Chapter Text
The wedding ceremony is nothing short of beautiful. Their families planned down to the last flower petal, and Inn Jakkrasin Atsavatanachai stands at the altar in his perfectly pressed suit wondering how he ended up here, married to an omega he barely knows.
Their courtship was very short, consisting of a few meals together, some family gatherings and mostly wedding preparation meetings. Inn’s groom, Ongsa Theetat Kummuang, is a quiet, gentle, very demure, very elegant and tasteful in his fashion style, enjoys creamy sweet coffee, and he likes small dogs. Also, Ongsa is seven years Inn’s junior. That’s about all Inn knows about him.
Ongsa had been so soft-spoken during their few meetings, so polite and agreeable, nodding along to everything Inn said with that gentle smile that made Inn think he was getting the easiest, most uncomplicated omega in the world.
His family had been thrilled, practically shoving him down the aisle, and Inn had gone along with it because that is what alphas do, they marry who their families choose and they make the best of it.
Ongsa looks beautiful walking toward him in his white suit, and he smiles that same demure smile that Inn has grown used to over the past few months. The ceremony goes smoothly, the vows are exchanged, the rings are slipped onto fingers, and everyone in the audience cries fake happy tears including Inn's mother who is already planning grandchildren in her head.
They share a small, chaste kiss before walking down the aisle, and then it’s over, they are married, the papers are signed and the families are celebrating.
The reception is loud and crowded, relatives drinking too much, taking nonstop and dancing too enthusiastically, and Inn finds himself standing near the dessert table with a glass of champagne, watching his new husband move through the crowd with that expert grace. Ongsa accepts congratulations from every aunt and uncle, kisses cheeks and accepts hugs, and he looks so young, small and delicate among all these people, so perfectly omega that Inn almost feels sorry for him. Almost.
They have been married for exactly forty-seven minutes when Inn reaches for a piece of cake and Ongsa appears at his side, that serene smile still in place.
The guests are distracted, Uncle Blackson is telling a very long story about his time in the military and everyone is too polite to walk away, and Ongsa leans in close like he is about to whisper something sweet and romantic.
"Your posture is dreadful," Ongsa says, and his voice is still pleasant, still soft, but a tone beneath it makes Inn's spine stiffen immediately. "You’ve been slouching for the entire ceremony and I watched you. Everyone watched you. My grandmother asked me if you had a spinal condition and I had to lie and say no, you just have terrible habits."
Inn blinks at him so caught off guard. "What?"
"Your tie is also crooked and I fixed it twice before we walked in and you somehow managed to ruin it again. How? How do you ruin a tie twice in one hour? It's a piece of fabric, P’Inn. It goes around your neck and you knot it. There are instructions on the internet."
"I don't-"
"Just so you know, the restaurant you took me to last month," Ongsa continues, his voice miraculously stayed at a pleasant murmur, "the one you thought was so impressive with its tiny portions and enormous prices. I hated it. I hated every single thing about it. The lighting was terrible, the chairs were uncomfortable, and they served me a piece of fish that was smaller than my palm and charged us seven thousand baht for the privilege. Seven thousand baht. For a fish that probably died of loneliness because it was so small and couldn’t make friends. I wanted to leave after the appetizer but I smiled and nodded because my mother told me to be nice."
Inn stares at him, his mouth slightly open. "But you said you loved it."
"I lied," Ongsa says pleasantly. "I’ve been lying to you since the day we met because my family told me I needed to secure this alliance and that meant being sweet and agreeable and letting you think you were getting a gentle little omega who would never challenge you.”
Ongsa gives the most evil smirk he’s ever seen on…anyone, then continues, “But the papers are signed now, P’Inn. The ink is dry, so we are going to have a conversation about everything you have done wrong since our families introduced us, and you are going to listen."
Inn looks around desperately for help, but his mother is laughing at something Uncle Blackson said and his father is busy refilling talking to some business colleagues, and no one is paying any attention to the newlyweds in the corner.
"I have a list," Ongsa says, and takes out his phone, unlocks it, does some scrolling then his face appears to settle like he’s found what he’s been waiting for.
"You have a list?" Inn asks like that’s outrageous.
"Of course I have a list. Did you think I was just going to let things slide and hope you figured it out on your own? You are an alpha, Phi. You do not figure things out on your own. You need things spelled out for you… in writing."
Inn leans in to look at the list and then back at Ongsa's face, that same serene expression that is somehow terrifying now. "How long have you had that?"
"Since the night you told me my favorite movie was boring and then spent twenty minutes explaining why your opinion was correct. That was the moment I realized I was going to have to take matters into my own hands."
