Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hao wakes up in his luxurious apartment, exhausted after his trip. Jet lag still holds him tightly in its grip, and he’s slept barely three hours. Even the view from his penthouse fails to lift his spirits. There’s no place like home, they say—but Hao can’t quite relate. Sure, his bed is more comfortable than any five-star hotel’s, but even so, he’s just… cranky. That’s what adulthood does to people.

Even when that person happens to be the CEO of a thriving company, and not even in his home country. Hao did it. He’s rich, respected.

And utterly, utterly tired as he drags himself out of his cold bed. Satin sheets have that effect—but appearance is what matters, right? The illusion. Hao has always known that appearances are everything. The truth doesn’t matter, as long as you can box it up and shove it deep into the back of your closet, where it can quietly gather dust.

And the truth is—Hao never wanted this life. But this life wanted him. At least that’s what his mother always said. And Hao always believed her; after all, she was the one who helped him pull himself together after his presentation as an alpha.

He’d been stunned back then, still young, always fragile and slight—everyone expected him to present as an omega. And then, surprise. An alpha, through and through—awkwardly knotting his tie before heading out. That task was supposed to be done for him by a loving, devoted omega. But Hao’s been single since the dawn of time.

Not that he’s celibate. Of course not. As an alpha, he has needs to satisfy. But all it takes is a trip to a club to pick up a stranger of an omega. He’s popular enough, even with his unusual looks for an alpha. Maybe that’s what draws them in—the curiosity. His delicate features, the lack of massive, steel-cut muscles.

Still, when it comes to sex itself… Hao’s never been a fan. Sure, the alpha in him demands release, but that doesn’t mean Hao himself enjoys it. To be honest, it feels more like a chore. Something to do because he has to. Because that’s how things are. He seals that thought with a cigarette, lighting it as he steps outside.

His chauffeur is already waiting, but Hao takes his time, inhaling the smoke deeply in the vain hope that it’ll wake him up. It doesn’t—but he knew that. He’ll be stopping by his favorite café across the street from his office anyway, a place that feels almost heaven-sent: the only spot in the city where he can get the perfect coffee. The barista there learned Hao’s refined taste over the years, down to the exact balance of bitterness and sweetness.

Hao missed that coffee desperately during his business trip—no one else ever gets it right.

“I’m sorry, but Wumuti no longer works here.” The manager bows politely while Hao feels steam building under his skin. He’s furious. Now is not the time for this kind of news! He barely slept, just got back from an exhausting trip, and now this?! His beloved barista quit after four years of making his coffee exactly right?!

“Since when?” Hao grits out, trying to maintain at least a sliver of politeness toward the manager—Jiwoong, if he remembers correctly—who, as it happens, is also an alpha. But Jiwoong seems much better at controlling his emotions than the short-tempered Hao.

“Since the beginning of this week. I’m very sorry. You’re one of our most loyal customers, and we truly appreciate that. Wumuti moved quite far away—we didn’t have a way to inform you earlier, Mr. Zhang Hao. Apologies for the inconvenience.” Jiwoong’s voice is serious, and he bows again, taking the matter properly. But that does nothing to ease Hao’s irritation.

“Great. And how am I supposed to survive this morning without my coffee!” It’s not a question—Hao practically yells it, fists clenching. Normally, he’d be ashamed to let his alpha temper flare up like this, but everything today is just going wrong—

“It’s noon, sir.” A voice suddenly chimes in beside Jiwoong’s. A barista. One Hao hasn’t seen before—but to be fair, he’s never paid attention to anyone else here except Wumuti. “I can make your coffee, if you’d like.”

Jiwoong seems to send the new barista a look—almost a warning, or maybe pity. Oh great, Hao thinks. Do they think I’m one of those entitled, spoiled customers now? Maybe he’s becoming a real alpha after all—one of those arrogant bastards the world expects him to be. This is definitely not his day.

“I doubt you can make it like Wumuti did,” Hao says flatly, his voice weary rather than harsh.

“Please, give me a chance.” The barista waves off Jiwoong’s silent disapproval and flashes him a bright smile—then turns that same, strangely genuine smile on Hao.

