Chapter Text
Hanbin scans his keycard and enters the dim brick building. It's early—the sun is just barely starting to rise and filter through the windows. He wanted to come early to avoid traffic, and to, of course, decorate his room.
It's become tradition at this point—to spend the summer working and "just so happening" to miss the day where teachers are encouraged to come in and decorate, because that is always a social disaster of "I forgot my streamers, can I borrow yours?" and "I actually saw you at the cafe working with your mom, don't you get embarrassed still being with your mom at this age, Hanbin-ssi?"
So, he missed decoration day, and now is doing it the morning before class starts. As he's done for the last few years. And he's had no complaints from his lovely seven year old audience. So far. Knock on wood.
As he approaches his classroom, he notices the door next to his is open.
Hanbin blinks. The room next to his is always, always shut; not even the janitors have the key. To his knowledge, it was locked for over a decade before he came in. Nevermind the fact it's six in the morning. The chances of some intruder being here are far higher than it being any of his co-workers. In fact, it would be formidably easy, knowing there is a broken lock in the back entrance and squatters know that schools are empty in the summer. So, all arrows point towards call the police.
Hanbin does not call the police.
In retrospect, this is how many alphas die. They are brazen and confident that no harm will come to them. They pump out more of their scent as a defense instead of retreating, and are awfully, fatally territorial to a questionable extent. He'll handle this, it's his school that he works at near his room. Burnt coffee becomes prominent in the halls as he approaches the room. Because how dare—
The door slams open, and instead of a hairy, gross squatter scurrying away or, god forbid, fighting him, he's met with scream and something thrown at his chest–
"What the hell—"
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" He's immediately interrupted by a voice that is, one, definitely not native to Korea, and two, definitely not belonging to an alpha. So at least the threat level isn't as high now, and it continues to go down the more this guy speaks, "I didn't know that you would be there! I didn't even know somebody would be in that classroom, it's so empty—is that rude? I'm so sorry!"
Hanbin, in a mature manner that must come across very sophisticated to this person, takes a solid fifteen seconds to recalibrate. The first thing being that there's no threat, which is good. Not that Hanbin would ever assume a threat instead of a lost teacher because that's simply ridiculous. The second, more pressing thing, is that this guy is stupidly attractive and so clearly omega that he's genuinely surprised by the whiplash, having expected the opposite. His wolf perks up. He beats it down with an invisible stick.
Okay, shove that thought deep, deep down. Focus.
Hanbin, in a perfect world, would say that the omega had nothing to apologize for, he'd bow and introduce himself, and refrain from commenting on the tinged, sour-sweet scent because that's impolite. He'd offer to help, because this room is sort of a mess and clearly this teacher is lost, being in the forbidden room and all.
Instead, he tilts his head and very bluntly asks "who are you?"
The guy seems bewildered for a moment, lips slightly parted and eyes blinking at him once, twice, three times before he starts speaking again.
"Oh," he says rather unhelpfully, "I guess... yeah, I should have, like, said my name. I'm Zhang Hao."
"Zhang Hao," Hanbin repeats slowly, his shoulders relaxing a bit. He can tell he's subtly scenting the room with his pheromones, but isn't confident on how to stop considering every time he tries to reign his scent in, it feels like he's holding his breath. For a startling moment, he remembers Mr. Kim announced retirement last year and had to give him a card as a parting gift—not that he's missed. "You're the new hire, then? And you're just unpacking now?"
Hanbin wishes he didn't sound so skeptical, but a part of him is, and his alpha isn't quite convinced this person can be trusted yet. He supposes they've just hardly evolved past sniffing each other's butts to figure each other out.
"Yeah," Hao confirms with a rather enthusiastic nod.
Hanbin steps forward again and his nose is attacked with overwhelmingly ripe mango. He blinks it off—or tries. He's trying to be normal about the model in front of him, to give himself some credit.
