Chapter Text

After a dreadfully long hour, the whirring sound finally quiets down to a halt. It isn't silence that follows, but rather the continued prolonged screeching that hasn't really stopped ever since it ensued an hour ago. It bumbles down into a sob as Yoongi drops the bloodied instruments into a tray, pulling his gloves off before yanking his mask down. The kid still hasn't stop crying, but at least he didn't bite, else Yoongi would have to clamp his mouth open, which is never fun.

The two teeth, still bloody red at the long pointed root, with a piece of gum at the end, is dropped into little solution jars. Yoongi ducks down to the drawer under his desk and grabs the container there. He sets the plastic box down with a loud thud, jostling the kid on the chair, who then turns to him with wide, tearful, terrified eyes.

Yoongi tries to smile, "Do you like poodles, Jungkook-ah?"

With the permanent marker lid between his teeth, he adds round little eyes and huge eyebrows to the pink balloon poodle, examining it a little before handing it to the hiccuping boy, closing the lid of the permanent marker and dropping it back into his coat pocket.

Jungkook's eyes seem to light up at the sight of this sudden new companion. Yoongi turns back to grab the two jars of baby teeth and hands it to the father, "All done now."

"Thank you, Dr. Min," The father smiles before he turns to his son, "say thank you, Kook-ah."

"Dank kew," The poor boy manages through a mouthful of gauze, puffy cheeks now even puffier as he clutches onto his new friend.

Yoongi chuckles, "You can head back to the front desk for the fees. You can take the gauze out in at least two hours when the bleeding has stopped. Please refrain from feeding him anything before then."

"I'll try," The father laughs nervously, "we walk past this bakery on our way home almost every day."

"Ah, the one near the subway?"

"Yeah! We just moved near there recently, about a month ago. I'm still trying to get used to everything."

"It's a pretty quiet street, everyone here is relatively nice." Yoongi assures him, "I guess I'll be seeing you around then, sir."

The man seems to jolt at the formality, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck, "Ah, I'm Kim Namjoon. It'd be nice to make your acquaintance." He offers a hand that Yoongi takes with an easy smile.

Kim Namjoon is relatively taller than Yoongi, with sharp eyes decorating the small face. Looking down at his son, eyes wide and sparkling from the dried tears, Yoongi can't really identify what features he has inherited from his father like he usually can with other patients. Perhaps most of this is his mother.

"Oh, just before I go, doctor," Namjoon turns back just as he's one step out of the room, one hand holding Jungkook's, "I was curious about the children's clinic next to here."

"Hope?"

"That's the one," Namjoon smiles, "I was going to check but the lights are all off. Is it closed today?"

"They're usually open," Yoongi says, "but Dr. Jung is out to vaccinate a few students at a primary school for today."

"Dr. Jung?"

"Jung Hoseok. You'll know it when you see him. He's one of a kind, that one." Yoongi smirks.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" Namjoon raises an eyebrow.

Yoongi shrugs, "Both."

Namjoon's smile turns into a confused little one before it breaks off into a laugh, to which Jungkook stares at in wonder.

"I was planning to get Jungkook's vaccinations up to date anyway." He says instead, "Is he good?"

"Dr. Jung? Well," Yoongi slips his hands into his pockets, "I heard he's good with kids, but I wouldn't recommend taking Jungkook to see him." He opts to a low dramatic voice, "His views are... unsettling."

It seems to have thrown Namjoon off when he asks, "... What is it?"

"You see," Yoongi leans closer to the man suspiciously before he whispers, "he's antivax-"

"I am not!" A muffled shout suddenly sounds from somewhere beyond the wall next to them. Both Namjoon and Jungkook jolt at the sudden noise.

"Don't mind him, Namjoon-ssi," Yoongi pats the wall as if to silence it, "he's like this, and his pretty face barely makes up for it."

There's banging on the wall this time, "I can hear you!" The same voice comes on again, "And I will stick a needle into your kid, sir, rest assured!"

"Hey now," Yoongi has turned completely towards the wall, as if having a full blown conversation with it, "I'm talking to my patient."

He looks down to see four year old Jungkook, eyes so wide they threaten to pop out as he looks between Yoongi and this magical talking wall. His father, on the other hand, seems to be enjoying this sudden banter despite how odd both doctors appear to be.

Then comes the question,

"Are you and Dr. Jung close?"

✧

Hoseok ignores the expected wails and screaming that ensues as soon as he pulls out the needle. The girl is already squirming, tears welling up as she fights her mother's hold to get away. Fortunately, the mother has a strong grip on her arm, and the expression that sweeps her daughter's face then is nothing far from absolutely unimaginable betrayal and hurt.

She screams louder when Hoseok approaches, and kicks into her mother's lap. Sighing, Hoseok sets the needle down. This calls for desperate measures.

"Wow! Sooyoungie, what pretty voice you have~!" Mr. Toto from Africa, the plush giraffe shaker toy coos, its big round eyes wiggling with the movement. It seems to have caught crying Sooyoung's attention as her cries suddenly drown out into little hiccups as she looks at the toy in Hoseok's hand with wide eyes. "Will you sing me a song~?"

Sooyoung shakes her head. Shit.

"Pwetty pwease~?" Hoseok tries again, holding the toy closer to her face until she giggles and starts her toddler rendition of the national anthem. An interesting choice that takes Hoseok by surprise for a second.

As quickly as he can, with one hand still holding Mr. Toto from Africa in front of Sooyoung, he rubs the alcohol pad onto her shoulder where her sleeve is rolled up, and pokes the needle through her skin before immediately injecting and removing it at lightning speed, a skill gained purely from experience.

Sooyoung was barely halfway through the national anthem when she suddenly goes quiet, her eyes wide, confused as to whether she should be crying or not, with the pain disappearing as soon as it came.

Hoseok gently puts a little cartoon plaster onto the poked skin and smiles, "And you're done! Not so bad, right?"

Halfway through happily chatting with Sooyoung at the front desk, Hoseok suddenly glares very intensely at something beyond her.

The mother seems to notice and turns around to look at the grumpy dentist from next door leaving his clinic.

"Ah, is that Dr. Min?" The mother asks.

"The one and only," Hoseok confirms, "you can't mistake that frown anywhere."

"Who?" Sooyoung asks in her small voice.

"That's the scary teeth gremlin," Hoseok says to her in a very serious tone, "he'll steal your teeth and make a crown out of it. Beware." At the girl's suddenly terrified face, he quickly assures her, "Don't worry, Sooyoungie, because Dr. Jung can defeat him very easily. You're safe."

The mother laughs, then comes the question,

"Are you and Dr. Min close?"

✧

"Diarrhea~"

Dr. Min scowls into his latte at the sound of Dr. Jung's voice from next to him.

"I guess to be good with kids you must share the same kind of humor with them." He mutters.

"Or you could just smile more and not look like death," Dr. Jung says breezily. "And that was just me looking out for you."

This corridor feels far too long despite both Min's Dental and Hope Children's Clinic just sitting at the corner of the hall. Yoongi just wants to part and set up already.

"You just said diarrhea in a singsong voice while I'm drinking coffee, doctor." Dr. Min bites back.

"Because I know your lactase enzymes are lazy and won't activate until later in the day, making you lactose intolerant in the morning, doctor." Dr. Jung parrots. "Should've stuck with your usual jackass large iced americano."

"Not that it's any of your business what drink I order, but this is me trying to switch things up in this cyclical mundane life of mine."

"Mundane," Dr. Jung snorts, "tea would've done the job. You really had to challenge your digestive system when it's my turn for laundry duty this week, hm?"

"Fuck off, I'm not gonna shit my pants," Dr. Min deadpans.

"Looking forward to seeing your little gremlin face every time you walk past my clinic to go to the toilet today then." Dr. Jung grins, "Blow me a kiss while you're at it."

Yoongi snorts, "Like hell I will." They both come to a halt in front of their respective clinics adjacent to each other.

"Oh I know you will. You just can't resist me~" Hoseok turns to look at Yoongi, who has a bit of latte foam on his bottom lip, "Cutie."

Yoongi scowls at that, but doesn't pull away when Hoseok leans into to kiss him, a tiny little peck before he steps away to key open his clinic door. He turns to smile and wave from where he's crouched down, the gold band on his ring finger catching the bright ceiling light from above them. Yoongi bites back a smile as he waves back nonchalantly, and the same twinkling effect occurs on his matching silver ring.

Dr. Min and Dr. Jung are pretty close.

Chapter Text

Min's Dental and Hope Children's Clinic are situated in the G floor (though it's technically the basement floor) of the Mediplex building; a building full of a variety of clinics, from beauty to dental to eye. It is directly connected to the subway with a special walkway for easy access. The building is open for service from 8 am to as late as midnight for cosmetic clinics and their customers who want to stay hidden. As it is not a hospital, but several independent businesses, working hours are entirely up to the doctors. Both Min's Dental and Hope Children's Clinic are open for the first appointment from 9 am to 5 pm, with Sundays off.

On a particular Saturday, Chaeyoung who works front desk at the nearby cosmetic clinic claims to have seen Dr. Min taking several bags of trash out to the dumpster behind the building at around thirty minutes after five. Throwing out trash in itself isn't weird, all the doctors are required to do so at the end of the day, but no dental clinic would ever produce that much amount of garbage in one day even if that day was fully booked with appointments. Some people conspired that Dr. Min brings trash from home to throw away here since it's more convenient, some say that he orders coffee and takeouts for himself a lot, resulting in a pile of waste containers, though he somehow manages to stay quite thin.

Yoongi throws the trash into the dumpster with a huff, careful not to touch the bag full of soiled diapers too much in case there are any sudden leakages. That done, he makes his way back to his clinic where he slips off his coat and stuffs it into his backpack, switching off all the lights and locking up. It's a Saturday, and a few clinics are still open for possible patients that didn't book an appointment; emergencies. He bows to a few people he makes eye contact with along the way to the subway, where Hoseok is standing idly, scrolling through his phone.

He jolts when Yoongi pokes him lightly at the waist before they both make their way to the platform.

It's fairly dark out by the time they exit the subway station. They just have to walk through one street before they reach their apartment.

Hoseok finally speaks once they're in the elevator on their way up to their apartment, "Tomorrow's a day off."

"It is," Yoongi confirms.

"Do you wanna wake up late with me?"

Yoongi grins, "Have I ever said no to that?"

Hoseok chuckles as a hand slides up to rest on his waist, "You have a point." It's quiet before he teases, "Someone's eager."

Yoongi frowns, "You suggested the idea."

"Because you were kind enough to throw away my trash for me," Hoseok chirps, turning his head to kiss Yoongi's cheek.

They part when the elevator comes to a stop, Hoseok almost exiting as soon as the door opens before Yoongi pulls him back by the wrist as a woman enters. "One more floor."

Yoongi parrots Hoseok's words as soon as they're out of the elevator, "Someone's eager."

"Shut up," Hoseok shoves Yoongi lightly with a laugh, but leads him into their apartment by his hand as soon as they punch the code in and unlock the door.

Yoongi can see Hoseok's ring glisten when he rests his bag on the floor with the hand that's not holding Yoongi's, before he turns to urge him to do the same with the backpack slung on his shoulder.

"Someone's very eager," Yoongi jokes.

"God," Hoseok throws his head back with a laugh as he drags Yoongi into their bedroom with his hand, "Please shut up before I change my mind." But he's already pushing Yoongi until his back hits the bed softly.

"I'm quiet," Yoongi says, "I'm quiet."

Hoseok chuckles as he hovers over him, "Good." He leans down to brush their lips together, soft at first. Yoongi runs his hand through Hoseok's hair, his silver ring a slight contrast against the dark strands. He sighs when he feels Hoseok loosen his tie, unbuttoning the top button to latch his lips onto his neck, softly nibbling the skin there.

"Whose turn was it last time?" Hoseok murmurs against Yoongi's neck.

"Mine," Yoongi answers, his breath stuttering as Hoseok's hands roam.

"Do you want me then?"

Yoongi laughs, "Always."

A loud alarm sound suddenly blares from Yoongi's pocket. He lets go of Hoseok's waist to fish out his phone, grumbling when he sees the screen still dark before he reaches down to pull out the clinic's phone, where "Jeon Jungkook" lights up brightly against his squinting eyes.

"Min's Dental," Yoongi answers with his usual professional voice and Hoseok muffles a laugh into his neck. It tickles.

"Dr. Min! Do you have any free slots tomorrow?"  Kim Namjoon's devastated voice rings into his ear. Hoseok hesitates above him, but ducks back down to softly kiss along the column of Yoongi's throat when Yoongi encourages him.

"We're closed on Sundays, Namjoon-ssi." Yoongi answers, carding his free hand through Hoseok's hair.

"Ah, really?" Namjoon suddenly panics, "Do you know any other place that's open tomorrow? It's Jungkook...he's..."

"Is he okay?" Yoongi asks warily.

"He has this toothache, and it's been getting worse since this afternoon." Namjoon says, "I thought it was because of his new teeth growing, but he said it really hurts." Jungkook's pained cries can suddenly be heard through the line, and Yoongi sits up abruptly, gently pushing Hoseok's shoulder.

Hoseok immediately shifts off of him, looking over with worried eyes as Yoongi gets up to make his way to his desk, "Can you tell me where specifically does it hurt?"

He can hear Namjoon faintly asking his son, who garbles something out in response, before he comes back to answer, "He said it's the ones at the back. The molars?"

"Right," Yoongi sighs, pinching his temple, "I uh- I can make an exception and open the clinic tomorrow morning if you're available. The earliest I can do is around nine, is that alright for you?"

"Really? That'd be perfect!"  Namjoon sounds like he's finally found a ray of hope.

Yoongi grimaces when he hears another loud cry from Jungkook, "Have you given him any painkillers? Paracetamol?"

"Oh, uh, no,"  Yoongi gapes at the answer, "how much should I give him?"

"Um," Yoongi lowers the phone from his ear and turns to Hoseok, "Seok, how much para for a four year old?"

"Half a tablet," Hoseok answers as he straightens his clothes.

"Half a tablet," Yoongi says into the phone, "you can give him another half if the pain comes back after four hours."

"Right, I'll do that," Namjoon affirms, "Thank you so much doctor. I'm so sorry for troubling you."

"It's no problem," Yoongi assures him, "I'll see you and Jungkook tomorrow then. Goodnight."

He solemnly turns to Hoseok as he rests his phone down on the desk, "I have to get up early tomorrow. Kid got a bad toothache. Probably a tooth decay."

Hoseok sighs, "Oh well. This will have to wait then."

"Sorry," Yoongi whispers as he reaches for Hoseok's hand, "I know it's been a while."

Hoseok shakes his head, "It's not your fault. Besides," He reaches out to stroke Yoongi's cheek, "You can still come back and sleep in with me tomorrow."

"Yeah," Yoongi turns to kiss Hoseok's palm, "we'll do that."

Hoseok leans down to brush his lips over Yoongi's temple, planting soft little kisses until the crease there smooths out before he pulls away, "I'm gonna go shower."

"Have fun," Yoongi blurts out, and his husband snorts.

"Namjoon-ssi," Yoongi crosses his arms, "how much sugar does Jungkook eat in a day?"

The other man ducks his head down sheepishly, his son clung to his right leg with a purple balloon poodle in his arm. Yoongi had to fill in two cavities at the very back of his mouth using energy purely from his one large iced americano.

"I know it seems ridiculous, but it's really not that much!" Namjoon whines, "Sometimes we do get extra baked goods from the bakery since they like Jungkook, but I swear I don't let him eat them all!"

"Be sure to monitor him when he's brushing his teeth then." Yoongi crouches down so that he's level with Jungkook, "Kook-ah, when you brush your teeth, you really have to focus on the guys at the back, okay? Else it'll hurt again."

Jungkook nods shyly.

"I'll be more careful with him in the future," Namjoon says, voice filled with guilt as he softly strokes his son's hair, "he's a handful to take care of by myself."

Yoongi gulps, "I see." Maybe he shouldn't be too harsh on Namjoon. "Take care." He smiles. Jungkook smiles back.

"You know," Hoseok murmurs from beneath the sheets once Yoongi changes out of his work clothes, "throughout my whole life, I've never had any of my wisdom teeth removed, and I'm still living perfectly fine."

Yoongi snorts, "Maybe you'd be living better if you don't have five hundred teeth in your dumb mouth."

"Whatever, overpriced teeth knocker."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "I take it you don't want to cuddle, then."

"Fuck you, yes I do," Hoseok's head pops out from under the covers as he reaches for Yoongi at the edge of the bed, "come here."

Yoongi lets himself be dragged across the mattress until Hoseok snuggles into his chest. "Hey sleepy," He ducks down to kiss the top of Hoseok's head, "tired?'

He can feel Hoseok shake his head before he tilts his head up, puckering his lips, "Kiss?"

And when has Yoongi ever denied that, throughout the years that they've been together?

Hoseok likes to kiss Yoongi's nose, Yoongi likes to kiss up Hoseok's jaw. It never seems to get old. Though it may not be as zinging as it was when they first dated in college, these touches now come with a sense of security and comfort that's just irreplaceable.

"Hyung," Hoseok whispers against Yoongi's lips, more breathless, "Hyung, you wanna...?"

Yoongi nods as his hands drift lower until they rest on-

The sound of the doorbell startle the both of them and Hoseok accidentally bites down onto Yoongi's bottom lip a little too hard.

Yoongi hisses out a pained breath as he glares down at Hoseok who has an apologetic yet cheeky look on his face.

He complains during his whole trip to the front door, turning to flip Hoseok off once through the open door before he reaches the monitor. His expression changes at the sight of the boy on the screen, "Jimin?"

"Hey hyung," Jimin greets with a pained smile, "are you busy?"

Yoongi wants to say yes, he really wants to, but he sighs, "Give me a sec. I don't have pants on."

"It's Jimin," Yoongi says to Hoseok once he notices his husband pouting at the sight of him pulling on a pair of pants.

"Tell him to come back later," Hoseok whines.

"It's not like I want to get blue-balled twice in a row," Yoongi mutters, "he looks upset."

At that, Hoseok springs up from the bed too.

"Does the whole row ache, or is it a tooth in particular?" Yoongi asks as he tries to fix his sleep-addled hair.

"It's the few ones at the back," Jimin pokes at the area in question through his cheek with his fingers, "both the bottom and top."

Yoongi hums, "Sit down," he strides to the drawer near the sink, grabbing a clean dental mirror before he comes to stand at Jimin's side, "open." The younger boy complies.

Yoongi tilts Jimin's head up with a soft push at his chin, "How long has it been hurting?"

"A few weeks," Jimin manages with his mouth still wide open.

Something pokes Yoongi's cheek, and he turns to let Hoseok slide his glasses onto his nose. So that's why it was hard to see.

"Do any of your family have that habit of grinding their teeth when they sleep?" Yoongi asks once his instruments leave Jimin's mouth.

Jimin shakes his head, "Not that I can think of. Why?"

"The crowns of your teeth are a bit damaged," Yoongi explains, "it's not that serious though."

"I see," Jimin nods, "what should I do?"

"Do you have any exams coming up, Jimin-ah?" Yoongi asks instead.

Jimin's eyes widen at that, "...How did you know?"

"Some people grind their teeth in their sleep when they're stressed," His voice drops to a softer tone, "are you okay?"

"Ah, so that's what it is," Jimin smiles and rubs the back of his head, "I didn't know it'd make my teeth ache too."

"Hey," Yoongi pulls Jimiin up until he's standing and opens his arms.

Jimin seems confused, "Hyung?"

"He's offering you a hug," Hoseok whispers, although all of them can hear it, "you know how rare this is."

"Oh," Jimin's face lights up, "Oh," he walks into Yoongi's arms, and Hoseok comes up to envelope him from behind.

"Take it easy sometime, okay?" Yoongi whispers, "We're always here if you need."

"Thank you hyung, really," Jimin says once they've pulled away, "how much would that be-"

Yoongi interrupts him with the loudest disgruntled noise, "Don't you dare pull your wallet out, kid. It was a hug."

"He thinks you're a hug prostitute or something," Hoseok jokes.

"Very funny sweetheart, that's hilarious," Yoongi deadpans, "I'll leave the divorce papers on the table."

Jimin laughs at that, and his smile this time actually reaches his eyes. He pats Yoongi's shoulder before he leaves with a new bottle of painkillers.

"How do your balls feel?" Hoseok asks once Jimin has left.

"Times like this make me reconsider my life choices," Yoongi hangs his head lowly and Hoseok laughs at his despair, "maybe I should've quit dentistry and go make music before it was too late."

"Hey," Hoseok ruffles his hair, "what would poor little Jungkook and Jimin do without you?" He cups Yoongi's cheeks, the ring cold against his skin, "It's like you forget sometimes that you're helping so many people out."

Yoongi reaches up to grasp Hoseok's hand, fingers reaching to trace the little sun engraved on Hoseok's ring out of habit. "Well, I have you here to remind me, don't I?"

"Yeah," Hoseok smiles and tilts Yoongi's face closer, "yeah, you do."

Chapter Text

Hoseok is free for an hour before his next appointment, and decided to treat himself to a little waffle at the cafe on the floor above. He scrolls through the messages from the building's kakaotalk groupchat; a few complaints about the air conditioning being too cold, the walls being too thin, too many mosquitoes since it's cold, the same old issues that were never fixed. He blinks when he sees a notification from a different chat.

[11:04:02] squishy gremlin: hey

[11:04:05] squishy gremlin: do you have an appointment with jeon jungkook today?

[11:04:10] hoseokie: look who it is its my favorite wiggly bear

[11:04:11] hoseokie: and ye why

[11:04:13] squishy gremlin: careful he's a screamer

[11:04:18] squishy gremlin: turned my music all the way up and i still couldn't hear

[11:04:22] squishy gremlin: probably because i went deaf by then

[11:04:25] hoseokie: ah

[11:04:28] hoseokie: is that who the screaming was?

[11:04:30] squishy gremlin: yeah

[11:04:32] hoseokie: shit

[11:04:32] hoseokie: ok

[11:04:35] hoseokie: thank u for the heads up <3

[11:04:36] squishy gremlin: yeah

[11:05:06] squishy gremlin: hey doc

[11:05:10] hoseokie: yes doc??

[11:06:02] squishy gremlin: i love you

[11:06:04] hoseokie: aw doc

[11:06:10] hoseokie: i love u tooth

[11:06:12] squishy gremlin: wow

[11:06:14] squishy gremlin: i've never taken anything back so fast

[11:06:21] hoseokie: no backsies see u at lunch <33

Hoseok grins at his phone, all too amused by the terrible pun he made that has probably severed their marriage.

"Here's your drink and waffle, Dr. Jung," The barista slides Hoseok's tea onto the counter, and a menacing idea strikes him.

"Hey, Jinsoul-ah," He calls, and the girl in question looks up at him, "how is your latte art practice going?"

"It's getting there," Jinsoul laughs, "I can do a few basic shapes, but I want to do more fancy elaborate ones to assert dominance in this competition-oriented place."

Hoseok snorts, "Love the motivation. Can you do basic shapes like...a tooth?"

If Hoseok were to ask this question to any other barista, they would probably stare at him as if waiting for the punchline to a non-existent joke, and Hoseok would watch their face mold into that of confusion and horror, but this is Jinsoul.

"Never thought of doing one ever, but I can probably try," She shrugs, "do you want it now?"

"Oh no," He shakes his head, "maybe in a few weeks time."

"I'll try to perfect it by then," She gives him a thumbs up, not even questioning anything, and her hands suddenly drop down onto the bill Hoseok slides suspiciously onto the counter. "Me and my fish thank you," she whispers, and Hoseok laughs.

Hoseok goes through his messages with Yoongi from earlier. It's not often that Yoongi messages him about a patient, but he starts to suspect why when the clinic's phone rings.

"Ah, hello, I'm calling about the 11 am appointment," The man on the other end is out of breath like he's running, "we might be running a little late... I forgot my son's booklet thing at home, so I'm going back to get it right now."

"Your son's booklet...?"

"The uh," The man stammers, "the baby booklet with the vaccines?"

"Ah, the vaccination schedule," Hoseok nods even though this is a phone call, "when do you think you'll arrive?"

"I shouldn't be too late. Maybe in ten minutes? I'm very sorry for this, Dr. Jung- Kook-ah! We don't have time for banana milk!" There's rustling on the other end, "We can get some on our way back, okay? Daddy did something stupid so we're very late right now- Jungkook!" There's more rustling on the other end and Hoseok just sits there blankly as some unimaginable chaos ensues on the other side. He can hear some wailing at one point, "I know you don't like me carrying you like this, but we have to hurry, bud."

"Please don't worry, Mr. Kim," Hoseok tries, "it's really no problem."

"Sup?" A child's voice comes on, "Aye sed I don want yer dam- Jungkook!"  The call suddenly cuts off.

Well...that was something. Maybe Yoongi did message him for a reason. He wants to strike up a conversation, but from the whirring sounds of some teeth sizzling machine, he's probably busy right now.

Hoseok stares at his watch, his lunch break will probably start off late because of this, but it's fine.

The infamous Kim Namjoon arrives grandly about twenty minutes later, sweat drenched even though it's cold out, pushing the glass door open with his one free hand, with the other occupied with holding his four year old son like a log, and the damned vaccination schedule between this teeth.

After finally calming Namjoon down, which took what feels like a hundred different format of apologies, Hoseok hands him the registration form, "Is your son good with needles?"

Namjoon turns to the son in question who he dropped off at the small play area a feet away. He's staring blankly at a little flower plush that's smiling up at him from between his tiny hands.

"It's been two years since he was last vaccinated, so I'm not sure," Namjoon sighs, "he might not be used to it."

"Two years? Would you like a numbing cream to be applied before the shot then?" Hoseok suggests, "It's completely safe and makes it a lot less painful for the child. A lot of parents request it for their toddler's first vaccination."

"Ah, that would be good," Namjoon considers it, eyes still fixed on his son.

"It takes an hour before it starts numbing though," Hoseok says, "is that alright?"

"It's fine with us, but would that be alright with you, doctor?"

Hoseok's eyes widen, "I'm sorry?"

"You still haven't had your lunch break yet, right? Wouldn't your lunch break be over by the time we're done here if you apply the numbing cream?"

"Oh," Hoseok blinks, "Well, yes, but I really don't mind. I've already had a few bites earlier."

"No, I really don't want to trouble you anymore, doctor," Namjoon sounds guilty, "and I'm sure Jungkook can handle a bit of pain. Right, Kook-ah?" Jungkook looks up from the flower he's been staring at this whole time, "It's gonna hurt a little but that's okay, right?" Jungkook still looks confused, "Daddy will get you two boxes of nana milk if you're a good boy."

The boy's eyes suddenly lights up then as he nods enthusiastically, probably oblivious to what he's actually agreeing to.

Hoseok laughs, "Alright. It only hurts for a few seconds. He'll be fine."

"Right," Namjoon smiles, "but thank you for the suggestion, doctor."

The gratitude takes Hoseok by surprise, "That's alright."

Jungkook is still smiling, probably at the thought of 'nana milk' when he's taken into Hoseok's office, oblivious to the upcoming two vaccine shots on each shoulder. He's still holding onto the smiling flower plush in one hand. Hoseok saw Namjoon try to take it, but the boy's grip was tight enough.

"Do you like Mr. Murakami, Jungkook-ah?" Hoseok asks as Namjoon rolls Jungkook's left shirt sleeve up.

Bringing his attention back to the flower, Jungkook stares down at it blankly again as Hoseok rubs the alcohol pad on his skin. Bracing himself internally, Hoseok pokes the needle into his skin, his senses expecting the usual loud screech.

But it never came.

His father seems to notice the silence too, and stares at his son with wide eyes.

"Oh?" Hoseok removes the needle after injecting it and turns to pull out an animal patterned plaster, "Does it not hurt?"

"You okay, bud?" Namjoon asks, and Jungkook looks up at him, but doesn't say anything.

"Is it Mr. Murakami?" Hoseok asks as he prepares the next shot. At that, Jungkook stares down at the flower in question again. Is he... Is he hypnotized? By the flower?

The same lack of reaction follows the next shot, and Hoseok gapes in amazement, "Wow, I've never seen someone so quiet." He laughs as he pulls out a few cartoon-themed plasters, "Here, Jungkook-ah, which one do you want?"

"Look, Kook, It's Papa!" Namjoon points at the alpaca plaster. Hoseok doesn't really know what that means, but he supposes its one of those parent-child conversations that an outsider wouldn't understand. "You want this one?"

Jungkook, as if just awoken from the spell the funky flower put him in, shakes his head and instead points at the plaster with balloon animals on it. He stares down at the animal now on his arm like he's thinking.

"Aren't these the friends Dr. Min gave you a few weeks ago?" Namjoon points out, "Cooky and Poopy right? The guys you bit into and burst in the middle of the night and Daddy woke up thinking someone broke in, yeah?" Jungkook nods.

"Ah, Dr. Min told me about you," Hoseok smiles, "you're his favorite patient~"

Jungkook looks up with wide eyes, "Really?"

"Yeah!" Hoseok nods, "He only makes these little friends for good boys." He can feel more than hear Yoongi's snort from somewhere on the other side.

"Is Dr. Min a clown?" Jungkook asks.

Silence.

Hoseok is completely silent for a second, only because that statement has pushed him into this stage of enlightenment he has never imagined reaching.

"Oh my god," He whispers, too impacted to even laugh, "oh my god, yes," he grabs Jungkook's hands, "yes, thank you so much." He turns back to grab something from his drawer, "Do you like sweets, Jungkook-ah?"

"Ah," Namjoon seems wary, "I got a warning from Dr. Min to be careful about him eating too many sweets."

"One little piece is fine," He holds the little gummy packet in front of Jungkook, "eat this when you walk past Dr. Min's clinic. It'll absolutely destroy him, that grumpy old man."

Jungkook laughs, probably at the idea of destroying senior citizens, and takes the candy into his hand.

"You look pretty young, doctor," Namjoon points out, "may I ask how old you are?"

"I'm twenty four," Hoseok answers.

"Oh, me too! 1994?" Namjoon looks excited when Hoseok nods, "Ah, it's fine if we're a bit more casual then!"

"Sounds good to me," Hoseok laughs.

"You were the one who was banging on the wall last time right?" Namjoon recalls, "You said you were going to stick a needle into my kid?"

"Ah," Hoseok snorts, "I said that, huh. It's like my memories are repressed into my unconsciousness every time I do something embarrassing."

"I get you," Namjoon nods before he stares into the distance, "I don't even remember how I got to this clinic."

Hoseok laughs, "You're funny, Namjoon-ah."

Namjoon smiles at the casualty, "Hoseok-ah."

"Interesting," Yoongi mutters under his breath.

"What was that, doctor?" Jiwoo asks from the front desk.

"The walls here are thin," Yoongi tells her, "I'm wondering if it's a good thing or not."

Thin walls.

Kim Namjoon's visits feel weirdly frequent. He'd take Jungkook in when he has a headache, a fever, a weird looking bruise, or just dropping by to give him treats and souvenirs from Japan that he doesn't exactly explain as to how he acquired them. To be fair, he comes by to give Yoongi some too, but he always seems keen on striking up a conversation with Hoseok.

One time, Yoongi had an hour to kill before lunch break and considered continuing that series he's been watching with Hoseok, but talked himself out of it with the fact that Hoseok would probably want to watch it with him.

Speak of the devil, he can hear the distinct giggles from the other side, and while it does make the corner of his lips quirk very slightly, it flattens out when he hears Namjoon's voice as he cracks another terrible joke.

That's Yoongi's job though, he thinks stubbornly. He's the one who makes Hoseok tear up from the worst punchlines.

He turns back to his computer and opens up the series on Netflix. Hoseok can catch up.

There was a small little tension during their lunch that day, but Yoongi can't bring himself to care.

Something snaps in Yoongi when he hears Namjoon say, on yet another visit, "Ah! I got these gift vouchers for a free meal at this new Japanese restaurant. It's for two people, so I thought I'd-"

"He's married," Yoongi deadpans, and realizes too late that he said that out loud when the other side goes silent.

"Dr. Min," Hoseok greets, "bored, are we?"

"You're married," Yoongi repeats anyway. Fuck it. If this clumsy single dad hasn't figured it out by now, then Yoongi will just set the deal straight for him. Kim Namjoon doesn't have a very good track record so far, from giving Yoongi a minor case of blue balls that one time, making him sacrifice a day off because of his incompetence as a father, and now hitting on his husband.

"I'm aware," Namjoon says, "me too."

Yoongi freezes, "Oh." He can hear Hoseok snort.

"I'm giving Dr. Jung the voucher so he can take his spouse out since I only have Jungkook right now." Namjoon says after the silence.

Yoongi blinks, "Right. Carry on." He curls into himself as if to hide his red cheeks from the world.

Yoongi doesn't hear from Namjoon for another month after the incident. Jungkook has a weird rash on his arm when he visited a farm.

Namjoon's voice reminds him of his biggest fuck up, so he gives himself the excuse that he'll just go to the toilet for an hour or something.

Just as he takes a step out of the door, he sees a rather agitated man standing in front of Hope Children's Clinic.

"Are you lost?" Yoongi asks, though he's not sure why he's suddenly being nice. Perhaps this is his redemption arc.

"Oh no," The man looks up from his feet, he's quite striking for a first impression, "my son is in there, but I've had enough of the Disney soundtrack chaos going on, so I'm just waiting outside."

Oh, how Yoongi can so painfully relate.

"Would you like to come wait in my clinic then?" Yoongi gestures back to the door he just came out of, "The walls here are thin so the sound isn't completely muffled, but it's bearable, and probably better than standing."

The man's face seems to light up, "That'd be great."

It doesn't click in Yoongi's head until the man has sat down, "I'm Kim Seokjin, by the way." He offers his hand.

"I'm Min Yoongi," Yoongi takes the hand, and he can hear Namjoon's voice again, "You said that your son is in there?"

Seokjin nods, "Jeon Jungkook. His other dad is in there with him."

Yoongi freezes, oh.

Oh, it's even worst than he had imagined.

This is some Who's Your Daddy situation, a real life Mamma Mia scenario with the tension between the fathers because the mother had remarried. The competition to win poor Jungkook's love and-

"Calm down, doctor," Seokjin is smirking like he knows Yoongi had gone into a mini spiral, "it's not that juicy."

Yoongi straightens up, "I'm sorry?"

With the same smirk, Seokjin clarifies, "The other father is my husband, Dr. Min."

Oh.

Chapter Text

Yoongi and Hoseok aren't necessarily hiding their relationship; they're well past that stage.

But it's not like they go around flaunting it either. Sure, they were all over each other the first few years together, but when the stability of marriage came they didn't have to prove anything to anyone anymore. They were best friends. Are best friends. Yoongi was a love-struck fool who wasn't even out to his parents yet when he proposed to Hoseok. Hell, he was so determined to marry this idiot that he signed all the documents before the customized rings were even delivered, and threw this half-assed "wedding" that was just a gathering of frat boys in cheap suits, Hoseok's sister, and a small rented hall in a hotel with a birthday cake. The simultaneously worst and best part of all this was that Hoseok liked it.

Yoongi and Hoseok aren't necessarily hiding their relationship; people just don't ask... though they realized belatedly that it's because people don't expect it.

"Heteronormativity," Was all Yoongi said when Hoseok mentioned someone assuming that he has a wife again.

"I corrected them and they thought I was joking," Hoseok sighed. He didn't say it outright, but Yoongi could tell that after his parents' reactions, he was slightly if not very terrified of the prospect of people finding out. He wasn't ashamed though. He wouldn't have married Yoongi if he were.

So no, Yoongi and Hoseok aren't necessarily hiding their relationship, but for many reasons, they don't show it off either.

Yoongi has a few gay friends, none of which were married, all of which looked at Yoongi as if he was crazy for proposing to Hoseok, but turned up to the wedding anyway.

He thinks that much should justify him standing there, mouth agape at Kim Seokjin's words.

"The other father is my husband, Dr. Min," He says so easily, so simply, with the widest grin on his face.

He seems to have misinterpreted Yoongi's silence when he closes his eyes and nods, "Don't worry about kicking me out, I'll leave."