“Unlikely. I like my coffee perfectly balanced—equal parts bitterness and sweetness.” Hao snorts, but doesn’t leave. He’s not heading across the street to work without caffeine, so he folds his arms and waits by the counter, anticipating the inevitable disaster.

“I’m new here, but I’ve been making coffee for a long time. I’m not a beginner, sir, don’t worry. My name is Sung Hanbin.” He articulates every syllable with cheerful precision. Why is he so bright and energetic? It’s grating on Hao’s nerves.

Worse, now that their conversation fades and this Sung Hanbin focuses on the brewing, Hao finally gets a proper look at him. He’s… striking. Or maybe just beautiful. The scent of coffee fills the air, but even through it, Hao’s sure he can’t smell this radiant omega’s natural scent—because yes, Hanbin must be an omega. There’s no mistaking it. Too pretty, too soft, too gentle to be anything else. Submissively indulging an alpha’s whims, working in a café of all places? Definitely an omega, probably using scent blockers.

It’s not that strange. Many people use blockers—strong scents and instinctual reactions make everyday life, especially work, difficult. Hao personally doesn’t use them, but his natural alpha scent is often masked anyway by the cloud of tobacco that follows him everywhere. The joys of adulthood. This isn’t some romanticized world—it’s the grim reality of people with secondary genders.

“All done.” Hanbin pours the coffee into a takeaway cup with practiced ease, his smile still unwavering. At this point, Hao starts to suspect it’s all rehearsed—but if it is, it’s skillfully done. Just another lie in a world built on them.

Hao takes the cup reluctantly and grimaces even before taking a sip. After tasting it, he grimaces harder.

“It’s awful,” he states bluntly, staring daggers into the barista. He’s not joking. Hao needs his coffee—the one only Wumuti could make—or he might just burn down the whole block.

“Oh.” The smile finally slips from Hanbin’s face, replaced by a pained look. A wrinkle forms on his forehead. Maybe he’s not as young as Hao thought. “Really?”

“Yes. Way too sweet. Disgusting.” Hao isn’t furious enough to throw the cup or splash it in his face like some asshole in a movie—but he’s angry enough to set it down on the counter and toss a few bills beside it, which scatter a bit behind the register. He doesn’t care. He won’t drink it, but paying isn’t the issue. He probably looks like a massive jerk anyway.

Hanbin stares, stunned for a second. Then, as Hao turns on his heel with a scowl, he hears that same lively voice call after him:

“I’ll do better tomorrow, sir! I’m sure I’ll get it right sooner rather than later!”

Hao really doubts it. But there’s something strange stirring in his chest at the sound of that conviction in Hanbin’s voice. That can’t be butterflies, right? There’s no way the first time Hao ever feels genuinely drawn to someone is in a situation like this!

Their first meeting couldn’t have gone worse. Hao’s not himself—he came off like a total jerk, and that’s not who he is! Well… maybe half as much of a jerk as he seemed, at least. The first omega he’s ever wanted to actually get to know—and not in a bedroom sense—now has that as his first impression? A complete disaster.

Hao drops his head into his hands and thuds his forehead against the desk. He’s already smoked five cigarettes since coming back from the café to his office. Which means… what, less than an hour? Great.

“Everything okay?” Gyuvin, his assistant, peeks at him for the umpteenth time, visibly worried. “Was the business trip that bad?”

“It was fucking great. It’s coming back here that’s shit.” Hao swears like a sailor—nothing new there, especially when his life feels like one big trainwreck.

“Right… sorry, boss. Do you want me to grab you a coffee? Or a pastry? Or—”

“Gyuvin, I know you just want an excuse to go gossip with Ricky. No. Besides, my coffee’s gone. Wumuti moved away.”

“Your favorite omega barista?! Oh no. What are you gonna do?”

“What I’m gonna do is not have coffee, apparently.” Hao growls, irritation clear in his voice. “And stop saying it like there was something between us. I just liked his perfect coffee, okay? No feelings involved. I saw him more like… a friend.” Hao sighs, because yeah—the emptiness he feels really is a gap in his stability. Wumuti was cheeky and bold, but sweet too. He might’ve been an omega, but Hao treated him as an equal. They were almost friends. At least in Hao’s mind.