"You are aware this room was used for storage, right?" he gestures to the open filing cabinet in the corner and empty boxes, "they should've given you Mr. Kim's old room. Unless you picked to be here. In that case, you've got a lot to learn," Hanbin looks out the room's main window, gold light illuminating the floor, and the empty paper towel roll that'd been thrown at him. He snorts out a laugh at how panicked Hao must have been to think to throw cardboard at a stranger, "like maybe better self defense, for one?"
Hao pouts—pouts—at that comment, looking down at the paper towel roll and snatching it as if that would stop Hanbin from already having seen it.
"They said I should go to this room because they're changing that room into something else," he replies, words coming out slowly like he's actively working through them instead of them coming naturally to him, "I didn't understand what they said it would be, though. Either way, I don't have a choice."
Hanbin has to bite the inside of his cheek. He's never met someone so—
"Well, bad news for you, the rooms are connected," he points to the door in the far left that connects to the shared conference room used for private student instruction, "so you're stuck with me," he takes the paper towel roll from Hao just to elicit a reaction, if nothing else, "but, hey, I can offer some help...? On one condition."
Hao does not fight back. Instead, he drops his arms to his side and looks at him in a way that is just so—
"What?" he asks, head cocking to the side just enough for his hair to shift—why is he even noticing such small details? Maybe this is a fever dream and he's currently missing his blaring alarms.
"Well, you'd owe me one," Hanbin shrugs like it's obvious, "I could realistically help you for about an hour and still have time to work on mine, but then my room wouldn't be as cute as yours... call it robbery in broad daylight. I simply can't do it for free."
"Are you asking me to help with yours?" Hao asks in possibly the most oblivious way possible, "I mean, sure, but I don't think I could help with heavy lifting very much..."
Hanbin thinks you're so cute you kind of make me want to die a little bit. Instead he says, "you could watch, sure. But I like to cash in my favors late, makes things more interesting."
Hanbin thinks they're hot-boxing the room with their scents, lack of oxygen to the brain impacting thinking and all. Hao's scent is so... bright and pungent that he can taste it, even with a respectable distance. No teacher is expected to wear patches, given children haven't presented yet and they're all adults with respect for one another, yet Hanbin just might ask for a policy, a special request, something, because he simply can't survive like this. He can tell his own caramel-macchiato scent is trying to overpower the mango and just hardly succeeding.
It's commendable just how composed they're both being. Hanbin wonders what Hao must think with hazelnut cutting through the air. Is it irritating? Is it nice? Does it matter? It shouldn't. It really shouldn't, not between strangers.
"Hm," Hao hums a bit as if he's thinking about it, but he responds just a second later, "alright. A lot of the stuff I have to unpack is really heavy, them being... instruments and all," he starts to ramble, turning around to gesture at the boxes, "can you believe they didn't bother unpacking the things they brought over from the other room? Bare minimum... hm. Whatever."
"Just awful," Hanbin offers a soft smile, "you should sue," he notices an askew filing cabinet and pushes it square against the wall. Breathe... Not that deep. A normal amount. Breathe a normal amount, don't mention his scent, don't be weird, "You can focus on posters and streamers, just let me know where you want the instruments," he offers casually, knowing it's because he doesn't want Hao struggling one bit. He knows it's terrible, these days, to admit that he doesn't like the idea of an omega doing hard labor. But! But, surely, they'd understand, it's not about capability. Hao could manage without him, but what sense is there in that? No one so... exuberant and all-encompassing should have to overexert themsleves.
"Are you sure?" Hao asks like he wasn't just complaining about the weight of what he's offering to unpack, "it seems very... uh..." his eyes narrow for a bit before he sighs and waves his hand to dismiss whatever he was about to say, "forget it. Either way, isn't that a lot for me to ask for?"
Hanbin's own scent blossoms, his inner tail wagging. Stupid dog.