"Ah, no," Yoongi says when the man makes a move to get up, "I was just surprised. You're more than welcomed to stay."

Seokjin snickers and sits back against his chair, "Haven't seen a gay married man before? Take it all in, doc."

Yoongi wills himself to not scowl, "Gay and married is the epitome of my entity, sir. I'll pass."

He expects some kind of shock or perhaps revelation from the other end, but Seokjin only smiles wider at that, "The thought was in my head when I saw your ring, but I didn't act upon it."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "What's wrong with my ring?"

"A silver ring with a moon engraved on it, doctor," Seokjin deadpans, "you think I'd see that sun and moon getup and think you're straight?"

Yoongi actually scowls, but it breaks off into a laugh, "I guess you have a point."

"Who's the sun then?" At the question, Yoongi jerks his jaw towards the wall where Hoseok's chirpy voice is muffled beyond it. Seokjin hums, "How convenient. I'm finally back in Korea after, like, two months? It was supposed to be three but I got off early. That husband of mine got me quite worried every time we facetimed. Something's always happening in the background."

"Where did you come back from?" Yoongi won't admit it, but this guy isn't too bad to talk to, especially not after that sudden reveal.

"I was in Hokkaido for a business thing," Seokjin says, "a restaurant there wanted to open a branch in Seoul, so I went to meet them."

Things are starting to slowly piece together in Yoongi's mind; the souvenirs from Japan, the gift vouchers. God, he's such an idiot. Single dad Kim Namjoon isn't single let alone desperate, oh no, alleged single dad Kim Namjoon managed to snatch some hot business man and a kid off the rack.

Said kid is suddenly wailing very loudly.

"Kook-ah, you have to give back Mr. Murakami." Not-single dad Kim Namjoon's tired voice sounds.

"No!" Jungkook protests.

"Please sweetie," Namjoon pleads, "he's not yours."

Turning back to the man in front of him, Seokjin is listening to the whole interaction with the most muted expression, like the father and son's desperate cries are just white noise.

He sighs once Jungkook starts crying, "Back to the real world, I guess." He pushes up from his seat and Yoongi follows suit.

The sight beyond the glass walls of Hope Children's Clinic was a sight to behold.

Jungkook stands with Mr. Murakami still in his grip, his red petal gnawed between tiny bunny teeth, his ':D' face indicating underlying pain and suffering. Namjoon is...on the floor, his palms resting flat on the ground besides his head that is ducked before his son's feet. A little whisper of, "Please, daddy wants to go home," escaping his lips. Hoseok is there too, staring blankly from the side, clueless as to what he's supposed to do.

Yoongi hears a loud fake shutter sound from behind him.

"New contribution to the parenting diary," Seokjin murmurs as he tucks his phone away into his pocket and swings the door open into the crime scene.

"Pappa?" Mr. Murakami drops from Jungkook's mouth onto the ground, to which Hoseok quickly picks it up.

"Hey there stinky boy," Seokjin picks alleged stinky boy up into his arms, "god, you're heavy."

Namjoon's eyes widen when he finally gets back up onto his feet, "Jin hyung."

"Surprise, or not so surprise," Seokjin acknowledges his husband with a nod, "you would've known if you'd checked your messages."

"Ah, shoot," Namjoon quickly fishes his phone out and groans, "Jungkook kept trying to run around so I didn't get to even glance at my phone."

Seokjin suddenly pokes at Namjoon's stomach, "Even you're getting a bit of that dad pouch," he frowns, "what have you two been eating?"

"It's not a lot-"

"I want names, Namjoon."

Namjoon gives in, "...There's this bakery-"

"Nevermind," Seokjin cuts him off, "that's more than enough." He wipes Jungkook's dried tears off his red blotchy cheeks (traces of the chaos that ensued earlier) and puts him down before he turns to greet Hoseok at last. "Hello doctor, I should've introduced myself sooner."

"Ah, that's alright," Hoseok laughs, "a lot of... things were happening just now."

"I'm Kim Seokjin. Jungkook's dad." Hoseok's eyes widen, "I've met your husband."

"Oh," Hoseok slowly nods before he turns to meet Yoongi's eyes, smiling when Yoongi waggles his eyebrows in response, "I see."

"Thank you for taking care of Namjoon and Jungkook," Seokjin says, "I know they're a handful."

"They're fun to have around," Hoseok laughs, ignoring Namjoon's 'Hey!'.

"How did you manage to know so much from first interaction?" Namjoon asks once they're in Seokjin's car.

"Know what?"

"That Hoseok and Yoongi-ssi are gay and married! I've known them ever since we've moved here and I never knew that!" Namjoon complains.

Seokjin shrugs, "Gay instincts I guess."

"What do you mean, gay instincts?" Hoseok laughs at Yoongi's answer, wiping poor Mr. Murakami with anti-bacterial wipes. He's going to have to bring the flower plush home to wash along with his laundry anyway, now that Jungkook has successfully stuffed the whole thing into his mouth

Yoongi shrugs as he pulls on his coat, "He was an interesting guy. I like him."

"What about Namjoonie?" Hoseok is grinning from where he's swirling around on Yoongi's chair.

"Namjoon's fine," Yoongi tries to act nonchalant.

"Yeah? You don't hate him?"

"Why would I hate him?"

"Oh come on hyung," Hoseok pokes Yoongi's waist, "you know why."

"No," Yoongi turns to flick the lights off and turns away from Hoseok who's now standing behind him, "I don't."

It's completely dark in Yoongi's office. Jiwoo has already gone home, and not a lot of clinics are open today in the first place.

Hoseok's arms loop around his waist, "I can't believe you were jealous," he noses at Yoongi's cheek, "didn't know you were still capable."

"Shut up," Yoongi mutters, but leans into the touch anyway.

"Ah, my Yoongi is so cute~" Hoseok coos, tightening his hold on Yoongi and rocking them gently.

The whole idea of belonging to someone, belonging to Hoseok; it's something that Yoongi never admits to liking, but Hoseok knows anyway.

Yoongi rests his hands above Hoseok's, and the sun and moon on their rings line up. Though barely visible in the dark, they both know it's there. Seokjin's right, Yoongi thinks, this is really gay.

"Hyung," Hoseok whispers, nudging Yoongi until he turns around for a kiss. He never thought of a good comeback to what Hoseok said, maybe something will come up when they get home and another banter ensues. Seeing Seokjin and Namjoon reminds him of their early years, stressed and confused yet so determined. The banter can rest temporarily; for now, Yoongi just wants to hold his husband.

After a brief moment has passed, Yoongi kisses the corner of Hoseok's mouth before he pulls away, but Hoseok's grip tightens around him.

"Hey," Yoongi pushes him, "I still gotta throw out the trash."

"Nooo," Hoseok whines like a child as he buries his face into Yoongi's shoulder, "let me love you."

"You've done plenty of that, DJ Snake," Yoongi tries to untangle himself, "let's go home."

"You know, I suspected something, but I didn't want to just assume," Namjoon brings the topic back up again once they've arrived home and Jungkook skipped to his room.

"That's very polite of you, sweetheart," Seokjin says the pet name with a bit of passive aggression as he wipes down the stove that was clean before he left months ago. (Namjoon gasped in wonder when Seokjin picked up the burner, "You can remove those!?")

"It all clicked when you said it," Namjoon continues, holding the trash bag open for Seokjin to chuck in scraps of burnt leftovers, "the way they look at each other was telling."

"Yeah? I didn't notice since you were literally begging Jungkook to go home," Seokjin deadpans.

Namjoon jolts, "I was desperate! We both woke up late this morning, I didn't eat breakfast but Kook did don't worry. I realized I forgot my phone at home and had to come back, and Jungkook spilled cereal onto the floor because he wanted to make me breakfast or something so I tried to clean it up but we were late and he really really wanted to eat something along the way he wouldn't budge at one point so I promised him that we can get something on our way back but you turned up and drove us home so we didn't and now he's mad at me and I just realized as I'm speaking right now that I just indirectly blamed you for that and now you're probably mad at me too."

Seokjin quietly sets the burner back onto the stove with a sigh, "Right."

"I'm sorry hyung," Namjoon lets Seokjin take the bag from his hand to tie it up and throw it into the garbage, "I know I said I'll be able to look after Jungkook on my own without you around, but I just ended up causing more mess for you to come back to."

"It'd probably still be a mess with me around," Seokjin shrugs nonchalantly.

"Still, it wouldn't have been this outrageous," Namjoon hangs his head lowly, "I could've done better."

"You'll do better," Seokjin pokes under Namjoon's chin with his index finger. He waits for Namjoon to look up at him before he leans in to kiss him, chaste.

Namjoon still looks guilty, "What's that for?"

"It's a peace offering," Seokjin says as he pulls the corner of Namjoon's mouth up with his hands, "You did well, daddy."

At that, Namjoon ducks his head with a smile, "Thanks, papa."

Chapter Text

Some days are longer than others.

The work hours are the same, yes, but a day can sometimes feel like it's been stretched out to years.

Hope Children's Clinic is closed on Thursdays and Sundays. Sunday is a day off, but on Thursday, Dr. Jung works in the pediatric ward at a local hospital a few stations away.

Hoseok always comes home late on Thursday nights. Yoongi used to stay up to wait for him, but has been pestered enough times to just go to sleep when he's tired.

"I get paid a bit better there," Hoseok murmurs into the pillow one night, "I just need to work there until all my debt is paid off."

"I told you I can just pay them off for you," Yoongi grumbles, his hand caressing the back of Hoseok's neck.

Hoseok shakes his head, "Let me do this for myself, hyung."

"You're gonna overwork yourself."

Hoseok turns to face Yoongi, his cheek smushed against the pillow with a smile, "Good thing I have you around to stop me then." His hand comes up to cover Yoongi's on his shoulder, and moves it to his face so he can snuggle into it.

On a particularly long day, Yoongi drags himself out of his office to slump against the wall, "How many left for today?" He asks his assistant.

"Five," Jiwoo answers.

"And tomorrow?"

"Eight," She laughs when Yoongi curses under his breath, "I'm cheering you on, Dr. Min."

"Just say you want a raise," Yoongi murmurs as he rests his head against the wall, "I feel like I'm hearing things. Those stupid shaker toys and what not."

"There's a baby with a giraffe toy in front of the clinic, doctor." Jiwoo says.

Yoongi looks up to see a toddler, barely walking by herself. One hand is holding her mother's while the other is holding a very familiar shaker toy.

He squints, is that...Mr. Toto from Africa?

It must be. Hoseok's parents sent him that set of soft shaker toys when he first opened his clinic. It was the first time they've reached out to him after that heated argument a year before Hoseok graduated. Mr. Toto from Africa was always sitting in the cup of pens on Hoseok's desk. It works like magic, hyung. Hoseok said in the cheeriest voice and the brightest smile, Kids love it so much they're completely distracted by it.

Hoseok really treasured the toy, so why is a toddler leaving with it?

Perhaps he gave her Mr. Toto from Africa to play with but forgot to ask for it back when they're done? How tired was Hoseok to forget such a thing?

Like some miracle, the girl suddenly drops the toy just as her mother urges her to walk faster, and the poor giraffe is left alone on the cold corridor.

"I'm going to the toilet," Yoongi announces as he pushes off the wall and out of the clinic. Jiwoo sees him bending down to pick up the toy and smiles knowingly.

The front desk is empty, but Let It Go starts playing as soon as Yoongi pushes the door open and he scrunches his nose in disgust. The automated Lawson's 'Hello welcome'  chimes and he makes his way to Dr. Jung's office, peeking his head in at first to see if he has a patient before sliding the door completely open.

Hoseok seems to be spacing out, staring off somewhere or nowhere, eyes threatening to close. They open completely when he sees Yoongi, and he bites back an obvious laugh.

"I’m sorry, have you booked an appointment?" Hoseok asks in a serious tone, flipping through his appointment book, “Ah, Yoongi-yah, it’s time you go visit a grown up doctor now, okay? You’re a big boy now.”

Yoongi chuckles as he steps into Hoseok’s office, “No more room for this twenty six year old child?” Hoseok laughs tiredly.

"Is it time to go?" Hoseok pulls the sleeve of his coat back to check his watch and pouts, "It's only two..." He looks up at Yoongi, "to what do I owe the pleasure then, Dr. Min?"

Yoongi pulls the shaker toy out of his pocket, giving it a little shake in front of Hoseok for good measure.

Hoseok's eyes light up at that, "Mr. Toto from Africa!" He takes the toy from Yoongi's hand and puts it back in its place, "How did he get to you?"

"Your patient took it and dropped it in front of my clinic." Yoongi explains.

Something seems to click in Hoseok's mind, "Ah, sh- damn it, right." He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, "I don't know why I'm so tired today."

"Probably because you went to sleep at two last night," Yoongi grumbles, "what were you even doing?"

"A few cases in the hospital yesterday just got me thinking," Hoseok shrugs, "I kinda feel like they don't want me there."

Yoongi snorts, "Did you crack a bad joke or something?"

Hoseok shakes his head, "I wish. They're cutting down my salary again."

The laughter in Yoongi's throat immediately dies down, "Seok..." He walks up behind Hoseok's chair and brushes his hands over his shoulders before he starts to gently massage it. He's so tense.

Hoseok hums at the touch and throws his head back, eyes fluttering shut, "That feels good."

"How much longer do you have to work there?" Yoongi whispers.

"'Til the end of this month, actually," Hoseok answers, "then I'll start working here on Thursdays."

"Or you could keep Thursday as another day off," Yoongi suggests, "One day off isn't enough for you."

He expects Hoseok to argue that it's fine, but to his surprise, Hoseok nods softly, "I'll consider it." His hands come up to hold Yoongi's before he spins around in his chair to face him. "Do you have drool on your shirt?” He asks suddenly, cautious.

Yoongi scrunches his nose, “Why would I have drool on my shirt?”

“How would I know?” Hoseok shrugs, “A lot of teeth sizzling, lots of spit and fluids everywhere.”

"Teeth sizzling,"  Yoongi shakes his head inbemusement, “Well there’s this thing called coats, you should be familiar. You're wearing one.” He points out.

“No drool then?” Hoseok asks again, and at Yoongi’s confirmation, his hands skim to Yoongi's waist, and he pulls his husband over by the belt loops, nuzzling into his soft stomach. Yoongi chuckles quietly before his hands come up to brush through Hoseok's hair.

"Thanks for saving Mr. Toto," Hoseok says into Yoongi's stomach before kissing him there.

"It was a moral obligation," Yoongi says, "you should get an assistant to do the front desk stuff for you. Doing everything by yourself is too much."

"I would if you didn't steal Jiwoo from me."

"It wasn't my fault she chose me."

"You bribed her with free checkups, jerk," Hoseok lightly punches Yoongi's waist, "She's good with kids. Do you know how long it took me to find someone young who's good with kids?"

"I can ask her to ask a few friends if you want," Yoongi suggests, "she probably hangs out with gentle people, right?"

"Debatable, but sure. I'd be open to that." He pulls away from Yoongi's stomach, but his hands are still on Yoongi's waist, "When's your next appointment, hyung?"

Yoongi hums, "In half an hour, I think."

"Mine's in ten minutes," Hoseok frowns, "stay here with me until then? Unless they're gonna arrive early-" The distant sound of a child singing crashes down any plan Hoseok has in mind and he groans, "nevermind."

Yoongi laughs, "Keep yourself alive, doctor," just as he's about to pull Hoseok's hands off, said hands drift over to his ass and suddenly grabs a hanful. Yoongi squawks in response, lightly hitting Hoseok's shoulder, "watch it, you punk. Time and place." Hoseok is giggling against his stomach until he finally lets him go.

"Wait hyung," Hoseok calls, standing up just as Yoongi turns to leave. He walks up and lightly grabs Yoongi's face, tilting it to the side so he could plant one little kiss on his cheekbone before he lets go, "your reward for rescuing Mr. Toto."

Yoongi bites back a smile, ducking his head as he slides open the door. Hoseok suddenly brings his hand down onto his ass again, and Yoongi turns to shoot him a dirty glare as he finally walks out.

✧

The lunch break for both Min's Dental and Hope Children's Clinic is from 12 to 2 pm. In the two hours, Dr. Min and Dr. Jung sometimes head up to the restaurant two floors above, or to the mall a street away where most doctors go for their break. They usually eat at the large yet almost empty food court on the fifth floor. The food there is cheap, though no one really knows why doctors like them would settle for the cheapest place they could find.

Sometimes Dr. Min is seen eating alone, but heads back with a bag of uneaten take out.

There are days when Hoseok's schedule is so messy that he doesn't have time to go out for lunch, or their lunch breaks don't match from special or emergency appointments that cost them sacrificing an hour of their break.

On those days, Yoongi leaves to eat alone, then, with the bag of take out and after a quick scan of his surroundings, sneaks into Hope Children's Clinic and into the break room, leaving Hoseok's lunch on the table there before he speed-walks out with trained stealth.

There are days when Yoongi is so tired he forgets about lunch, and just drags himself into the break room at the back and throws himself onto the couch there, kicking his shoes off.

On those days, the door clicks open softly, and warm lips brush his forehead. "You awake?"

Yoongi shakes his head but sits up with his eyes still closed, grabbing blindly for Hoseok until he can pull him down onto the couch beside him. He feels an arm rest on the back of the couch and he tips his head back to rest his cheek on it.

"Aren't you hungry?" Yoongi shakes his head and Hoseok chuckles. "Let's stay here then."

While he knows Hoseok doesn't actually mean it, they still spend a bit of time just sitting there. Yoongi feels Hoseok nuzzle his face closer, brushing their noses softly with acontented sigh.

"Hyung," Hoseok says when he's decided that it's time to cut the crap, "we gotta eat. Come on." At Yoongi's rejection, he thumbs Yoongi's eyebrows, smushing them together to make him frown and stretching them out to make him look devastated, cackling at the sight until Yoongi swats his hands off and gets up.

✧

Saturdays are often the longest days. Some days are light, with three or maybe four appointments, but Saturday can be filled up to the very limit of twenty appointments or even more since both doctors are bad at rejecting people.

On those days, they either end up tired or stressed over nothing in particular, all winded up and grumpy, willing to snap at anything. Their banters on Saturday evenings are more stingy, the bite a little stronger than usual. Hoseok once got mad at Yoongi because his hands were too cold, and Yoongi reciprocated because Hoseok wouldn't hold his hand ('Fucking snob', Yoongi called him). They elbowed each other, each time escalating in power that sometimes they ended up roughly shoving each other until they got bored.

There are several ways to unwind though.

"Are you tired, hyung?" Hoseok asks Yoongi when he has come out of the shower.

"I'm always tired," Yoongi mutters, pulling his sleep shirt on.

"Oh," Hoseok sounds disappointed.

Yoongi groans at that, "What do you want?"

"...Can you wait for me to wash up?" He hesitates, "Like... don't go to sleep yet."

Oh, "Sure," Yoongi tries to be nonchalant, but his heart is already thumping in his chest, "whatever."

Yoongi usually spends that time lounging on the bed reading a book. He has to stop to slide his glasses up his nose every now and then. He's more jittery on some nights and none of the words in the book actually absorbs into his head, distracted by Hoseok's faint humming from the bathroom.

The sound of the shower eventually shuts off and a few minutes later, Yoongi's glasses is being pulled off his face and he quickly marks his place in the book before putting it away as Hoseok crawls into his lap, fresh outof the shower. Hoseok's hair is still wet, and Yoongi can feel the droplets fall on his cheek when they kiss, but he doesn't mind.

Warmth sometimes feels more like a state of mind than heat. Warmth is Hoseok's soft lips, the smell of their body wash, Hoseok straddling him, and his eager noise when Yoongi's hands drift down to grope his ass. Warmth is Hoseok suddenly laughing into the kiss when Yoongi does something stupid, orwhen the kisses on his neck are so light theytickle, when he just feels so giddy and excited that he has to laugh. Warmth is the sounds Hoseok makes, moans and whimpers whispering right into Yoongi's ears, lips grazing the shell. Warmth is Hoseok cooing at Yoongi's pale stomach when he moves to pull their shirts off, when Yoongi tells him to shut up and Hoseok kisses at his hipbone as an apology. Warmth is Hoseok, and just the very idea of being close to each other.

On those nights, Yoongi feels very, very warm.

There are so many ways to unwind.

Hoseok nudges Yoongi with an elbow, "I bought something new today."

Yoongi grins, "Is it sexy?"

"So sexy."

"What's the occasion?" 

"Tomorrow's a day off. We can stay up as late as we want," Hoseok wiggles his eyebrows. "What d'ya say, hyung?" He turns to Yoongi, "Wanna play?"

Yoongi licks his lips, "Sure."

"Let me give you a peek," Hoseok opens the bag in his hand for Yoongi to peer into, laughing at the way Yoongi's jaw drops.

"I- you didn't."

"Oh I did," Hoseok winks.

"God," Yoongi groans, "I hope Jimin sleeps like the dead. You're gonna be loud."

Hoseok shrugs, "He can always join us if he wants."

"Yeah," The corridor has never felt so long.

An hour after they've started, Yoongi drops himself back onto the couch, panting as he wipes the sweat off his forehead, "That's it for me. I can't do any more."

"You have no stamina," Hoseok crosses his arms, though he's also panting just as much. He pokes Yoongi's knee, "Come on hyung. One more round."

"I physically cannot get up," Yoongi sags further into the cushions.

Hoseok huffs, "Fine." He turns to grab the PS4 controller and exits the Dance Dance Revolution home screen before he shuts the TV off. "This was a great investment though," He says as he crouches down to fold up the dance pad, unplugging the cable from the PS4 and tucking it into a cupboard, "the look on your face when you saw this was priceless."

"Never thought I'd be able to play an arcade game in my living room," Yoongi admits, "how did you even manage to find one?"

"It took me a while," Hoseok says, "worth it though."

"Yeah," Yoongi laughs, "I love you." He looks up to see Hoseok's wide smile, the exact one he finds himself falling for over and over again.

"I love you too."

Some days are longer than others, but they always have each other to help unwind.

Chapter Text

"Dr. Min is single."

Jiwoo looks up from her phone, "Come again?"

"Isn't he?" Chaeyoung asks as she digs into her lunch, "He doesn't seem like he is."

"Doesn't he wear a ring?" Sooyoung adds as she hands a takeout container to Jiwoo.

"I have no idea. He always has his hands shoved into his pockets when he's out and about," Chaeyoung complains, "you're with him all the time, Jiwoo. Have you seen a ring?"

Jiwoo shrugs, "He's always wearing gloves."

"Do you think he's married?"

"It's none of my business."

"Ouch. Alright."

"What makes you think he's single, unnie? You're older than him." Sooyoung comments.

"Only by a few years," Chaeyoung counters, "it's not like I'm actively trying to get him. I'm just saying that if I have to settle for someone here, it'd be him. Dr. Jung's taken, anyway."

"I guess they're both attractive," Sooyoung hums, "am I the only one who gets the vibe that he's like, already married with kids?"

Chaeyoung chokes, "What? For real?"

Clinic staffs are always up to something during lunch break when all the doctors are out. Today is just another gossiping session over a few shared containers of takeout.

Sooyoung sets her chopsticks down, "Other than the fact that I'm pretty sure I've seen a ring, I also have another observation."

"What is it?"

"Hello~" Sooyoung pulls the door open and steps into Min's Dental, where Min's dental himself is sitting at the front desk.

"Ah, Sooyoung-ssi," Dr. Min sets his phone down and pushes himself up, "good afternoon."

"Hello doctor," Sooyoung greets again, "is Jiwoo here? I got her a few things she asked for from the pharmacy."

"She went to the toilet I think," Dr. Min hums, "she'll be back soon. You can wait here if you want."

His phone buzzes then, the caller ID reads 'home', and the doctor quickly grabs it, leaving Sooyoung to sit at the front with a muttered "Excuse me."

"...Are you saying he has a house?"

"Yeah! And a landline at that," Sooyoung chirps, "nobody lives in a house alone. You have to have a big family at least, like a partner and a few kids."

"Ah... he's rich," Chaeyoung comments, "I guess he would have enough to support a whole family. The toys are probably for his kids then."

"You've heard about the toys?" Jiwoo laughs, "He orders a few expensive figurines from time to time."

"Have you ever asked him who the figurines are for?" Chaeyoung asks, "It could be for himself."

"Again," Jiwoo shrugs, "none of my business."

"I'm starting to see why he hired you of all people." Jiwoo grins. Yoongi never told her, but she knows, of course.

It's obvious.

On a particular Tuesday, the lights in Hope's children clinic are out, an unusual sight.

Dr. Min seems particularly grumpy that day, fidgeting and walking around more than usual, always checking the time on his watch and stopping by to check how many appointments he has left. It's a particularly slow day, with only a few appointments in the morning, but none in the afternoon.

While Jiwoo is deciding what to have for lunch, Dr. Min re-emerges into the clinic with a bag of porridge from the mall next to the building.

"You can start cleaning up," He says as he sets the porridge down on the counter and shuffles to the storage closet.

"Ah, are we closing early today?" Jiwoo asks warily.

Dr. Min nods, "We don't have anymore appointments today, right?" Jiwoo nods, "I'm kinda tired today anyway. You can take the rest of the day off, I'll still pay you the full amount."

"Oh no doctor, it's fine," Jiwoo quickly says, "I've worked half the hours I'm supposed to be working. Just go take care of what it is you have to take care of."

Dr. Min comes back with a mop and stares at her blankly for a minute, like he's suspicious that she knows something, but doesn't comment on it.

It's so obvious.

"Ah! Jiwoo-yah," Dr. Jung greets her as he steps into the clinic with two cups of coffee from the cafe upstairs, "where has that grumpy dentist gone?"

"Dr. Min went up to get coffee," Jiwoo smiles.

"He did?" Dr. Jung's lips purse into a little pout as he looks down at the drinks in his hands before it stretches into a smile again, "Do you like coffee? This one's a bit bitter though."

"I could use a cup right now," Jiwoo happily accepts it, "thank you. Was it for Dr. Min?"

"Not anymore," Dr. Jung hums, "I gotta go. Good luck with work!"

Jiwoo stares down at the obnoxiously large cup of iced americano in her hands, 'extra shots + sugar-free' scribbled across in Jinsoul's handwriting and smiles.

"Dr. Jung and Dr. Min," Chaeyoung hums, "I wonder what their relationship is."

"They seem like very good friends," Sooyoung comments.

"They're always arguing though," Chaeyoung counters, "they always make these passive-aggressive comments to each other."

"That's probably just playful banter," Sooyoung suggests, "I've heard Dr. Min call Dr. Jung pretty."

"They're enemies, not blind." Chaeyoung rebuts.

"Why does he look so lonely these days then, if not for Dr. Jung going away to a three-day meeting in Jeju?"

"Maybe he's not used to it being so quiet." Chaeyoung is relentless.

"Explain to me why they're always visiting each other's clinics then."

"To argue?"

"Jiwoo-yah, your verdict?"

"None of my business."

"God," Chaeyoung groans, "did Dr. Min make you sign a non-disclosure agreement or something? Your lips are sealed."

"As if," Jiwoo laughs, and her eyes catch the time on the clock, "oh, lunch is over. Gotta go."

"That's our cue I guess," Sooyoung says as she stands up.

"Ah, that girl," Chaeyoung pouts at Jiwoo's back, "I wonder what it'd take to make her snitch."

Dr. Min is still out by the time Jiwoo makes it back to the clinic and sets up for the next appointment in half an hour. Dr. Min returns just as she's settling herself down on the chair at the front desk.

"Hello doctor," Jiwoo chirps, "how was your break?"

"S' not long enough," Dr. Min grumbles as he slouches into one of the chairs at the front desk, "I feel so drained today. I don't know why."

Jiwoo hums sympathetically, "Well if it cheers you up, a few of your KAWS figures arrived when you were gone. They're on your desk."

"Ah, are they?" Dr. Min's face lights up and he pushes himself off the chair before he makes his way deeper into the clinic, "Thank you."

After Jiwoo has done her part of the cleaning up and left, Yoongi goes through a few of the boxes on his desk. Good thing they've all arrived on time.

He sets the clinic's phone down after checking all the appointments tomorrow and pulls out his phone from his pocket. The contact isn't difficult to locate, sitting on top of his favorites list with the very simple name of 'home'.

It takes no more than a few rings for the call to pick up, and Yoongi lets himself smile wide like an idiot now that he's alone.

"Seok-ah," He greets, "no, I'm leaving soon though," he looks back up at the boxes of figures he's ordered earlier last month, "I've got a few things for you. You'll like it. Come home quick."

Yoongi smiles at the response, "I miss you too."

Chapter Text

"Do you have any plans tomorrow?" Namjoon asks when Seokjin settles into the bed next to him.

"Not that I can think of," Seokjin curls up under the sheets, "why?"

"You should take Jungkook out somewhere." Namjoon suggests. "Like the park or something."

Seokjin quirks an eyebrow up at him, "'You' as in only me? What about you?" 

"Ah, well," Namjoon shrugs. "I thought it'd be nice for you two to have some bonding time since you've been gone for a while."

"What does that have to do with you not going?" Seokjin eyes him suspiciously, "Do you have plans?" 

"No no," Namjoon quickly clarifies, "I just... thought you might want some time alone with Jungkook," he huffs out a laugh, "he's probably sick of me anyway."

"Hey," Seokjin pushes himself to sit up so he can face Namjoon, "where did that come from? Do you have a problem with me or Jungkook? Or both?"

"What? No!" Namjoon denies, exasperated. "I've been the only person around him since you left for that trip. He gets tired of me sometimes. It's natural when someone's always around you for so long." 

"God, you really-" Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose, "We've been married for three years and I've been nagging you for six, do you get sick of me too?"

"Hyung, no," Namjoon whines, frustrated that things are getting way out of hand. "I know I can be a handful sometimes, so I thought both of you might appreciate a Namjoon-free break."

Seokjin sighs, "We've had Jungkook since he was barely walking. He loves you," he brushes his hand over Namjoon's, "same goes for me."

Namjoon frowns down at his hand, "You're right. Sorry."

"You've changed a lot throughout the years we've been together, but two things will always remain the same," Seokjin gives him this soft, fond look, "your loud fucking snores and that seconds-to-absolute-stress-fuelled-pandemonium brain of yours," he flicks Namjoon's forehead with his index finger, ignoring his husband's pained yelp as he settles back down under the covers. "We're all going out tomorrow. It'll be the most generic and memorable family outing ever."

After a moment of stillness and silence, Seokjin turns and reaches out to yank Namjoon's hair onto his pillow with a grumbled "Sleep."

Namjoon does sleep. He remembers going to bed a bit hopeful that there won't be any occurences in the night that will pull him out of bed, no balloon poodle or abandoned bluetooth speakers.

Hope is nothing but that though— hope.

Namjoon feels something poke his nose but ignores it, brushing it off as some weird bodily function that occurs during sleep or some lonely ghost.

Just as he feels that the weak insistent poking has come to a stop, a small hand slaps down onto his face way too hardly for a normal four year old.

"Kook?" Namjoon rasps, forcing his eyes open, everything still fuzzy and blurry save for the two bright doe eyes staring too intently at him in the dim light, "You okay bud?"

Jungkook sniffles, and that is all it takes for Namjoon's system to wake in alert and abruptly pushes himself up, sheets pooling at his waist, "What's wrong?"

His son's lips are shiny and trembling, cheeks wet with tears that are still rolling down from his eyes in tiny balls. He doesn't say anything, but waits until Namjoon is up on his feet before he starts to lead the way to his room.

He stands next to the small puddle of his dinner from earlier, pointing down at it as he looks Namjoon straight in the eyes, "Ew."

Namjoon almost curses under his breath but luckily catches himself in time, "Indeed."

He crouches down warily, feeling Jungkook's forehead with the back of his hand and just barely stops the alarms in his head from going off when it's blazing hot.

"Breathe," Namjoon says to himself but Jungkook seems to be listening. He turns to grab a few tissues from the nightstand and dabs away his son's spit and tears. "Go lie down, bun. I'll be back."

After tucking Jungkook back in bed and avoiding the puddle of vomit, Namjoon sets off to grab a wet towel to clean up the mess. A weird discovery hits when he doesn't feel extremely disgusted by having to clean up actual vomit, doesn't feel any sickening stench at all. He wonders how much of it is because toddlers don't eat anything smelly or the father-son bond has masked out any feeling of disgust in his body.

That done, he leaves once more to rummage through the medicine drawer, testing to see if the thermometer still works before he pops it in Jungkook's mouth. The boy is already halfway back to sleeping.

Next on the list: wake the other responsible adult up.

"Hyung," Namjoon whispers as he gently shakes Seokjin's shoulder.

"Joon, I'm not awake enough for sex," Seokjin grumbles, voice addled with sleep.

"That's not it," Namjoon says, slightly flustered, "Jungkook threw up."

He's awake at that, dizzily waddling to the boy's room with his eyes barely open.

Namjoon sighs when he pulls the beeping thermometer out of Jungkook's mouth, "Yup, that's definitely a fever. And I think these teeth marks aren't coming off."

"Kook-ah," Seokjin kneels down near the bed, fingers brushing through his son's hair, "does your head hurt? How do you feel?"

Jungkook nods, but doesn't give out any warning before he's breaking into tears again.

Namjoon's eyebrows are knotted together as he stands up, chin jutted out like when he's stressed over work, "I'll go get him some painkillers. I should call Hoseok too."

"It's two in the morning," Seokjin calls after him.

"Ah right," Namjoon's voice echoes from the kitchen, "but will he accept calls before the clinic opens? Should I try anyway? What if it's not actually big deal and we're just freaking out?"

"That's what you're doing right now, babe," Seokjin reminds him calmly. "We'll call him in the morning." 

"Right," Namjoon mutters when he re-emerges into Jungkook's room, softly slapping his own face before handing Jungkook one half of a painkiller tablet, "just like before, Kook."

It takes a few tries, but Jungkook finally manages to swallow the tablet.

"Daddy..." Tiny little hands come up to grab Namjoon's face, "hurts."

"You'll feel better in a bit, bun," Namjoon assures him, brushing his bangs off his forehead as Seokjin sets a cool pad there. "Go back to sleep. We'll go see Dr. Jung in the morning."

They both sit there, rubbing Jungkook's little feet and brushing his hair until his breathing evens out. Namjoon lets out a sob after they've carefully slipped out of the room.

"It's just a fever." Seokjin says, "He'll be fine."

"I know, I know but it just," Namjoon takes a shuddering breath, "it hurts to see him like that. He's so small."

Seokjin sighs as he pulls Namjoon into a hug, letting him cry into his shoulder as he brushes a hand through his hair. "Gosh, I'm living with two babies."

Namjoon doesn't usually cry. He gets upset alot over work, sure, but the few recent times that Namjoon has cried, as Seokjin can recall, is when they first got Jungkook (happy tears)and when the kid fell off his bike and scraped his knee (very sad tears).

Seokjin presses a kiss to Namjoon's neck, "He'll get bigger. We're gonna feed him until he's strong enough to carry you around."

Namjoon chuckles as he pulls away, eyes still red with fresh tears. "Thanks, hyung."

"For what?"

"For being around, I guess."

"Thank you for cleaning up the vomit before waking me up," Seokjin pats him on the shoulder, "I wouldn't have been able to stomach it this late. Now, back to bed."

"I'm gonna go get coffee," Seokjin murmurs when they've arrived at the Mediplex building well before Hope's Children's Clinic is supposed to be open, the lights still off. "Kook, baby, do you want to get something sweet?" He bends down to face Jungkook, who's still fidgeting with his toy car. Jungkook shakes his head, "Does this baby want coffee?" He straightens up to face Namjoon. Namjoon nods.

Jungkook turns to Namjoon when he crouches down so that they're eye-to-eye, broad hands on small shoulders, "How are you feeling? Do you want to sit down?"

At the boy's nod, Namjoon takes him by the hand to find a nearby bench, but fails and eventually sets him on the bottom of the staircase a few meters away from the clinic.

After minutes of idly scrolling through his phone, Namjoon looks down to see the toy car speeding away from Jungkook's feet into a different hallway.