The list is long, Inn can see that much from here, and Ongsa clears his throat and perfects his posture to start reading, as though he has been planning this moment for a very long time.
"Item one," Ongsa says, his voice still soft and pleasant, "your posture. We’ve discussed this. You stand like a question mark and it makes you look like you have no spine. I need you to stand up straight when you are in public with me. People are going to look at us and I refuse to be the one standing next to the alpha who looks like he's about to fold in half."
"What-"
"Item two," Ongsa continues, not letting him speak, "the way you pronounce the word 'necessary' when you speak English. You say it with an extra syllable and it sounds ridiculous and I have to hear you say it every time you talk about work. It's necessary, P’Inn. Ne-ces-sa-ry. Three syllables. Not ne-ces-sa-ry with an extra 'a' in the middle. I don’t need you to sound like a genius but I also don’t need you to sound like you learned English from a bootleg VHS tape."
Inn keeps opening and closing his mouth to try and get a word in. he must look ridiculous. He has never been spoken to like this in his entire life. Alphas are not spoken to like this.
"Item three," Ongsa says, and he moves to the next line on the list, "the grey socks."
"What is wrong with my socks?"
"They are grey, Phi. Every single pair you own is grey. I’ve seen you wear grey socks to dinner, to work, to a funeral, to our engagement party. There is no colour in your life except grey and it’s depressing. I will be buying you new socks and you will wear them without complaint."
"I like grey socks."
"Well, grey socks don’t like you. Item four, the way you spoke to the coordinator at the moment-in-life charity festivity two months ago. You were just too friendly, P’Inn.” He shakes his dead disapprovingly, “You were smiling and laughing and touching his arm and I was standing right there. Right there. Do you know how that looked? Do you have any idea what people thought?"
"He was just telling a joke-" Inn says defensively even though he doesn’t even remember the event or the guy because it’s been two fucking months and no normal human being should be able to recall such detail from that far back.
"He was telling a joke and you were practically flirting with him in front of your betrothed. I had to smile through that entire evening while you laughed at his dry jokes and touched his arm and forgot that I existed. Oh, that will not happen again."
Inn feels his face getting hot. "I didn't mean anything by it-"
"Item five," Ongsa says, raising his voice just slightly before catching himself and glancing around to make sure no one is listening, "the decor in your apartment. The furniture. What year do you think it is? That couch belonged in a nursing home in 1985 and you have it in your living room like it's a point of pride. We are going to live there now. Together. As a married couple. And I refuse to spend my mornings sitting on something that looks like it survived a war."
Inn opens his mouth to defend his vintage couch, which is perfectly comfortable and tasteful, but Ongsa is already moving on.
"Item six, and this is a big one, the way you showed up late to the wedding rehearsal. Two hours late, Inn. My mother had to reschedule the entire thing and pretend it was her fault so your family wouldn’t be embarrassed and I had to sit there and smile while you walked in like you had not just made everyone wait for you."
"I got stuck in traffic-"
"You always have an excuse. Always. Traffic, work, your mother called, you forgot. It’s a pattern and I need it to stop. When we have children, I need to know that you’ll show up and won’t be late to their school plays or their recitals or their sports days. I need to know that you’ll be there."
Inn's heart does this little skip at the mention of children, at the way Ongsa says it like it is inevitable, like they are already building a future together.
"Item seven," Ongsa says, and he is really getting into it now, his voice picking up speed, "our wedding. I did not like our wedding. I wanted a small ceremony by the sea and instead I got a hotel ballroom with your mother's preferred flower arrangements and a cake I didn’t even get to taste because someone decided we should cut it before I had a bite. I didn’t get to taste my own wedding cake. I have been dreaming of that cake for months and it was already being served to guests before I even knew what was happening."
"Mother said-"
"Your mother says a lot of things. She chose the menu, the flowers, the music, the color scheme, the guest list. I had no say in any of it. I smiled and nodded through all of it and now I’m telling you that the next time we have an event I will be the one making the decisions and you will smile and nod and keep your opinions to yourself."
Inn feels like he should defend himself, stand up for his family, and say something about how his mother only wanted what was best for them, but he looks at Ongsa's face and the words die in his throat.
"Is there anything else?" Inn asks weakly.
Ongsa squints at his list. "Yes. There are fourteen more items but I’m getting tired of talking and you look like you need a moment to process. So we will pause here and you’ll tell me that you understand what I’ve said and that you are going to work on each of these things starting immediately."
Inn blinks.
“I’m waiting.” Ongsa crosses his arms impatiently.
"I understand," Inn says, and he hears how pathetic his voice sounds. "I am going to work on them."
"Good," Ongsa says, and puts his phone away. "We’ll revisit this tomorrow morning over breakfast. I expect to see improvement."
