Quest

The thing about Seungmin is he isn’t much of a fighter. He’ll bicker, or lose his temper — but there’s this gentleness to him, a quiet generosity, a softness that pulls him apart. Everyone in their pack always says Felix is the sweetheart, but Felix has an edge to him; he always has. And he’s lived with Seungmin long enough to watch him bite his tongue, and hide his fangs, and bend and bend.

Tonight, though, there’s a challenge in his eyes, a harsh undercurrent in his scent. And where his hand grips the counter behind him — his knuckles are white.

Felix doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t. But—

His mind flashes to the three of you in the backseat earlier: Seungmin’s eyes, narrowed and flashing. The uncertain twinge to your scent, sitting between them. He takes every opportunity to get his hands on you.

“You shouldn’t say that kind of thing in front of her,” Felix says, as even-keeled as he can manage. “It’s not cool.”

“She’s a big girl,” Seungmin drawls, every line in his body tense. “She can take it.”

There’s a sound down the hall — the sound of something falling. A muffled curse. Felix would have smiled and joked to Seungmin about it, under different circumstances.

Instead, he watches Seungmin’s eyes soften, pointed in the direction of the bathroom door, and says, impulsively, “You’re jealous.”

Just like that, Seungmin stiffens. His voice is low. “Lix.”

“Seungmin,” Felix says, almost entreating, “it’s just a massage.”

This time, Seungmin rolls his eyes. “It was never just a massage.”

Felix’s temper, carefully kept, sparks just barely, tingling at the base of his neck. “She can choose whoever she wants.”

Seungmin rolls his jaw, fingers tapping. His voice is so low. “I know that.”

“So…?”

“So,” Seungmin says, following Felix into Korean, eyes pointed down, “I invited her first.”

It’s what Felix assumed, but he still just blinks at Seungmin for a second, stunned. “This is just like League,” he says incredulously. “You’re mad that I sniped you.”

“I’m not mad.”

Felix comes closer, leaning against the counter next to his packmate, some humor in his voice. “You’re a little mad.”

Seungmin doesn’t say anything, not even when Felix ducks his head to see his expression better. Seungmin is already taller but he’s good at hiding. Less good at concealing, though, with that furrow to his brow and that pull to his mouth.

“I’m not mad,” Seungmin echoes, and there’s something quietly defeated to him this time, even if the temper lingers. “What good would that do?”

Nothing, probably. You’ve never liked their infighting; Felix learned that early on, first-hand. His own words flash through his head, said in an impulsive, pre-rut moment: It’s good he isn’t taken then, right?

Sometimes it feels like you and him never went back to the way it was before. Every time Felix manages to get closer, you push him away.

That’s why he can’t let this chance go, though — even if Seungmin doesn’t like it.

“It’s not my fault if she chooses me,” Felix says quietly, as footsteps come down the hall.

Seungmin’s eyes flick up to his, narrowed and burning.

The steps come to a stop. Felix and Seungmin both look up so quickly their heads almost knock.

The first thing Felix notices is the nightgown: not overly racy, in cutesy floral-printed cotton, but short and lower cut than what you usually wear. Your bare legs, and the slope of your shoulder where your sweater is falling down, and your fingers twisting in the hem of your skirt—

He catches himself, and flicks his eyes up to you. Your expression carries that same faint, concerned uncertainty your scent had in the car, eyes flicking between the two of them, lip bitten.

In spite of that, Felix’s grin is completely genuine. “Hi there. Ready for your rub down?”

It’s salt in the wound, and Seungmin reacts as such — shoulders tightening, scent withdrawing inwards. You laugh, but you’re not so easily distracted — eyes straying to Seungmin, even as he ignores you to glare down the hall.

“What are your plans for the night, Minnie?” you ask, sweet and hopeful. “Did you want to hang out?”

Felix almost objects— You’d agreed to hang out with him. He knows it’s hypocritical, and bites his tongue. He watches Seungmin reject you, then invite you into his studio in the same breath, his hand on the top of your head. Giving you one last way to choose him, if you wanted. The way you watch him walk away, Felix almost thinks you’re considering it.

Before you get the chance, though, he wraps you in his arms until you’re laughing and smacking him away. “Cut it out, you goof.”

Maybe it’s the alpha in him: openly competitive, abrasive to other alphas, and all too happy to win. Maybe it’s the way that, when you look at him like this, eyes curved up in a smile and hands laying against his chest, he feels like he can finally breathe again, like that missing piece in his lungs has finally fallen back into place. Maybe he just wants you so bad he doesn’t care about anything else. Maybe that should bother him.

But he hums, and kisses your cheek, and you giggle under your breath — and Felix can’t even see anything else. Can’t see the rest of the world, or the rest of his pack, or even Seungmin, sulking in his studio just down the hall, always too afraid to reach for what he wants.