"Ah," Namjoon tucks his phone away, "how did you do that? It's not even remote controlled."

"I kicked it," Jungkook says simply.

"Why?"

"Fun."

"Fair enough," Namjoon sighs, "do you want to come help daddy pick it up? Oh wait no," He quickly changes his mind, "you should rest. Wait here, okay? Do you remember what Papa told you about strangers?"

"Trust no one but Daddy, Papa, Heeyeonnie, and Tom Holland," Jungkook recites.

"Did he teach you that last part too?" Namjoon whispers, "I'll be back. Sit tight!"

Jungkook taps his feet on the floor as he waits, remembering vaguely that there used to be squeaky sounds when he does so. He notices the security camera near the stairs and waves at it.

"Diarrhea~" A voice suddenly sings from far away, which definitely catches his attention.

"I guess to be good with kids you must share the same kind of humor with them." A deeper, growling voice mutters.

The banter gets louder and louder before Jungkook turns to see Dr. Jung and Dr. Min from far away, entering from a different hallway. They stop in front of their respective clinics with their backs turned to Jungkook, exchanging a few words between them before Dr. Jung-

"Kiss," Jungkook says once he's on Seokjin's lap at the front desk of Hope's Children's Clinic.

"What?" Namjoon looks up from his phone.

Seokjin tilts his head down to kiss one of Jungkook's round cheeks, frowning in confusion when the boy makes a noise and quickly scrubs his own hand against it until it's a red patch on his skin, "What do you want?"

"Ah, Hoseok!" Namjoon springs up when Hoseok appears from his office, "Thank you so much for squeezing in an appointment for us."

"It's fine," Hoseok smiles as he settles down on the chair behind the desk, clicking away on the computer, "I was worried to hear that Jungkook wasn't feeling well. Did you take his temperature this morning?"

"Kiss," Jungkook points at Hoseok, who looks back at him with wide eyes.

Namjoon pats his head, "You can't just demand kisses from other people, Jungkook."

"No! I-" Jungkook slams his hand down the the desk out of frustration, but Seokjin quickly stops him with a gentle hold, "they kissed!"

"Ah," Something seems to have clicked inside Hoseok's head when his cheeks redden, "did you see me with Yoon- Dr. Min?"

Jungkook nods, and Hoseok brings up a hand to cover his face as he lets out a flustered laugh.

"What did you see?" Seokjin turns to ask Jungkook.

"He probably saw me kiss Yoongi hyung when we arrived," Hoseok confesses as he cups his red cheeks with his hands, "ah, this is really embarrassing for some reason." He laughs, "Did that shock you, Jungkook? I'm sorry."

"I think it was his first time seeing people kiss in real life," Namjoon says, "that's probably why he's a bit surprised."

"Do you not kiss in front of him?" Hoseok asks, a bit concerned.

Namjoon and Seokjin turn to face each other for a moment, as if quietly communicating between them before they turn back to Hoseok.

"I guess not," Seokjin shrugs, "we don't go out of our way to hide it from him. We usually only do it when we're alone anyway."

"Ah, you should let him see you two being affectionate towards each other," Hoseok says, "it's reassuring for them, and it shows them that physical affection is mutual and not forced." He suddenly sputters, "God, I'm crossing the line. Sorry."

"No no we really appreciate it," Seokjin assures him, "we didn't really think of it that way, did we? We thought it'd be inappropriate," Namjoon nods, "we'll definitely keep that in mind."

The appointment passes by quickly, with Hoseok checking Jungkook's weight (heavier again), his height (he grew by 1 cm since last time), and his temperature (a fever). After asking Jungkook a few questions, Hoseok types down a few things.

"A sponge bath will usually help cool him down," Hoseok says as he types, "also make sure that he's hydrated since he threw up, make him drink plenty of clear fluids and give him painkillers every four hours or so. It's the same protocol for when adults have a fever really, but it might take him over a day to recover."

After paying, they let Jungkook hold the bag of medicine and pocari sweat since he aggressively insisted on doing so. Hoseok takes the chance to hide Mr. Murakami somewhere to avoid possible annihilation (now with germs). 

"Jungkook-ah," Hoseok crouches down so he can face the boy, "The last time doctor saw you was a few weeks ago. I shouldn't be seeing you so often, you know?"

"But I like doctor," Jungkook pouts.

Hoseok laughs, "Such a charmer. Do you like me or Dr. Min better?"

"Dr. Min," Jungkook answers easily. Hoseok can feel more than hear Yoongi's snicker from beyond the wall as his own heart breaks into a million pieces.

"Ah, why?" Hoseok pretends to sob, "What does he have that I don't, Jungkookie? What is it?" 

"Dr. Min makes me poodle friends," Jungkook huffs proudly. He’s probably referring to the little balloon animals Yoongi makes for his young patients. Hoseok remembers vaguely those few months Yoongi spent following tutorials online and flooding the apartment with distorted balloon poodles. He thought it was just his way of coping with missing his dog, but he guesses it's a cute little skill to have.

Hoseok chuckles, "That’s nice. I’m sorry I don’t have that here." He grins, "I have candy though.”

Jungkook's eyes expectedly widen at that, "Really?"

"Yup!" Hoseok chirps, "Ask your dads if you're allowed to have gummy candies."

"Am I allowed to have gummy candies?" Jungkook repeats Hoseok's words as he turns around and looks up at his parents with big bright eyes.

Namjoon sighs, "You know I'm weak when he makes that face. Your call, Papa."

"You can have one since you're sick," Seokjin decides after a bit of pondering.

"Let me go to my hidden chamber," Hoseok turns to the top drawer behind his desk.

He hands Jungkook a packet, "Eat this in front of Dr. Min and you’ll absolutely destroy him," he whispers dramatically, gesturing towards next door with his eyes. "Who's your favorite now?" He asks, deliberately a little louder so that it passes through the wall.

"You!" Jungkook nearly screams as he tries to rip open the packet.

Jungkook leaves the clinic holding his medicine bag with one hand, the other hand held by Seokjin, and a bun from the burger gummy candy between his front teeth. Hoseok's next patient comes by and Jungkook waves. The other girl doesn't return the sentiment but he doesn't seem to mind.

He swats the hand holding the bag against the mirror wall of Min's dental. Jiwoo looks up at him from the front desk and waves happily. Yoongi, who has just come out, eyes staring down at his phone, doesn't look up until Jiwoo turns to tell him who's at the door.

Yoongi's face lights up a little, waving back with a shy smile until he notices the candy between his teeth and his expression drops.

Seokjin laughs at that "Ah, those two are really something. Kinda reminds me of us back then. The bantering."

Namjoon snorts, "I don't really see it."

After the bickering over who should give Jungkook a sponge bath has turned out unsuccessful, they both crouch down near the warm bath tub, shoulders pushing against each other uncomfortably as Seokjin reaches out to wipe at Jungkook's arm with a cloth.

"Does that feel good, Kook-ah?" Namjoon asks with a fond smile. Jungkook nods as he plays around with his bath toy, watching the water squeeze out from the bottom of the carrot before poor innocent Seokjin is attacked with warm water.

"Ah, my son is giving me a bath, wow," Seokjin says as he sputters the water from his mouth like an alpaca, but he gives a thumbs up to no one in particular, "ah, Papa has to style his hair again. Love that." He shakes his head around, his wet bangs flapping wildly as droplets of water flicks back at Jungkook who just laughs and intensifies the commotion happening in the water he's submerged in.

Namjoon chuckles, "Papa, you're not a dog." He reaches out to fix Seokjin's hair, which is now a wet splat across his forehead. He sweeps his bangs up to the side with his fingers, thumbing away the droplets on his forehead and cheekbones.

"Namjoon-ah,"

"Yes?"

Seokjin puckers his lips into a perfect circle and closes his eyes. Namjoon's smile widens at that as he leans into kiss him, soft and chaste.

Once they part, they gingerly turn back to monitor Jungkook's reaction.

He seems confused for a moment, hands pausing in its movement and blinking, before a grimace molds his features and he cringes.

"Ew."

Chapter Text

It's usually Yoongi who reaches for the alarm at six in the morning, but at most times it's Hoseok who manages to push himself out of bed first.

Depending on the day, Hoseok either nags Yoongi to get up or just spares him a few more minutes in bliss. Sometimes he wakes Yoongi up with kisses, sometimes with a pillow to the face, all of which is dependent on whether Yoongi had remembered to wash the dishes when it was his turn the night before.

On this particular morning, Yoongi didn't, but this particular morning is special. Hoseok doesn't hit him with a pillow this particular morning, but instead takes a second to watch the lump under the sheets breathing softly, the cute little tufts of black hair that sticks out at the top. After a while of that, he drops back down to curl up against him, tugging the blanket down until it's tucked under Yoongi's chin to reveal his puffy sleeping face, skin oily and lips slightly parted.

Hoseok leans in to kiss him once, twice, ignoring Yoongi's grumbled protests as he hugs the cocoon Yoongi has turned himself into.

"Are you tired?" Hoseok asks with a fond smile. Yoongi nods, his eyes still closed. "Do you have any morning appointments today?" Yoongi shakes his head. "Do you wanna sleep in for a bit then?" Yoongi nods very eagerly.

"Alright," Hoseok laughs, tilting his head to give Yoongi's temple one light kiss before he wills himself to pull away and get on with his day.

Fingers circle around his wrist just as he manages to push himself out of bed for the second time.

"I'm gonna be late," Hoseok turns to warn Yoongi, trying to shake off his vice grip. "You know what happened when I did this last time. Let go." He says without much bite in his tone, laughing at Yoongi's wiggling arm between them. But then Yoongi pouts. "Oh alright. Just for today. Special occasion, right?"

Hoseok lets out a loud yelp when he's suddenly pulled back into bed, laughing breathlessly when Yoongi rolls him onto his side and trails his hand under his shirt, fingers stroking the warm skin.

Yoongi's stubble pokes his cheeks when they kiss, and their morning breaths aren't very flattering, but Hoseok loves it, loves him. He feels the cold metal of Yoongi's ring on his skin and shivers as he presses closer. He brings his left hand up to hold the side of Yoongi's face, enjoying the way the gold shine of his ring seems to match Yoongi's skin when they pull away. Yoongi covers the hand with his own as he turns to kiss the center of his palm, then the little sun engraved on his ring.

"Happy?" Hoseok asks after a while.

"One more," Yoongi murmurs as he presses forward for another kiss, which turns into two, then three, then Hoseok is trying to wrestle out of his hold with a laugh.

"Ah, seriously," Hoseok is panting when he manages to escape from the bed for the third time this morning, "I'm gonna be late for work. Bye."

"I miss you already," Yoongi says like it isn't the cheesiest thing ever.

"Just stare at my ass while I walk away for something," Hoseok heads into the bathroom having said those final words to his husband.

✧

"Where is the security guard in this building even?" Yoongi grumbles into his coffee as he unlocks and enters Min's Dental, Jiwoo following him in from behind.

"Come to think of it, I haven't really seen them around," Jiwoo murmurs, "that should be concerning."

Yoongi glares up at the flickering light just in front of the clinic, "That thing is making this place look like an abandoned hospital."

"I can probably be the ghost of a Victorian girl with my blouse," Jiwoo chirps, combing her hair forward to cover her face and glaring up at Yoongi.

"Well," Yoongi considers it for a moment, "that'll definitely come in handy one day."

"Right?" Jiwoo agrees whole-heartedly, "But Halloween is months away, so if you want to get it fixed then you can just send a complaint to the building's Kakaotalk group chat."

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow, "There's a group chat?"

"Yeah, but you left it I think," Jiwoo recalls, "I can add you back if you want."

[09:34:11] Dr. Lee: Happy Wednesday everyone
[14:36:43] Dr. Cha: Is anyone interested in this upcoming showcase at the SNU Hospital
[14:54:10] Dr. Yang: I am!
[15:32:12] Dr. Cha: Message me for more details
Kim Jiwoo added Dr. Min
[15:32:20] Park Chaeyoung: DR. MIN
[15:32:22] Park Chaeyoung: ** Dr. Min! Hello!
[15:32:30] Dr. Min: Hello
[15:32:34] Dr. Min:The light outside my clinic is flickering. Please have someone fix it.
[15:32:46] Guard Son Junho: I'll go take a look ^^
[15:32:48] Kim Jiwoo thank you !!

Yoongi hums, "This pretty convenient."

"It is," Jiwoo says as she sets her phone down, "the notifications can get a bit messy though. A lot of the older doctors like to send random videos or chain messages."

At that, Yoongi quickly mutes it. "Saved me there. When is the first appointment?"

"In around twenty minutes," Jiwoo answers.

"I'll be back."

"Tell Dr. Jung I say hi," Jiwoo calls after him with a wide smirk.

Yoongi greets the mother who pushes out of the door with her son before he enters Hope's Children's Clinic.

"You're not the 15:40 appointment," Hoseok comments when he spots him.

"The lights in front of my place keeps flickering, it's annoying to look at," Yoongi drops down on a chair in front of the desk.

"I saw your message in the group chat," Hoseok snickers, "did Jiwoo force you back in?"

"No, I just needed someone to fix it," Yoongi grumbles, "is there anything in particular that you want today?"

Hoseok smiles, "An assistant to work the front desk would be nice."

"Well," Yoongi clears his throat, "I was expecting something more... romantic."

"What, you mean trying to find someone who would take at least 30% of my workload off my shoulders isn't romantic?" Hoseok jokes. "I don't really have anything else in mind. You don't have to get me anything."

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Hoseok nods, "even you told me like weeks prior that I shouldn't get you anything. Besides," He pokes Yoongi's nose, "you're the greatest gift there is."

"Yup, I'm leaving," Yoongi springs up from his chair, ignoring Hoseok's laugh as he ducks his head, trying to hide his red cheeks and bitten down smile from the family approaching the clinic on his way out.

✧

Hoseok is dealing with a patient's payment when a delivery man pushes the door into the clinic with a bouquet of flowers.

After confusingly accepting the bouquet and signing a form, Hoseok stands there bewildered for a moment. He doesn't realize what it's supposed to be for until he reads the card that comes with it, a chuckle breaking from his lips.

Happy fourth anniversary.

Thank you for marrying a fool like me.

They have a word limit for this so I can't really say anything more.

PS Jimin said he can work on Mondays and Saturdays.

"Ah," Hoseok turns to set it down on the counter behind his desk, "who would've thought."

"Congratulations, doctor!" The mother suddenly says. Hoseok forgot for a second then that she's still here. She must've read from the card somehow.

He smiles anyway, "Thank you-"

"Your wife is so romantic," She praises, "I've never seen a woman send a man flowers before."

"'Oh," Hoseok forces out a chuckle, "I guess it's not common."

"How did you two meet?" She asks curiously, ignoring her daughter who's busy trying to take apart a family of toy pigs.

"University," Hoseok answers as he hands her her card back.

She accepts it but keeps talking anyway, "Oh, is she a doctor as well?"

"A dentist," Hoseok smiles, "a very hard-working one."

She hums, "You must be very proud of her."

"I am," Hoseok glances at the wall between the two clinics for a second, "I always am."

Yoongi listens to the conversation with his eyes closed. There's something about the fondness of Hoseok's voice, the way his tone shifts when he mentions Yoongi (who is apparently his wife but he'll let it slide this time) that makes him smile.

It's been four years since that terrible proposal in that small bedroom, when just the sight of Hoseok ducking down to kiss the cut on his knee suddenly made Yoongi realize how shitty things would be without Hoseok and how frightening the idea of letting him go seems. It's been four years since that hurried trip to the council, that impromptu "wedding" where they slow-danced to some lo-fi hip-hop song played through someone's bluetooth speaker. Everything was beyond shit and spontaneous but Yoongi absolutely loved it. Loved how happy Hoseok looked and how everything was so uncertain at the time except for the rings on their fingers.

Four years, from stupid barely-adults to stupid adults, yet Hoseok has somehow managed to bring out the teenager in Yoongi from the way their eyes meet after blinking open in the morning, the way their last view before falling asleep is each other, the way Hoseok fits into every aspect of his life that he never thought would be possible.

Yoongi pulls out his phone, eyes barely opened as he clicks into their chat and types out a simple message before resting his eyes again.

[16:42:12] Guard Son Junho:I'll be fixing your lights soon, Dr. Min!
[16:42:32] Dr. Kim:Junho-yah please come check out the leaking pipe in my break room too

[16:43:10] Dr. Min: i love you

[16:43:24] Guard Son Junho: ?
[16:43:36] Park Chaeyoung: DR. MIN????
[16:43:46] Guard Son Junho: Is that... for me....??
[16:44:01] Haa Sooyoung: lol
[16:44:12] Park Chaeyoung: DR. MIN PLEASE EXPLAIN
[16:44:15] Kim Jiwoo: Min's Dental is on the G floor, Junho-yah!

Chapter Text

“The list of appointments for the day are here,” Hoseok points at the screen. “When they turn up, just add their names to the queue list here. I’ll do the rest and you just have to wait for the receipts to come through and print it out for them to sign and pay, and that’s it!”

Jimin hastily scribbles everything down on a little piece of paper that he proceeds to stick on the side of the monitor. “Okay, I got this.” He spins around in his chair.

“Yeah? Thank you so much Jimin-ah,” Hoseok hugs him from behind. “You’re like a gift from heaven. If I had known you were good with kids I would’ve asked you earlier.”

“Yoongi hyung told me you pay well so I’ll look forward to that,” Jimin hums as he clicks around, “I’ll get used to this in no- oh, you have twenty appointments today.”

“Yup,” Hoseok nods solemnly, “I’m not sure if I can even go get lunch, I’ll ask hyung to bring some here.”

As the sound of the first screaming toddler echoes down the corridor, cutting through the soft disney piano music in the clinic, Hoseok pats Jimin’s shoulders, “Good luck.”

Jimin fumbles a bit at first, but after four energetic toddlers and a relatively quiet child, he gets around more easily and ends up watching Hoseok trying to take one kid’s weight while trying to take another kid’s temperature.

“Hyung,” He calls, “need a little help?”

“It’s okay!” Hoseok responds, though struggling, “You’ve already done enough.”

“I mean, I can do more,” Jimin debates. “It’s just taking measurements right?”

Hoseok seems to hesitate for a minute but then nods, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, “Well, yeah.”

After adding another patient to the queue list, Jimin takes the child by the hand to the weight scale, then measures his height on the door as well as taking his temperature with a sensor thermometer.

He sends the information to Hoseok’s computer as he welcomes another baby, asleep on his mother’s shoulder.

It’s hectic for a first day, but he likes it. The constant flurry of children helps keep his mind off studying and his brain nagging him about all the practice he could be doing.

The interior of the clinic also helps in a way, with the soft colors and little decorations.

It feels like another world in here with how bright and colorful the dolls are, sitting against a wall of little cartoon animals along the play area that is elevated a few inches from the ground. The higher shelves are decorated with little miniature houses that Jimin remembers seeing Yoongi build during his free time. Everything comes together to form a happy little place that a few children even refuse to leave after entering.

Jimin waves to a little girl who excitedly waves back as she makes her little way out of the clinic. Through the glass door, he sees her walking away with her father, turning every now and then to wave again, to which Jimin happily waves back every time until she disappears after turning the corner.

When the space is finally empty and void of screaming children, Jimin chuckles at the remnants of toys scattered across the floor and slides his shoes off as he goes to clean up the play area.

The door swings open as Yoongi enters with bags of food in takeaway containers.

“Are you two on break yet?” Yoongi whispers.

Jimin jerks his head towards the closed door of Hoseok’s office where muffled murmurs could be heard from beyond it. “It’s the last one before break.”

“But you’re done now, aren’t you?” Yoongi asks as he walks toward the back room, “Come eat.”

It turns out Yoongi bought lunch for Jimin too, to which he refused to take Jimin’s money, ushering him to eat before he has to go back to work.

The patient is out as soon as Jimin finishes eating, and he swiftly slithers back into the front desk to finish payment before he returns.

“Ah, I’m so tired,” Hoseok says sleepily as he stumbles into the back room, dropping himself onto the couch and letting his head fall onto Yoongi’s lap before he looks up, “Oh, what’re you doing here?”

Yoongi points at the food, “Eat your lunch.”

“Let me nap first,” Hoseok argues. Jimin eyes the two of them warily as he sets out the containers for Hoseok.

“You don’t have time for that,” Yoongi pushes Hoseok’s head off his lap, urging him to sit up, “eat first.”

“Fine,” Hoseok huffs as he rubs his eyes, “did you eat?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, “I don’t have any appointments this afternoon so I’m going home.”

“Okay,” Hoseok yawns, “I’ll take Jiminie home.”

“See you at home then,” Yoongi smoothes out his clothes as he stands.

Hoseok grabs his hand, “Hyung, kiss.”

“Ah,” Yoongi grumbles, “just go eat.”

“Hyung.”

“Jimin’s watching, come on,” Yoongi manages to shrug Hoseok’s hands off, “bye, Jimin-ah.”

Hoseok glares at Yoongiʼs back as he disappears from the clinic. “Ah, what a dick,” He complains as he makes his way to the little table, “watch me give him the silent treatment when I get home.”

Jimin chuckles at that, “Married life sounds fun.”

“It sounds cool I guess,” Hoseok says as he starts digging in, “it’s actually not that much different from usual.”

“Well, at least that’s one issue in your life solved,” Jimin comments. “You don’t have to go around looking for someone or stress over the fact that you’ll die alone anymore now that you have him.”

“That took an odd turn at the end but listen, Jimin-ah,” Hoseok sets his chopsticks down. “The moment you stop looking is the moment you’ll find them.”

Jimin sputters, “Who said I was looking?”

“I didn’t say that,” Hoseok rebuts, “the ‘you’ applies to anyone. I thought I’d just focus on studying as soon as I got into medical school, and that was how I met Yoongi hyung. In the least romantic way possible too, not to mention,” He grumbles as he recalls, “and now he laughs at me when I glare at him. It feels like I married my enemy. Anyway,” Hoseok focuses his attention back to the food in front of him, “I’m not supposed to be thinking about that guy.”

Cleaning up and throwing the trash out is a lot faster with two people, and Hoseok bought Jimin an ice cream before they board the subway.

It feels nice, Jimin thinks as he looks at Hoseok, who’s staring down at his phone. He wakes up alone and goes to school alone and comes back home alone. He wonders what it’s like to have someone around all the time, to even feel annoyed by someone who wants to always be around him.

“You should eat dinner at our place,” Hoseok says as they step out of the elevator to their floor, “I’ll make hyung cook.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin quickly rejects, “I have an assignment due tomorrow, so I should get going.”

“Ah, okay,” Hoseok nods in understanding, “have fun with that or something. Thank you so much for today, Jimin-ah.”

“I’m hom-” Hoseok snaps his mouth shut just as he remembers his initial plan.

“Hey,” Yoongi says as he comes up to help Hoseok out of his coat, leaning in for a kiss that Hoseok wills himself to reject and turn away from. “No?” Yoongi tries again, getting the same result. “Alright.”

Yoongi talks all through dinner, seemingly not caring that Hoseok isn’t responding to anything he says, which kind of irritates Hoseok since this isn’t how he planned the whole thing to go.

Hoseok is in bed by the time Yoongi finishes doing the dishes. He feels the bed dip, followed by a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Night babe,” Yoongi whispers as he pulls away, “ah, it’s getting warmer again.”

Hoseok turns just in time to see Yoongi pull his shirt off, throwing it carelessly on the floor as he slumps down onto the mattress, not even bothering to pull the comforter higher above his waist.

Yoongi snickers when he feels Hoseok’s arms slither around his waist. “I always win.”

“Shut up,” Hoseok murmurs against Yoongi’s skin, “you should be grateful I’ve decided to call the whole silent treatment operation down.”

“Just from a bit of skin,” Yoongi teases before he starts to squirm as Hoseok starts tickling him. They both drift to sleep half an hour later when the exhaustion has caught up to them.

Jimin quickly flicks the lights on as soon as he enters and toes his shoes off messily at the door; no one’s there to scold him anyway.

He contemplates skipping dinner for a moment before deciding to open the new pack of instant noodles and watches a video on his phone as he eats.

The assignment isn’t something he’s satisfied with, but he hits submit anyway, knowing very well that he’ll regret it in the morning.

He sets a reminder on his phone to get new towels as they’re all starting to smell as he washes up.

He curls up in bed alone, scrolling through his SNS feed for about an hour before he gets bored and puts his phone away even though he’s not even sleepy yet. He eventually sleeps, wondering vaguely what it’d be like to have someone near.

✧

It’s another packed day at the clinic when Jimin comes in to help, with eight appointments in the morning and five more in the afternoon.

Jimin has gotten used to juggling everything now that he’s been working part-time on his free days for the past few weeks.

Yoongi and Hoseok took him out for lunch in the quiet food court, which was actually more relaxing than he had first thought.

“Will you be home by seven today?” Yoongi asks.

Hoseok hums, “Should be. I think I’m done around the same time as you today. Jimin-ah, do you want to go home first?”

“Hm?” Jimin looks up, “Why?”

“You’ve worked hard,” Hoseok says, “I can handle the afternoon by myself if you’re tired.”

“It’s fine hyung,” Jimin smiles, “I’ll stick around and help you clean up.”

“Ah, he’s a good kid,” Yoongi comments, “give him a raise.”

“You give him a raise,” Hoseok rebuts, “cut off some of Jiwoo’s pay or something.”

“I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Just as Jimin is setting up for the afternoon session, the door swings open.

Jimin automatically puts up a smile to greet the child coming in, except it isn’t a child but a grown man who is physically much larger than him.

“Oh,” He falters, “hello.”

The man’s features are quite bold, with broad shoulders and large hands. Jimin definitely doesn’t feel intimidated at all; he’s seen much larger men enter this place with an infant in his arms. This is nothing.

“...Is this a children’s clinic?” The man suddenly asks.

“...Yes?”

“Oh.”

The silence is filled by Hakuna Matata playing from the speaker and Jimin shifts around on his feet awkwardly.

“Would you like to book an appointment for your child?” Jimin tries.

“Who, me?” The man’s eyes widen, “Ah, no no, I’m not pregnant- I mean I don’t have a child, no.”

“Oh.”

It means no worries, for the rest of your days.

“Do you do vaccine shots?” He asks.

Jimin nods.

It’s a problem-free philosophy.

“Can...I get one?”

Jimin blinks at that before he says, “Let me go ask Hose- Dr. Jung for you.”

“Yup, that’s fine,” Hoseok says as he fluffs up the pillow on the little bed. “Tell him he might have to wait for quite a while though if he wants to do it today since we’re technically fully booked, or he can just book an appointment for tomorrow.”

“I’ll wait,” The man says, “I’m only free today.”

“Okay,” Jimin hands him a clipboard, “Can you fill in this form for me then?”

After registering two year old Cha Mingu and twenty three year old Kim Taehyung into the system, The first patient of the afternoon enters the clinic.

Kim Taehyung has been sitting silently near the play area, looking at all the decorations and sometimes lightly bobbing his head to the music being played. His face seems to light up when one year old Lee Suim crawls her way into the play area and tries to reach for a doll too high up.

With his physique that is giant compared to the toddler, Kim Taehyung reaches up for the doll and hands it to her, smiling as her mother turns to thank him while she’s busy filling in a form with Jimin.

His smile, that’s something.

Kim Taehyung’s smile is wide and rectangular. It scrunches up his eyes into little crescents and something about it is weirdly contagious. Jimin suddenly bites down the smile he unconsciously formed on his face from just watching this guy play with kids.

The same thing happens for all the children who enter the clinic that afternoon. Kim Taehyung gets on his knees to play with them, impersonates every single character in the book he reads for them, and lets them sit in his lap after a nod from one of the parents.

“Jisoo,” The toddler on his lap points at herself before poking him on the chin in question.

“Taetae,” He says as he points at himself as well, “nice to meet you, Jisoo-yah,” he offers her a hand that she confusedly takes.

There’s something awfully cute about it all, and Jimin isn’t sure if it’s only because of the toddler.

“Jisoo-yah~” Jimin calls as he slowly approaches her in the play area with a sensor thermometer and a clipboard, “can I take your temperature please?”

The good thing about sensor thermometers is that you don’t have to stick it anywhere; not the mouth or the armpit. Just hover the device near the forehead, wait for the beeping sound, and then you’re done. No pain.

The problem is that children and their young brains think that you’re going to shoot them or erase their memories like Men In Black.

“Ah, no, it doesn’t hurt!” Jimin says when Jisoo starts screaming at the thermometer. “Jisoo…”

Jisoo turns away at one point, hiding her face in Kim Taehyung’s shoulder with her tiny hands tightly clutching his sweater.

Running out of choices, Jimin tries, “Jisoo-yah, look!” He reaches out to brush Kim Taehyung’s bangs off his forehead before hovering the thermometer before it. The other man stares at the device confusedly, almost going cross-eyed, before it suddenly beeps. “See? No pain.”

He doesn’t realize how close he is before he turns back to look at Kim Taehyung, whose face is only inches away from his.

Jimin jolts away when their eyes meet, sighing in relief when Jisoo gives in and sits still for him to take her temperature. He quickly retreats to the computer to enter everything in with a blush he can definitely feel forming.

It takes the parents of three year old Hong Jibum a particularly long time trying to separate him from ‘Taetae hyung’, who is already waving him goodbye when he’s still clinging to his legs.

It’s quiet after poor Jibum is wrenched away from Kim Taehyung and out of the clinic.

The next patient is late, and Jimin stares at the computer screen blankly before Kim Taehyung takes a seat in front of his desk. The music just so happens to change to Love is an Open Door which doesn’t seem to leave Jimin’s mind as soon as it registers.

He looks softer than four hours ago, Jimin thinks, although there isn’t anything in particular that is different. Kim Taehyung has big puppy-like eyes, a distinct mole on the bottom of one eye, one near the tip of his nose, and another near his bottom lip.

“Taehyung-ssi,” He snaps out of the weird trance, “I’m sorry you have to wait for so long.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen at that, “How did you know my name?”

“The form…?”

“Oh,” Taehyung nods, “right. What’s your name?”

“I’m Park Jimin,” Jimin offers a smile, “it’s nice to meet you.”

I think it’s crazy/ what?/ we finish each other’s/ sandwiches/ that’s what I was gonna say!

Taehyung is staring at him blankly for a moment before he blinks, “Nice to meet you too. How old are you?”

“Twenty three.”

Taehyung’s face lights up at that, “Ah, so we’re-”

“The same age, yeah,” Jimin smiles and he’s suddenly worried if it’s too wide for just friendly.

“Which university are you attending?” Taehyung asks.

“The one near Jungang station.”

“The art one?”

“Yeah.”

“No way, me too!”

“Really?” Jimin’s eyes light up. “I’m studying performance arts there.”

“I’m studying fine art!” Taehyung smiles, “I wonder why I haven’t seen you around. Maybe the campus is too big.”

“It’s huge,” Jimin chuckles.

After the last booked patient of the day leaves, Jimin pushes off the chair as he stretches with a groan, “You’re up,” he tells Taehyung. “I need to take a few measurements.”

When measuring his temperature, Taehyung willingly pushes his bangs out of the way for Jimin, a gesture that turns out to be way more adorable than Jimin had hoped. Taehyung also gets shy seeing the number on the weight scale and gives his belly a pat.

“Now go stand against the door with the height scale there,” Jimin instructs, watching Taehyung idly moving to stand. “Stand straight please. Like this.” He pushes Taehyung’s shoulder against the wall, and he regrets ever looking up.

Jimin is so used to measuring children half his size he never expected Taehyung to tower over him. Their eyes meet, but Taehyung is just silently staring at him before Jimin wills himself to pull away, clearing his throat as he does so.

“Hoseok hyung,” He calls, “Taehyung’s ready.”

When Jimin slides the receipts towards Taehyung, now with a cartoon tiger-patterned plaster on his upper arm, a hand comes up to stop it.

“I don’t know how to make it not sound like I’m flirting but,” Taehyung bites his lip, “could I maybe have your number?”

“If you want to contact the clinic then- oh,” Jimin pauses, “oh.”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Taehyung sputters, “I just think that you’re really cool and we go to the same school, so I thought it’d be nice if we could be friends… or something.”

“Oh,” Jimin feels like a seal, “yeah, sure.” He hesitantly writes down his number on the receipt.

“Thank you,” Taehyung carefully folds the paper and slips it into his pocket, “I’ll uh, I’ll text you later tonight. Not- not like in that way, it’s just so you have my number as well. Yeah.”

Jimin laughs, “Okay. I’ll be waiting.” He waves as Taehyung hesitantly makes his way out, “Let’s see each other again, Taehyung-ah.”

“Bye!” Taehyung shouts as he springs out, not turning back to look.

Jimin finds himself smiling again as he watches Taehyung leave. When he spins around in his chair, Hoseok is poking his head out of the office to grin at him.

“W-What?” Jimin asks.

Hoseok just grins.

“What?” Jimin whines, “Hyung, he just wants to be friends.”

Hoseok is still grinning.

“I don’t have a crush on him!”

Hoseok nods, still grinning. “I didn’t say anything. Now, let’s clean up and go home.”

[20:21:32] Unknown number: hello
[20:21:37] Unknown number: it’s taetae
[21:01:20] jimin: ah
[21:01:22] jimin: hi!
[21:01:29] taetae: do you have classes tomorrow?
[21:01:32] jimin: yeah
[21:01:33] jimin: at nine
[21:01:38] taetae: do you…
[21:01:39] jimin: ?
[21:01:47] taetae: ...want to go get breakfast with me?
[21:01:50] taetae: its ok if you dont want to
[21:01:52] jimin: sounds fun!
[21:01:54] jimin: i like the bakery near Jangang
[21:01:58] jimin: we can meet there or something
[21:01:59] taetae: ok!
[21:02:01] taetae: see you, jiminie!
[21:02:05] jiminie: see you, taetae!

Chapter Text

The lunch break is particularly quiet today, with one woman staring at the group chat conversation on the screen and the other two awkwardly staring at her as they eat.

“Unnie,” Jiwoo starts after she has swallowed her mouthful of food, “staring at it isn’t going to help you figure it out.”

“I just need to understand,” Chaeyoung suddenly says, desperate, “who the hell that message is directed towards. Sooyoung, do you know?”

Sooyoung makes a face, “Why’re you looking at me?”

“You participated in the conversation.”

“I wrote ‘lol’ and that’s it.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because it’s funny?” Sooyoung gestures to the chatroom on Chaeyoung’s phone, “It came out of nowhere. Maybe it was meant for Junho or something.”

“Why would Dr. Min tell Junho he loves him?” Chaeyoung asks, exasperated.

Sooyoung shrugs, “Maybe he’s just so happy to hear that the blinking light is getting fixed. It was pretty annoying.”

“It was,” Jiwoo agrees.

“Does Dr. Min like young boys?” Chaeyoung hums as she thinks.

“Dr. Min is not a creep,” Jiwoo states flatly.

“I know, my ideas are all over the place,” Chaeyoung complains. “But if he sent the message there then whoever he’s dating or is married to definitely works here. Who do you think it is? The ex-model chinese doctor upstairs maybe?”

“I have never seen Dr. Min and Vivi unnie interact,” Jiwoo says, “I’m not sure if they even know each other.”

“Isn’t he the closest to Dr. Jung out of everyone here?” Sooyoung speaks up.

“Nah,” Chaeyoung denies it easily, “not possible. Dr. Jung’s married.”

“To Dr. Min, possibly?” Sooyoung suggests.

Chaeyoung chokes, “Are you kidding? There’s no way.”

Jiwoo holds up a finger as she’s about to say something, but decides to leave it as she reaches for her drink instead.

“They’re always arguing,” Chaeyoung goes on to say. “I was talking to Dr. Jung this morning and you know what he called Dr. Min? A gremlin! Gremlins are ugly.”

Sooyoung shrugs, “I mean, they call each other a lot of things. Jinsoul would know.”

“Ah yeah,” Jiwoo laughs at a particular memory.

“Who?” Chaeyoung asks, “The barista upstairs?”

“Yeah,” Jiwoo confirms, “They sometimes make bets and the loser has to buy the winner a coffee, and the names on the cups are ridiculous.”

