Chapter Text
Baby was being an asshole.
They'd been rehearsing for their upcoming show, and he was officially over being the maknae. Nothing he did was good enough for Jinu. He wasn’t being cutesy enough, he wasn’t smiling enough, he wasn’t doing enough finger hearts or face hearts or whatever the fuck Jinu was complaining about like a bunch of fire ants had crawled up his ass.
He rolled his eyes as Jinu complained for the forty-billionth time.
“Baby, I swear to God, can you just fucking smile? I swear it’s like pulling teeth with you.”
Baby ignored him and slumped to the ground, slouching back against a wall. This, of course, went over super well with the Saja Boys leader.
“What the- Baby, get your lazy ass up, we need to fucking practice. Actually, scratch that, you need to practice because everyone else has their shit together.”
“Maybe that’s because they all have better fucking roles in this group than I do,” Baby snapped, crossing his arms and shooting Jinu a dark look. “I hate being the fucking baby.”
Jinu just closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Baby, we’ve talked about this-”
“No, Jinu, you talked and thought we all had to just go along with whatever you said because your our pack alpha, but I’m done being the maknae.
He slammed his water bottle down on the practice room floor beside him hard enough that it bounced off to the side, spilling water everywhere.
The other four members of the Saja Boys looked up from their positions, various stages of exhaustion written on their faces.
“Here we go again,” Mystery muttered to Romance, who was leaning up against a mirrored wall to watch the spectacle.
“I’m serious!” Baby’s voice rose, his citrus alpha scent sharpening with aggression. “I’m twenty-one years old. I’m not a kid anymore and I don't want to be the maknae.”
Jinu sighed wearily. As pack alpha and leader, this was technically his problem to solve. “Baby, like I said, we've talked about—”
“You can keep talking all you want, Jinu, but I’m done listening.” Baby crossed his arms, glaring at his pack’s leader. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m an alpha too and I want a different role in the group.”
“And what role is that?” Abby asked, pausing mid-bicep curl with the dumbbell he'd brought to practice and fished out of his duffel bag the moment Baby and Jinu started arguing. “Jinu’s the leader, I’m the visual, Mystery’s the intriguing one, Romance is the heartthrob and does a ton of fan service—”
Baby knew this question was coming and he had an answer prepared. There was no way anyone would tolerate him as the pack’s leader, and frankly, he didn’t want that role. He knew he didn’t have the body to be the visual and found it gross how the fans fawned and drooled over Abby. He didn’t have the patience to be intriguing, which meant there was only one option left—
“I want Romance’s role,” Baby interrupted. “The romantic heartthrob.” He ignored the snickers from Abby’s direction. “Hey, I could do it! He does a bunch of cutesy romantic stuff and flirts with fans. That's basically a maknae role anyway.”
Romance, who’d been quietly observing from his spot against the mirror, raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”
“Hell yeah,” Baby whirled on him. “You’re all soft and flowery. You do fan service. You livestream poetry readings of shit you wrote for fuck’s sake. You’re not exactly the most alpha of alphas, are you?”
The air in the room went still, charged with tension.
"Baby," Jinu warned, his leader voice slipping through even though he was trying to stay casual about this.
But Romance just smiled coldly. “Are you challenging me?”
Baby stuck out his chin in stubborn defiance. “Yeah, I am. Alpha challenge. Winner gets to be the romantic one. Loser has to be the maknae.”
“Baby, you can’t just alpha challenge Romance for his role. That’s not—” Jinu started, then caught himself, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Okay, technically it is how it works, but maybe we should talk about this first? Like, I don't know, adults? The company will be pissed with us for swapping roles around after they’ve invested so much money into our branding.”
“I don’t give a shit about that,” Baby cut him off with a seething glare. “Any alpha can challenge any other alpha for position. It's our right.”
Baby wasn’t wrong… technically.
Alpha challenges were a recognized way to establish hierarchy, even in packs that were supposed to be more civilized than that.
“Alright,” Romance practically purred. “I accept your challenge.”
Baby grinned, triumphant. He pulled off his black tanktop, revealing his lithe, leanly muscled torso. “Great, let’s—”
“Hold on just a second,” Romance held up a hand. “I want to make something very clear. When I win, I’m going to ensure you don't merely remain the maknae. I’m going to make certain you embrace your lovely little role… enjoy it… crave it so much you’ll never even dream of challenging anyone ever again.”
The threat was unmistakable.