“Right. Sure, boss. But can I take a break? I’ll grab some random coffee for myself—I’m dying here.”

Hao shoots him a sharp look. “Yeah, yeah. Go on. Take Ricky too, so you don’t die of boredom on the way.”

“Seriously?! Thanks, boss!” Gyuvin darts off the couch where he’d been accomplishing absolutely nothing, papers scattered everywhere. The door slams behind him, and Hao’s certain Ricky is already waiting for him, ready to go. Ricky’s the HR manager a few floors down, but nothing ever keeps those two apart for long—not even an entire floor of separation. Gossip, both of them. But Hao’s pretty sure there’s more going on between those betas than idle chatter.

Meanwhile, Hao is left alone—with only his thoughts and a long, heavy sigh. He’s never felt so infatuated with any omega before. Not one whose pheromones he couldn’t even smell. But that friendly attitude, that kind voice, those eyes—bright with joy until Hao crushed them with his own asshole behavior. And that smile… so sincere it makes no sense. So achingly lovely.

Sung Hanbin is beautiful. Incredible, maybe even perfect for Hao. Maybe his coffee isn’t, but Hao still can’t wait for tomorrow to go back to that café. To see him. And then maybe, as a secondary goal, see if the coffee tastes any better.

Coffee, second on the priority list? For Hao? Unheard of. He feels the ground slipping out from under his feet. Maybe he should light another cigarette before he starts hyperventilating.

What if Sung Hanbin hates him? What if that politeness was just professional courtesy, nothing more? Or worse—what if it’s because Hao’s an alpha, and Hanbin feels some instinctual need to appease his temper?

Disgusting. Hao despises alphas like that. Is he turning into one? Has adulthood really crushed his morals, his real self, that much?

If Hao weren’t the respected CEO of this company, he’d throw himself onto the floor right now and have a full-blown tantrum—rolling around on the spotless carpet like a child. But his office has glass walls. A display like that wouldn’t go unnoticed. And besides, he’s supposed to be in control of his emotions.

What if they get the best of him again the next time he sees Hanbin? Hao wants to fix this somehow—to show he’s not a jerk. It was just one of those bad days.

He lights another cigarette, nearly dropping it in the process.

“Oh god. What if Hanbin hates the smell of smoke?” Hao whispers, staring at the cigarette in panic.

What if everything is working against him? What if—what if—

There’s no way to know. What if Hanbin prefers someone taller, buffer? What if all Hao really has to offer is his money and CEO status? What if that’s not enough?

Hao lifts his sleeve to his nose and inhales his own scent. Tobacco. The overwhelming smell covers everything, even his alpha scent—he can barely detect it himself.

He’s screwed.

Chapter Text

Hanbin wakes up in his tiny studio apartment — but really, what else would a young bachelor need besides a small space like that? It’s cozy, it’s nice; Hanbin doesn’t need much more. Setting aside the fact that he couldn’t afford much more anyway.

Working full-time as a barista — not just part-time like during his college years — isn’t exactly glamorous.

Sure, Hanbin loves his job, but that doesn’t mean it pays great. Well, it’s definitely better paid now. At his new workplace, his boss Jiwoong is quite generous with wages, especially for someone with Hanbin’s experience.

Even so, yesterday Hanbin totally blew it with that grumpy alpha. But Hanbin isn’t stupid — he clearly saw that the guy was simply tired as hell, his tie barely hanging on out of sheer willpower. Sometimes people have bad days, especially highly-strung alphas. Hanbin knows this well — he studied psychology, focused on secondary genders.

So he’s not too bothered by the unfortunate encounter. Today, maybe CEO Zhang Hao (Jiwoong gave him a short briefing on the man) will show up again.

Hanbin shaves in front of the mirror with careful precision. Every day — unless he wants to look rough — it’s a must. And he definitely doesn’t want to. His unshaven face would clash with the cute, tidy aesthetic of the café. Jiwoong’s a genius when it comes to decor; he designed everything himself. The main theme is cats — not the most original idea, but undeniably cozy and appealing.