Sooyoung snorts, “Feralized goblin.”

“Overgrown toddler,” Jiwoo adds.

“Overgrown emo.”

“Overpriced caretaker.”

“Overpriced teeth knocker.”

“Idiot.”

“Circus clown.”

“Nose.”

“K-drama antagonist.”

“Dumbass.”

“Uncreative old man who doesn’t know how to come up with good nicknames.”

“That was written on a cup?” Chaeyoung murmurs at the last one, and Sooyoung nods. “Anyway, my point exactly. They’re enemies.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just banter,” Sooyoung says. “Besides, who says married couples don’t hate each other?”

Dr. Jung doesn’t seem surprised by the question.

“Me and Dr. Min?” He says, “I’d definitely fight him at the back of a convenience store at sunset.”

Chaeyoung frowns in confusion, “In a… friendly way?”

Dr. Jung hums, “Depends on the context as to why I’d be fighting him I guess.”

“Huh,” Chaeyoung says. “Do you two hate each other then?”

“I personally don’t mind him at all,” Dr. Jung admits. “He’s just very easy to make fun of, so I guess I get carried away sometimes.”

“How does Dr. Min feel about that, then?” Chaeyoung asks.

Dr. Jung shrugs, “No idea, actually. Let’s see,” He spins in his chair to knock on the wall, “Dr. Min, do you hate me?”

No response.

“Jiwoo-yah,” He calls instead, “is Dr. Min there?”

“Yup!” Jiwoo shouts in affirmation.

“Dr. Min?” He tries again before he spins back around with a smirk, “There’s your answer.”

✧

A huge fight broke out in front of Hope’s Children’s clinic and Min’s dental in the early morning.

“This is a children’s clinic, Dr. Min,” Dr. Jung glares at him, “emphasis on children.”

Dr. Min raises an eyebrow, “Well that doesn’t mean I don’t get young patients as well, does it?”

“I’m pretty sure the doll house would be of much more use in my clinic compared to yours, doctor, since well you know… it’s a children’s clinic?”

“Look at the state of your clinic, Dr. Jung,” Dr. Min points at the colorful play area through the glass window. “Didn’t someone come in asking if this was a daycare?”

“That doesn’t-”

“Didn’t they?” Dr. Min pushes.

“Fine, they did!” Dr. Jung gives in, “So what?”

“You already have a play area with five hundred different toys, and you won’t even let me have one doll house?” Dr. Min asks, “Do you not care about my kids? Is that what this is? My kids have been sitting there bored out of their minds as they flip through outdated sewing magazines while your kids play around with all these different toys, but you don’t care, do you? It doesn’t matter if they’re not your kids, right?” He accuses, “You’re evil.”

Dr. Jung scowls at that, “If you want it so bad, then pay me back my share.”

“No,” Dr. Min says.

“Why you-” Dr. Jung’s expression suddenly shifts when he notices someone. “Mr. Kim! Good morning, how is Jungkook doing?”

“I was hoping you could give us an early appointment,”’ Seokjin says, “is everything okay?”

“Hm?” Hoseok hums in question, “Oh yeah, everything’s fine, we’re just… debating.”

“For the past hour,” Yoongi mutters, arms crossed.

“About what?” Seokjin asks.

“Well we saw this cute doll house when we were walking around the mall the other day,” Hoseok explains pointing at the large box between them, “but it’s quite pricey so we split the cost in half between us, but then we realized that well, there’s one toy and two clinics, so we’ve been trying to decide who gets the toy.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, “How about I decide for you?”

“Sure,” Yoongi says.

“Yoongi gets it.”

Hoseok makes a noise, “What?”

“Good luck with work today,” Yoongi crouches down to carry the box into his clinic with a menacing grin.

“That place right there,” Seokjin points at the clinic Yoongi has just slipped into, “that’s depressing. Don’t you agree?”

Hoseok shrugs, “I guess.”

“You’re being very generous by helping to make that depressing place a little less depressing. See it as an act of charity.” Seokjin advises, “He might think he’s won this round, but you’re the one who was kind enough to sacrifice as to not let the argument go on any further, so who’s the real winner here?”

Hoseok takes Seokjin’s hand into both of his. “Thank you,” He whispers, almost tearing up.

“This is what I do when me and Namjoon fight. It works every time,” Seokjin assures him. “I’m glad to have passed down the knowledge.”

And that was how the heated early morning conflict was diffused by Kim Seokjin.

Jimin’s eyes widen as he takes a sip of his drink, unbothered by the loud screeching similar to that of a spawn of the underworld from the wall behind him, “Did that actually happen?”

“You can go take a look at the doll house at Min’s Dental if you’re curious,” Seokjin says, turning briefly to look at Namjoon playing with Jungkook in the play area just to make sure they haven’t caused a massacre of the toys around them while he wasn’t looking.

“Those two are an interesting pair,” Jimin hums. “I’ve been their neighbor for over a year yet I’ve never seen them have an actual serious fight before.”

“No pair can ever go on without any conflict ever,” Seokjin tells him. “There has to be some. Maybe they’re just quiet about it. We fight all the time don’t we, Joon?”

“Hm? What do you mean all the time?” Namjoon says as he accepts a wooden toy banana from Jungkook with a smile.

“There was this one time I really thought they had a fall out,” Jimin grins as he recalls. “Hoseok hyung came to work with puffy eyes like he’s been crying all night. I was so worried.”

“Hyung, did something happen?” Jimin asked, concerned.

“What?” Hoseok turned to look at him and shook his head weirdly, “Nothing in particular. Why?”

“Are you and Yoongi hyung… okay?”

“We’re fine,” Hoseok said. “Oh, he’s not getting lunch with us today, by the way. Our afternoon schedule is pretty empty if you wanna go eat somewhere other than the mall here.”

“Hyung…” Jimin frowned, noting the way Hoseok was trying to change the subject, “Your eyes are red. You can talk to me about it if you want.”

“Oh,” Hoseok chuckled dryly, his fingers coming up to touch his puffed out eye bags, “It’s fine. It’s just… embarrassing really.” His voice broke off at the end and Jimin immediately came up to hold his hand.

“It happens sometimes, it’s okay,” Jimin whispered. “Do you want me to go talk to Yoongi hyung about it?”

Hoseok smiled at that, but it was a sad little one, “I’m not sure if Yoongi hyung is as… affected by it as I am, but it might be nice if you go console him too.”

“Grave of the Fireflies,” Jimin slams his hand down on the table none too gently, making Jungkook jolt from a few feet away. “They were watching Grave of the Fireflies the night before and cried.”

Seokjin stares at him in disbelief, “You’re joking.”

“That’s what I thought too! I was so worried out of my mind,” Jimin recalls, exasperated, “when I went to Yoongi hyung’s clinic, he looked like he had been crying all night too! But they were totally fine when they saw each other later that day! They even sneaked in a kiss when they thought I was taking a nap!”

“But Yoongi didn’t get lunch with you two,” Seokjin points out, “what’s all that about?”

“He had someone coming in to check the place or something,” Jimin tells him. “Apparently some celebrity was coming for an appointment.”

“Wow,” Namjoon says from where he’s sitting, Jungkook now in his lap. “Opposites really do attract, I guess.”

Hoseok laughs out loud when Namjoon brings the topic up during Jungkook’s appointment. “That’s ridiculous! Of course we fight.”

“Your little rivalry banter doesn’t count,” Seokjin rebuts.

Hoseok shakes his head, “We’ve had a huge argument a few years back about children, but yeah,” he shrugs. “We’re only human. Two people living in a shared space won’t survive without conflict. Yoongi hyung also takes angry naps whenever he’s mad and he’d be fine as soon as he wakes up so I guess that helps. But yeah, we fight. I don’t like it when we do, but it happens.”

“I can’t imagine Yoongi even getting mad at you,” Seokjin murmurs, “he’s like the definition of a lovestruck idiot.”

“He does get mad,” Hoseok says with a sad smile, “I do too, sometimes. Now, about Jungkook’s stomach ache.” 

✧

On a particularly slow day at the clinic, Jimin is in the middle of texting Taehyung on his phone in the back room when Yoongi enters with a bag of food.

“I had to go out earlier today so I bought you guys lunch while I was there,” He explains as he sets the food down on the little table.

“Hyung,” Hoseok comes in from behind him, “you brought food?” Yoongi nods toward the bags, “Thank you.” He comes up to peck Yoongi on the cheek, with an expectedly neutral reaction from the other who goes on to make his way out.

Hoseok lets out an oddly loud sigh when Yoongi leaves the clinic, slumping down into the couch.

“...Is everything okay?” Jimin asks.

Hoseok lets out a dry chuckle, “Hyung’s mad at me.”

“What?” Jimin’s eyes widen, “He is? Is that even possible? He doesn’t look mad.”

“Didn’t you see the way he doesn’t even look at me?” Hoseok says, clearly upset now. “He’s mad.”

”What happened?”

“He found out that I didn’t eat anything yesterday,” Hoseok shrugs, “I don’t know what to do to make him feel better, so I’ll just let it blow over in a few days.”

“Have you tried uh,” Jimin pauses as he thinks, “... eating in front of him?”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” Hoseok asks, “I’d call him over every time I’m about to eat anything, like a snack or whatever, just so he’d see me eat. I’m pretty sure he got even more upset because it’s like I’m mocking something he’s actually mad at, so yay me,” He points at himself using both hands, “husband of the year right here.”

“Then have you tried… I don’t know,” Jimin grumbles, “talking about it?”

Hoseok frowns, “What’s there to talk about? I was so busy I forgot to eat. That’s it. He’s still mad.”

Jimin shrugs, “How about apologizing?”

“For what?” Hoseok asks, “For not eating? That’s none of his business. We used to live off of cup ramen and bread or nothing at all when we were in university.” He says, tone picking up, “I don’t get why he’s having a problem with it now.”

“Okay, it sounds like nonsense at first, and maybe that’s why he’s upset,” Jimin tries, “Maybe you should just talk to him properly and understand why that made him mad.”

Hoseok sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll sort it out when we get home,” He says. “Let’s just get today over with.”

Jimin is meeting up with Taehyung for dinner that day, so he quickly excuses himself as soon as he’s done cleaning up the clinic.

Hoseok and Yoongi are both silent throughout their whole trip home. Once theyʼve reached their apartment, Yoongi heads straight for the shower while Hoseok heats up leftovers and plates them so they at least look decent.

Even dinner is quiet. Yoongi sees Hoseok eat, but doesn’t say anything.

Yoongi leaves promptly after finishing and leaving the dishes in the sink. Hoseok watches him disappear into the living room with a long sigh.

“It’s still early,” Hoseok says as he approaches the living room. Yoongi is sitting on one side of the couch, scrolling through his phone. Hoseok hesitantly drops down next to him, “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, doesn’t even acknowledge Hoseok coming to sit next to him like he usually would.

“Hyung,” Hoseok tries, “are you really mad?” At the silence that follows, he sighs.

Yoongi is still looking at something on his phone.

“Can you please look at me at least?” Hoseok tries not to sound too upset. “I don’t like it when you’re being distant like this.”

Yoongi sighs as he locks his phone and sets it down next to him. He turns to Hoseok with his arms open, “Come here.”

Hoseok complies, crawling into Yoongi’s arms and throwing his legs over Yoongi’s lap, letting Yoongi hold him close.

It’s silent for a moment as they cuddle. Hoseok is too afraid to say anything that might result in another argument.

“You know hyung worries over you a lot, right?” Yoongi finally says.

Hoseok just nods against his chest.

“Especially now that we’re not in university anymore, we’re not only responsible for ourselves,” He murmurs. “You’re responsible for so many kids, so you have to take care of yourself well.” The hold around Hoseok tightens before Yoongi’s hand starts to drift up and down his arm. Hoseok can feel the cold metal of his ring through his shirt. “What if you suddenly collapse from exhaustion while you’re working or something? What am I supposed to do? Those thoughts scare me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok whispers.

“I know I sound pretty ridiculous for getting upset over this, but I do get scared,” Yoongi says, his other hand rubbing little circles on Hoseok’s thigh. “What if it becomes a habit? What if you don’t eat at all for a whole week and I don’t stop you? The thought of anything happening to you really scares me, Hoseok-ah. I try to take care of myself too because I don’t want to worry you.” He whispers, “Can you do the same for me?”

Hoseok nods against Yoongi’s chest once again before he nuzzles into his neck, willing himself not to cry.

“I love you, Seok,” Yoongi whispers against the top of his head before kissing him there. “You should go shower. Your hair stinks.”

Hoseok laughs into Yoongi’s neck before he pulls away, “Love you too, I guess.”

“You guess?” Yoongi asks as he tightens his hold on Hoseok, hand drifting up Hoseok’s thigh.

“You take such good care of me but you’re so stupid sometimes it’s endearing,” Hoseok nuzzles Yoongi’s cheek before kissing him there, “you’re welcome to let me go so I can wash up or just keep holding me until you start stinking too.”

He laughs when Yoongi shoves him off.

“I’m waking up early tomorrow,” Hoseok says as he enters the bedroom, scrubbing at his damp hair.

“Tomorrow’s a day off though,” Yoongi reminds him.

“I’m gonna go grocery shopping so we can have a huge breakfast or something,” Hoseok explains as he dries the towel on the rack and drops into bed. “Do you have anything in mind? Kimchi jjigae? Japchae?”

Yoongi groans, “Can we discuss this in the morning or something? Talking about food now makes me hungry.”

“I know you won’t even crack your eyes open at eight tomorrow,” Hoseok points out, “so you better make a choice now, sweetheart.”

It takes Yoongi a while to decide, curling up into a little ball as if it would help suppress the hunger. “I can make kimchi jjigae if you want. I’ll make my brother send me his recipe.”

“That sounds fun,” Hoseok hums as he pulls the comforter over his head, smiling when he sees Yoongi. “Hi there.”

Yoongi just chuckles quietly as he closes his eyes, “You better sleep now if you want to pull yourself out of bed early.”

“Right, right,” Hoseok says, though he’s still looking at Yoongi’s closed eyes.

“Close your eyes,” Yoongi grumbles.

“But I like you,” Hoseok says in a jokingly whiny voice. He brings up a finger to poke Yoongi’s round cheeks, marvelling at the soft touch and Yoongi’s disgruntled protests as he tries to roll away. “Hyung.”

“What do you want,” Yoongi’s voice is hoarse as he rolls onto his back, eyes still closed.

Hoseok’s hands drift under Yoongi’s shirt to his soft belly, rubbing it in little circles the way he knows Yoongi likes. “Thank you for taking care me, of yourself,” He says, “I promise I’ll take care of myself too.” He breathes before he adds, “I’m sorry again for worrying you.”

One of Yoongi’s hands come up to hold Hoseok’s, lacing them together as they feel the rise and fall of Yoongi’s stomach.

“Are you still mad?” Hoseok whispers, hesitant. Yoongi shakes his head. “But I still don’t get a kiss goodnight?” He huffs, “That’s not fair. I didn’t get one yesterday either.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Yoongi mutters under his breath before he suddenly pounces, rolling on top of Hoseok. He ignores Hoseok’s yelp when he ducks down to press their mouths together with a kiss deep enough to make up for yesterday, leaving Hoseok panting. When Hoseok blinks his eyes open, Yoongi is already back on his side, curled up into a ball.

“God,” Hoseok says as he rolls on his side to pull Yoongi closer to his chest, “I hate you sometimes.”

“Not like I haven’t heard that before,” Yoongi murmurs before they both drift off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Hoseok nods even though his parents can’t see him as they talk on the phone.

“We know college is hard, so don’t forget to rest and eat well today.”

“Yes.”

“You’re twenty now, so you must be able to take care of yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Come visit when you’re free. We can set up a room for you to study in.”

“Yes.”

“Happy birthday, son.”

“Thank you, dad.”

“We love you.”

“Love you too.”

Hoseok laughs as his mother teases him on the phone.

“Twenty six isn’t that old, mom.”

“Pushing thirty.”

He gasps at that, “I cannot believe you just said that. Did you say this to noona too?”

“Why would Jiwoo be safe from this?” His father’s voice comes on.

“Fair enough,” Hoseok chuckles.

“I know you’re a busy bee now, but come visit when you’re free.” His mother says. “Bring that husband of yours along too.”

Hoseok smiles at that, “I will, I will. I have to get ready for work now.”

“Go on,” His father says. “We love you.”

“Love you too.”

Hoseok tucks his phone back into his pocket as he makes his way to the kitchen, entering an air of toast and warm coffee.

“Thank you,” He takes the coffee mug Yoongi hands him with an easy smile, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek before he leans back on the kitchen counter as he drinks.

They fall into hushed murmurs as they talk about their plans for the day, accompanied by small sips of coffee and bites of toast. It’s peaceful.

“When are we meeting with Jooheon and Minhyuk?” Asks Yoongi.

“Just after dinner,” Hoseok reminds him. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine,” Jooheon assures him, though he’s still insistent in tugging Hoseok deeper into the flat. “Yoongi hyung and Minhyuk hyung… they just want to talk to you about something.”

“They’re both in Yoongi hyung’s room?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

It’s nothing original, and Hoseok did suspect it with how obvious Jooheon was being. He smiles anyway as Yoongi’s dark room sudden flashes bright, and all his flatmates welcome him with a birthday cake.

“Yoongi told us it’s your birthday today!” Minhyuk cheers. “He wasn’t completely sure though so this can get really embarrassing really quick.”

“He’s right,” Hoseok laughs when his gaze meets Yoongi’s across the room. “Didn’t think you’d remember, hyung.”

Yoongi flashes a small smile before he gestures to the small birthday cake. “Blow out the candles.”

“Moving on to the important part” Jooheon says to him over an empty plate. “You need to get your twentieth birthday kiss.”

Hoseok chokes on nothing. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“He has a point,” Minhyuk shrugs. “Yoongi, kiss him.”

Yoongi scowls at his friend, “What the fuck are you on about now?”

“You’re the closest to him. Like, you two are practically roommates,” Jooheon supplies. “It’s only logical.”

“Come on,” Minhyuk urges him. “Do it for your sweet dongsaeng who’s very stressed out all the time.”

“Hoseok looks like he wants to do anything but that,” Yoongi deadpans.

And well… Hoseok isn’t exactly against it, truth be told.

“It’s been like six years since then, right?” Jooheon asks as he throws an arm around Hoseok. “I’d like to take a bit of credit for that.”

Hoseok snorts, “What, for having chronic sleep apnea?”

Jooheon shrugs, “If it weren’t for my snores being powerful enough to break through walls and keep you up at night, you wouldn’t have moved to sleep in Yoongi hyung’s room every night.”

“He has a point,” Minhyuk supplies. “Not to mention that I was the one who encouraged Yoongi to let Hoseok crash.”

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow, “You want a gift card or something?”

Minhyuk grins, “A free dental appointment might be nice, considering the fact that we set you up with the love of your life.”

Hoseok laughs at that, “You didn’t know that. You two were just being shitheads.”

“To be fair,” Jooheon tries, “you didn’t know either.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Hoseok smiles as he turns to Yoongi. “Neither of us did.”

Jooheon gives up after a while. “You two are boring.”

“Well, party’s over,” Minhyuk says as he pushes himself up from the floor with a groan. “I’ve got an assignment due in three hours.”

“I’m gonna go bother next doors or something.” Jooheon stretches his arms above his head, “Happy birthday, Seok.”

“Twentieth birthday kiss,” Yoongi scoffs after a while. “What were they thinking?”

Hoseok just laughs meekly at that. “It wouldn’t be too bad. I haven’t kissed someone in like, a really long time.”

“Honestly, me too,” Yoongi confesses.

Hoseok sighs, “Guess we never really got the chance to go out, huh.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I wouldn’t say so. I’m just… not really looking anymore.”

“Why?” Hoseok teases. “You’ve got someone on your mind already?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, although there’s a faint blush on his cheeks. “Why should I tell you?”

“Come on,” Hoseok pokes him. “You gotta give me something if you’re not gonna kiss me. It’s my birthday.”

A scoff. “I’d rather kiss you instead then.”

The air around them seems to change somehow as it suddenly becomes deadly quiet.

“Fuck,” Yoongi curses suddenly, “I meant- nevermind. Forget what I just said.”

“Is that a deal?”

“I-” Yoongi sputters, “What?”

“I mean,” Hoseok can feel the way his whole face heats up, but he can’t seem to back down. Doesn’t want to back down at all. “Would you kiss me?”

The room, though filled with the thundering sound of his heart, is quiet. Hoseok doesn’t realize how close they’re sitting next to each other until Yoongi lets out a sharp exhale that he feels on his own lips, and it’s wildly intimate. Why is he so embarrassed exactly? They’ve literally cuddled before.

“I-” Yoongi parrots himself as he quickly turns away, ears bright red. “I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want.”

“What if…” Hoseok swallows, hands clutching the hem of his shirt. “What if I… want?”

Yoongi turns back to face him again, eyes searching for something within his gaze. “Do you...?”

“I mean,” Hoseok sputters as he laughs, all too loudly for the quiet of the room. “It’s just- well, it’s a twentieth birthday kiss,” he tries to reason, although he doesn’t know what his point is, half-hoping that making these random hand gestures will somehow get his non-existent point across. “It would be nice to at least get one, y’know? I’m only turning twenty once.”

Silence.

“Okay.”

“I had the biggest crush on you,” Hoseok says as they slip their shoes off. “I thought Jooheon knew and wanted to tease me or something, but turns out none of those two idiots knew either.”

“I thought the same thing,” Yoongi confesses as he slumps down onto the floor, back resting on the couch. Hoseok joins him a little later, scooting in close.

“I felt like my heart was going to fall out of my ass then,” He says with a laugh. “That moment alone felt way more stressful than exams.”

Yoongi smirks as he recalls, “It was all very amusing, considering how much of a confident idiot you were most of the time.”

Hoseok glares at him. “Your hand was literally shaking when you grabbed my face.”

“It wasn’t,” Yoongi argues.

“It was,” Hoseok bites back. “Your hand was shaking then, as well as every other time we kissed after that.”

Yoongi suddenly brings up a hand to gently grab Hoseok’s face then, thumb automatically tracing his cheekbone out of habit. “See? Not shaking.”

Hoseok scoffs even though he feels himself relaxing into the touch. “I’m not nervous either.”

“Not even a little?” Yoongi asks as he leans in closer until their noses brush.

“Nope,” Hoseok smiles.

That night, six years ago, consisted of hesitant hands and trembling lips. Both of them were doubting that what was going to happen was going to actually happen, and each move was filled with nerve as they slowly leaned in closer, inch by inch, until there was no gap between them.

Now, it’s the easiest thing imaginable.

Kissing Yoongi felt like heavy rain and loud, bass-heavy music that seems to control your heartbeat as it pulses through your veins. Everything was new, and they were naive and stupid.

Now, kissing Yoongi feels like dropping into bed after a hot shower, like baked goods from the kitchen counter— like home.

Yoongi nips a little at his bottom lip before kissing it again to soothe the sting. His lips drift to the corner of Hoseok’s mouth, lazily dragging them up to kiss Hoseok’s nose.

“Love of my life,” Yoongi whispers, moving down to kiss one of Hoseok’s dimples when he smiles, before going up to kiss his forehead. “Pain in my ass,” he mutters.

Hoseok breaks off into a loud laugh as he slumps into Yoongi’s chest, lightly hitting him there. “Love you too.”

He feels Yoongi’s hand brush through his hair. “Happy birthday.”

Chapter Text

“Dinner?”

“I got new ingredients from Hokkaido the other day,” Seokjin explains, “I’d love to cook for you and Hoseok as thanks for always taking care of Jungkook.”

“Ah, that’s just us doing our job,” Yoongi waves him off. “You don’t have to treat us to anything.”

“Come on,” Seokjin wheedles. “Jungkook would love to see you two outside of this depressing building at least once.”

“Itʼs not that depressing,” Yoongi tries but then gives up, “fine, itʼs pretty depressing, but Iʼll have to see what Hoseok thinks-”

“Yes!” Hoseokʼs muffled voice comes through the wall, “I want free dinner!”

Seokjin grins at that, “See you then.”

His culinary skills that developed from managing hundreds of michelin restaurant kitchens are something that Seokjin easily flaunts, though it’s justified, what with how well everything is prepared.

As Jungkook plays around in the living room a few steps away, the four of them talk over a light dessert from Seokjin’s favorite local bakery. Namjoon talks about his freelance job, Seokjin about interns, and then Yoongi about how he so desperately wants to just lie down.

“Hyungʼs been having back problem these days,” Hoseok explains. “His face stays the same, but the rest of his body is aging real fast.”

“You always say the sweetest things,” Yoongi murmurs sarcastically, clutching his lower back.

“Well, why didnʼt you say so?” Seokjin suddenly speaks up. “We have a really good back massager here. Come on.”

Yoongi hesitantly lets himself be dragged to the living room couch.

“Lie down on your front,” Seokjin instructs.

“You donʼt have to massage me, hyung,” Yoongi says. “Hoseok usually does it anyway.”

“Iʼm not massaging you,” Seokjin voice sounds distant before itʼs close again, “are you ready?”

“Sure.”

At that, two little feet plant itself onto Yoongiʼs lower back, the weight creating the perfect pressure as Seokjin lowers Jungkook onto him.

“Oh,” Yoongi breathes.

“This is the best massage therapist you can get around here. He has plenty of experience,” Seokjin says before he lets go of Jungkook completely, “donʼt drop your milk on Dr. Minʼs back, Kook-ah.”

Hoseokʼs laughter sounds in the room, “Ah, the little massage machine! Walk up a bit, Jungkook.”

Yoongi groans out loud when Jungkookʼs weight shifts to a sore spot on his back, “Wow. Is Jungkook up for rent by any chance?”

“Funny you should say that,” Seokjin murmurs.

“What?”

“Jin hyung is attending a meeting in Hong Kong for a week and I have to go help out as well,” Namjoon explains as he warily eyes a sleeping Jungkook on Seokjinʼs lap. “Hyungʼs friend used to babysit Jungkook for us, but sheʼs busy this time round too, and we really donʼt trust babysitters.”

“Why not?” Hoseok asks.

“Last time we did that, we came home to this,” Seokjin brushes Jungkookʼs hair off his cheek to point at the scar there.

Yoongi stares at the scar, “What happened there?”

“She dropped him, is what happened,” Seokjin says in an overly bright voice. His arms protectively tighten their hold around Jungkook, and Namjoon brings up a hand to rest on Seokjinʼs knee. “He was two years old.”

“I know this may be a huge inconvenience to you two,” Namjoon tries, “but think of it this way! We treated you to a nice meal-”

Yoongi curses under his breath, “I knew the dinner was a ploy.”

“We’ve treated you to a nice meal,” Namjoon continues, “you get free premium back massages whenever you want, and it might be good practice for when you do have kids!”

The latter of Namjoonʼs words made Yoongi freeze, and Hoseokʼs eyes go wide.

Seokjin doesnʼt seem to notice, or maybe he did, but he adds, “If you really canʼt then we donʼt mind getting another babysitter, but we would rather get someone we trust do it.”

“You… trust us?” Yoongi whispers.

“Jungkook loves you two,” Seokjin goes on to say. “Do you know how lucky we are to have a son that likes going to the doctorʼs and the dentist? Itʼs amazing. I know heʼll be happy with you.”

When Yoongi turns to look at Hoseok, he can see the impending answer just from his flustered expression.

“We really don’t want to trouble you two, but we really don’t know anyone else,” Namjoon speaks up, “Heeyeon is out of the country right now as well.”

“Heeyeon,” Yoongi says, “is that.... Jungkook’s mother?”

Seokjin blinks for a second before he answers, “Oh, no. Heeyeon is just my friend.” He clears his throat, “Jungkook’s adopted.”

“Oh,” Yoongi breathes, “I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Seokjin waves him off, “I really don’t mind telling you.”

He looks down at Jungkook for a second, still asleep on his lap. He gently pulls the empty box of banana milk from his little hands. “It’s because he kind of looks like me, isn’t it?”

“Even his surname,” Hoseok speaks up. “I didn’t want to prod so I never asked, but it’s different from you two’s.”

Seokjin nods, “That was his surname from when we adopted him. We could’ve changed it to ours, but Namjoon suggested that we don’t.”

“It’s just,” Namjoon shrugs. “It’s not like his life was beginning because we’ve taken him in, you know? ‘Jeon’ is a part of his life before we came into the picture, and I just didn’t want to take that away from him.”

“I think we’ll leave the decision up to him anyway,” Seokjin says as he gently strokes Jungkook’s hair. “When he’s a bit older. We’ll talk to him about it, and we’ll let him decide if he wants to be Jeon Jungkook or Kim Jungkook. It doesn’t make a difference to us.”

“That’s nice,” Hoseok murmurs. “Thank you for telling us that.”

“I told you we trust you,” Namjoon smiles.

“Does Jungkook go to daycare?” He asks. “I’m sure we can drop him off before work and pick him up when we’re done.”

“He does,” Seokjin says. “I’ll text you the address.”

“I’m really busy this Saturday, and I think hyung is too, but I’m sure he can just play around in the play area at my clinic or something...”

Before Yoongi even realizes, they’ve already agreed to pick up Jungkook at 2 pm next Sunday.

“Itʼll be fun,” Hoseok says excitedly as he hangs his coat in the closet once they arrive home. “Jungkook’s a nice kid, and he’s pretty well-behaved for his age.”

“We’re already busy as we are,” Yoongi grumbles. “It’s gonna be messy.”

“Come on,” Hoseok lightly elbows him. “Itʼd be like having our own kid-”

He snaps his mouth shut when Yoongi suddenly freezes up again.

“Ah, no, I meant-” Hoseok fumbles, “I didnʼt mean it like-”

“Did you wash the dishes this morning?” Yoongi asks. “The drying rack is empty.”

“Ah,” Hoseok is quiet for a moment, the sad downturn of the corners of his mouth staying there until he answers, “I haven’t. Sorry. I’ll do it now.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Why are you so quick to dismiss it? Do you really hate the idea of just...just having a family with me?”

“I never said that. We can get dogs and whatnot. That’s still a family.”

“Dogs and children are not the same, Yoongi.”

“Good.”

“Do you hate kids that much?”

“I don’t.”

“Then what-”

“Because I’d rather not have kids than to have one grow up to become a depressed fuck like me, is what. I’m sorry, Hoseok.”

Yoongi’s head aches at the memory as he tries to swallow down a heavy lump in his throat. Instead of doing anything else, he just sits at the dining table and watches his husband hover around the kitchen aisle, eyeing the back of his neck, the way his back muscles shift through his shirt.

He doesnʼt recall standing up, but heʼs standing behind Hoseok before he even realized.

His arms come up to wrap around Hoseokʼs waist as he presses his face into Hoseokʼs shoulder, breathing him in.

Hoseok lets him, despite the inconvenience it causes in finishing his task.

“You know itʼs not that I donʼt want to start a family with you, right?” Yoongi eventually murmurs against the back of Hoseokʼs neck.

He can hear Hoseok sigh before he says in a defeated tone, “I know.”

“I understand how much you want it,” Yoongi goes on to say, “I just donʼt-”

“Letʼs just drop it, hyung,” Hoseok cuts him off. “I donʼt want to argue again.”

“Weʼre not arguing though,” Yoongi says.

“But we will,” Hoseok snaps as he sets the dishes into the sink with a loud clatter before he turns around to face Yoongi. “Every time we talk about this, weʼd end up fighting. I donʼt-” He runs a shaky hand through his hair and sucks in a sharp breath, “Iʼd rather just suck it up than not talk to you for days again.”

With much reluctance, Yoongi slowly pulls away from Hoseok and retreats into the bedroom. They donʼt talk again that night, as if they really did fight.

“You have to be nice to Dr. Min and Dr. Jung, okay?” Namjoon is crouching down, eye-level with Jungkook as he speaks. Jungkook nods. “You have to clean up after yourself, okay?” Jungkook nods. “If Dr. Min and Dr. Jung tell you not to do something, you don’t do it, okay?” Jungkook nods again.

“Come on,” Seokjin nudges him with his hip, arms occupied with luggage. “We have to go.”

Namjoon quickly kisses his son’s cheek before he stands up completely, “See you later, Kook-ah.”

Despite the dispute a few days ago, Hoseok seems genuinely happy to spend time with Jungkook. He smiles as he takes Jungkook’s hand, walking around the park, and agrees to buy pretty much anything Jungkook points at or even just stares curiously at. That was how Jungkook ended up walking around with a long stick of tornado potato in his little hand.

They eventually settle down on an empty park bench, with Hoseok in the middle between Jungkook and Yoongi.

Yoongi stares down at his phone, and back up from time to time to look at the scenery around them. He can hear the rustling from next to him as Hoseok explains what a tornado potato is, and that it’s edible.

“Baby,” Hoseok calls as he holds up the stick of tornado potato snack in question, “you wanna try some of this?”

“Sure,” Yoongi murmurs, opening his mouth as Hoseok tears off a little piece from the stick, but then Hoseok is turning away from Yoongi and towards Jungkook who stares at the chip curiously before letting Hoseok feed him. Yoongi’s mouth snaps shut as he ducks his face into his scarf, glaring down at his feet. If Hoseok had witnessed something so humiliating, he would never shut up about it. His whole face feels hot with embarrassment.

In his defence, that pet name has been Yoongi’s for years; he never had to share it with anyone. Hoseok is cooing as Jungkook reaches to tear off even bigger pieces by himself after that first taste, turning his back completely to Yoongi on the bench to face the boy.

Staring off at nothing on the park bench, he secretly hopes that it will eventually get too cold and dark to be staying outside for any longer.

It seems like the universe listens, for once.

“We should head back before it gets too dark,” Yoongi says when everything around them starts to dim.

“Ah, yeah,” Hoseok pushes himself up from the bench. Yoongi shifts closer a little so that the back of their hands brush, a gesture for Hoseok to take his hand which works like every other time.

More sated than he would ever admit he is just from the touch alone, Yoongi goes to lace their fingers together, but just from that parting movement, Hoseok’s hand slip out of his hold.

“Are you tired, Kook-ah?” Hoseok asks Jungkook, who’s still sitting on the bench, rubbing at his eyes, “Aw come here,” he reaches toward the boy, “uncle will carry you.”

Yoongi shoves his hands deep into his pockets as they walk back to the apartment, Jungkook barely awake, drooling a little on Hoseok’s shoulder.

Yoongi showers first when they reach their apartment.

It’s stupid, he thinks as he showers, to feel jealous of Jungkook for getting all of Hoseok’s attention. Yoongi hasn’t been scoring very well, what with the little discourse making them sleep with their backs turned to each other the following nights.

Hoseok’s cooing noises and Jungkook’s laughter cuts through the white noise that the shower has created.

Hoseok is happy, just from looking after Jungkook. Just from today, Hoseok has been happier than being with Yoongi these past few days.

Thinking about it creates an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

He drops himself in bed, but he doesn’t fall asleep. He hears Hoseok’s little hums as he bathes Jungkook, hears Hoseok tucking Jungkook in and stepping back into the bathroom to shower.

Yoongi is halfway through dragging his eyes across his book when Hoseok enters the bedroom.

“Why’re you still awake?” Hoseok asks as Yoongi closes his book and pulls his glasses off.

“I was waiting for you,” Yoongi answers him.

“Why?”

“I just wanted to spend some time alone with my husband,” Yoongi says as he pouts. “Is that so bad?”

His eyes focus on the little tug at the corners of Hoseok’s mouth. “Of course not.”

Hoseok is still smiling as he scoots closer in bed. “You have me.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi starts, “about the past few days. I really am.”

Hoseok shakes his head. “We were both… tired.” He says with a strain in his voice.

“Is it weird to say that I miss you…?” Yoongi’s words come off as whispers. “We’re barely apart, but I do.”

Hoseok considers it for a moment before he nods, “It’s pretty weird, but I get you.” His hand subconsciously reaches for Yoongi’s, and they don’t pull away even when Yoongi goes on to lace them. “I miss you too.” He says with a little laugh, a giggle, sweeter than when he was with Jungkook as Yoongi brings up a hand to caress his cheek.