Baby snorted. “Yeah right, Ro. That’ll never fucking happen.”
“We shall see.” Romance’s smile widened, showing off the sharp point of his canines. “Traditional rules? First to submit or tap out?”
“Yeah.”
“No biting. No permanent damage. Everything else is fair game.”
Baby just smirked and climbed to his feet. “Enough rules, let’s do this shit.”
Jinu stepped forward, looking slightly uncomfortable with the whole situation. He positioned himself where he could see both Romance and Baby clearly, his own alpha rising to the surface. “If we’re doing this officially, I need to moderate and make sure it stays within bounds. You listen to my calls or you face me. Got it?”
Baby and Romance nodded.
Abby set down his dumbbell, and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his usual cocky smirk in place. “This should be good.”
“Ready?” Jinu asked.
Baby dropped into a fighting stance immediately, all aggression and forward momentum.
Romance just stood there, relaxed, his hands loose at his sides.
“Begin.”
Baby lunged first. He was fast, but Romance was faster. He sidestepped smoothly, using Baby’s own momentum against him to send him stumbling forward.
Baby caught himself, spun, came at Romance again. “Fight me, you fucking—”
This time Romance didn’t dodge. He caught Baby’s wrist mid-swing, twisted, and suddenly Baby was off-balance, his arm wrenched behind his back.
“Yield,” Romance murmured in his ear.
“Fuck you,” Baby snarled, using his free arm to elbow the alpha behind him as hard as he could.
Romance took the hit to his ribs but didn’t let go. He swept Baby’s legs out from under him, sending them both to the floor. They grappled, rolling, each trying to gain the advantage.
Baby was stronger, his muscles more defined from hours in the gym and his obsessive workout stream, but Romance was more flexible, more controlled. Where Baby used brute force, Romance used technique.
“Come on, Baby! Don’t let him beat you in the first twenty seconds!” Abby called out, though his grin suggested he was just enjoying the show. “That’s just embarrassing!”
Mystery said nothing, but his eyes hungrily tracked every movement.
Baby managed to break free, scrambling to his feet. His breathing was already labored, his scent going sour with frustration. Romance rose smoothly, not even winded.
“You’re holding back,” Baby accused.
“Am I?” Romance tilted his head, his expression serene. “Or perhaps you’re simply not as formidable as you believe yourself to be?”
The taunt worked. Baby charged again, abandoning strategy for pure rage-fuelled aggression.
Big mistake.
Romance waited until the last possible second, then dropped low, using Baby’s own weight and momentum to flip him over. Baby hit the floor hard, the air rushing from his lungs.
Before he could recover, Romance was on him, knee pressed to Baby’s chest, hands pinning his wrists above his head to keep Baby immobilized.
“Yield,” Romance demanded.
Baby struggled, bucking, trying to throw Romance off, but every movement just made Romance's control tighter.
“I said yield.”
“No!” Baby snarled and thrashed, his alpha pride refusing to give in.
Romance leaned down, his face inches from Baby's. “I can maintain this position indefinitely or you can submit now and preserve what little dignity you have left and accept your defeat with grace.”
“Fuck. You.”
Romance sighed, the sound almost disappointed.
Then, deliberately, he shifted his weight, pressing his knee harder into Baby's chest while simultaneously adjusting his grip on Baby's wrists. The new position forced Baby's arms into an angle that wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was downright painful.
Baby’s breath hitched, a low rumble building in his chest.
“Last chance,” Romance informed him icily. “Yield.”
For a long moment, Baby just stared up at him, rage and shame battling across his face.
Then—
“I yield.”
Romance held the position for three more seconds—just long enough to make sure Baby’s inner alpha really understood who had won—then released him and stood.
Baby lay on the floor, chest heaving, his face flushed with exertion and shame.
His scent had gone from aggressive to something more like frustration, humiliation, and underneath it all, the bitter acknowledgment of defeat.
“Well,” Jinu broke the silence, awkwardly clearing his throat. “That's settled then.”
Romance extended a hand to Baby. "Come on, get up."
Baby stared at the offered hand like it was a snake, then reluctantly took it, letting Romance pull him to his feet.
“Looks like you’re still our beloved little maknae,” Romance said, his voice carrying to everyone in the room. “And I’m going to make sure you enjoy it.”
Baby’s jaw clenched in anger. “You might have won, Ro, but there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to like being the maknae.”
Romance’s smile was absolutely feline.
“We’ll see about that.”