Even the apron has a little embroidered calico cat on it. The whole interior is bathed in warm cream tones, accented with muted orange and brown. Hanbin really enjoys coming here to work — even more than his previous job.

The scent of coffee hangs thick in the air, this time laced with pumpkin-spice warmth. Autumn is in full swing. Hanbin wonders if customers notice the pleasant, tasty smell — or if they focus more on the pheromones floating around from the alphas and omegas who walk in.

As a beta, his nose isn’t attuned the same way. His biology is remarkably normal — or rather plain — compared to others. Not that Hanbin minds being a beta. He was born that way, presented that way, and accepted it easily. He’s just himself. Though, honestly — not that he’d ever say it aloud — heats and ruts sound absolutely exhausting.

Several hours of morning pass in the café before Matthew, his coworker, bursts into the back room where Hanbin is tidying up, eyes wide.

“Trade with me! Zhang Hao’s here,” Matthew whispers that second sentence like they’re under surveillance.

“You okay?” Hanbin sets the box down and glances at frozen-in-place Matthew.

“You go serve him, please. It’s not like I’m intimidated or anything. I just… don’t like confrontation!” Matthew explains nervously. With his height and cute face, people often mistake him for an omega. Same with Hanbin, though he’s not sure why.

In his opinion, he looks pretty average — maybe even a little more like an alpha. But whatever. Everyone’s got their own biases and perceptions.

“Okay, leave it to me.” Hanbin smiles at Matthew, who’s quickly become a good friend. They clicked in just a few days. The whole staff’s very friendly, and Jiwoong’s not a stiff, gruff boss — he’s actually quite fun.

Hanbin takes his place at the counter, determined to make a better coffee than yesterday’s for Zhang Hao. Today, the man looks a bit less tired.

“Welcome,” Hanbin greets him with a warm smile, and Zhang Hao blinks like something got in his eye. “I’ll do better today,” Hanbin says cheerfully to the demanding customer.

Zhang Hao clears his throat loudly, shoving his hands into his coat pockets like a proper CEO. It’s the perfect role for an alpha — that’s just how society works.

Dark circles still shadow his eyes, but his face doesn’t look as strained as yesterday. His expression isn’t twisted into such a grimace anymore — he actually looks… subdued.

Even from this distance, Hanbin can smell the tobacco clinging to him like a cloud. Not exactly healthy, but Hanbin doesn’t judge. Being a CEO must come with more stress than, say, an average barista who drinks protein shakes and jogs every morning for fun.

Hanbin assumes Zhang Hao works late, which is why he starts his day near noon and comes here for coffee at the same hour as yesterday.

Hanbin finishes preparing the drink, careful not to make it too sweet this time.

“Here you go.” Hanbin sets it down and watches expectantly as Zhang Hao takes a sip. He won’t deny it — he’d love to see a satisfied smile on the man’s face.

That doesn’t happen.

Zhang Hao grimaces dramatically, almost sticks his tongue out, then catches himself.

“Awful. Too bitter.” He frowns, then relaxes and sighs heavily, taking out his payment but leaving the cup on the counter again. “I knew this would happen,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Hanbin to hear — enough to make shame prickle his skin.

“I’m really sorry, I—” What else could he say? He tried, but it didn’t work. Again.

Zhang Hao clearly wants the same coffee the previous barista made, which Hanbin is not, and never will magically become. He feels bad for the man, actually — clearly that coffee meant a lot to him.

“It’s fine. I’ll come back tomorrow.” Zhang Hao grumbles, disappointed, already reaching for his pack of cigarettes before stepping out.

“Have a nice day!” Hanbin calls after him, silently vowing to do better tomorrow. How hard could those proportions be?

He’s this close to asking Jiwoong for Wumuti’s phone number. But no — that would be weird. Unprofessional. Hanbin’s an experienced, certified barista. He’ll satisfy Zhang Hao’s preferences eventually — God as his witness.