“Did you have fun today?” Yoongi asks him.

Hoseok nods. “We haven’t gone out like that in a while. It was refreshing.”

Yoongi hums. “Can I have a kiss?”

A chuckle, “Have I ever said no?”

The gap between them slowly closes. With his eyes closed, Yoongi feels the languid movements, Hoseokʼs soft humming, and the way any dull pressure from stress just dissipates under Hoseokʼs touch. He hears Hoseokʼs little breathless laugh when Yoongi rolls on top of him.

And this is easy— they fall into each otherʼs hold so easily. Yoongi knows the spots that make Hoseok squirm, makes him giggle breathlessly.

“That tickles,” Hoseok huffs when Yoongi presses light kisses on the side of his neck. “Hyung, come on-”

Thereʼs a loud slap on the door that make them both jolt.

“.... Jungkook?” Hoseok calls. Thereʼs another loud slap in affirmation.

At that, Hoseok pushes Yoongi off of him not-so-gently as he makes his way to the door.

“Hey there,” Hoseok says as he opens the door. “Do you want to sleep with your uncles?”

Yoongi tries not to pout as Hoseok hugs Jungkook close in bed, making him shift away a bit so that Jungkook is comfortable. At least Hoseok leans over Jungkook a little to kiss him goodnight.

With his back turned, he can hear Hoseok’s faint humming, and he glances back to see gentle hands brushing through Jungkook’s hair, caressing his arms in soothing patterns.

“My mother used to do this for me to help me sleep,” Hoseok whispers. “Works like magic.”

Yoongi watches for a moment as Jungkook starts to relax in his arms. Hoseok’s face, though hazy in the dark, appears soft, fond beyond limits as he holds the boy close.

✧

Dr. Min braves himself past the front of Hopeʼs Childrenʼs clinic during his quick trip to the bathroom. There seems to be some kind of commotion inside.

“We got her from the hospital as soon as we were done there,” A man says. “We want you to be her first doctor, Dr. Jung!”

“Ah,” Dr. Jung smiles, beaming and sweet. “Iʼm very honoured.”

“Youʼve taken such good care of Hanseo. You have our full trust, doctor,” The mother says. “Can we get a picture of you holding her?”

Yoongi watches the whole thing unfold before him— Hoseok carefully cradling a baby in his arms. He smiles down at the new life— barely a week old, his gaze fond to the extent that it is purely paternal, like he is very aware of and appreciates how invaluable the child in his arms is.

Itʼs a kind of smile that Yoongi doesnʼt see often, and just the sight of it makes him entertain the possibility, for those few seconds, that he could see this smile on Hoseok every day, and he knows how.

Dr. Min continues his walk to the toilet.

The next time Yoongi sees that smile is when heʼs making his way to Hoseokʼs clinic with a bag of takeout.

Itʼs his husbandʼs squeal that catches his attention.

And he supposes that itʼs justifiable when he turns to look.

A boy, perhaps a little younger than Jungkook, is dressed in a little white coat with a hot pink plastic stethoscope around his neck.

“He begged me to let him wear this as soon as I told him weʼre coming here!” The mother says.

Hoseok is crouching down so that heʼs eye-level with the child— a gesture he often does as he gently reaches out to hold the boyʼs little shoulders and there it is. The same smile he saves for that special kind of fondness, with a special kind of love that he has for these special kinds of people.

The boy suddenly spreads his arms wide and Hoseok laughs as he accepts the hug. His hands are gentle as he holds the tiny body, the smile melting into something even wider, and so beautiful.

Hoseok is beautiful, effortlessly all the time, but something about this makes him glow and beam unlike any other time.

Yoongi finds himself wanting it— suddenly desperately wanting that smile around more often.

He wants.

He wants.

“Itʼs not like youʼre some weirdo for not wanting kids,” Seokjin says on the phone. “I didnʼt want kids. I hated them.”

Yoongi stares at the ground as he thinks. “What changed your mind?”

“Namjoon.”

He says it simply, like that name is enough of an explanation.

“He didnʼt beg me or anything,” Seokjin clarifies. “But it was him, or rather the idea of him as a father that swayed me.” Yoongi can hear the smile in his voice. “I knew Namjoon would spoil our kid, would do anything for them. Itʼs the idea that that idiot would be so happy to be called daddy and have all these responsibilities,” He says. “I couldnʼt help but give it a shot anyway.”

“That canʼt be it though, can it?” Yoongi asks. “Itʼs not like you can just suddenly learn to love a kid just because of Namjoon.”

“Of course not. Not just because of Namjoon, anyway,” Seokjin says. “With Jungkook, it was love at first sight. I didnʼt think itʼd be possible, but the moment I saw him, I knew that it is.”

Seokjin laughs at Yoongiʼs silence. “There are some things that you wonʼt understand until you experience it yourself. I was just like you.” His voice sounds fond. “Of course, some people just naturally hate children, and would never have a child in their life, and thatʼs fine, but sometimes people change you in ways you least expected. Kid hater to kid lover; uncertain to certain. And thatʼs what Jungkook and Namjoon did to me.”

“I…” Yoongi breathes. “I donʼt know what to do.”

“Oh donʼt play dumb,” Seokjin bites. “You know exactly what to do. Youʼre just too scared to admit it.”

Itʼs silent before Yoongi nods to himself in defeat. “Youʼre right.”

“I’m not saying that you absolutely have to get kids against your will just to please Hoseok, Yoongi,” Seokjin says. “I just think that, from what you’ve said about your worries, you’re just assuming the worst first before anything.”

“That’s what I always do.”

“You do know that you’re not going to be taking care of the kid all by yourself, right?” He reminds him. “Hoseok’s there.”

That makes Yoongi pause for a moment, the silence an invitation for Seokjin to continue.

“Even with your worries about your kid growing up depressed like you or everything.” Seokjin tells him. “Along with your input, there’s Hoseok’s too. Extroverted, energetic, confident, fun-loving, happy-go-lucky Hoseok who walked with you through your depression is going to raise this kid along with you. You’re not doing this alone.”

Yoongi takes a moment to let all that sink it. “Right. Okay.”

“So,” Seokjin’s voice crackles from the static, “where’s that son of mine at?”

“I’m picking him up from the daycare,” Yoongi tells him. “Hoseok’s busy today.”

“I know I said I could go pick him up today, but I suddenly got a call!” Hoseok had explained through the phone. “Youʼre on your way home right? Can you just pick him up at the daycare and just play with him for a bit until I come home?”

Yoongi sighed at that.

Though Hoseok pleaded, “Come on, it wonʼt be long.”

“Not like I have a choice,” Yoongi muttered finally.

“Exactly,” Hoseok hummed. “Iʼll see you in a bit, babe. Love you. Mwah.” And the call ended.

Yoongi knows exactly one way to entertain a child, and he has repeated it several times this evening.

Jungkook has bitten into three out of the five balloon poodles Yoongi made him, rubbing the remaining two on Yoongiʼs head to make his hair stick up from the static. Yoongi doesnʼt react much as he sits there and scrolls through his phone.

“Yoongi!”

It takes Yoongi a second to realize that his name has come out of a four year oldʼs mouth, in the most informal way possible. Where did he even learn this? Was it Hoseok? Seokjin? Damn it, itʼs definitely the both of them.

So Yoongi replies with just as much vigor as you can have towards a child, “Sup.”

“Bored,” The child says with a huff.

Wordlessly, Yoongi just points at the bag of Jungkook’s toys that Seokjin had packed for him, but Jungkook just shakes his head in response, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

With a sigh, Yoongi takes a quick glance around the room. The apartment doesn’t have anything for a child to enjoy, and Jungkook got bored of shaking pill bottles like maracas after about ten minutes.

“I don’t think you’re old enough for Dance Dance Revolution or any of Hoseok’s games,” He shrugs as he turns to Jungkook. “What do you want to do?”

The boy pushes off from the couch as he starts to waddle around the room, searching for something. Yoongi just watches as Jungkook moves to peer behind the TV, checking the cabinets, waddling back to the couch and behind it, and— and he’s spending an oddly long time there that Yoongi has to turn to see if he hasn’t suddenly disappeared.

There, Jungkook is staring at a nostalgic object— the old, dusty keyboard.

The keyboard was one of his first purchases after starting off as a dentist.

It was a past time, a little remnant of his childhood before he entered the medical field. As he moves to pull the old thing from the back of the couch, Jungkook’s eyes following curiously, he recalls the newer, calmer days in the apartment; boxes scattered around, Hoseok humming to the tune Yoongi played as he hovered around the space.

It takes a bit of wiping before it’s good as new, resting on his lap as Jungkook scoots closer to him on the couch. A wave of nostalgia runs through him as he turns it on and the scatter of lights run through the keyboard.

Naturally, his fingers move by itself from muscle memory, playing an old tune; Hoseok’s favorite. He turns to see Jungkook staring up at him with his wide eyes, mouth slightly agape.

And he’s cute like this, though it’s not like Yoongi has ever denied it. Jungkook is adorable, with his big round eyes and little bunny teeth. Though he screams and cries a lot at the dentist’s, he’s calm like this.

Yoongi smiles at him, “Do you want to try?”

And so he reaches for one of Jungkook’s little hands, gently moving it until it touches one of the keys, and he presses down.

Jungkook jumps at the first sudden ping, but then his hands start to move on their own, pressing around messily until he quickly figures out where the higher and lower notes are.

“Here,” Yoongi reaches for Jungkook’s hands again, maneuvering them around until they’re in the correct position. “Do it like this.”

It’s fascinating how fast children learn. Hoseok has told him before, but seeing it for himself is completely different. Through the course of the night, Jungkook spoke more, played Mary Had a Little Lamb, and helped him make dinner as well as packing some for Hoseok, who’s running later than expected.

Later into the evening, after Jungkook had somehow managed to find a copy of The Little Prince, probably Hoseok’s, from the bookshelf, they end up on the floor, with Yoongi’s back on the couch and Jungkook on his lap, staring down at the book Yoongi is holding on his tummy.

“What exactly does ‘tamed’ mean?” Yoongi reads out. The little prince is asking the fox. 

“Well, it’s something too often forgotten,” said the fox. “I suppose it means: to make some kind of relationship.”

“I’ll explain.” Yoongi reads on. “To me, you are just a just a little boy like any other, like a hundred thousand other little boys. I have no need of you and you have no need of me. To you I am a fox like any other, like a hundred thousand other foxes.”

Jungkook’s finger skims to the little prince on the page.

“That’s you,” Yoongi tells him in the softest tone.

It then moves the trace the lines of the fox next to him.

“That’s me, I guess,” Yoongi chuckles before he continues to read.

“But if you tame me, you and I, we will have created a relationship, and so we will need one another. You will be unique in the world for me…”

Yoongi has never read The Little Prince before, has only ever gotten small bits of details regarding it from Hoseok. The sentimental values within the book are unexpected, and he feels something deep within him as he reads on.

“If you were to tame me, my whole life would be so much more fun,” He continues. “I would come to know the sound of your footstep, and it would be different from all the others. At the sound of any other footstep I would be down in my hole in the earth as quick as you like. But your footstep would be like music to my ears, and I would come running up out of my hole, quick as you like.”

Jungkook turns in Yoongi’s lap then, eyes meeting his in a wonderous, curious stare that he always seems to have.

A small hand rests on Yoongi’s cheek, “...How do I tame the fox?”

At that, Yoongi just smiles down at him for a moment before he says, “You already did.”

Hoseok comes home to the living room lights still on. He smiles at the sight as he drops his bag on the table.

Yoongi is still in his work clothes, sprawled across the couch with Jungkook on top of him, drooling from the corner of his mouth down to Yoongi’s shirt.

Hoseok carefully puts away the keyboard, the scattered toys, and his book before he moves to kiss the two of them, contemplating whether to wake them up or not before he goes to shower.

✧

“I kinda miss having Jungkook around,” Hoseok says as Yoongi re-enters the bedroom, a towel on his head. “The bed’s gonna feel empty now that I don’t have anything to hold.”

“Right,” Yoongi quirks an eyebrow. “Like I don’t take up half of the bed already.”

“Oh, don’t act like you’re mad I don’t cuddle you,” Hoseok snarls. “You’re like the country’s greatest dentist or whatever, but does any of that really matter if you’re a terrible pillow?”

“I literally got fat on lamb skewers a few days ago,” Yoongi argues. “My body is in tip-top condition for snuggling.”

Hoseok scoffs as he rolls around to face him, “Good pillows don’t complain,” He goes on to adopt a low-pitched, exaggerated Daegu accent, “Hoseok-ah, it’s too hot for that, leave me alone. Hoseok-ah, you’re too sweaty. Hoseok-ah, it’s too suffocating, and you keep trying to wiggle away from me,” He points at Yoongi. “Bad.”

Wordlessly, Yoongi pulls the towel off of his head, and drops it onto Hoseok’s face, snickering at Hoseok’s muffled shout.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Hoseok fumes as he snatches the towel off his face. “Min Yoongi, get ready for the most painful hair scrubbing of your life!”

And it’s too late for Yoongi to run away, caught by the hem of his shirt as he’s pulled onto the bed to face Hoseok who drops the towel back on his head as his fingers get to work, nails digging into his scalp. 

“It hurts,” Yoongi whines, “why do you have to scratch?”

“Donʼt be a baby,” Hoseok scolds, “youʼre gonna catch a cold if itʼs not dry, and we canʼt have that.”

Yoongi chuckles as he gives in, “Youʼd make a good dad.”

The words are blurted out before it even registers properly in Yoongi’s mind, and the air around them changes.

“Hyung,” Hoseokʼs tone shifts to a colder one, though his hands continue to scrub Yoongiʼs hair, “donʼt.”

“Youʼre strict, but you can also let loose as well,” Yoongi says anyway. “Your kid would be happy and clean up after themself-”

“Stop it.”

The towel on Yoongiʼs head is pulled down to his neck. Hoseokʼs hands are shaking in their grip on Yoongiʼs shoulder.

“Hoseok-”

“You might think itʼs fun to discuss,” Hoseok says, tone shaky but clearly upset, “but if you keep talking about this, youʼre gonna piss me off.”

When Yoongi stares at him confusedly, he barks out a laugh. “Why are we even talking about this when itʼs never gonna happen?” Hoseok’s smile looks pained. “Iʼve been trying to come to accept that, you know I have. Iʼve been trying for you, and youʼre just gonna talk about it like this,” another laugh, but his voice breaks at the end. “Youʼre an asshole sometimes, you know that?”

Yoongiʼs hands come up to cover Hoseokʼs on either side of his shoulders.

“I love you, Hoseok,” Yoongi starts, the way he usually starts anything sincere.

“I love you,” He says again. “I can imagine you staying by my side for the rest of my life.” His thumb swipes across the back of Hoseokʼs hand in gentle patterns. “Youʼve been the only thing thatʼs certain for me my whole life, so when it came to… to kids, I got scared,” His hold on Hoseokʼs hands tightens. “I got scared because I donʼt know what would happen, and my mind just went straight to all the terrible things that could happen. But now I realize that it wonʼt just be me alone with this,” He smiles as their gazes meet. “I have you.”

Hoseok breaks the contact, his eyes casting down into his own lap.

“Knowing that youʼre here,” Yoongi breathes, “Iʼm not scared anymore.”

At that, Hoseok looks up at him, “Are you trying to say what I think youʼre trying to say…?”

Yoongiʼs fingers unconsciously seek for the ring on Hoseokʼs finger, and he feels himself calming down once he feels the engraved sun under his digit. He looks up to meet Hoseokʼs gaze, “Iʼm saying… I wouldn’t be opposed to… raising a kid with you. If you want to.”

Hoseokʼs entire expression shifts, eyes widening and mouth agape at Yoongiʼs world.

“Ah but,” Yoongi fumbles, “not- not like right now or something since really… weʼre busy but-”

“No, yeah I get that,” Hoseok quickly says, “but… are you serious?”

“I spent a good hour coming up with how to approach you with it,” Yoongi says, “didnʼt really go the way I expected in the beginning but-”

Hoseok tugs Yoongi forward by the towel around his neck until their lips crash together none too gently. Yoongi feels wetness on his cheeks as he kisses Hoseok, feels the way his husbandʼs lips tremble.

Yoongi sighs when they pull away. “Baby,” he reaches out to thumb away Hoseokʼs tears before heʼs pulled into another kiss. “We could ask Jin hyung and Namjoon if we want to adopt,” He murmurs between kisses. “Or we could look at,” another kiss, “surrogates maybe.” Yoongi laughs when Hoseok turns to kiss his cheek, “Are you even paying attention?”

“Just a yes from you is more than enough right now,” Hoseok shifts closer until heʼs between Yoongiʼs legs, crossing his own legs behind Yoongiʼs back before he pulls Yoongi into a tight hug, nuzzling into his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too-” One of their phones suddenly ring and Yoongi turns to check, “Itʼs yours.”

“Just leave it,” Hoseok noses at his neck. “Weʼre having a moment right now.”

“Come on,” Yoongi pokes Hoseok with his phone.

“Fine,” Hoseok huffs as he takes his phone from Yoongiʼs hand, slouching back in place on Yoongiʼs shoulder when he answers in a cheery voice, “Hopeʼs clinic~”

Yoongi holds him close as he talks on the phone with a patient. As he listens, Hoseok presses his lips to Yoongiʼs shoulder, breathing him in. When he talks, he does so with his chin hooked over his husbandʼs shoulder, staying close.

“Would you like to come get it checked at the clinic then, just in case?” Hoseok asks. “Ah, I’m afraid we’re fully booked in the morning, sorry. Is the afternoon okay? Alright, I’ll see you and Junho tomorrow, Mrs. Han. Goodnight.”

“Hey,” Yoongi warns when he feels Hoseok kissing and nipping on the side of his neck, “itʼs not even the weekend yet. You have morning appointments.”

“I’m completely free tomorrow morning,” is what Hoseok says before he tackles, pushing Yoongi onto his back as he murmurs against his neck. “Just wanted to be a bit selfish and spend the morning with you.” He presses a kiss to the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “Can I?”

Yoongi stares up at Hoseok for a minute, briefly wondering what kind of magic Jung Hoseok has to him that has made Min Yoongi, who never would have dreamed of getting married, let alone have children, turn into someone who canʼt even resist his husbandʼs smiling face.

“Sure.”

Yoongi is certain when it comes to Hoseok. Certain that Hoseok will kiss him back when he leans in for a kiss, that Hoseok will still let himself be pulled in for a cuddle at night no matter how upset he may be at Yoongi, that Hoseok would follow Yoongi to the edge of the world if it all comes down to that, and that Hoseok knows Yoongi would do the same thing for him.

“Iʼm so lucky,” Hoseok whispers as he pulls his own shirt off, giggling when Yoongiʼs hands and lips roam, “Iʼm so glad I went through all that shit in my life and found you.”

Yoongi laughs against Hoseokʼs skin, “Thatʼs my line.”

Itʼs Yoongi who wakes up first the next morning before the alarm even rings. He sees Hoseokʼs bare back in front of him as he blinks his eyes open and reaches out to trace his spine with a finger.

He imagines for a moment how a toddler would wake Hoseok up, that they would climb up his back and startle him awake from the weight. Or maybe theyʼd be like Jungkook who would slap him awake in the middle of the night and heʼd grumpily get up to see whatʼs wrong. He imagines how Hoseok would wake up a child in the morning, that he would wake them up with kisses like he does with Yoongi, that he would make breakfast and make them take it to Yoongi who would still be in bed. Maybe theyʼll trip and drop all the food onto the floor, onto Yoongi, and Hoseok would just tut at the sight as he throws the sheets into the wash.

He imagines Hoseok calling himself Papa, taking the child to Gwangju to meet their grandparents, singing and dancing with them, making different voices for different characters as he reads to them at night.

Yoongi imagines this and a million other scenarios, and he finds that he would greatly welcome all of them, given that Hoseok would be around.

Chapter Text

After saying goodbye to another sweet little patient, Jimin leaves the front desk for a second just to go check on Hoseok in his little office.

Maybe that was a mistake.

Jimin eyes the doctor's figure warily, slumped onto the desk like all the life has drained out of him.

To be fair, it has been twenty patients in one day, and Yoongi was just as occupied so they couldn't even see each other for lunch. It probably doesn't help that they're literally a thin wall away from each other, yet they'll probably have to wait until the end of their shifts.

"Jimin-ah," Hoseok suddenly whispers. "How many more?"

"Sungminnie was the last one for today, hyung." Jimin tells him, and almost jolts at the way Hoseok immediately springs up.

"Have you tidied up the play area?" He asks as he rushes to the back room. "I'll clean up the whole room in like a minute and storm out of here." 

"Ah, I can do that for you," Jimin interjects. "You look like you really need to rest for today. I'll take care of this for you."

"But-" 

"Go on," Jimin shoos him. "Maybe Yoongi hyung already finished tidying up. You can go see him." He smiles.

"Jimin-ah," Hoseok steps up to him, hands on Jimin's shoulders and a love-filled look on his face. "Have I told you that I love you today?"

"Don't think you have," Jimin tries to recall shyly. "But thank you. Now go." Hoseok skips happily out of the clinic.

Just as Jimin is about to close up, the door swings open and a less-than-amused Hoseok drags himself back in. "Take the stuff out again." 

"What?" Jimin asks, though he's already doing as Hoseok says.

"Mina's mother called just now," Hoseok murmurs. "She hit her head or something, and she really wanted me to look at it, so here we are."

"Ouch," Jimin hisses.

"Yeah," Hoseok grumbles. "We were literally just about to get on the subway. I had to watch hyung leave me behind." 

"Ouch," Jimin hisses again. He doesn't ask why Hoseok didn't just say no to the sudden appointment. He already knows the doctor doesn't have the heart to reject any child in need.

There's a solemn little nod before Hoseok straightens up and turns to him. "You can go home if you want. You're basically done for the day."

"No, that's alright," Jimin sits himself back down behind the desk. "I'm not meeting Taehyung until later anyway."

That pulls a tired little smile on Hoseok's face. "How's that going?"

"How's what?" Jimin retorts. "We're just friends." 

"Didn't you to go on an amusement park date together a few weeks ago?" 

Jimin blushes. "That wasn't a date." 

Hoseok shrugs, though there's a menacing grin on his face. "Alright."

"The both of them are way too oblivious. Jesus Christ." Yoongi grumbles as he fixes his head on the pillow.

"I know. It's painful to look at." Hoseok says, half-muffled by his pillow. "My brain was at its lowest-functioning state, and I still knew that they're both stupid."

Yoongi chuckles at that, shaking his head as he reaches to turn the bedside lamp off.

Just as his fingers skim the button, Hoseok grabs his wrist, and Yoongi looks back at him with an arched brow.

"Hyung," Hoseok says, tone a little lighter. "You don't have work tomorrow," He shifts closer to Yoongi, "and I'm right here," He tugs the collar of his sleep shirt down with a finger, "don't you want to.... stay up and ravish your husband?"

"Why are you pulling your shirt down?" Yoongi murmurs. "You don't have tits. Also, you're already half-asleep."

Hoseok makes an offended sound. "I am not-" He's cut off by a wide yawn.

"Ravish," Yoongi laughs at the word choice then. "Are we in the victorian era or something?"

"Shut up," Hoseok pouts. "I can't believe you're rejecting my very attractive sexual advances right now."

"Woah there buster," Yoongi says. "You came home all pent up and drank three glasses of wine by yourself, and now you're barely even awake. I think the best option for you right now is to keep it in your pants and call it a day."

"So the honeymoon phase is over," Hoseok says in a bitter tone and huffs. "You finally got bored of me."

Yoongi makes a noise at the back of his throat like he's slowly edging onto annoyance. He looks at Hoseok with a muted expressin. "Fine, want me to ravish you like some white-gowned maiden?"

Hoseok can't help the smirk that plays at his lips. "Maybe."

"Lie down," Yoongi says as he sits up. He watches as Hoseok eagerly drops down onto the bed, wiggling the sheets off of his body.

Yoongi pulls the sheets back up over him before he reaches for his hand, then starts to caress up his arm in light, warm touches. He spends a minute rubbing his shoulders, then trails his fingers up to his hair.

Hoseok sighs at the touch, nuzzling into Yoongi's hand for more until Yoongi is running his fingers softly through it.

"Wait," Hoseok manages out as he starts to feel his eyelids droop. "You're not ravishing." 

"Sure I am," Yoongi whispers in that low, soothing voice, and it makes Hoseok's eyelids feel even heavier. He feels a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

✧

"Your parents came to your wedding?" Yoongi probably sounds too surprised.

"They did," Seokjin nods. "It took a bit of convincing, and by that time we really thought they wouldn't show up, but they did." 

Yoongi barely manages to dodge Jungkook's fists as the boy suddenly stretches his arms up with a groan. He continues to balance him on his lap after avoiding a possible crisis.

"Ah, is it nine already?" Namjoon looks up at the clock. "When was Hoseok supposed to finish again?" 

"Eight," Yoongi says. "It's vaccine season though, so I'm not sure if he's going to be late, but I should head back."

After what feels like hours of Seokjin and Namjoon convincing Jungkook to get off of Yoongi's lap and a few minutes of clearing up the dishes from the dinner table, Yoongi heads back to his apartment.

Hoseok is sprawled on the couch when he arrives, mouth agape as he breathes softly. He hasn't changed out of his work clothes yet.

Yoongi makes his way towards his husband, reaches down to brush his face with his fingers before gently shaking his shoulders to wake him up.

After sharing a quick greeting and a short kiss, Yoongi settles down on the couch and Hoseok plops his head back on Yoongi's lap.

"So how many needles did you poke kids with today?" Yoongi asks as he gently brushes strands of hair from Hoseok's forehead.

"God, like, twenty kids? And some kids had like three shots." Hoseok grimaces. "I was going to go insane. I really considered sticking all three needles in at once."

Yoongi laughs, "By holding the needles like Wolverine claws or something?"

"Exactly," Hoseok says as he mimicks the pose with his hands in the air. "I could just hold them between my legs like this and stick all three needles into their arm."

Yoongi throws his head back with a louder laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"Hey, I'm pretty sure I'm skilled enough to try." 

"Then get sued and get your phD taken away from you." 

"They shouldn't punish innovation."

"They're gonna make you go to medical school again. You're gonna live in a frat house." 

"If the first thing I see when I drag my luggage in isn't you in your boxers eating ramen on the couch at one in the morning, then I'm not going." Hoseok blinks his eyes open to smile up at him.

Yoongi grins and he shrugs. "Who knows, maybe you'll have to give some kid a kiss on his twentieth birthday."

Hoseok is laughing hard as his fingers close around the end of Yoongi's tie. He grips it lightly before pulling Yoongi down towards him.

Their lips barely brush before the doorbell rings, followed by a series of frantic knocks.

They both hesitantly get up as the knocks get louder and louder, as if someone's trying to break in.

But when they check the monitor, they're surprised to see a very flustered Jimin at the door.

"We kissed!" He says as soon as they open the door.

Hoseok frowns. "What do you mean- oh." 

"Taehyung kissed me!" Jimin says, even more exasperated than before.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at his hurried state. "Did you run away from him or something?" 

"No, no," Jimin quickly says. "He dropped me off just now. Like he walked me home, and then we were talking and then it just happened." 

"Come inside," Hoseok opens the door fully and shoves Yoongi out of the way. "Tell us everything. Everything." 

✧

Hoseok stirs awake in the middle of the night when he suddenly flops onto his side on the bed. He rubs his eyes open to see the empty spot next to him.

Yoongi is sitting on the table in the kitchen, chewing on a piece of wheat bread that doesn't seem to be toasted or anything. Just bread.

"Hey," Hoseok waves awkwardly. "Can't sleep?"

Yoongi just nods as he takes another bite from the bread.

"Want me to make tea?" Hoseok offers.

Yoongi nods.

Hoseok doesn't ask why he can't sleep, knows that Yoongi will take his time before he tells him, but he always will.

This time, it takes Yoongi about two minutes, with Hoseok turned away from him to prepare a soothing tea before he talks.

"Have you ever regret being with me?" 

Hoseok stares at the boiling kettle as he sighs. "I consider it for half a second every time you crack the occasional godawful jokes, but other than that, never," He turns around to lean on the counter opposite to Yoongi, facing him. "What's wrong?"

Yoongi shrugs as he reaches to take another piece of bread from the bag. "Just thought of how much you had to lose to just be with me." 

"Yeah? And what did I lose?" Hoseok asks.

Yoongi shrugs again. "A good wedding.... time."

Hoseok cocks his head to the side. "Time?"

"You spent a lot of time," Yoongi swallows, "helping me."

Hoseok is quiet as he considers it for a moment before he nods. "You could say that."

"Have you ever regret it?" Yoongi asks.

Hoseok immediately shakes his head. "No." He turns to set the teabags into the mugs before filling them with hot water. He then reaches down to grab the jar of honey and adds a spoonful into each mug, stirring gently.

"Sometimes when I look at Jin hyung and Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung," Yoongi says as he takes a mug Hoseok hands him, "I'd wonder what it'd be like for us if I didn't try to shut you out or treat you like shit."

"You had your reasons," Hoseok says before he takes a sip. "I'm just glad I was persistent enough." 

"Why haven't you regretted it?" Yoongi asks.

"Because you're happy now," Hoseok tells him. "You're happier, you're successful, and you're not stuck there anymore. Sure, it's kind of frustrating to not be able to see you so often when we live together and work right next to each other because we're so busy, but I'm happy." He sets his tea down. "I'm happy now."

"Me too," Yoongi murmurs before leaning back and finishing the tea in huge gulps. "I didn't mean to bring this up to make you upset. I'm sorry." 

Hoseok quickly shakes his head. "I'm not upset. You're just having one of those nights." He steps forward between Yoongi's legs. "It's okay."

Resting his weight on his hands, Yoongi looks down at him for a moment, an awe in his expression like he can't quite believe that Hoseok is real. He brings up one arm to curl around Hoseok's back, pulling him closer until he's wrapping his arms around Yoongi's middle, face burried in his chest.

Hoseok sighs into Yoongi's chest as he feels fingers absentmindedly brushing through his hair.

"I love you," He whispers before planting a kiss in the middle of his chest.

Yoongi presses his lips to the top of Hoseok's head before he murmurs, "I love you too."

Hoseok tilts his head up to face Yoongi, chin still resting on his chest.

He smiles when Yoongi presses another kiss to his forehead, his nose, then presses closer until their lips brush.

Hoseok doesn't mind long days, sudden appointments, or boring meetings. He doesn't mind not getting lunch with Yoongi or being interrupted again and again by people or his ability to stay awake at night.

He doesn't mind at all, because there will always be nights like this when it's just them. Nights in Yoongi's room in the flat, in the library at dawn, in a hidden room at the hotel suite at their own wedding, in their kitchen at ass o'clock.

Yoongi jolts when he feels Hoseok trying to pull him closer to the edge of the table.

"You are not trying to lift me." Yoongi breaks the kiss to say.

Hoseok laughs as his efforts continue, "I did it before. I can still do it."

"We're gonna fall." Yoongi tells him, but then he's lifted from the table and into Hoseok's arms. He gasps as he suddenly hooks his legs around Hoseok's waist, arms curled around Hoseok's neck.

"See? We're not." Hoseok says as he nuzzles in for another kiss, which Yoongi takes a moment to scowl before giving it to him.

After less than a minute, Hoseok huffs and gently sets him back down.

"I got tired" He whines, rubbing his arms with a pout.

"And who's fault is that?" Yoongi points out, trying to hide back a fond smile.

Hoseok doesn't even bother trying to defend himself as he lets out another laugh.

They go to sleep a few hours later.

Chapter Text

It takes at least eight years to become a dentist.

Eight years, with added pressure from every single aspect of life, of growing up, of uncertainty. All this for a little clinic space in the basement floor of a building full of other people who have seem to fallen into the same void.

The only glimpses of sunlight that Yoongi would see are through the windows in the morning and above-head on the way to the train station. There are no windows in the basement floor, and the only light that would come through are the blinking, overly bright, artificial ones on the ceiling.

It's cold as well, no matter the weather. Even after years, he still feels his teeth clack from time to time, feels a shiver creeping up his spine from both the temperature and the screeching.

People scream a lot at the dentist, children and adult alike. People get tensed and pale and shake like a weak leaf on a thin branch that's about to snap. People squirm and twitch and will take you to court. (The latter happened once with a particular child who wanted to be anywhere but in that chair, though his parents were insistent. So Yoongi had his assistants use restraints which turned out to be too immoral from the eyes of a frantic mother. The days that follow are too exhausting for recall.)

People are scared at the dentist, but the dentist has to deal with bad breath, questionable things that shouldn't be near teeth in the first place, and many other unimaginable things that legitimately made Yoongi feel sick as soon as the patient opened their mouth.

A patient tried to punched Yoongi one morning. He flinched away in time, but the shock was nevertheless inevitable. This has never happened before.

Thinking back to it now, hours later, maybe he should have done something. But he was too tired then from a sleepless night that had him tossing and turning to the point that Hoseok stirred in his sleep, barely a breakfast, and a blinking light inside the clinic that can't be fixed right away because his schedule is full and there isn't even a window of a time for maintenance.

With fifteen minutes before the next appointment, he lies back into the couch, faintly hoping that he might melt into it just so that he doesn't see the bright lights glaring down at him from above. He doesn't even know what the outside world looks like right now, doesn't know if the sun has set yet, or if it's getting colder. It's an odd yet torturous form of isolation.

Glaring back up at the ceiling lights, he questions briefly, once again, like he always does, if this is what he had tried so hard to achieve. Is this what he had wanted when he decided to walk down this path? Isolation and disgusting spit?

The love for it came much later, admittedly. Yoongi went into dentistry with the one hope that maybe this would be enough for his parents to accept him again, maybe the least that he could get out of this would be a blind eye to who he's attracted to and maybe a trip to Daegu for dinner. None of that ever happened.

The love for it came much later, but it came. Yoongi loves his job for the most part, but there would be moments like this, as rare as they are, where he'd stumble to a halt for one minute and question everything he's ever done.

It's isolating, stressful, and disgusting; it's miserable. What has he ever gotten from studying medicine for this all to be worth it?

Hoseok drops onto the bed with a sigh. Yoongi can smell the sweet scent of his lotion warming up the room.

"When did you get home?" Yoongi murmurs out the question.

"Thirty minutes ago," Hoseok tells him. "Some patients forgot about their appointments and turned up really late."

Yoongi slowly blinks his eyes open to see tanned thighs on gray sheets. He watches as Hoseok mindlessly lathers a dollop of lotion onto his legs and works it into his skin, spreading the floral scent around, covering him with a sheer glow.

The focus shifts to Hoseok's eyes, then the strain in them. He's probably had a long day, Yoongi shouldn't bother him with his thoughts.

As he pushes himself up to sit, he reaches forward until his fingers graze soft skin. Hoseok doesn't react much as Yoongi traces the expanse of his leg down to his thigh, though he shifts closer.

Yoongi finds his lips pressed to Hoseok's cheek, feeling it shift as his husband starts to smile. He lingers there with his eyes closed as he feels.

"Are you up to something?" Hoseok asks teasingly as Yoongi rubs little circles into Hoseok's soft thigh with the pad of his thumb. "You know we can't. Not tonight."

"I'm just touching you." Yoongi whispers, still close. "Does it not feel good?" He feels Hoseok shake his head. "So let me keep doing it."

He feels Hoseok relax then, the tension in his muscles slowly fading away, his sighs softening as Yoongi caresses him, breathes him in.

It's easier to keep those thoughts at bay like this, it's easier to pretend like everything is well now that his senses are occupied. With his eyes closed, the sound of Hoseok's soft sighs, the sweet floral smell of Hoseok's lotion, Hoseok's skin under his lips, under his hand, Yoongi secretly hopes that it will consume him like thick smoke, hiding him from all the things he doesn't want to think about.

But Hoseok isn't smoke.

"Did something happen?"

The question catches Yoongi off-guard, and all movements seem to stop then. How did he know?

"You're acting like you're back in college," Hoseok tells him, like he can see the question popping up in Yoongi's mind.

They both know what it means, You're acting like you're back in college.

