine separate conversations makes Chan immediately nauseous. One doesn’t sound much better, but still he confirms, “Just one. And please don’t let me chicken out.”

—

Chan regrets making Jeonghan promise not to let him chicken out when he finds the older waiting for him in his bedroom after practice on Friday.

Chan drops his duffel bag on his bedroom floor in a messy heap before launching himself across the room and into Jeonghan’s arms. The rest of the week had gone by in a blur — practice, followed by rehearsals, followed by line run-throughs, followed by content filming, and so on. Seungcheol and Jisoo had been doing an incredible job of feigning normalcy around Chan, even though Chan could tell Seungcheol was absolutely itching to talk to him about what happened. Chan being back to his usual energetic, mood-boosting self had seemed to alleviate some of his hyungs’ worries, though, and the rest of the week had gone by without incident.

“I missed you so much.” Chan whines into Jeonghan’s chest. 

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” 

Jeonghan smells like warmth and safety and home. Chan whines a tiny bit, burrowing closer. Jeonghan allows it, holding him even tighter.

The elephant in the room speaks through Seungcheol, who knocks on the door around ten minutes later. He pokes his head in, smiles at what he sees. “Everyone’s gathered in the living room watching a movie. No rush, but we’re here whenever you’re ready.”

So Jeonghan had told Seungcheol about the meeting. And since Seungcheol is not an idiot, he must have put two and two together around what said meeting was for. So that’s why the dom who is usually the most strict around communication had let him off of the hook so easily this week.

“I knew it,” Chan huffs, “It was way too easy to deflect him this week.”

Jeonghan laughs, the sound like music, “You really thought he would just let it go?”

“No. But how did you get Jisoo hyung to wait until this weekend to talk about it? He hasn’t even been hovering this week.”

Usually, Jisoo comes second only to Jeonghan in his compulsion to take care of his partners. Soft, attentive care and awareness can be found in everything he does, from making sure they all eat, to putting away their phones and getting adequate sleep. Looking back, Chan is genuinely surprised he didn’t figure this out sooner.

Jeonghan sits up and Chan goes with him but when the older stands, Chan stubbornly remains seated. Jeonghan cocks a brow and Chan wilts like a sad plant. “I don’t know why I’m still so scared.”

Jeonghan sighs, sitting down beside Chan on the mattress. “Being vulnerable is rarely easy.”

“I don’t want them to think I don’t trust them. Or that I was lying and trying to keep something from them.”

“They know that already, sweetheart. A bond like ours is strong enough to get through anything, let alone our sweet Channie feeling a bit softer than usual sometimes.” Jeonghan’s tone is playful, but lined with solid sincerity.

Chan allows Jeonghan to take his hand and lead him out into the family room. Seungcheol tracks their entry into the room with watchful eyes, and immediately presses the remote to pause the movie. Seungkwan sits up in confusion at the silence, “Minnie hyung, did you sit on the remote again?”

“No, his ass isn’t to blame. This time.” Seungcheol laughs. He meets Jeonghan’s gaze, then Chan’s. “We’re having a family meeting.”

On the couches, Jisoo, Hansol, Seokmin, and Mingyu immediately put down their phones and look over to Chan and Jeonghan. Minghao reaches down to gently shake Junhui’s shoulders, rousing him from a light nap with his head pillowed on Minghao’s lap. Chan feels a little guilty when Junhui whines a bit in reluctance, but he goes from sleepy to awake in an instant after Minghao leans down to whisper in his ear. 

All eyes, sans Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Soonyoung—who weren’t able to get leave for this weekend—are on Chan. Chan flushes, stepping slightly behind Jeonghan. It’s so out of character for him that several of his partners look at each other in concern.

“What’s going on?” Seokmin asks as Jeonghan settles in on the empty sofa, Chan close behind. Chan crosses his arms over his chest and tries to remember how to breathe.

“It’s nothing bad,” Seungcheol reassures. “Channie has something to talk to us about. Whenever you’re ready, baby.”

Chan flushes under the attention he usually relishes in. “I, um… there’s something I haven’t been completely open about…”

Chan launches into as in-depth of an explanation as he can muster. He tells them about his headspace, stutters through explaining how he had discovered it a year or so ago with Jeonghan, and the two had agreed to keep it between the two of them until Chan was comfortable with anything else. He takes extra time to emphasize how it wasn’t due to lack of trust, more so with his own insecurities and not wanting to be treated any differently. 