“So? Did he scold you?” Matthew peeks out from the back.

“No, not at all. He just wants his coffee. I get it. It’s not like he’s rude to us,” Hanbin says, taking the abandoned cup. Before cleaning it up, he decides to take a sip himself. He smacks his lips thoughtfully. It’s good. Not too bitter — at least not for him.

“You’re drinking from a customer’s cup?! What if you catch something?” Matthew hisses, looking around the café as if anyone were watching. Few people are sitting inside at this hour; most take their drinks to go.

“You always share bottles with Gunwook.” Hanbin raises an eyebrow, and Matthew opens and closes his mouth like a fish.

“That’s different! He’s not a stranger.”

True — Gunwook’s a part-time worker, still a student, and also a beta. Plus, he’s Matthew’s gym buddy. They’re basically inseparable, as Hanbin quickly noticed — and he never misses a chance to tease them. There’s definitely something there; anyone could see it.

“Sure. Zhang Hao’s not a stranger either — I know his name.” Hanbin says slyly, and Matthew goes silent for good, shaking his head as he walks away.

Although Hanbin wouldn’t mind getting to know Zhang Hao better. He has to admit — the man’s incredibly handsome. Even with that tiredness and bitterness in his expression. And the smell of cigarettes. His face is practically the eighth wonder of the world.

Few people are that naturally beautiful — especially alphas, who tend to have more… blunt features. Hanbin’s always been a fan of sturdy bodies; muscles are sexy, what can he say?

But Zhang Hao looks delicate — like a stronger gust of wind could blow him off course. His shoulders droop, which only makes him seem smaller than he probably is. Hanbin knows it’s the exhaustion talking, though. Maybe Zhang Hao needs a vacation. Or at least some fun in his life…

Hanbin wonders if going on a date with a café customer would be that big of a faux pas.

Not that it's certain Zhang Hao would accept an invitation anyway. After all, Hanbin keeps serving him bad coffee — stealing that one bright spot from his day.

Hanbin clenches his teeth and goes to ask Jiwoong for Wumuti’s number. Yes, he’s that desperate. But the longer he thinks about Zhang Hao’s pretty, sulky face, the more he wants to make it smile.

Jiwoong gives him the number without much hesitation. Almost.

“You care that much?” Jiwoong raises a brow, lips curling in amusement.

“I just want to be a good replacement for him, boss.”

“Call me Jiwoong, I told you already. Sure, I get it. You’re very hardworking,” Jiwoong nods — but the glint of mischief in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. He definitely knows it’s about more than coffee.

Hanbin calls Wumuti, explains the situation in as little detail as possible, and the omega bursts out laughing.

“That’s something!”

Hanbin pulls the phone away from his ear at the sharp laugh.

“So… could you help me out?” Hanbin asks politely again, and the amused omega snickers once more.

“Zhang Hao’s lucky someone this disciplined took over my place. Tell him I said hi next time you see him,” Wumuti says brightly. Hanbin can’t help but wonder — against his better judgment — if Wumuti was interested in Zhang Hao. Or still is. Hopefully not. Hanbin doubts he’d stand a chance competing for an alpha’s attention. Not when Wumuti’s an omega. That’s just how it goes. His chances are slim already without the interference of someone else.

“Thanks,” Hanbin says after Wumuti’s thorough instructions — and promises to pass on the greeting.

He can’t wait for tomorrow morning. He’s almost ready to test his new knowledge, but that would reek of desperation. Hanbin decides he needs to chill.

He passes by the back room and sees a suspicious scene through the half-open door. Nothing indecent — just Matthew and Gunwook apparently having some sort of very homoerotic contest, trying to see who can lift more boxes onto the rack.

Gunwook has the height advantage, of course, but Matthew’s game for the challenge anyway. Hanbin stops to watch quietly, smiling.

There’s definitely something between them — even without pheromones, the air is thick enough to cut. Matthew overreaches and loses balance as the boxes tower over him. Gunwook catches him easily, steadying him. The sly fox declares the match a draw.

Hanbin should probably learn how to flirt like that — even if the kid’s younger.