You're acting like yourself when you were in college.

You're acting like yourself when you were depressed.

You're acting like you're depressed.

"It's nothing," Yoongi says at first, then corrects himself, "it's nothing serious."

His face is still hidden into Hoseok's shoulder before hands come up to gently pull him away.

There's a large crease between Hoseok's brows, and the look in his eyes is the reason Yoongi didn't want to make a big deal out of it in the first place. It's just him; him and his struggles, nothing that Hoseok should be worried about.

But Hoseok worries, and has always worried.

As if he can peer into Yoongi's mind, he smiles, warm and overly bright as he says in the gentlest of voices, the one Yoongi can fall asleep to, "Yeah? Do you need a cuddle?"

"No," Yoongi says too harshly, "I don't need it."

"How about a belly rub?" Hoseok prods still.

"It's fine."

'Do you need to be alone?'  is not one of the provided choices. Hoseok has always made sure that it isn't, because he's all too familiar with this. He's learned, from the years that they've been together, what isolation does to Yoongi, what Yoongi's mind does to him when everything is quiet and cold and dull.

Hoseok hums, a ruminating smile plays on his lips before they part to speak, "A cuddle, belly rubs, kisses, and words of encouragement?"

Yoongi doesn't need to say anything for Hoseok to know that his answer is yes, please.

"Come here, hyung." If there are sounds that can slow down heartbeats and relax tense muscles, then it'd be the music of Hoseok's voice late at night in their dim bedroom. He has lied down on the bed, arms open and waiting until Yoongi lets himself fall into them.

He feels small like this, but in the best way feeling small can be. Hoseok's gets to work then, a hand under Yoongi's shirt rubbing gentle circles on his stomach, light and rapid little kisses on his cheek, then they drift up his ear to whisper.

"It's okay. You're okay."

There's nothing sweeter than this; nothing warmer, softer, nicer than these simple words. It makes pressure rise in Yoongi's throat, at the back of his eyes.

"You're always doing so well," Hoseok whispers then, "I'm so proud of you."

Yoongi doesn't realize that he's crying until Hoseok is kissing his cheek again.

"Ah, which bastard made my Yoongi cry?" Hoseok suddenly says in a mock-serious tone as he reaches up to thumb Yoongi's tears away. "How dare they? They dare hurt the Min Yoongi? Do they know who his husband is?"

"His roommate is one hell of a guy, you know," Yoongi says as he continues stroking Hoseok's hair. "He once survived a whole month on instant noodles and energy drinks while studying how bad instant noodles and energy drinks are for your teeth."

Hoseok laughs at that, though his tears have yet to cease, and his hands have not stopped wiping them away since the moment Yoongi clumsily pulled him into his arms.

Yoongi's bed is too small for the both of them, but it's better than Hoseok's make-shift one on the floor that takes up what little space there already is in the room.

"You don't even have to be book smart," Yoongi goes on to say, "I know it's ironic coming from me, but if your studies are making you cry like this, then I'll gladly beat up all your textbooks."

"Don't," Hoseok says weakly, voice trembling from hiccups and laughter, "they're expensive."

"You're right," Yoongi agrees easily, fingers gingerly brushing strands of hair from Hoseok's face. "I wouldn't let you beat up my textbooks either."

Hoseok's laugh only come out in little hiccups. His nose is stuffed and his jaw is starting to ache, but the continuous flow of his tears only seem to intensify at the thought of textbooks, which leads to thoughts of studying, then at how stupid he is for failing his midterms.

"There, there," Yoongi whispers as he gently, hesitantly reaches up to wipe at Hoseok's tears with the sleeve of his sweater. "How can hyung make you feel better before you lose all the water in your body?"

"I don't know,"  Hoseok sobs.

"What usually gets your mind to shut up?"

"Kissing? I dunno," Hoseok blabbers through his tears, his words no longer filtered and coated with slight hysteria. "That usually shuts me up altogether."

"What, like a forehead kiss?"

"I don't know, hyung." Hoseok cries, "I don't know anything."

Suddenly, a pair of trembling lips are pressed to his forehead, and the air changes.

"D-Does that-" Yoongi stutters. It's like that night, weeks ago, on Hoseok's birthday; the stuttered words, the trembling lips. "Does that help?"

Nothing really changed after that first nerve-wrecking birthday kiss. They were both too busy, too hesitant, too scared to do anything.

But Hoseok misses it. He misses that one moment, that feeling so dearly. It made his chest pull tight at night as he smiled into his pillow and dream about turning twenty again and again.

"O-On the lips," He blurts out in a whisper, dumbly pointing at his lips just so it's clear. He isn't even crying anymore. "... On the lips?"

It's so quiet, like Yoongi has stopped breathing, like the other two flatmates don't even exist.

Before Hoseok can somehow retract his statement from how long the silence stretches, Yoongi is holding his face, eyes peering into his. It's a serious gaze, all of a sudden, the ones he usually has on when he's studying, when he's trying to figure something out. He looks into Hoseok's eyes with a question.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" He asks, not stumbling over his words like he did a minute ago. There's a sudden pull in his chest, like Yoongi somehow has control of the air around them.

"Hoseok-ah," His own name sounds soft from Yoongi's lips, and it still sends a little thrill after months of sharing the same space. It sounds better every time he says it, like a sweater that has been worn and washed so many times that it's now soft and homey.

"Hoseok-ah," He says it again, and Hoseok realizes then that his question is left unanswered.

Yoongi is still looking at him. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

"Wipe your snot first, babe," Hoseok says with a laugh as he reaches over Yoongi to grab a box of tissues from the nightstand. The endeared smile is still on his face as Yoongi loudly blows his nose, wider when he has to tell Yoongi to take it easy or it'll swell up and he'd have to breathe through his mouth the whole night.

"I'm a mess," Yoongi murmurs as he lets Hoseok reach over the put to box of tissues back in its place.

"You're not a mess," Hoseok tells him, tightening his hold. "I only kiss smart guys who are doing their best."

He kisses Yoongi then, and Yoongi can feel the grin of his lips, satisfied with his own joke. Then he kisses Yoongi again, and he doesn't stop until Yoongi's sobs dissolve into hiccups, until his breathing is no longer stuttered.

"Thank you," Is all Yoongi can whisper.

Hoseok wrinkles his nose at that though, "That's not what I wanted to hear."

"I love you," Yoongi says then, and watches in awe as Hoseok's face molds back into a smile like it's his first time hearing him say it.

"I love you too."

Chapter Text

A lot of Jimin's days are quite similar.

He'd leave his shoes where they are as soon as they are off his feet, and choose between cooking something for dinner or just going for instant ramen. Sometimes Hoseok and Yoongi would invite him over for dinner and that's always nice.

He would either watch something on his phone or laptop on his little table then quickly wash up. Afterwards, he would check his schedule for tomorrow and set any necessary reminder, then he'd scroll through his phone in bed until he's sleepy and end his day on whatever is left on his phone screen before he close his eyes. Sometimes, when he is awake enough to remember, he'd text his mom as well.

It's constant and repetitive, but Jimin doesn't really mind. There is order.

"What are you up to today?" Hoseok asks as he finally sits down to eat the breakfast he prepared.

"Rehearsals, mostly," Jimin recalls easily, "then a lecture, and that's it."

"Oh, the things Hoseok would do to trade days with you," Yoongi mutters through his cup of coffee. "He's Mr. Popular, unfortunately."

Hoseok sighs at that, "That's just a romanticized way of saying I don't get to eat lunch because I'm fully booked."

"Which is why you're supposed to be stuffing yourself right now," Yoongi shoves a piece of toast at his mouth with a level of force that makes Jimin flinch.

"If you ever considered getting married, Jimin," Hoseok speaks, muffled by the piece of toast, "don't."

Jimin laughs at that. He doesn't even have anyone he particularly likes. In fact, he can't even remember the last time he's had a crush on someone. He's too busy.

That was months ago, though.

The sound of his phone vibrating against the table is what jolts him awake one afternoon.

"Hey," Yoongi says, "it's hyung."

"I know it's you," Jimin tells him. "Hello, hyung."

"Can you come pick your friend up at the clinic?"

Jimin frowns, "Sorry?"

"Taehyung," Yoongi says, "come pick Taehyung up at my clinic."

"Is he okay?"

"Oh he's kicking," Yoongi tells him, "literally. He knocked down a plant just now."

"There you go," Dr. Min heaves as he mindlessly sets the boy down onto one of the chairs in front of the clinic. It's quite funny, considering how much bigger Taehyung is compared to him. "He came to get his wisdom teeth removed, but I guess he forgot about the anesthetics. There's no way he can go home by himself in this state." He sighs. "Jiwoo can only entertain him for so long."

With a glance towards Jiwoo at the counter, she shoots him an apologetic look, although it's not like she did anything wrong.

"Wait, hyung," Something strucks Jimin then, "how did you know that me and Taehyung-" 

"Taehyung-ah," Yoongi pats the boy's shoulder, "your boyfriend is here." 

Jimin's whole body seems to malfunction right at that moment.

Taehyung, who has had his head hung low this whole time, looks up drowsily. When he speaks, it's slurred and garbled through the gauzes stuffed in his cheeks like he's in the middle of chewing his food. "... I have a boyfriend?"

"Oh dear, that's for you to sort out." Yoongi tries to pull him up from the chair, "Now, up, up." 

"We're not dating!" Jimin blurts out belatedly. His cheeks feel pinched.

Yoongi looks at him before gesturing to Taehyung who he's still pulling up, "You mean Taehyung isn't your boyfriend?" 

Taehyung suddenly looks devastated, "I'm not your boyfriend?" 

Jimin snorts at that, "No, Tae," he steps forward to help him stand, "I'm here to pick you up, though."

"Oh..." Taehyung sulks, but then he smiles, "where are we going?"

"Your place," Jimin takes his hand, "You should be familiar." 

"Oh, " Taehyung's eyes widen at that, then he turns to Yoongi who just smiles at him.

"It'll wear off in a couple hours," The doctor tells him. "You can take the gauze out at around 5pm."

Dr. Min and his assistant watch them leave before turning to look at each other at the same time.

"Didn't Hoseok say they were dating?" Yoongi asks.

Jiwoo shrugs, "It looks like they're dating. Maybe they're just taking it slow?"

Yoongi considers that before he clicks his tongue, "Kids these days, huh."

Jimin sits down next to him on the couch, "Why are you sulking, Tae?"

Taehyung's lips are jutted out in a pout. Both of his cheeks are swollen, though it doesn't seem to do anything to his handsome face. "It's stupid," he grumbles.

"What is it?" Jimin bumps his shoulder. "I'm always here to listen to stupid stuff."

Taehyung whines and shakes his head like a child who thinks no one can understand their struggle. He hides his face in his arms stubbornly.

"Come on, Taetae," Jimin rests his chin on Taehyung's shoulder. "If you don't tell me why you're upset I won't know how to make you feel better."

Eventually, he lets down his guard, dropping his arms down to cross at his chest. His shoulders are still hunched when he makes a noise that vaguely sounds like words.

"What was that?" Jimin asks him.

"N....m...end."

"What?" 

"M.. N... iend..." 

"Taehyung," 

"I'm not Jimin's boyfriend!" Taehyung blurts out in one breath. Panic washes over his face before Jimin can even react, "Don't tell Jimin." Another wave of it hits him and his eyes widen in surprise, "Wait, Jimin!?"

Jimin pulls away to stare at him. "... That's what got you sulking?" He whispers. "Taehyung... I-"

Taehyung's expression cuts him off when it suddenly hardens into a serious gaze. The eye contact is so intense that Jimin doesn't dare to move or say anything.

It remains like that for a brief second, then Taehyung collapses into a wide grin and giggles, "You're pretty."

A trail of blood starts to stream down the corner of his mouth, and the panic this time seems to hit Jimin first from how Taehyung just stared at him in confusion for a second before he realizes. "Wait, I'm bleeding!" He wipes at the blood with his finger, stares at it, then panics even more, "Jimin-ah, I'm bleeding!"

"Bite down on the gauze, Tae!" Jimin warns him as he grabs a handful of tissues.

"Jimin-ah, I'm dying," Taehyung cries as he sinks into his couch, "oh my god, it's finally happening."

"Stop talking!" Jimin clamps his mouth shut with his hands as he goes to gently wipe away the blood from his cheek. 

"If I die," Taehyung starts again.

"Don't talk!" Jimin scolds him as more blood dribbles down his chin.

"If I die," Taehyung continues anyway, "I need you to knlw that- mmrghm."

With all the force he has, Jimin holds the top of Taehyung's head and his chin to keep his mouth shut. "Bite, bite!"

Taehyung groans but obliges with a sad noise before he shifts, turning on the couch to face Jimin. He gently removes the hands restraining him, and holds up his right hand.

Jimin stares curiously as Taehyung gestures towards him before he holds his left hand to his own chest. The left hand then turns into a fist, and his right hand then hovers over it in circles.

It takes Jimin a second to actually understand what was going on before he asks, "Since when did you learn sign language?" 

Taehyung just hums and shrugs before he goes on to sign something else.

"I don't know sign language," Jimin tells him.

At that, Taehyung proceeds to make noises that sounds like he's shaping every word out without opening his mouth.

"How about this," Jimin takes his hands, "how about we wait until those gauzes are out of your mouth then you can tell me," He pats Taehyung's hands as he smiles, "Does that sound good?"

Taehyung stares at him for a second before he agrees with a nod.

They watch Howl's Moving Castle snuggled up in a blanket like usual, but now with Taehyung humming to the soundtrack and garbling quick inputs through the first ten minutes. Jimin enjoys movie much more this way, he finds.

A little after Taehyung has started spacing out, Jimin drags him into the bathroom to finally remove the gauzes, crinkling his nose at the appalling amount of blood in the sink.

"Do you feel okay?" He asks as he rubs Taehyung's back, waiting until he nods. "I'll go wait at the couch while you wash up."

Jimin stares at the search results for korean sign language and feels the gradual yet rapid pulse in his chest. He knew, of course, they both knew.

... They both knew, yet it's so surreal to see it in words. The corners of his mouth are lifted so high he doesn't even know when they started to.

He finds the meaning for the other sign Taehyung did, but this one confuses him.

"Ah, I think the pain meds wore off," Taehyung groans as he stumbles into the living room with both hands cupping his cheeks. "Everything hurts."

"Why are you sorry?" Jimin cuts to the chase.

Taehyung just stares at him confusedly, "I am?... Should I be?" 

"You did this earlier" Jimin tries to recreate the hand sign but messes it up terribly. "You said you were sorry."

"Okay, that sounds.... vaguely familiar," Taehyung hums as he scratches the back of his head. His eyes light up suddenly, "Ah! Yes, okay, I remember and now I feel bad again."

"What is it?" Jimin asks.

"You said you were going to work on an assignment the whole day," Taehyung reminds him. That really sets things back into perspective for Jimin.

He wanted order— he wanted order and Taehyung knew that he is the one who always seems to disrupt Jimin's order with his spontaneity.

"I was going to ask if you could come pick me up today, but I didn't want to bother you," Taehyung is quiet when he speaks, like he's weighed down by guilt. "You were stressing over it a lot."

Sometimes, like moments such as this, it's like Taehyung knows Jimin better than Jimin has ever known himself. Taehyung knows Jimin, and how he likes things a certain way, and he complies.

What Taehyung doesn't know, however, is that Jimin will bend any rule and break off any order for him, because somehow it never seems to matter when it comes to Taehyung.

"Tae," Jimin says to him, "keep your apology."

"Can't" Taehyung mimes physically throwing it back to Jimin.

"Come on," Jimin throws it back and makes sure it stays there with his hand against Taehyung's chest. "I'm here because I want to."

There's a pulse under Jimin's palm, rapid and insistent. Before he can say anything, before he can even think of something to say, he's pulled into a hug.

It makes Jimin smile like he hasn't smiled before. "What's up?" 

"I just think you're really great."

Jimin hugs him back like it's the easiest thing. He tries to press close enough so Taehyung can feel it too— the same rapid pulse on his chest.

"How do you say 'me too' in sign language?" His question is murmured into Taehyung's shoulder.

He feels Taehyung shrug, "Dunno. Just say it to me." 

"Can't," Jimin tells him, "you signed it to me. I have to sign it back."

That makes Taehyung pull away, but just enough that they can face each other, "Why are you sorry too?"

Jimin laughs at that, "Not that. The first one."

Taehyung frowns, "What did I sign?" 

It doesn't have to be said directly. Maybe it's too soon to actually put into words. But they both know, and perhaps that's all that matters.

So Jimin just smiles at him, holding his gaze until it clicks and his eyes light up.

"Oh," Taehyung breathes.

Jimin chuckles, "Yeah."

"You mean it?" He asks in wonder, "Like, really mean it, in that way?"

Laughter escapes him like a deflating balloon, "In what way?"

"You know," Taehyung jerks his shoulders, "That way."

"Taehyung-ah," Jimin looks at him, "don't act like you didn't know."

The cunning little thing. Taehyung's smile is wide and cheeky. Of course he knows. Jimin never tried to hide it from him, and he never made an attempt himself either.

A lot of Jimin's days are quite similar.

He leaves his shoes where they are as soon as they are off his feet, and choose between cooking something for dinner or just going for instant ramen. Sometimes Hoseok and Yoongi would invite him over for dinner and that's always nice.

He either watches something on his phone or laptop on his little table then quickly washes up. Afterwards, he checks his schedule for tomorrow and sets any necessary reminder, then he'll scroll through his phone in bed until he's sleepy and ends his day on whatever is left on his phone screen before he closes his eyes. Sometimes, when he is awake enough to remember, he'd text his mom as well.

It's constant and repetitive, but then Taehyung came around.

Taehyung, who is so dynamic in the way he talks, the innocence in his face and the openness of his mind.

Taehyung, who comes to Jimin's showcases and errands, who drags him out to anywhere and sometimes nowhere.

Taehyung, who has destroyed Jimin's order in the best way possible.

Suddenly, none of Jimin's days are similar at all.

Like now, when he should be going over his assignment before finalizing it, he's walking home with Taehyung after hours of movie marathoning and soft foods. Just the simplest, most mundane things that make him feel so alive.

"Your cheeks are gonna be swollen for a day or two," Jimin tells him when they're just in front of his apartment, "speaking from experience."

Taehyung grimaces, "Does it look bad?"

Jimin smiles, "It's cute."

"Would you kiss me even if I look like this?"

"Would I-"

They know, Jimin has to remind himself. They both know.

"Yeah," He tells him, "I would."

It's easy. Should it really be this easy? Shouldn't there be some kind of build-up before they kiss? Something like held breaths and hesitant hands.

Jimin asks himself this, yet there's none of that.

Taehyung kisses him. There is nothing else that needs to be said.

Taehyung kisses him, and Jimin kisses him back.

Taehyung kissed him

Oh my god, Taehyung kissed him.

"Hyung!" Jimin cries as he obliterates the doorbell. To no avail, he resorts to rapidly knocking on the door until his knuckles hurt, "Hyung!"

A slightly disgruntled Hoseok opens the door finally, and the reality of the whole situation really hits him when he says it out loud.

"Taehyung kissed me!" 

Chapter Text

Namjoon first met Seokjin when he was in highschool.

They met through a small music club, and Seokjin was around ever since. Namjoonʼs parents liked him, and Seokjinʼs parents seemed to approve as well.

Namjoon never expected anything much out of their friendship.

“Whatʼs that, Kook-ah? You want to be on Daddyʼs lap instead?” Seokjin chirps before he lifts the boy up and moves him onto Namjoonʼs lap. “Here you go.”

Namjoon groans at the sudden weight, “You had him for five minutes!”

“Well I lost feeling in my legs two minutes ago.”  Seokjin crosses his arms. “It wasnʼt me who fattened the beast.”

“Ah, hyung!” Hoseokʼs voice can be heard from his office. “No, no. I just have Jungkook and then Iʼm done. Do you want dinner?”

“Oh yeah,” Seokjin whispers suddenly, “what are we doing for dinner?”

Namjoon hums as he thinks before he looks down at the toddler on his lap, “What does Jungkookie want?”

“Ramyeon.” The boy blubbers.

“Over my dead body,” Seokjin rebuts. “I think we still have leftovers from yesterday.”

“Well, Iʼll see you at home,” Hoseokʼs phone conversation comes back into focus. He goes quiet for a moment before thereʼs a soft sigh like heʼs smiling, before he murmurs, “I love you too.”

Interesting, Namjoon thinks.

“Weʼve never said that before,” Seokjin speaks like heʼs read his mind, “have we?”

“Iʼm sure Iʼve said it before,” Namjoon hums, “it doesnʼt feel too foreign to me.”

“You say it to Jungkook.”

Thatʼs true. Itʼs a difficult thing to pinpoint and explain, but Namjoon and Seokjinʼs relationship developed in a way where love was barely an afterthought.

“Are you two free this evening?” Hoseok asks once the payment has been dealt with. “Yoongi hyung is cooking tonight.”

“Huh,” Seokjin sounds intrigued, “that sounds better than heated leftovers.”

“Good point,” Namjoon mumbles, “and Jungkook? You wanna eat with the doctors?” He gets a wide, teethy smile in response which is good enough.

“Oh yeah, our wedding was terrible,” Yoongi tells them at the dinner table, “I was stupid so I didnʼt think anything through and it was really impromptu so like ten people showed up.”

Hoseok hums, “It was nice, though. I liked it.”

“Jin hyung insisted we get a wedding planner for our wedding since weʼre both busy, and pretty much everyone we knew ended up coming.” Namjoon recalls.

“It was pretty cool,” Seokjin says as he sips his drink. “Really fancy. We had our first kiss then too.”

Hoseok, about to take a bite of his food, lowers his spoon down, “Wait, what?”

“Oh yeah, you told me this,” Yoongi joins in before he turns to explain to Hoseok, “they werenʼt dating before this.”

Hoseok frowns at that, “So is it like...arranged...?”

“No, no,” Namjoon quickly clarifies. “Me and hyung basically made a promise a really long time ago when we were just friends that weʼd get married.”

It all started with a promise.

Seokjin was visiting one night. Namjoon was in his final year of highschool and Seokjin was a college freshman.

“They really want me to get married,” Namjoon complained to him. “But itʼs way too soon to be thinking about that. I donʼt even know how to break it to them that even if I get married, it probably wouldnʼt be with a girl.”

Seokjin nods at that, “Are they not supportive of that?”

“Itʼs more like I donʼt know how they feel about it, and it makes me nervous.” Namjoon tells him. “I wouldnʼt even know what to do if they donʼt like my partner.”

“Well, they like me.”

Namjoon turns to meet his eyes at that.

“They might not mind if itʼs me you marry.” Seokjin says like itʼs the most straightfoward thing. “My parents probably wouldnʼt mind me marrying you either.”

“Do you want to marry me, hyung?” Namjoon asks him.

“Well thereʼs no one whoʼs more eligible right now,” Seokjin tells him, “so yes. Maybe. I think Iʼd make a good husband.”

Namjoon considers it for a moment. “I guess I wouldnʼt mind eating your cooking everyday.”

“Sounds like a good deal?”

“But I want kids,” He intercepts.

“How many?”

“I donʼt know. Maybe two, but weʼll see.”

Seokjin makes a face at that, like itʼs not his favorite idea. “If you can convince me to like one single child, then maybe.”

“Are we making a deal, then?” Namjoon asks him. “If by the time I graduate from college and weʼre both still single...”

“Weʼll get married,” Seokjin finishes.

“Yeah,” Namjoon holds up his pinky, “promise?”

Seokjin smiles at that before he hooks Namjoonʼs pinky with his.

“I still wonder why you agreed so easily,” Seokjin says as he turns to wipe food from Jungkookʼs mouth with a napkin.

“Well first of all, I was seventeen when we did that,” Namjoon starts, “and when I thought about it, there wasnʼt really anyone else Iʼd rather be with instead? My parents already liked you anyway.”

“Ah, that must be nice,” He looks up to see Hoseok smiling at them. “Hyungʼs parents are...”  He hesitates suddenly, turning to look at Yoongi beside him.

From across the table, Namjoon can see Yoongi moving his hand to Hoseokʼs lap before he speaks, “I havenʼt talked to them in a while. But Hoseokʼs are slowly reaching out, so thatʼs good. Havenʼt met them offically yet, but hopefully thatʼll come around as well.”

“Thatʼs good,” Seokjinʼs voice is soft. “Wanna take Jungkook as your fake son just to win their love?”

Hoseok laughs at that. “Whatʼs your rate?”

Jungkook blinks at them confusedly from where heʼs playing on the floor.

“Would you want to adopt or get a surrogate?”

“You can decide.”

“Adopt then. Probably,” Seokjin tells him, fiddling with a pen in his hands. The sun is setting, and Namjoonʼs room is painted orange from the cast. “Not sure what a kid would do with my genes.”

Namjoon hums at that, “Fair.”

The pen is gently set onto the desk surface. “Are you asking this because youʼre still considering it?”

The tone isnʼt serious, but it isnʼt the same playful one as before. Seokjin is quiet as he waits for an answer.

“Itʼs been years since we made that promise,” Namjoon looks at Seokjinʼs hands on the table. “And youʼre still here, so I donʼt think I can just get rid of you anymore.”

Seokjin laughs at that, “Youʼre right. Iʼll be nagging you for the rest of your life, probably.”

“Do you like me, hyung?”

The room turns pink as the sky gets gradually darker.

Seokjin is quiet at first, but his voice is the softest whisper when he speaks, “I wouldnʼt make that promise if I didnʼt.”

I love you.

“When did you first say it?” Namjoon asks, “To Hoseok.”

Yoongi frowns as he tries to recall. Jungkook is trying to build some kind of island with wooden blocks and a toy banana. Seokjin and Hoseokʼs muted conversation can be heard beneath the sounds of dishes clattering and sink running from the kitchen.

“Do people usually remember things like that?” Yoongi asks him. “I donʼt even remember myself not saying it.”

Namjoon sighs as his stomach begins to knot with concern. He recalls waiting for the right moment, somehow. The perfect moment to say it for the first time, but it never seemed to come, and other thoughts began to take over his mind eventually.

“... You love him, right?”

That question startles Namjoon, and for a second he actually felt offended. How stupid would he be to choose to marry someone he doesnʼt love, let alone raise a son with?

Of course, love doesnʼt need to be spoken in words. But would anyone else really know for sure that you love them without hearing it? Yoongiʼs not wrong for being uncertain.

Of course I do.

But should Yoongi be the first one to hear it?

“Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi calls, waiting until Jungkook whips his head up in response like a startled rabbit. “Do you love your dad?”

Jungkook blinks at that before he answers, “Yesh.”

And then, in stumbling little steps, Jungkook makes his wobbly way towards Namjoon on the couch to hug him.

Itʼs a heart-melting moment that Namjoon isnʼt sure where Jungkook learned from, but he gives his son a kiss on the top of his head before letting him go back to play.

“It should be that easy,” Yoongi tells him. “Iʼm not saying that your feelings for Jin hyung are not genuine or anything.” He quickly reassures. “I just want you to give it a try. You donʼt have to say it of course. No one has to. But itʼll feel different when you do.”

Itʼll feel different.

Itʼs love, surely.

When Namjoon looks at Seokjin, heʼs struck with the feeling that this is it for him— thereʼs nothing else that he would want more than this... even though he has never said it.

Seokjin sighs when Jungkook kicks at his blanket. “You really donʼt run out of energy, do you?”

“Someoneʼs had too much fun,” Namjoon teases. “Now heʼs too restless to go to sleep.”

He watches as Seokjin brushes his fingers through Jungkookʼs hair as he starts to sing the softest melodies for his son.

Namjoon never really took much notice of Seokjinʼs voice when they were younger, but now when itʼs quiet, when itʼs a soothing song for his child to relax and sleep, no song has ever sounded this beautiful.

Eventually, Jungkook closes his eyes and they quietly leave the room.

Seokjin suddenly curses under his breath when he sees the state of the kitchen. “I forgot about this mess. I was going to clean it when we were making dinner before plans changed.”

Namjoon is in charge of vacuuming the floor and taking care of the scraps of food while Seokjin scrubs away at the stove with a sponge.

Itʼll feel different.

“Hyung,” Namjoon calls.

Seokjin turns to him with a smile, “Hm?”

Itʼll feel different.

Namjoon chickens out at the last minute. “Ah, nothing.”

His husband stares at him confusedly before his eyes drift down to his hands.

“Youʼre bleeding,” Seokjin points out then, “how did you do that?”

“I- what?” Namjoon looks down to see the fresh cut on his hand. “Oh?”

That makes Seokjin laugh, “Iʼm not even surprised.” He takes the hand under the tap and runs water over it. “I get more worried about you than Jungkook sometimes.” He closes the tap and reaches for a clean towel to press on the cut.

Namjoon stares at Seokjinʼs serious expression, eyes focusing on stopping the bleeding like nothing else is on his mind.

“Hyung,”

“Yup.”

“I love you.”

His pulse rises, and something blooms so rapidly in his chest. Namjoon feels like heʼs seventeen again.

“Huh,” He whispers. “It does feel different.”

Seokjin is looking at him with a rare shock. His hands are still holding the towel around Namjoonʼs cut.

“Where is this coming from?” He asks.

“Itʼs always been there,” Namjoon tells him. “Just thought I should try saying it.”

“I love you too.”

Seokjin blinks at his own words before he lets out a sigh, “Ah, I see what you mean.” His voice is soft. “It feels different.”

“I know right?” Namjoonʼs voice is lighter than he expected. He didnʼt think he would feel so much.

This is the perfect moment, he thinks. Just them in the kitchen of their shared apartment, their son sleeping in the other room.

“Iʼve always thought weʼd be that kind of couple that never have to say it, because we already know,” Seokjin says, “but it... it feels nice, doesnʼt it?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon smiles, “it does.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Seokjinʼs expression mirrors his, and a hand comes to caress his face.

Namjoon leans in to kiss the person he has loved for a very, very long time, and no moment can be as perfect as this.

“Thanks for saying it first,” Seokjin whispers against his lips, and it only widens Namjoonʼs smile even more.

“Ew.”

The sudden disgusted groan takes Namjoon by surprise, but Seokjin just sighs half-heartedly.

“Hey bun,” He approaches the boy whose head is peaking through the door, “canʼt sleep?”

Jungkook is frowning at them, “What are you doing?”

“Kissing,” Seokjin answers him easily before he leans down to plant a kiss on his sonʼs forehead, “like this.”

“Why?” Jungkook whines as he rubs at the offended spot.

“Because Papa and Daddy love each other like we love Jungkookie.” Seokjin brushes strands of the boyʼs hair from his face. “Wanna go back to sleep?” Jungkook shakes his head. “Come on, letʼs sleep together.”

That seems to satisfy Jungkookʼs needs as he lets Seokjin take him to their bedroom. He turns to glance at Namjoon with another small smile.

Namjoon goes to sleep that night holding the two people he loves the most.

Chapter Text

Hoseok vaguely recalls the alarm going off a while ago before it's silent again. He feels a weight near him, light and awake.

Yoongi is on his phone when he turns, eyes squinting through his glasses as he diligently types something. The rays of light that manages to slip through the curtains drape themselves on his hair, his chest, his arms, the crumpled waves of the comforter. It's an oddly cold morning despite the warm colors.

"Did you forget to reply to the emails last night?" He whispers.

"That's why I'm doing it right now," Yoongi murmurs.

He pauses to think, furrowing his brows before he continues to write. Hoseok gingerly scoots closer, reaching to drape his arm over Yoongi's torso.

"Are you almost done?" He asks once he's managed to rest his head on his chest. He hears a grunt in reply, muffled by the calm beating of his heart where Hoseok's ear is pressed to.

"Did you go out for your morning run?" Yoongi asks him absentmindedly.

"No, I was too tired." Hoseok mumurs before he chuckles. "I'm still naked from last night. Why would I strip again just to get back in bed?" He feels Yoongi shrug.

It's not quite a habit, but Yoongi always seems to swiftly change the subject whenever he's losing in a particular conversation. "This kid got pushed by her friends and fell face first onto cement floor and her front teeth broke in half."

Hoseok hisses at that. "Is her face okay?"

"Nothing serious other than her front teeth, surprisingly."

His fingers skim at the blanket over Yoongi's chest. "It'll grow back, wouldn't it? If they're baby teeth."

"They're her permanent teeth," Yoongi whispers.

"Oh shit."

"Yeah," He sighs. "I'm trying to see if I can move all my appointments back so I can see her first thing tomorrow."

One of the plus sides of being an independent dentist is that you're in charge of the hours. You don't have to rush out in the middle of the night when there's an emergency; instead, patients have to follow your schedule.

Yoongi, however, prioritizes his patient's well-beings over his convenience, and if it means that he has to personally contact all of his patients on his packed days to push all their schedules back just so he can stick a bullied girl's front teeth back together, then he'll do it.

"I'll go make breakfast, so just come eat when you're done, okay?" Hoseok says as he lifts his head from Yoongi's chest, smiling at the little nod in response. "Kiss?"

It lingers a little too long for a greeting, but Hoseok doesn't mind. It makes Yoongi look a bit more awake.

His mother calls, asking about his health and complaining about how she always has to be the one to call. Hoseok chuckles, giving her the excuse that he's been busy while he whisks the eggs and spring onions together.

"We're serious, you know?" His mother says suddenly, "About meeting Yoongi."

Hoseok almost drops the steamer he's carrying.

"It's been a really long time since we've seen you, Hoseok."

"Yeah," Hoseok whispers as he puts the bowls of eggs into the steamer. "Uh, I'll have to see when we're free."

"Chuseok is a few weeks away," She says through the speakerphone, voice just a touch higher than usual like she's quietly pleading. "Come visit then, yeah?"

Hoseok's hands are shaking when he's brewing the coffee, and he doesn't respond.

"We just want to make things right again." His mother whispers.

"I'll let you know in a few days, mom," Hoseok reaches for his phone. "Say hello to dad for me."

Breakfast was a comfortable quiet that Hoseok didn't want to ruin. Though it's not like he can keep it quiet for long.

"Hyung," He speaks up, staring at Yoongi's back, working on washing the dishes. He gets a hum in reply. "Would you want to go meet my parents on Chuseok?"

The way Yoongi freezes in place makes his stomach churn. Yoongi has never met his parents for the six years they've been together. They cut contacts with him during his college years and didn't show up to his wedding. They sent that set of toy shakers when he first opened his clinic but not a word. His mother was the one to call first, a few months ago, as things start to piece back together, bit by bit.

"Did they apologize?" Yoongi asks him after turning the tap back on. Hoseok doesn't need to ask what they would apologize for.

"They never did," He tells him, a lump forming in his throat. "But I want to go."

Yoongi is quiet for a while, setting the dishes on the drying rack and wiping the counter with a rag. Hoseok holds his breath as he waits, nails digging into his lap.

"If you want to, then we'll go," He says eventually, wiping his hands on his pants.

Relief washes over his body. "Yeah?"

Yoongi nods, "If anything happens, we'll leave."

"That's fine," Hoseok stands up from his chair to pull his husband into a hug. "I know it's a bit late to be doing this-"

"It's better late than never," Yoongi hugs him back easily. "I know I'd do anything for an invite to dinner from my family."

"Yeah," Hoseok turns his head to kiss Yoongi's cheek. "Should we take Jungkook as our fake son to impress them? Jin hyung already agreed."

That makes Yoongi laugh, "I don't think he'll like the long drive."

✧

Jungkook is awake, but he can't seem to recall waking up or getting up from his bed. He's on his way now, in careless steps out of his room and into the hallway.

The sun is up already, a sharp line of it on the floor and chairs from the closed curtains. He's tried to draw them back by himself before but Seokjin wasn't very happy with that.

When he approaches the door to his parents' bedroom, he recalls the good manners Namjoon had taught him and slaps the door three times, then once more for good measure. He doesn't get a response.

"Daddy?" He calls in a small voice. No response still.

Defeated, he frowns as he turns away from the door and makes his way back, trying not to cry.

"Jungkook?" A tired voice calls after the sound of the door clicking open. Jungkook turns to see his dad, glasses hastily put on and hair a mess. What a delightful sight. It's been so long.