His hyungs stay quiet, listening attentively and compassionately. They don’t jump to fill the silence with questions when Chan pauses to arrange his thoughts, only speaking when Chan leans back against the couch cushions and hides his face behind his hands and says he’s done.

They thank him for being open with them, and only after Chan has become a blushing mess hiding in Jeonghan’s side, does Seungkwan ask, “I’m happy you told us but… couldn’t this have been dangerous? What if you entered that headspace during a sexual scene and we didn’t know?”

The air grows tense and Chan shifts uncomfortably. “I know what it feels like, and I know how to plan for it. I’m already the youngest, and it took so long for you all to see me as mature and independent and capable, especially when we’re doing a scene,  and I didn’t want anything to change. I don’t want anyone to tiptoe around me, or to not trust that I know what headspace I’m in or what I need.”

“And you safeworded,” Seungcheol adds, immediately launching into an explanation when several stunned heads whip in his direction, “I didn’t know until earlier this week. Shua and I were going to help him settle, we thought he’d earned himself a punishment but he hadn’t, and he used the safeword when I checked in with him.”

“So you’re still coherent and alert enough to remember the safewords.” Seungkwan nods thoughtfully, “Okay.”

“You were really that uncomfortable about it not being a physically intimate headspace?” Mingyu asks, not unkindly. Chan nods, but bristles a bit when Mingyu laughs, “You know my whole puppy thing isn’t always sexual, right? Sometimes I just wanna snuggle with Wonwoo hyung or have my hair petted.”

“I don’t want to be touched sometimes during scenes,” Chan startles at the sound of Jihoon’s voice speaking through Seokmin’s phone. “We all have different things we’re okay with or not okay with, and sometimes it’s different day to day, or it can change during a scene. That’s why we have safewords.”

Seokmin smiles shyly at Chan who is still staring at his phone. “They’re all here. I figured they wouldn't want to miss it so I started a group call.”

“Thank you.” Chan says, and means it.

“Why Jeonghan hyung, though?” Seungkwan teases, reading the room and lightening the mood, “I’d have thought MoonJun or Jisoo-hyung would be more likely to start a dynamic like that.”

“I dunno, just sorta happened.” Chan blushes, not wanting to get into the details. “Hyung makes me feel safe.”

Seungkwan huffs, “And I don’t?”

Hansol laughs, pulling Seungkwan into a sideways hug, “You’re kinda proving Chan’s point.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, and Chan knows his feelings aren’t actually hurt.

“I kind of get it,” Seungcheol muses from his spot on Chan’s other side, “Hannie has that air about him when he’s not being a menace.”

“Oh? How so?” Jeonghan laughs playfully as he begins to toy with Chan’s hair.

“You can be soft, protective. Nurturing. You’re always looking out for us, even from a distance. Kinda makes sense Channie calls you ‘mommy’.”

The room freezes and Chan flinches so hard that Jeonghan’s hand gets tangled in his hair. He wants to burst into tears just as much as he wants to simply crawl into a hole and die. 

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan hisses under his breath at the same time Minghao squeaks out, “Mommy?!” from the other side of the room.

“This isn’t happening,” Chan whines into his hands as they fly up to cover his face, “this is not happening.”

“Eh, I’m into weirder shit,” Soonyoung adds from the other side of the phone to draw attention away from Chan, and Chan could kiss him he’s so grateful. “I call Jihoon ‘Sir’, sometimes. We’ve tried ‘Daddy’ before, too. Wasn’t all that into it but good for you, Channie!” 

“Soonyoung, you fucking—” Jihoon interrupts, before being interrupted himself by Wonwoo. “I’m glad you told us, Channie. And I’d love to explore this with you sometime, if you’d ever like to share it with us.”

“Of course you would,” Seungkwan teases, “You’re president of the Chan Fan Club.”

“As vice-president, I would be open to supporting you as well, Chan.” Junhui pledges, holding his right arm up and everything. God, he’s such a dork. Chan loves him so much.

Chan loves them all so much. 

Even if he does want to strangle them sometimes… some of them are into that. It all works out.

—END—