"It's no problem, Hao-ssi. I can do it," Hanbin assures. He doesn't want to mention how much he doesn't want Hao to have to do anything at risk of sounding crazy, but it's true. Never in his life had he ever been so affected by anyone's scent. He'd heard of other alphas describing scents as intoxicating, irresistible, as justification to all their horrible actions and thoughts. Hanbin can say that, while he's now a part of the mystified by scent club, he will never comprehend hurting an omega due to their scent. In fact, he's become so protective it'd be considered pampering if carried to its full extent.
Instruments, it turns out, can be heavy. Moving large percussion instruments in particular proves to be a feat that he knows some alphas may struggle with. Luckily, he goes lifting twice a week, and now it seems to have proved useful past looks. He takes just a bit longer than he thought, given that he kept getting distracted by Hao's little huffs when the streamers didn't sit right or a poster was crooked. He understands that he can't do it all, but for a moment he considers trying.
Keyboards, xylophones, ukuleles, recorders, bongos... who knew music teachers had so much equipment? He could've guessed maybe half this amount. Considering they're children, they likely wouldn't know to complain if there were less instruments involved. Alas, there is an array, an array that Hanbin has dutifully laid out.
Hanbin's scent becomes thick with his exertion and just-barely-there sweat. And, in the middle of moving a set of recorders, he becomes so dizzy he has to sit down. He is struck with embarrassment for showing weakness—it really isn't that much labor, and he'd be able to do it if he could focus. Stupid scents, stupid biology. Maybe he should wear patches...
"Are you okay?" Hao asks, a string of fairy lights half-strung in front of him, "I know it's a lot, I really don't know why they spent so much money on instruments that aren't even promised to be used..."
"I'm okay," Hanbin breathes out. He is even more embarrassed knowing Hao is still functioning despite their mixing of scents, and so it's become clear that he is simply going insane, 'it's, uhm..." he bites his lips, and decides to suck it up, because hell—Hao could hate his scent and be too polite to say so, and he doesn't know how to bring it up casually, that he thinks his wolf has forgotten its manners. How could he phrase this without sounding like a typical thick-skulled alpha? "Just early in the day, not too much work at all, promise," he finally looks up at Hao again, and smiles, knowing it's lopsided.
Hanbin isn't sure how he'll get through the school year. He thinks he'll just have to be all frayed at the edges and hope his wolf doesn't do anything stupid and unprofessional. Maybe he'll get used to it, go nose blind.
"Mm, okay," Hao shrugs then turns around like there's no issue at all. Maybe he's just going insane.
"Okay," he nodded without a witness.
Hanbin finishes up the room with his sanity intact, which he considers a win. Hao looks genuinely grateful; he smiles up at Hanbin with warm light on his lashes and Hanbin thinks he stops breathing a bit. Afterwards, his goodbye is drawn out, slowly stepping out the way a spider gets its own legs stuck onto its web.
His room, next door, is plain, the blinds pulled up so it's bright. It smells of old carpet and the lavender disinfectant he uses for everything. The desks and chairs are as he's always had them, in single file rows, and his carpet a large, blue circle on the ground. Though the desks are separated to discourage distraction, there's something in him that causes him to push them into groups of three-four. Maybe there will be more collaboration this year, or group work. A fresh start and perspective. He plugs in his lamps and puts up a couple new posters he bought, a new "talking stick" that happens to be a stuffed rabbit. He turns around and writes on the white-erase board.
Happy First Day!
He sits at his desk and logs in, trying and failing to get the fuzz out of his chest. Now, in his own room containing his own scent, he feels a bit more at ease. Not that Hao caused any stress, but he simply can breathe here and clear his mind. It is concerning that someone's scent could make him weak and compliant, that he'd do anything and not give it much thought. It isn't typical... it also isn't unheard of, but he can't help but assume that, given it isn't mutual, he is simply overreacting. Maybe due to lack of sleep, or because his alpha has assumed he was a threat at first, he isn't sure. Though, he can only hope to get over himself, because it's his co-worker, and he doesn't want to be that guy who harasses the new hire.
When the bell rings and children begin filtering into his classroom, he can't help but note that he still smells of mango, the scent clinging onto him just as thoroughly as his own.