He runs back into Namjoon's open arms before he is being lifted off the ground with a strained grunt. "God, you're heavy."

Now face to face, Namjoon leans in to kiss one of his fat cheeks. "Morning, Kook-ah. Hungry?" He chuckles at the enthusiastic nod in response. "Let's go make something. Papa is still asleep."

"Wake him up," Jungkook tries to fight out of his dad's hold.

"No, no," Namjoon tightens his arms. "He's tired. Let's make him breakfast then wake him up."

Jungkook will be turning five soon, yet it still feels like yesterday when he could barely walk, clumsily waddling around in the kitchen.

Now he's putting bread in the toaster, pouring orange juice into glasses and spilling only the slightest bit while Namjoon cuts up strawberries and set out the jam and chocolate spreads.

He suggests bringing it to Seokjin in a tray like those breakfasts on beds they see in movies, but Jungkook pulls a face at that like it's a terrible idea. Why would you want food near your bed? That's disgusting. It's such a Seokjin thought process.

So Jungkook sets off to wake his other dad up while Namjoon sets everything up on the table. He frowns at the cutting board and crumbs on the counter top, but he'll deal with it later.

Seokjin enters with a yawn, back slightly hunched to accommodate for his small son who's leading him by the hand. And it's unfair, Namjoon thinks, the same thought he seems to have every morning. It's unfair how effortlessly good Seokjin looks in the morning.

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asks him once he's settled down.

His husband closes his eyes for a moment, like he's about to drift off to sleep again before he grumbles, "Could be better. Did you brew coffee, by any chance?"

"I was going to but Jungkook wouldn't let me." They never told him, so perhaps he has learned it from another kid at the daycare, but he knows now that coffee isn't good for you and he's trying his best to give his parents an intervention. "Orange juice," Namjoon hands him a glass. "Who poured Papa's orange juice, Kook-ah?"

"I did," Jungkook says proudly, puffing his chest out as he chews on toast. "I made that too," He points at the toast in Seokjin's hand.

Seokjin looks impressed, "You did?" At another proud nod, he leans in to kiss the top of his son's head. "Well done, Jungkook-ah."

"I did the rest," Namjoon gestures at the strawberries and the scrambled eggs. "I didn't burn anything this time."

"Yeah?" Seokjin reaches over to ruffle Namjoon's hair. "Good job."

It makes Namjoon frown, one hand mindlessly fixing his hair, though in poor attempt. "How come Jungkook gets a kiss and I get a head pat?"

"Don't read into it too much," Seokjin flattens his tone as he waves him off. "It's really nothing serious."

"Hyung," Namjoon whines as he leans in closer from across the table, "don't be mean."

Jungkook's head shoots up, "Papa is mean?"

"Very mean," His dad affirms.

"Don't use our son to gang up on me," Seokjin scolds him before turning his head to kiss the side of Jungkook's head just to taunt him even further.

"Come on, me too," Namjoon doesn't back down.

He eyes the way Seokjin crinkles his nose, "Have you even brushed your teeth?"

"Please," That's not a yes. "I'll wash the dishes with Jungkook after."

That manages to break Seokjin's resolve. He lets Namjoon give him a peck on the lips before turning to Jungkook when the boy lets out a disgusted noise.

"Say," Namjoon eyes the boy warily, "do you think our son's..."

"Don't even say it," Seokjin cuts him off. "Just dont'."

"Homophobic?"

"Kim Namjoon, you fu-" He catches himself in time, eyeing the four-year-old next to him. "Sweetheart. You shouldn't say things like that, dear."

"Kim Namjoon," Jungkook parrots curiously.

"Ah, don't call me that," Kim Namjoon carps.

"Kim Namjoon," The boy echoes.

Kim Namjoon points at himself, "Daddy."

"Kim. Nam. Joon."

"Yup," Kim Seokjin rises from the table with a groan. "You deal with this while I make actual breakfast."

The debate goes on for quite a while before it ends with Jungkook's victory and Namjoon accepting his fate. By the time things have settled down, Seokjin is setting down bowls of tteokguk on the table before Jungkook practically inhales it from how fast and diligently he eats. Seokjin has to slow him down or else he'll choke. Namjoon makes a pun with tteokguk and Jungkook's name. It's not funny.

"So what's the status on Taiwan?" Namjoon asks Seokjin while he's washing the dishes. Jungkook is excused to go take a shower after wiping down two plates. "Are you still going?"

"I thought I had a choice," Seokjin murmurs against the rim of his mug, taking the chance to drink coffee now that the one to stop him is elsewhere. He seems to be recalling last night in his head with a frown. "Turns out I don't."

"Well, you'll have fun," Namjoon sets the glasses on the drying rack, catching the one that slips from his hold in time. "It's only for a week or so, right?"

"Yeah," Seokjin reaches over to rearrange the dishes on the drying rack so they sit properly before setting his empty mug in the sink. "Still..."

When Namjoon turns to his side, Seokjin is already looking at him. The kiss is unexpected but welcomed nevertheless.

Seokjin smiles at him, "Good morning."

Namjoon can't quite bite back his own. "A bit weird to say it now."

"I forgot to say it earlier," Arms curl around Namjoon's middle before Seokjin presses his cheek to his shoulder like he's about to fall asleep again. "Thanks for making breakfast."

✧

The loud, blaring sound of Jimin's default ringtone, accompanied by the all too violent vibrating startles him awake suddenly.

He answers the phone with a pounding heart, forgetting to even check the caller ID, "Hello?"

"I'm in front of the building." Taehyung's voice comes on. "Are you coming down?"

Oh, shit. "Shit, I slept through my alarm," Jimin blubbers. "Uh, hold on, it's cold outside. I'll buzz you in."

He manages to barely put himself together when Taehyung is at the door, dressed and freshened up with a drink in his hand. "Morning."

"Morning," Jimin returns meekly. He looks down at the drink, "Since when did you not hate coffee?"

"It's for you, actually," Taehyung says as he hands it over easily.

"Oh god, thank you," Jimin isn't completely awake yet, but his neck is already warming up to the tips of his ears. "Come sit down. I need a few more minutes."

Jimin's mornings alone are usually quiet. If he feels the need for some background noise, he'd open the window to let the sounds from the street filter in, though it's not often. As he washes up in the bathroom, he hears music playing from outside. It's a soft song, easy on the ears for so early in the morning.

Taehyung was the one who suggested they should meet and go to school together even though it's closer to where he lives. Jimin only ever gets to school on time, but Taehyung apparently has always been early to enjoy the peaceful hours before the commotion.

He's reading a book when Jimin exits the bathroom. It's in english, although he's never heard Taehyung speak english. It adds to the pretty sight though. The sight of Taehyung, dark curled hair a bit rustled by the cold wind, light brown coat hanging on the back of his chair, reading a book while a soft pop song plays from his phone.

"You're really pretty," Jimin says as a greeting, "did you know that?"

Taehyung smiles at that, "Thanks, I try." He looks at Jimin, "You're prettier."

"You don't have to return the compliment," He jokes as he reaches for the cup of coffee on the table. Sometimes Taehyung orders a drink he knows Jimin would like, sometimes it's whatever he's curious about. "What's this?" He murmurs, lips still pressed to the lid. "It's sweeter than usual."

"Dunno, I just asked the barista to go crazy," Taehyung tells him. "Is it bad?"

"It's pretty good actually," Jimin hums before handing it over, "try some."

Taehyung stares at the drink like it's some kind of weapon.

"There's bad coffee and there's good coffee." Jimin tells him. "This is good."

It takes another suspicious glance before Taehyung takes the drink back, hesitantly putting it to his lips before he falters. "This is like an indirect kiss." His cheeks go pink.

Jimin raises an eyebrow at that before he chuckles, "You care about those things? Are you twelve?"

"I care because it's you."

That cuts the laughter short and Jimin almost chokes on air. He watches as Taehyung presses the coffee lid to his lips, taking the smallest of sips before a dramatic grimace takes over him.

"Too sweet," He says with a frown, handing the drink back to Jimin.

"We gotta find a coffee that's right for you, one day." Jimin tells him. "Not too bitter, not too sweet." He stares down at the coffee in his hand, the little stain of Taehyung's lip balm on the lid before he presses it to his lips again.

Taehyung's blushing when he lowers the cup down. The red looks pretty on him, Jimin thinks.

"We better head out," Jimin says as he goes to pull his coat on and grabs his bag. "We'll get at least an hour of quiet if we leave now."

"Yeah," Taehyung whispers, rubbing at his cheeks before he goes to do the same.

Chapter Text

Hoseok's phone screen blinks open, then he locks it close. Open. Close. Open. Close.

"What time are we leaving tomorrow?" Yoongi asks from where he's mopping the floor.

The screen blinks open again, and Hoseok holds his breath as he unlocks it and reads the messages again. "Some time in the afternoon. It's a two-hour train ride so we should be there before six."

"That's fine." Yoongi squeezes the mop water into the kitchen sink. "I wanted to check in with Soomin in the morning before the holidays."

Hoseok considers playing some music but it feels almost pointless at the moment. The night just feels too quiet like the usual ambiance is missing. Things just feel too tense that it would feel awkward if he just tries to layer on top some preppy song.

"Soomin," Hoseok hears himself say, "how is she doing?"

"Not too bad, last time I checked," Yoongi murmurs, "the re-attached teeth were hypersensitive and she was still getting used to only having soft food. But she should be alright." He puts the mop and bucket back in the cupboard. "I'm gonna go shower."

Now with his distraction gone, Hoseok is vulnerable to all the anxiety he has been keeping at bay. Chuseok is tomorrow.

Things with his parents from day to day are slowly easing in but there will always be dread from the past that will slightly hinder everything, he thinks. It's something he never really thought would happen, both the falling out and reconnecting. The only thing that feels familiar to what it was like before everything shattered is his sister, so at least there is one reassurance that it might not go too badly.

He becomes conscious of his breathing suddenly, and for a moment he lets go of everything to look out the window and breathe.

Yoongi is on his phone in bed, eyes bleary and squinting at the bright screen. "4% chance of rain tomorrow evening."

Hoseok chuckles at that, "You're checking the weather at midnight?"

A shrug. "It wouldn't be so nice it if rains tomorrow when we're with your parents."

As though Hoseok has somehow forgotten about tomorrow so quickly, he's reminded again. He feels himself breathe, careful inhales and shaky exhales as he gets dressed and dries his hair. Yoongi is still on his phone when he approaches the bed.

"Hyung," He whispers, "put your phone away."

"Reading something," Yoongi slurs.

"Hyung," Hoseok tries again, climbing over to straddle Yoongi's lap before reaching to pull Yoongi's hand away from his face along with his phone.

His husband gives in then, closing his eyes when Hoseok leans down to kiss him. It feels safe like this, when it's just them and the silence that doesn't feel uncomfortable. Like this, he can go back to when everything was new and his parents hadn't known a thing. That one short period where he could be with Yoongi and didn't have to worry about his parents because it was too early to tell them.

It'll be fine, he thinks to himself as he kisses down Yoongi's neck to his collarbone, feeling his breath catch. Nothing bad will happen because they'll leave as soon as they see it coming. Jiwoo will be there as well. He feels Yoongi run his fingers through his hair and it's nice. It will probably be painfully awkward, maybe they'll smile through clenched teeth when they see him and he'll have to pretend to be naive. They'll murmur under their breaths and he'll have to pretend to be deaf.

His hands slide down Yoongi's torso, feeling the warm skin underneath his sleep shirt before his fingers skim at the waistband of his sleep pants. Would it be better if he had just rejected the invitation?

"Seok-ah," He hears Yoongi say. He hasn't used that nickname in a while. His hand slips under and he hears him groan. The thrill he feels gets cut short however, when Yoongi sits up and pulls his hand away. He kisses his cheek, "It's late."

"Just a little," Hoseok breathes against his neck. "It's the holidays."

"We've got three days of chuseok," He feels Yoongi wrap his arms around him. "Come lie down with me. I can't sleep."

That makes Hoseok pull back to look at him, "Why not?"

Yoongi has a bashful expression on him before he snorts, "What do you mean why not? I'm meeting your parents."

The way he says it is different from how Hoseok feels about it. Yoongi sounds... excited. He looks like a nervous boy asking his lover's father for his approval.

"I know it could go a bunch of different ways since we don't really know how they would react, but they're trying," Yoongi laces their hands together, "isn't that what you always say? At the end of the day, they're the ones inviting us. They're trying."

Hoseok breathes in again, and he feels Yoongi breathing with him. It's no use to worry about this now, he realizes. They'll only ever know what will happen when it happens. Life has never been an easy guess.

"You sure you just wanna sleep?" He asks anyway, smiling at Yoongi's smirk.

"I've got overpriced teeth knocking to do first thing in the morning," Yoongi says, "I told you."

That makes Hoseok laugh a little too loudly and he feels Yoongi's shoulders shake. "Please," He manages through his giggles, "brag about your income all you want when we're there. They'll like you for sure."

"I'm as versatile as a camel, of course they'll like me," Yoongi flaunts. "If they don't then that's on them."

"Then I'll drag you back here so you won't stop me from getting you off," Hoseok corrects before pouncing Yoongi onto his back. He lets himself enjoy it all; Yoongi's wheeze and breathless chuckles, his shaking lips when he tries to kiss back. "Be good like this for a little longer, okay?" He murmurs against his lips.

"No promises," He hears Yoongi say. "I still haven't gotten you back for telling your kids I'm a circus clown."

"Get your revenge later," Hoseok pleads without a lot of effort, pulling Yoongi close as he lies down next to him. "You can be evil again after this."

Yoongi scoffs, "Who says I'm evil."

But the banter ends there, their slow breaths and warm bodies becoming the ambiance that lulls them to sleep.

It will be alright.

✧

Seokjin gives up trying to fall asleep after what feels like an eternity. If it were before, Namjoon would stay up to talk to him until he eventually drifts off, but now he has a schedule that he miraculously follows.

Although if it were before, Seokjin wouldn't have insomnia.

He is tired; very much so. His schedule was packed today and he's finally getting a day off tomorrow to sleep in, yet he still can't manage to fall asleep. It's a usual occurrence by now, unfortunately, with one time where he spent the entire night awake and saw the sunrise.

Hoseok warned him about sleeping pills, how if he starts taking them then he'll only have to take more and more as his body progressively becomes immune to it. Tonight, he has tried to breathe slow and relax into the bed; cling to Namjoon's huge snoring figure; exercise but that only seems to make him more sleepless; and now he's too irritated to sleep. He can't even try to sleep in bed at this point now that Namjoon is in deep sleep and is snoring away in an odd pattern.

He heaves out of bed with a frustrated sigh and slips out of the bedroom into the kitchen. Maybe a cup of warm milk and a quiet night on the couch will do the trick.

Seokjin is in the middle of pouring milk into a pot when he hears heavy footsteps enter the kitchen.

"Jungkook-ah," He says when he sees his son. It's two in the morning and the boy looks exhausted and scared. "Nightmare?" He nods solemnly. "Come here, come here."

Jungkook always feels heavier than the last time Seokjin has held him, but it's not too much for his arms just yet. He hums a little song as he rubs Jungkook's back, feeling the way his son buries his face into his shoulder like he's trying to fall asleep but he's also too scared. When his arms give in, he sets the boy down on the counter as he moves to stir the pot. He's pretty sure they have a jar of malt somewhere.

"Malt helps you sleep," He says to his curious son once he's opened the jar. It's interesting to see a child learning more and more words by the day. Jungkook doesn't say a lot, often times he just mimics whatever an adult says word-for-word, but he seems to understand more than he shows.

The malt grains emit a soothing smell as Seokjin stirs it into the milk. Jungkook seems to like it, his little nose sniffling and his eyes already drooping.

"Papa used to have nightmares a lot, too," He begins to say, mindful to keep his voice gentle. "I would wake up my mom so she could sing me back to sleep." Once the milk is warm enough. He pulls out his mug from the cupboard as well as Jungkook's little one. 

"Mom?"

Even though he said it himself, Seokjin still falters when his son repeats the word. He should've expected him to pick that up, out of everything. Is this the first time Seokjin has ever mentioned it to him?

"Yes," He says, keeping his voice steady as he pours the malted milk into each mug. He doesn't know what to say, for once. He doesn't know how he could even begin to explain it so that his four year old son could understand. He used to feel like he would know what to do, that he considered this possibility even before Jungkook came into the picture what he would do and how he would explain it, though he actually never thought about what exactly he would say, he realizes. Now, when it's actually happening, he doesn't know which choice is right, or if there's even a right or wrong choice. There must be, right?

Jungkook doesn't prod, however. Perhaps he's satisfied with only that response. Perhaps he has already understood, the clever boy. A lot of mothers come to pick his friends up at daycare.

"It's hot," He says as he hands Jungkook the little mug. "Blow first."

Jungkook falls asleep half an hour later in Seokjin's lap, and he considers just staying like this for the rest of the night, looking over him. He's done it before in the early days of having him around, when the whole night is spent awake just to make sure everything is okay. Jungkook still looks the same as when he was barely two, just bigger now.

Silly, he thinks suddenly. It might be too cold for him out here without a blanket. He should try to get him into bed.

After very strategically slipping his son's head from his lap and getting up from the couch, he hears footsteps from the hallway.

Namjoon yawns into his hand, glasses barely on his nose as he approaches. "Why's everyone up?"

"Jungkook had a nightmare," Seokjin murmurs, "why are you up?"

"Not sure. I don't even remember what my dream was but next thing I knew I was awake," Namjoon sniffs before rubbing at his eyes, sending his glasses further off-center. "Are you having trouble sleeping again?"

Seokjin nods, the exhaustion catching up to him once again but he's still nervous about going to bed.

His husband comes closer, features shaped by the warm lamp light before he pulls Seokjin into him and keeping him there.

Though he never rejects it, Namjoon isn't one to initiate physical contact, not often. Not to Seokjin. Perhaps this is another advantage of marrying someone taller; they feel so much better to hug. Namjoon is at just the right height.

"Keep hugging me," He orders when he feels Namjoon pull away.

"Oh," Namjoon sounds surprised, but complies. "This is new."

Seokjin shushes him. "Don't ruin it."

"How am I ruining it?"

"You're talking," He squeezes him. "Just hug."

Namjoon is compliant tonight as he stands still and holds Seokjin close. Though he's never gone out of his way to do something to upset him in the first place.

He feels something enclose his legs and they both look down to see Jungkook hugging the both of them as best as he can from how small he is.

"Kook-ah," Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, "let's go to sleep."

Seokjin watches him take Jungkook's hand and lead him to their bedroom. Jungkook probably wouldn't want to sleep alone in his bed tonight.

Namjoon turns back to him suddenly. "You too."

By the time Seokjin is in bed, all the things he was worrying over are far from his consciousness and he wonders if it has always been this easy. He looks at Namjoon, who pulls a face at him from across the bed and closing his eyes just to open them again to see if Seokjin is asleep and frowns when he sees that Seokjin hasn't even tried closing his eyes. It's all too endearing, with Jungkook already dozing off between them.

He doesn't even know when he drifts to sleep, but perhaps it's when his mind has been cleared of all but one thought—

It will be alright.

✧

The guilt is what wakes Jimin up, although he's not sure if he has even fallen asleep in the first place, if what he's been doing was just close his eyes and think. He rolls over and reaches for his phone.

His clouded thoughts seem to disappear as soon as the caller picks up. He burrows himself deeper into his comforter.

"Taehyung?" He says, "Are you still awake?"

"Yeah," He hears Taehyung speak through the phone. He sounds tired, and Jimin feels slightly bad for waking him up. "Why'd you call?"

"Can't sleep," He says. "I have a lot on my mind."

"I see."

The response is short and Taehyung is quiet as soon as he says it, but the call is not cut.

"Are you still mad?" Jimin asks him.

"A little."

He pouts at that but it breaks into a sigh. The argument was too stupid for such a fall out. "Can we still talk even if you're a little mad?"

"Sure."

Jimin's chest clenches for no reason and he tries to burrow further, to have his whole body feel enclosed the same way it would feel if he's being cuddled.

"I miss my parents," He hears himself say. "It's been a while since I've gone back home. The holidays feel too short to travel back so far so it doesn't really feel worth it to just be home for two days and come back here again." Taehyung is quiet on the other line, but he's listening. "Sometimes I don't know if I'm doing enough to even deserve to live so far away. Every time I feel like I'm not working hard enough, I feel like I'm wasting their money."

"You deserve everything," Taehyung says suddenly.

"I'm nothing great," Jimin murmurs. "I drank alone the whole night yesterday because of the fight, and now I realize how silly everything was."

"Yeah," Taehyung's voice is low. "I'm sorry for fighting over dumplings with you."

"Me too," Jimin tries to close his eyes. Maybe if he tries hard enough, he'll be able to imagine Taehyung here and maybe he'll be calm enough to sleep.

Taehyung's voice comes up again. "I think you're great."

It makes him smile, "You may have said that once or twice. I didn't call you to make you compliment me though. I wanted to talk."

"About what?"

"About anything. Did you see any stars tonight?"

"Maybe one, but it might just be a plane."

Jimin curls into himself. If Taehyung could speak a little quieter, that might do it. "What did you have for dinner?"

"Tried making pasta."

"How was that?"

"It wasn't good. I didn't have a lot of spices so I used the Korean seasoning I had lying around so it just tastes like every other meal I make."

"Taehyung-ah,"

"Yeah?"

"I like you a lot."

Taehyung laughs, "That's good. Is that why you're asking a bunch of questions?"

"I just want to know how your day went," Jimin rolls over onto his back. Taehyung usually drapes his legs over him when they sleep. "I think about you a lot. 'Cause I like you a lot."

He hears Taehyung laugh again, "Stop it."

"What should I do?" Jimin childishly kicks his legs around under his comforter. "I can't sleep because I miss you."

He can hear Taehyung's smile from the way he talks, "What can you do?"

"What can you do?" Jimin retorts, "Maybe you could come over."

"It's late," Taehyung tells him. "And cold."

"Then I could come over."

"Like I said, it's late," He repeats, "and cold."

"That won't stop me," Jimin springs up from bed and goes to grab for his coat, "I mean it."

"Jimin-"

"See you in fifteen minutes!"

"You were serious," Taehyung says as soon as he opens the door, but he doesn't seem all too surprised.

"I am," Jimin hums, "now love me." He forces his way into Taehyung's arms, considers staying there forever when he feels Taehyung kiss the top of his head.

"I'm gonna go back to bed," He murmurs once they pull away, "just come join me when you're ready."

And it doesn't take Jimin long to get ready for bed. The fight lasted over barely a day, but Taehyung feels so familiar that the one day without any contact with him felt so odd.

Taehyung is hugging a pillow close as he sleeps and that won't do at all. Jimin carefully pulls the pillow out of his hold before replacing its place, leaning over to nuzzle their noses together and smiling at Taehyung's sleepy protest. This closeness always feels better than what he could imagine.

It's nice to have someone this special, he realizes. How lucky he is to have someone to have petty fights with and make up just as quick, to have someone he can be childish around, to be childish together after a long day. How lucky he is to have fallen onto a soft place that is Taehyung.

"Sweet boy," He whispers, though he's not sure if Taehyung can hear him.

Should he be so lucky, then perhaps Taehyung will stick around for a very long time. Should he be so lucky, then everything with him will be okay.

It will be alright.

Chapter Text

The last child leaves Hope’s clinic at 5:00pm.

Hoseok slides the door out of his office, shrugging off his coat at the same time. “Great work today.”

He turns at the lack of response to see Jimin half-dead at the front desk. “Are you okay?”

Jimin blinks up at him with half a soul left, “Take a wild guess, hyung.” He closes his eyes, resting his head back onto the chair to face the ceiling. “Three vaccine shots. I thought there was an exorcism going on in there.

Hoseok finally catches on at that and he snorts. “I won’t say I got used to it. I think I just became deaf.”

Jimin laughs at that. Hoseok is trying really hard to entertain Jimin and make him at least enjoy the job more. He even lets Taehyung stop by to hang out in the break room these days.

“Great work today, hyung,” He hears the boy say. “Twenty kids in one day. I don’t even know how you’re still alive.” Jimin looks like he’s ready to nap there in the chair. “I hope you’ll treat yourself well when you get home.”

“Oh of course,” Hoseok stretches with a groan as he pulls Jimin up from the chair to go grab the vacuum cleaner and close up the clinic. “I’m gonna clean up, throw out the trash, head home and make love to my hus-”

The loud howls of the vacuum cleaner drowns out his voice and Jimin reappears with a now soulless face.

Hoseok just shrugs at that. “Hey, you asked.”

“I really didn’t,” Jimin murmurs flatly. “Married people are gross.”

Hoseok just manages to stop himself from gasping. “Oh please, I know you and Taehyung are in that phase where you want to do it on any flat sur-”

The vacuum cleaner turns on again and Hoseok doesn’t fight it this time. He tidies up all the toys and gathers all the trash. Is he gross? Maybe a little. Probably a lot.

Gross isn’t bad though, he tries to think. There’s plenty of reasons to be gross when you’re married.

… When you’re married to Min Yoongi, at least.

Hoseok has received a lot of criticism when it comes to his marriage. A lot of are-you-sures from classmates and other acquaintances, a few don’t-you-think-you’re-moving-too-fasts, one he’s-not-even-good-for-you. He doesn’t think about them too often.

Hoseok practically falls into the door opening into the apartment, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

“Something smells nice,” He murmurs, immediately picking up the warm smell of dinner.

“They’re just leftovers,” A lower voice answers him before Yoongi appears from the kitchen. He helps Hoseok out of his coat, leaning in to greet him with a kiss before he nudges Hoseok towards the table. “If you don’t eat, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Hoseok snorts. “Are we couch people now?”

“Depends,” Yoongi sets down the leftover stew from yesterday with a glare. Hoseok isn’t intimidated in the slightest, but he makes a show of grabbing his spoon and shoving a mouthful of the food into his mouth. “Good. We live another day without either of us sleeping on the couch.”

“We’ve both slept on the couch,” Hoseok reminds him, “when we’re sick.”

“That doesn’t-” Yoongi gives up on the retort halfway through as though he realizes that this conversation isn’t productive in the slightest. “Maybe I will sleep on the couch.”

What a funny little guy, Hoseok finds himself thinking from time to time. The way Yoongi unconsciously pouts, when he pretends to ignore everything Hoseok says as they eat. Everything about him Hoseok has found to be so incredibly endearing.

There are plenty of reasons to marry Min Yoongi.

• Min Yoongi is very warm, and occasionally allows cuddles

Hoseok and Yoongi have their own toothpaste in the bathroom. Yoongi’s toothpaste is an organic salt one that Hoseok spat out the first time he tried it which led to him getting his own regular mint one. Yoongi has a bottle of perfume and sunscreen while the rest of the skincare products are Hoseok’s.

Yoongi is already in bed by the time Hoseok exits the bathroom. He doesn’t move when Hoseok slips in next to him, but complains as soon as Hoseok slips his arms around him. “It’s too hot for that.”

“Well I’m cold,” Hoseok says simply, nuzzling in further. “And you’re warm.”

Yoongi lets out a defeated sigh, squirming childishly when Hoseok begins to press kisses to the nape of his neck.

“Come on,” he murmurs into his neck. “Be sweet tonight. I deserve it.” Like magic, Yoongi stills at that. “I even joked about having sex with you today.”

“What the hell were you even talking about for you to say that?” Yoongi asks in a hoarse voice. “Nevermind. Don’t tell me.” He yawns, “Did you actually mean it?”

“Nah,” Hoseok yawns as well. “Too tired.”

Yoongi hums. “So you are getting old.”

“Jesus,” Hoseok giggles, tickling Yoongi until he squirms before he presses a kiss to his neck. “You show your love in funky little ways, don’t you?” One of his hands drift to Yoongi’s arm, down to his hand to brush over his ring. “The ways you tell me I’m yours and you’re mine.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond to that at first, and just as Hoseok thinks he has fallen asleep, he whispers. “I don’t know how else I can show you.”

“Here’s a way,” Hoseok whispers, kissing his neck then his shoulder before he tightens his arms. “Let me hold you.”

What’s better than going to sleep with a shy goodnight kiss and cuddling a very warm body?

Waking up to one, probably.

Hoseok stirs awake when he feels something brush his nose, his cheekbones, then his lips.

“Hyung,” He mumbles groggily as his eyes slowly peel open. “Why are you touching my face?”

Yoongi looks caught off-guard, a faint blush rising in his cheeks. “I’m just checking if you’re real.”

Four years and he’s still like this. Hoseok groans as he shuts his eyes, pulling Yoongi closer to him. “Too early. Be a good pillow for a bit longer.”

Yoongi is still warm in the morning; warm when he cards his hands through Hoseok’s hair, when he hums under his breath as he thinks.

Mornings like this are Hoseok’s favorite. The room is still dim from the curtains covering the window, the world still in the process of waking up. Moments like this when it’s just them are precious, moments where Hoseok can indulge in Yoongi’s warmth, Yoongi’s sighs when Hoseok kisses down his neck, Yoongi’s arms around him.

His favorite pillow.

• Min Yoongi loves with his whole heart

“Are our seats close?”

“We’re on the second floor.”

“Hold this for a second then,” Yoongi hands Hoseok a large camera lens as he rummages through his camera bag for more space.

Hoseok whistles lowly, “You’re really whipping out the big guns for Jimin’s recital.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond to that. Once all his equipment is zipped up into his bag and they’re prepared to leave, he asks, “You didn’t forget the flowers, right?”

Hoseok smiles at him. “Of course not.”

They met Jimin over a year ago when he first moved in.

He was a young guy sulking on the hallway floor in front of his door that Yoongi saw way too early in the morning. When he stopped to talk to him, he mumbled out all his answers as though he’s willing himself not to cry in front of strangers, especially not his new neighbors.

It was a mess, he said; he had requested a van to carry all his stuff from Busan at three in the morning instead of three in the afternoon and couldn’t cancel it in time so he had to hastily pack and say scattered goodbyes to his parents as he took the earliest train out to catch up. Freshly in Seoul now, the van had an accident along the way and all his things probably won’t arrive until the evening and his phone died ten minutes ago so there was really not much he could do right now but cry.

Hoseok still isn’t sure until this day how the average person would react to all of this information, but Yoongi’s reaction was to drag him into their apartment and have Hoseok keep him company until all his things have arrived.

There’s something about Jimin that endears Yoongi, Hoseok thinks. Maybe it’s the fact that Jimin is a good son to his family, or perhaps he understands the mess and confusion that comes with moving far away from home and things not going the way one wants it to. Jimin is a perfectionist as well, though always a little too hard on himself. Yoongi might see a part of him in Jimin in that sense.

Hoseok thinks Jimin is a cute kid and an amazing dancer. He has a sense of determination and passion that Hoseok misses sometimes, thinking back to when he used to dance until straightening up and going into the medical field.

It felt normal to invite Jimin over for breakfast or dinner, to help him out however they can. It’s a very familial love that bonds them all together.

The art university Jimin attends is prestigious. The theatre they’re sat in is huge and modern. Yoongi sets up his camera meticulously, his eyebrows furrowed and his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he clicks everything together. Someone suddenly hops into the empty seat next to him and he just manages to not drop everything.

Taehyung flashes him an apologetic smile. “Jimin looked nervous when I went to see him.”

Hoseok smiles at that as he adjusts the bouquet on his lap. “He’s always like that.”

The boy’s eyes catch the flowers and widen. “You got him flowers? ”

Yoongi looks at him suspiciously. “You didn’t bring flowers to your boyfriend’s showcase?”

Taehyung curses under his breath; that’s the first time anyone has heard him swear. Then he panics, “Do you think the shops are still open? Ah, do I have to call in advance? I’ve never done it before!”

Out of all the people they’ve seen with Jimin, Taehyung might just be the most interesting one.

He’s ridiculously handsome, to start with; ridiculously large accompanied by an aura that makes people turn their heads when he walks by. This, paired with his odd wording and innocent glow that can’t make you stay mad at him for so long.

Unlike a lot of Jimin’s past encounters though, Taehyung is genuinely nice.

Taehyung is nice, gentle, but also very obviously head over heels for Jimin. He’d go through lengths to try and impress him and act cool while secretly glancing back to see if he’s watching. Sometimes he thinks too much or not at all. Jimin likes all of it though; he isnʼt afraid to throw his head back and laugh loudly around Taehyung or slump into him.

Yoongi grabs the bouquet from Hoseok and sets it on Taehyungʼs lap. “There.” The boy seems startled, eyes flickering between the bouquet and Yoongiʼs face. “Just say itʼs from you.”

The moment Jimin appears on stage, Yoongiʼs camera is up and focused. Thereʼs a ghost of a smile on his lips like a father filming their child in a school play. Taehyungʼs eyes are fixed on him, mesmerized.

Once the performance is over, he sits back and reviews the photos he took on the viewfinder. They look nice, capturing Jiminʼs movements in the air.

Jimin appears in his usual clothes once theyʼre outside, breath fogging up in the cold.

“Hyung took pictures,” Hoseok tells him once heʼs managed to pull him into a hug.

Jimin looks surprised, “He did?”

Yoongi tries to wave it off, “Itʼs whatever.” He elbows Taehyung whoʼs still standing beside him.

“Ah!” Taehyung seems to suddenly remember the bouquet in his hands before holding it towards Jimin. “This is for you.”

Jiminʼs face is a mix of disbelief and touched. He reaches for the bouquet before grabbing Taehyungʼs arms and pulling him into a kiss.

Yoongi sighs, “Kids these days.”

Hoseok snorts at that. “Youʼre not that old.”

He can see the smile still creeping on his lips though. Itʼs love, he thinks. Yoongi loves the people around him in the most endeared way.

And when Yoongi loves someone, he loves them with his whole heart.

• Min Yoongi is the ideal person to bring home to your parents

Itʼs a day off when Yoongi pulls out his slacks and pressed shirt.

Hoseok whistles lowly from the bed. “I canʼt even remember the last time you dressed up this well for me.”

Yoongi doesnʼt respond at first, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “I need to look like I have a job, donʼt I?”

Hoseok snorts. “They already know you have a job.”

“Still,” Yoongi persists, straightening his shirt collar in the mirror. “They should know that their son didnʼt make a mistake choosing me.”

At that, Hoseok gets up from the bed, making his way to where Yoongi is buttoning up his cuffs.

Yoongi doesnʼt say anything when Hoseok curls his arms around him from behind, doesnʼt react when Hoseok presses a kiss to the nap of his neck.

“Choosing you was the best decision I ever made,” he whispers.

For a moment then, Yoongi leans back against him, hands coming up to hold his arms and he stays there, relishing in what they have.

“Come on,” he says eventually, patting Hoseokʼs hands. “Go get dressed. Weʼre leaving for Gwangju in an hour.”

Hoseok pauses the listing momentarily as they gather themselves to the train station.

In the train, they watch a few shows together until their eyes are sore. Yoongi sits back and closes his eyes, whining at the sting of drying them out. Hoseok listens to music as he rests his eyes as well.

“Did you know,” he hears Yoongi say, “that nearly 3% of the ice in Antarctic glaciers is penguin piss?”

Hoseok frowns with his eyes still closed. “Why would you tell me this?” He doesn’t bother asking how Yoongi knows all this random trivia anymore. He just doesn’t want to carry the extra weight of all this information living in his mind.

“Just something to think about,” he feels Yoongi pat his knee. “That’s a lot of piss.”

Despite everything, Hoseok feels himself begin to crack up at that. “How much of the world’s water is human piss then?”

Yoongi hums as he thinks. He probably hasn’t thought to look that up. “Maybe 10%.”

Hoseok muffles his giggles into Yoongi’s shoulder like a five-year-old. The sun is in their face, not too bright but just enough to feel their faces warm up under it.

This is nice , he thinks. The warm weather, his eyes closed from the world but knowing for certain that Yoongi is right next to him, rambling about whatever’s on his mind.

Hoseok realizes two things at that moment.

One being that his hands have stopped clenching from stress and his legs have stopped shaking. He hasn’t stressed about meeting his parents again since Yoongi’s little trivia time began.