Inn stands there, his posture slightly straighter than before, his mind reeling from everything that just happened. He has been married for less than an hour and his omega has already torn him apart and put him back together in a completely different shape.
And the strangest thing is, Inn is not angry or offended or hurt or any of the things he should be.
He watches Ongsa fix his tie and smooth his hair and smile at a passing aunt, all in one fluid motion, and Inn notices the curve of his neck, the delicate line of his jaw, the way his fingers move so precisely when they adjust the fabric.
He notices the slight flush on Ongsa's cheeks from all that talking, the way his scent has shifted from demure and soft to sharper and fiercer.
Inn's alpha brain, which was previously just confused and overwhelmed, starts to come up with some very inappropriate thoughts. He pictures that fierce expression in a different context, that authoritative voice in a different situation, those hands that just made a list of his flaws doing …other things to him.
Ongsa is still talking to someone, laughing politely at something they said, and meanwhile Inn can’t stop thinking about what it would be like if they were alone right now. If Ongsa were yelling at him the same way but with less clothes on. If he were backing Ongsa into a corner and kissing that furious mouth and watching all that fierce fire turn into pliant yearning.
Ongsa turns back to him and Inn must have quite the expression on his face because Ongsa stops and stares at him.
"Stop that," Ongsa scolds.
"Stop what?"
"Whatever you are thinking right now. I can see it on your face."
Inn grins, fascinated and excited too, "What do you see?"
"Your pupils are dilated and you are looking at me like I am a piece of cake you want to eat. We are at a wedding. Our wedding. People are watching.”
Inn continues staring and smirking.
Ongsa narrows his eyes at him, and then he does something that surprises both of them. He reaches out and slaps Inn on the arm, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make a point.
"You’re crazy," Ongsa mutters under his breath, and the flush on his cheeks deepens.
Inn grins at him. "You’re very sexy."
Ongsa's eyes widen and the flush spreads down his neck and Inn's alpha brain is absolutely delighted by the reaction. Ongsa slaps him again, harder this time, but it does absolutely nothing to stop the thoughts and they both know it.
Inn leans in close, just the tiny bit, and he lets his voice drop to a sultry whisper. "Bring this scolding to our wedding night tonight. I like it."
Ongsa stares at him like he has grown a second head.
"Tell me what else is on the list." Inn asks, still wearing his infuriating smirk.
"I’m not telling you anything while you are looking at me like that."
Reaching out, Inn touches Ongsa’s cheek, smoothing his thumb down his cheek to his chin, "But I asked nicely. Please?"
Ongsa's mouth opens but closes quickly and for the first time in their entire conversation he looks genuinely flustered. It’s adorable. It is the most adorable thing Inn has ever seen and he wants to do whatever it takes to make that expression appear again.
"We are going back to the party," Ongsa says finally, straightening his shoulders and smoothing his expression back into that serene, demure mask. "And you are going to smile and nod and pretend you are not having inappropriate thoughts about me in the middle of our wedding reception."
Inn makes a big show of giving Ongsa’s entire body such a once over look before meeting his gaze again. "I can’t promise that."
"Try." Ongsa grabs his hand and pulls him back toward the crowd, and his grip is stronger than Inn expected.
"Now keep it together,” Ongsa murmurs, his lips barely moving. "They can’t know that I just yelled at you for an hour or that you are apparently turned on by it. That’s our secret."
"Our first secret as a married couple. Nice." Inn says, “And what’s wrong with you turning me on? You’re my husband.”
Ongsa pinches his arm so hard he almost yelps. "Like I said, we will discuss your behavior tomorrow," Ongsa says, smiling at his mother who is waving at them from across the room. "In detail. Over breakfast."
“Let’s discuss it tonight.”
“In the morning.” Ongsa counters. “And get your mind out of the gutter.”
Ongsa shoots him a look that promises retribution and then smiles at Inn's father who has just appeared to congratulate them. It is incredible, the way he can flip between sweet and scary in the space of a heartbeat, and Inn watches him with something that feels a lot like love.
They walk through the party together, all smiles and new wedding glow, and Ongsa leans into Inn's side, giving him light touches and laughing at his jokes like they are the happiest couple in the room.
It’s going to take months for Ongsa to let him into his nest, Inn realizes. Ongsa said so himself. Inn must earn his place first, prove himself worthy of that sacred space, work through every single item on that list and then some.
Months of being scolded and corrected and put in his place by the most ferocious little omega he has ever met.
Months of trying to earn the privilege of holding him.
Inn smiles at the guests and shakes hands and accepts congratulations, and he thinks that he has never been more excited about anything in his entire life.
-The End-