The other being that the list of great reasons to marry Min Yoongi will never conclude. New reasons will come up everyday, even on the worst of days. There’s no reason to create an endless list to try and justify why he chose Yoongi because there’s nothing to justify. This is right and this is good; it’s simple as that.

He finds Yoongi’s hand on his lap, tracing his fingers until he finds the ring. Whatever happens…

He squeezes Yoongi’s hand. I’ll always choose you.

Chapter Text

The room is dark, but the objects in the room are still visible in varying dark blobs. Namjoon can't see much of it with his glasses currently set on the nightstand. Jungkook went to sleep about an hour ago, which is earlier than usual—maybe the big dinner got him especially full and sleepy.

Just as Namjoon is falling asleep, he hears it.

"Don't overwork yourself, Namjoon-ah." The words are whispered right into his left ear. "Remember to take breaks, Namjoon-ah."

Maybe it'll go away, he thinks foolishly. So he tries to ignore it as best as he can to fall asleep. "Rest properly, Namjoon-ah."

"If you want me to rest properly," Namjoon whispers back, making the effort to be gentle, "then why are you whispering right into my ear when I'm trying to sleep?"

"Hypnotism," Seokjin tells him so frankly like it's obvious. "I'm jamming it into your subconsciousness so you'd be more likely to do it."

Namjoon snorts at that, despite everything. A smile creeps up the corner of his mouth. "Where did you learn that?"

He feels Seokjin shrug. "That's what you do with babies to make them well-behaved."

"I'm not a baby," Namjoon argues.

"Sure you are." When Namjoon shifts to turn around to his side, Seokjin is looking at him. It's really not fair how beautiful he is. "You cry when you don't know anything and I have to feed you."

Namjoon frowns at that. "You don't feed me."

"You're right, I wish I would," Seokjin looks at him pointedly. "If I make choo choo train noises before shoving food into your mouth then I'd at least know you're eating something."

It's a joke—at least Namjoon thinks it mostly is, but there is an undeniably seriousness within Seokjin's tone. Namjoon sighs, "I do take breaks. I'm just rushing to get things done right now so it doesn't pile up even more by the end of this month."

"Yeah, you've told me," Seokjin whispers, "about five times today."

"It's true."

"I know."

There's clearly something underlying it all. Namjoon doesn't fight it though. "I'm sorry for bringing it up now when we're going to sleep."

Seokjin sighs. "I was the one who brought it up. I'm sorry. No more serious stuff."

The room returns to a quiet again. It isn't common for Namjoon and Seokjin to just go to sleep in silence. There's always a little conversation that draws out for too long that one of them would call it out and end it so they can finally sleep, as if they're still so constantly fascinated by each other that there will never be nothing to talk about.

This is a weird note to end on, though; this awkward, passive-aggressive exchange that almost led to a fight if none of them had called it off.

"If I'm a baby, then you're kind of like an old man." Namjoon finds himself saying.

"Choose your next words very carefully," Seokjin warns.

"No I'm just-" an embarrassing snort interrupts Namjoon's words as a very vivid memory of earlier today pops up in his mind. "I'm just thinking of you sitting in the new massage chair and then your alarm rang and it was time to take your vitamins." That makes Seokjin laugh, loud and squeaky and undeniably him.

"So you're a baby and I'm an old man?" Seokjin says through his laughing fit before sobering up immediately. "Nevermind, I made it weird."

"Yeah," Namjoon agrees with a grimace.

"Let's call a truce."

"Good idea."

As he closes his eyes, realizing them how heavy his eyelids has gotten, a chaste kiss is planted on his forehead. "Oh, thank you."

"'Thank you', he said," he hears Seokjin chuckling under his breath, probably shaking his head as he lies back down to sleep.

✧

It's a day off. Or at least it was supposed to be.

Something urgent comes up at Seokjin's workplace, making him leave early in the morning. Woken up by his husband's antics when getting ready, Namjoon doesn't bother going back to sleep even though it's far too early to be awake on a Sunday.

He heads straight to his little office and opens the work he was doing last night before Seokjin dragged him to bed. This is a new client he's working with, and one that pays well nevertheless, so it's vital that everything is handed in on time, to which there isn't much of left.

A few hours later, just as his eyes are getting strained, his morning alarm rings, the sound of his phone buzzing against his desk overpowering the chime he had set.

He gets up with a groan, ignoring the pain shooting up his back and shoulders as he heads out to wake Jungkook up.

It's odd, it feels like half the day has passed already but it's only 8am. Jungkook is still sleepily chewing away at the breakfast Seokjin prepared for him beforehand, yet Namjoon's body feels like calling it a day.

"Where's Papa?" He hears Jungkook ask over the faint sound of the boiling water.

Namjoon taps the rest of the instant coffee from his spoon into his mug. "Papa had to go to work today. You're with Daddy again," then he falters, "ah, but Daddy will be busy too."

"Why?"

"Because of work. All adults have jobs."

"And Jungkook?"

"You're not an adult so not yet. Not for a while."

So maybe coffee directly onto an empty stomach and nothing else is not the grandest idea. Namjoon can't even use the excuse that no one was there to tell him otherwise because Jungkook was, in fact, very upset when he realized Namjoon was drinking coffee and had given him a Seokjin-esque lecture on it.

Nevertheless, it wasn't an amazing idea, because now Namjoon's hands are shaking and the lines he makes on his computer screen with his stylus are not great.

The door opens without a knock or a word. Jungkook shuffles up next to him and sets a large picture book onto the desk with a loud thunk, regardless of anything that may be on the desk. He points at a word. "This?"

Namjoon's visions go blurry for a moment before he blinks himself back to the present and reads the word. "Germs. It's the thing that makes you sick."

Jungkook nods like he understands and promptly slips away from the room with his book.

The next hour- or has it only been a few minutes? Namjoon isn't sure. He can't quite seem to grasp how much time has passed at all. His computer screen goes dark for a second before he gives his face a slap and he's conscious again. It's an on-and-off thing, not uncommon at this point from how much he's been working the past week.

It isn't until the room grows cold though, does he realize what's happening.

"Shit," he whispers under his breath as he grabs his phone and unlocks it but it's too late. His vision goes black and the last thing he senses is the sound of his phone clattering onto the floor.

His eyes blink open blearily to a clean white ceiling, way too bright that he has to squint to really make out the rest of the room. He shifts his head to see big round eyes staring at him.

Jungkook sets his book on Namjoon's stomach none-too-gently and points at a word. "This?"

Despite everything, the only thing Namjoon's brain is capable of doing at the moment is read. "Stomachache. It's when your tummy hurts." Jungkook nods and slips away to go sit at a green couch.

It's then that Namjoon realizes that he's lying down on a hospital bed and not at home. Also that his feet is being massaged by very warm hands.

"Maybe I should've made you promise," Seokjin murmurs, still rubbing Namjoon's feet. He's in his work clothes. "You still won't do it, but at least it'd spice things up a little."

Oh. It clicks then "I passed out."

"You passed out," Seokjin confirms. "You're really dehydrated. I expect you to kiss the ground your son walks on now."

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at that, "What?"

"Imagine being four years old and going to your dad's office to ask him a question just to find him dead on his desk." Seokjin says in a light tone, squeezing the sole of Namjoon's feet at the foot of the hospital bed. "You don't know what to do because no one else is home, and you confusedly go through the contacts in his phone just to panic because you don't recognize any of the names because there's no 'Papa' or 'doctor'."

"Jungkook?" Namjoon turns to look at his son, who's focused on reading his book. His eyes are red, Namjoon notices then, the corners puffy from all the shed tears.

"He called Jimin asking for help," Seokjin's voice brings him back. "It was probably the only name he knew. Jimin called me and I called Hoseok and here you are."

"He did that?" Namjoon is still bewildered. Jungkook must've been so scared, yet he had somehow managed to call someone for help. "Oh, Kook..."

"Namjoon."

When Namjoon turns to him this time, Seokjin's eyes are glassy and broken, looking at him, all the lightness from earlier disappearing at that instance. This is what Seokjin was so worried about; this is the one thing he asked of Namjoon and he failed.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon whispers. "I overestimated myself."

"Yeah," Seokjin whispers back, somehow keeping his composure still. He pulls the blanket over Namjoon's feet before he moves up to the side of the bed. "Yeah, you did."

A deep ache clenched at Namjoon's chest. It feels like all he does is worry people. "You married an idiot."

"I know," Seokjin reassures him in a lighter tone. "I knew the moment you thought you'd lost your glasses when they were on your forehead," A corner of his mouth quirks up, "or when you thought you'd lost a one-year-old Jungkook when you'd been holding him the entire time."

"Ah," Namjoon cracks out a sheepish chuckle. "That was a while ago."

"Don't laugh," Seokjin tells him in a suddenly harsh voice. "I'm still mad at you. Jungkook probably forgave you already but I haven't."

Namjoon frowns, guilt weighing him down onto the bed. "What can I do to make you not mad?"

A gentle hand comes up to caress the side of Namjoon's face, brushing over his cheekbone. "You don't have to do anything." Seokjin whispers, and Namjoon closes his eyes, leaning into the touch even as he feels his husband pull his hand away. "Just lie down. Jungkook will take care of it."

One of Namjoon's eyes cracks open. "What?"

The feeling is that of viewing a plot twist or climax in a thrilling action movie when he sees Jungkook holding the remote that adjusts the positioning of the hospital bed. Namjoon only has enough time to give in to his punishment before the little fingers get to work.

At every new press of a button every few seconds, Namjoon is sitting up, and down, then up again, then his legs are folding up ridiculously high and he's suddenly very close to the ceiling. It almost feels like a rollercoaster ride, if a rollercoaster ride is slow and doesn't move anywhere and operated by a giggling child pressing buttons. Namjoon tries to sleep despite all the movement but to no avail.

What a punishment this is.

✧

The room is dark, but lit by dim light from the far end of the bed. The objects tinted warm by the light sit quietly at their respective places. 

Then comes the voice,

"Namjoon-ah," 

"I'll take breaks," Namjoon grumbles.

"And?"

"And I'll rest well and do stretches." 

"And?" 

"And I'll eat all my meals." 

Seokjin persists still, reaching to wrap his arms around Namjoon's middle. "What else?" 

Namjoon groans at that. "There's more?" 

Seokjin pinches his nipple. "And you'll drink water regularly so you don't pass out from dehydration and worry your son and husband and get an IV drip at the hospital."

Namjoon jerks and pushes Seokjin's hand away. "Drink water. Got it. No need for violence." 

"What if I was trying to turn you on?" Seokjin rebuts, though his tone is teasing.

"I thought you wanted me to rest?" Namjoon returns with the same tone.

It's his victory this time, it seems. "I hate it when you try to be clever," his husband murmurs with no real hate behind his words. "Now, sleep time."

"Sleep time," Namjoon agrees. 

"I love you." 

"I love you too." 

Chapter Text

Dr. Jung is loved by many at the Mediplex building. Everyone knew him, from the part-time barista in the café upstairs to the security guard that sees him at the end of every workday to throw out the trash. It's not hard—he's always cheerful even on his rough days, remembers everyone's name from one encounter, and greeted everyone on that floor with dessert gifts when he first opened his clinic. Not to mention the discounts he gives—anyone who had spoken to him at least twice would get the doctor fees crossed out in their kid's medical bill.

Dr. Min opened his clinic next door a year after that, and though he's polite and soft-spoken to anyone who visits, his demeanor around his neighbor would always diminish to a quiet, more subdued one. Dr. Cha from the otolaryngology across from them said that they hated each other, while Dr. Yang who's relatively younger said that they're close friends who banter all the time.

A more persistent voice on this topic is Chaeyoung, the receptionist of a nearby cosmetic clinic who spent a good period of time trying to dig into the truth because of her interest in Dr. Min but gave up after the lack of new information.

Anyone would admit that Chaeyoung may have been outspoken, but not weird. If they admit she's weird, then that'd make all of them weird by default. This is because not a single soul in that building hasn't had a fleeting thought about the two doctors; Chaeyoung is just the only one who said hers out loud.

But how do they even fit together? They wonder. Dr. Jung is nice to everyone, just extra cheeky with Dr. Min in particular, and the idea of Dr. Min clinging to Dr. Jung is hard to imagine even with full brainpower.

Dr. Min clinging to Dr. Jung, they'd scoff. What a ridiculous idea.

Yoongi has glued himself to Hoseok ever since the elevator doors closed in front of them. He's really putting his weight into it too, arms clinging to Hoseok's middle and pressing his face into Hoseok's shoulder.

"Are you tired?" Hoseok asks. Yoongi nods against his shoulder. "You finished later than usual today."

He feels Yoongi's lips move. "Maybe I should just retire."

Hoseok snorts at that. "In your twenties?" Yoongi nods. "You're just gonna live off of my income?" Yoongi nods again.

"You'd be the breadwinner," Yoongi murmurs. "And I'll do the heavy-duty of spending your money."

That makes Hoseok chuckle, hands coming up to pat Yoongi's on his stomach. "You say that all the time, and then you're up and ready to do it all again the next day."

Yoongi lifts his head up. "There's work tomorrow?" he groans. "My head hurts."

"Tomorrow's a day off, silly," Hoseok pinches his nose, laughing when Yoongi shakes him off. "Take a painkiller and sleep early tonight."

The elevator doors open once they've reached their floor and Yoongi, in true Yoongi style, immediately lets go and straightens up before stepping out robotically.

Doesn't it make you upset? Hoseok's friend once asked him. Doesn't it feel weird that he doesn't want people to see him with you?

Hoseok thought about the corridor to Yoongi's heart, the door that unlocked and led him to another room, then another door that led him further inside, closer and closer until he reached Yoongi's core.

Hoseok smiled. It feels like he is mine alone.

With that said though, does Hoseok want a chance to be that annoyingly affectionate couple in public that people scowl at? More than anything.

Hoseok and Yoongi live on the eighth floor of a building that's a five-minute walk away from the subway station. It's relatively small and while they could afford to get a bigger one, a bigger apartment means more to clean and they're barely home.

Their kitchen is a regular one, though there's a special cupboard that is practically a giant medical kit as it's filled with prescribed medicine, plasters, muscle gels, and basically anything that has healing powers. There's also a special freezer where Hoseok keeps his new shipments of vaccines and sterile equipment he's ordered before taking them to store at the clinic. A frequent visitor of these stashes is Jimin, who exerts his body dancing every day and gets sick all too easily. Going to the pharmacy as a student is a bit of a pain, Hoseok supposes, so he doesn't mind.

Their nightly routines are dramatically different from each other. They have their own toothpaste at the vanity, with Yoongi using a specific dentist-approved toothpaste with salt in it that Hoseok thinks is absolutely horrifically disgusting so he sticks to his own normal mint one. Yoongi also uses an electric toothbrush, always insistently bringing up how electric toothbrushes statistically cleans teeth much more efficiently, though Hoseok finds it pretentious and uses a regular one.

Afterward, Yoongi spends an indeterminable amount of time flossing his teeth while Hoseok does his intricate skincare routine that involves asking Yoongi if he looks old every few seconds. Depending on Yoongi's mood, his answer varies from you know you don't to you look like you have three kids. Sometimes it's a simple no paired with Yoongi not even turning to look.

Hoseok frowns when he sees Yoongi sitting at his desk with his laptop. "Not sleeping?"

"Not yet," Yoongi murmurs, eyes glued to the screen. "Took a painkiller though."

Hoseok sighs. His fighting spirit to nag Yoongi about everything died down a few years ago when he learned that Yoongi will always have it his way when it comes to his own well-being. "Well, I'm going to sleep first then." He lets himself get pulled back when Yoongi grabs his hand, leaning down to kiss him before heading to the bedroom.

He doesn't feel when Yoongi slips into bed, so it must've been pretty late into the night.

Hoseok doesn't set an alarm on his days off, though that Sunday morning he wakes up at around eight in the morning. Yoongi is still asleep next to him.

After a quick breakfast, a morning run, then a shower, Yoongi is still in bed.

... So maybe Hoseok still has it in him to nag.

"Yoongi-yah," he starts off strong, hands on his hips. No reaction. "Min Yoongi. How long do you plan to sleep?"

"Until my body feels like moving," he hears a voice buried beneath the sheets.

"Your body is confused as to why you're still lying down when the sun is up," Hoseok grabs the comforter with both hands, threatening to pull. It's only a threat, though Yoongi is rolling across the mattress, trying to occupy as much of the comforter as he can like a counter-attack.

An idea strikes Hoseok then. "Hey, remember that promise you made when you made me quit working at the hospital? You know the one where you said I can spend the day off with you no matter what?" He puts all his strength into one sharp tug and Yoongi is left squirming on the mattress, unguarded and vulnerable. "I'd like to wield that card right now."

Yoongi curses under his breath. "Darling, honey, love of my miserable fucking life," he rolls onto his back, his hair flopping over one eye. "Do I look like a functioning member of society right now?"

"No," Hoseok answers easily as he folds up the comforter. "That's not part of the agreement though."

His husband groans again. "You don't take pity on me anymore. The time has come."

"Staying up to watch top ten videos on Youtube like an old man was your choice, last time I recalled," Hoseok sets the folded comforter at the foot of the bed before crawling up to straddle Yoongi. "Come on, hyung. Let's go out. We need to stock up on food anyway."

One of Yoongi's hands come up to his lap and he blinks his eyes open. Sometimes Hoseok wonders what he's thinking about when he stares, or if he's thinking at all.

Whatever it is, it softens Yoongi. "Kiss first," he whispers.

Hoseok leans down, smiling as he brushes Yoongi's hair away from his eye before blowing raspberries into his cheek. He laughs when Yoongi tries to squirm away, pushing him off of his lap. "Go brush your teeth first, you caveman. And shave."

Being a dentist requires a beastly amount of energy and concentration and mental power to handle all the stress that comes with the practice. Yoongi always gives it his all when he's working and recharges on Hoseok's back at the end of the day, though he still has his off-days when it all gets a bit too much. These off-days consist of sleeping in, a grumpy mood, being irritated by every little touch but at the same time needy for every little touch. His motor skills also suffer, it seems, bumping into furniture and doors that have always been there or brewing his coffee awfully wrong.

An option is to let Yoongi be and do whatever he wants the entire day, even if the list of what he wants to do consists of one thing. This isn't very effective, however, based on the times Hoseok has decided to let him off the hook. Leaving Yoongi alone on an off-day is like letting a drunk friend wander home by themself at the end of a night out; no one knows where he'd end up or what he'd do. What Hoseok knows is that there's a slim chance that whatever he's up to is good for him.

This isn't something that Hoseok has specialized in from the start. Being with Yoongi was a learning curve, a process of trial-and-error. Eventually, he has adopted this no-bullshit stance where he knows what's good for Yoongi isn't always necessarily what Yoongi wants. Maybe it's the fumbling of their university years where Hoseok tried to tell himself that every cold shoulder he'd get from Yoongi was either because of something he did or it was what Yoongi wanted and therefore what was best for him. It only took Hoseok a handful of times to ask Yoongi out until he said yes.

It was a journey in itself to have Yoongi in his arms; he won't let him go so easily. Hoseok holds onto his hand tightly.

"Why are we at the park?" Yoongi whines, though he lets himself get dragged around.

"To get you some fresh air," Hoseok says simply. "That'll wake you up."

They're at the same park they took Jungkook around when Seokjin and Namjoon were busy. It's pretty crowded since it's the weekend, with people sitting at the benches or on the field. Yoongi in his groggy state seems too out of it to get embarrassed about them holding hands in public, and Hoseok soaks the opportunity in as much as he can.

Yoongi speaks again once they've gotten breakfast from a bakery and sat down on an empty bench. "I don't like this park."

Hoseok tilts his head. "Why not?"

"Last time we were here..." Yoongi's words are slurred like he isn't putting much effort into speaking. "The last time we were here, you only paid attention to Jungkook."

That's new. Hoseok manages to hold back a snort. "Did that make you jealous?"

Yoongi frowns at that. "I wasn't jealous of a baby. I just felt... kinda sad." He pouts. He actually pouts. How much sleep did he get last night for him to be pouting? "But you can't really blame me. You're all that I have."

There's a sincerity behind his stammering that makes the urge to laugh die down in Hoseok's throat. "What do you mean?"

"I've never been with anyone else," Yoongi mumbles. "I didn't know how to make you happy and by the time I figured it out, we weren't stupid college students anymore," he sighs. "At least I thought I figured it out. You with Jungkook... it made me realize there were so many ways to make you happy, but I was so shallow that I thought I was the best for figuring out one way."

It's something Hoseok would always get mad at him for saying, for doubting. There was a reason Hoseok chose Yoongi. There was a reason why after Yoongi buried his feelings and tried to push Hoseok away, Hoseok persisted until he opened up. There was a reason why it had to be Yoongi and no one else.

But it's hard to get out of that mindset, he understands. It's not often that Yoongi lays his thoughts out so easily, and Hoseok won't ruin it by getting upset at him.

He skims his hand over Yoongi's on the bench. "What did you regret not doing when we were younger?"

Yoongi doesn't pull his hand away. "I regret not loving you so openly. I know you like it when I'm open."

"I do," Hoseok hums, curling his fingers around Yoongi's palm.

"I regret..." Yoongi pauses to think. "...Pushing you away when we were in public because I was embarrassed."

"You still do that now."

"Yeah, but I should've just let you when we were younger," Yoongi closes his eyes. "We would've been like any other couple our age. I was scared for no reason."

"Well," Hoseok laces their fingers together. "You know what would make me happy?" he shifts closer until their shoulders are pressed together. "If we do it now."

Yoongi doesn't open his eyes. "Would it?"

"More than anything," Hoseok rests his head on Yoongi's shoulder, heart soaring to mountainous heights when Yoongi doesn't try to shrug him off. He looks up at Yoongi. "Darling,"

"Yes?" Yoongi hums. Hoseok can't bite back his smile anymore.

"Honey,"

"What?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"..."

"Just a quick one."

Yoongi tilts his head to kiss him. Hoseok turns to kiss his cheek.

He looks up at the sky, framed by the tall trees around them. The people at the park have disappeared, washed out by the sunlight. It's only them there, as far as he knows. He leans in closer when Yoongi lets go of his hand to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

"This is nice," he whispers. Yoongi's eyes are still closed. Hoseok wonders if he's fallen back asleep.

But then he murmurs, "Yeah. It's pretty nice."

Son Junho is a college student and part-time security guard at the Mediplex building. It was on his day off at the park with a group of friends that something extraordinary happened.

It felt like opening the box and finding out that Schrodinger's cat is in fact, alive. It felt like finding the hanging garden of Babylon. It was an answer to a question everyone had but no one knew the answer to, not until now.

Dr. Jung caught him staring at one point, though he showed no sign of panic or embarrassment. Even worse, he smirked. It was so smug that Junho's already malfunctioning brain didn't even know how to decode in his head.

It wasn't until his next workday, until the roaring laughter from around him ensued and everyone looked at him like he was doing a stand-up bit that he realized what that smirk meant.

It was an evil one, unapologetic and amused. The look in his eyes...

It was as though Dr. Jung was saying to him, they'll never believe you.

Chapter Text

A part of Hoseok has already given in with a sigh, sliding down against the door to the floor of the hallway. "Hyung," he says for the hundredth time, "how about this, I won't go out with them tonight. We can order in and watch a show together. Is that good?"

No response comes, not for a while. Yoongi is probably annoyed at this point, though a greater part of him wouldn't relent, knowing that Yoongi has been inside his room for days. "I'm fine here. Just go have fun."

"I want you to go too," Hoseok says simply. "It feels like I haven't seen your face in forever even though you're right here."

"My face still looks the same," he hears Yoongi grumble. "Just stop being persistent and go."

Hoseok sighs at that and closes his eyes. "Is it so wrong to want to be with you? I just wanna see my boyfriend."

Silence follows his words before the click of the door unlocking. Hoseok pushes himself to stand up and enters the room. Yoongi is still curled up in bed, hair a mess and stubble growing across his jaw.

"It's not right," Yoongi says as Hoseok closes the door, shifting his head on the pillow as his hoodie slips down to show his dark-rimmed eyes. "You shouldn't be doing this."

"What do you mean?" Hoseok asks him, coming up to sit down on the side of the bed. It's happened so quickly; Yoongi was still fine and outgoing last week. They went to a concert together and came back home to make out until they fell asleep feeling like things could never go wrong. It's like a flip has been switched.

"I don't-," Yoongi buries his face into his pillow. When he speaks, it's muffled. "You don't deserve this."

Hoseok looks at him. "What do I deserve, then?"

"Ease," Yoongi murmurs. "No burdens, no misunderstandings, no problems, anything that's me."

Hoseok only hums at that, reaching a hand out before thinking otherwise and retracting it. "I don't want that."

Yoongi's shoulders shake in bursts like he's chuckling, though it's dry. "What do you mean, you don't want that? You want hardships?"

"I want you."

His shoulders stop, followed by a loud exhale. "You have weird taste."

Hoseok smiles. "Maybe I do." The air is getting lighter, and he reaches out again to touch Yoongi's shoulder. "Do you want me, hyung?"

"No."

The clash is so stark in Hoseok's mind that for a moment he doubts what he heard. It's normal for Yoongi to cave in and hide from the world when things get too much, but he always lets Hoseok in eventually. It's always been that way.

"You nag too much," Yoongi says, and there's no escaping the fact that he said what he said. "You're always... so condescending and overbearing, coddling me like a kid. I'm older than you. You do all this when you don't even care about me."

It's a lot all at once. He doesn't actually mean it, Hoseok tries to remind himself, though the latter of those words makes him frown. "That's not true."

Yoongi shakes his head. "You just want to feel better about yourself so you find the weakest person near you to take under your wings like you're some savior, then once I crack a smile or something you can give yourself a pat on a back for being such a good person."

"Yoongi hyung," Hoseok pulls his hand back to his lap. It's shaking. "You know I don't like it when you're mean."

He hears Yoongi scoff. "You think this is mean? I'm telling you the truth. If it hurts then I'm probably right."

He doesn't mean it, Hoseok chants in his head. He doesn't mean it, but it still jabs into his chest so painfully. Maybe he does mean it. "So what do you want? Do you hate me?"

"I'm the biggest mistake you ever made," is what Yoongi says.

"Answer me," Hoseok hardens his voice. The words sit at the very back of his throat and he dreads to say it, but it seems to have come to this point. "Do you want to break up or something? Would that be good?"

For a moment, Yoongi doesn't answer. His body lays still. Then he mutters, "I guess."

Hoseok takes a deep breath as his heart tears itself apart. "Look at me and say it," his voice shakes, "so I know you mean it."

He wouldn't, Hoseok thinks. He wouldn't do it. But he does. Yoongi shifts around until his face is visible, tired gaze fixed on Hoseok's blurred ones. "Get out of my room, Hoseok."

Hoseok wakes up to an empty bed. Checking the time on his phone almost gives him a heart attack before realizing that it's a day off today. He gets up to wash up before following the sizzling sounds down the hallway to the kitchen.

He lets himself stare for a second, at the sight of Yoongi's back shifting under his shirt as he cooks the meat and onions in the pan.

Yoongi is still when Hoseok wraps his arms around his middle, lips kissing the back of his neck to his cheek before murmuring there, "Morning." Yoongi grumbles a reply back. "Fried rice?" Hoseok asks when he spots the bowl of leftover rice next to the stove, and Yoongi hums. "I had a nightmare last night."

"I slept like a baby," Yoongi says just to be spiteful, and Hoseok laughs. He reaches over to add the rice to the pan, spreading it around with the vegetables and eggs. "What are you stressed about?"

"Nothing in particular," Hoseok hums before letting go so Yoongi can cook properly. "I got the new flu vaccines the other day. You can get it after breakfast if you want." Yoongi only nods.

Hoseok decides to busy himself by brewing coffee for the both of them, humming as he waits for the water to boil. Yoongi turns the stove off next to him and spoons out a portion that he offers to Hoseok. "Taste." Hoseok lets Yoongi feed him and makes the happiest sound he can manage as he chews. It makes Yoongi smile. "Good enough for breakfast, I guess."

Quiet days in are precious to Hoseok. Sometimes going out somewhere is fun for a change, though there's something he loves about taking a day to sort out the apartment, washing the sheets and vacuuming every room, folding laundry, and watering the plants while a series plays on the TV.

Yoongi seems to like these days too. He likes taking time to cook nice meals and sort out his desk, maybe play a video game as a break and kiss Hoseok whenever he feels like it. That might just be Hoseok's favorite part of all, the open affection, the easy-going air that pertains the whole day.

Yoongi sits still as Hoseok rolls his sleeve up, wiping alcohol over his skin before very quickly giving him the flu shot and closing the spot with a band-aid that he kisses before rolling the sleeve back down. "Thank you," Yoongi murmurs as he tilts his head to kiss him. "Laundry time?" Hoseok hums. "What are we doing in the evening?"

"Stay in, probably," Hoseok suggests. "Watch that movie Namjoon talked about. Drink."

Yoongi chuckles at the latter. "You wanna get shitfaced at home?"

"Not shitfaced," Hoseok corrects him. "Something close, but yes, at home."

"I haven't seen you black out since college," Yoongi points out.

Hoseok laughs as he throws the used needle away, cleaning up the space. "You say that like it's a bad thing I know my limits now."

"It's a good thing you're so big," Hoseok feels himself murmur into a shoulder. "I can just take a nap here."

"That won't be good," a voice comes from close to him. Not Yoongi's, he realizes. "You make my shoulder feel like I just worked out."

"The hell does that mean?" Hoseok opens his eyes to see Minhyuk on the other side of the booth.

"It's damp!" the voice next to him says. He's worked out now that it's Jooheon. "It's like when you work out and your shirt is sweat-damp. It's exactly like that."

Oh, he was crying into Jooheon's shoulder at a bar somewhere in Gangnam. Hoseok was crying because Yoongi broke up with him. Fuck, now he remembers.

He reaches for a half-empty glass on the table, not caring whose it is, and downs it, eliciting a noise from Jooheon. "You're still going?"

"Stop him, idiot!" says Minhyuk as he starts the gather all the glasses away from his reach. "He's gonna regret this tomorrow."

"Is this yours or mine?" Hoseok holds up a gray boxer. The size tag is worn out.

Yoongi squints at it from his side. "Mine has a small rip on the waistline. That one's probably yours." Hoseok hums as he folds it neatly onto his pile.

On the TV, the episode cuts to a preview for the next one where the protagonist is in tears, begging the love of his life to stay. Yoongi grabs the remote to skip it so the next episode starts playing. "That was me when we broke up," Hoseok jokes.

Yoongi is still when he turns to look, the shirt in his hand laying there like he's frozen. It takes him a few seconds to start moving again, folding the shirt and putting it on Hoseok's pile. "I don't like remembering that."

"It's all in the past," Hoseok says. "We're okay now, obviously."

"Still," Yoongi's voice is quiet. "I shouldn't have done any of that."

Hoseok sighs at that and folds his last pair of pants before crawling to where Yoongi is. "It doesn't matter now," Hoseok whispers, kissing his cheek. "I'm still here."

"Sometimes I still wonder why," Yoongi whispers back.

"Come on," Hoseok pushes at his shoulders, making them lie down on the floor. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you every day, okay?" He presses his lips to Yoongi's, again and again until Yoongi kisses him back, holding onto him.

It's around three in the morning when there's a loud thud against Yoongi's door, and he sets down his phone to go see what it is.

"He's hammered," Jooheon says as he tries to lay Hoseok down so that his back is leaning against the wall. "He wouldn't stop crying but wouldn't tell us why either. He drank way too much." He sighs. "Can you take it from here? You're his boyfriend."

There are a lot of things Yoongi regrets in his life, and a majority of them are about Hoseok. He regrets letting Hoseok in when he wasn't fully ready, regrets every time he shut Hoseok out and lashed out at him, every time he made him cry, and not getting them a proper wedding. Somehow, Hoseok doesn't seem like he regrets any of it. Hoseok has never spoken about their past like something he wants to forget or is ashamed of. Hoseok was the one who pursued him, nagging and persisting as though he knew there'd be no one better for him, that it only had to be Yoongi.

Hoseok is still murmuring slurred nonsense when Yoongi manages to help him into his room with an arm thrown around his shoulder. "Even common coughs in children shouldn't be taken lightly," he muses, though tongue-tied. "You can't-" he hiccups. "You can't determine whether a cough is normal without an in-person appointment." He lets out a groan when Yoongi sets him down on his bed. "You have to listen to their lungs with a stethoscope and..." Yoongi unties his shoes and pulls them off with little to no protest from Hoseok. "And then you have to test their lung capacity- woah there, buster!"

Yoongi jolts in the middle of undoing the button of Hoseok's pants. "What do you think you're doing?" Hoseok slurs accusingly, pushing Yoongi's hands off. "I got a boyfriend, you know?" he drones. "He isn't very buff but that's my type. I like cute guys." When Yoongi goes to stand up, Hoseok looks at him and giggles. "You kinda look like him."

There's a heavy lump in Yoongi's throat, looking at Hoseok's state now, knowing that he caused this because of a few hapless words. Apologizing now wouldn't do much when Hoseok is drunk out of his mind. The best thing he can do now is to make sure he's okay for the night. "Hoseok-ah, it's me," he makes himself say.

Hoseok's eyes widen at that like he's getting a better look at Yoongi. "Oh," he breathes before smiling wide. "Hi, baby." He tilts his head. "Why do you look so sad?"  Yoongi bites his lip as he crouches down to take care of Hoseok's zipper again. Hoseok makes an interested noise. "Are we gonna have sex?"

That manages to break a smile across Yoongi's lips. "No," he tells him as he pulls the pants off his legs. "You're gonna go to sleep."

"Oh," Hoseok blubbers as he curls into a ball like he's cold. Yoongi pulls the comforter over him. "Can we cuddle?"

It takes a grit of his teeth to not say anything, to tell Hoseok, "Goodnight." And turn away.

Slender fingers close around his wrist. The grip is weak, but Yoongi can't seem to get himself to shake it off. "Please," Hoseok murmurs. "I didn't wanna say this, but I've had a really bad day today." He brings Yoongi's hand closer to him, resting his cheek on it like it's something precious. "My boyfriend broke up with me, and it really hurts," he sulks. "Can you stay with me tonight?"

It's a blunder of things coming out of Hoseok's drunken mind, and Yoongi can probably leave him and let him wake up not remembering much. It's then that Yoongi comes to realize that he can never truly push Hoseok away.

He slips into bed carefully. He hasn't showered or shaved in a while and Hoseok would probably hate being near him like this if he isn't drunk. He wouldn't be holding onto Yoongi like he's doing right now. "Ah, you took my pants off to make me more comfortable," he sings. "You're so sweet. Good boyfriend," he says, a hand coming up to pat Yoongi's head. "Good boyfriend."

Yoongi looks away. He doesn't deserve to be holding Hoseok like this. "I'm not a good boyfriend."

Hoseok wriggles around, pressing his face into Yoongi's chest like it's comfortable there. He's quiet, all of a sudden, and he whispers, "Do you really hate me?"

Yoongi swallows down the lump in his throat, feeling the ache behind his eyes. "No," he croaks.

"Then why'd you say that?"

"Because I'm stupid," he murmurs, though it's no excuse. "I'm sorry."

He feels a tear slide down his cheek, realizing how he only hurts the people closest to him. How can he even break out of this?

"It's okay," Hoseok whispers suddenly, then he looks up. "You should kiss me."

Yoongi gulps. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I forgave you already," Hoseok reasons. "So kiss me."

The right and wrong feel so mixed up. Yoongi doesn't want to hurt Hoseok, though why does pulling away now feel like the wrong thing to do? Why does getting up and leaving him feel like the cruelest thing he could do now?

The hesitance seems to register even in Hoseok's drunken mind. "Do you not want to...?"

"I do," Yoongi's voice shakes when he says it. His face is oily, his stubble is sharp and his lips are chapped. Hoseok doesn't deserve that. "I'm in no state to be kissed."

At that though, Hoseok leans in to kiss him so easily, so simply. "Still my Yoongi," he whispers.

Yoongi didn't realize it then, but Hoseok played a big part in pulling him out of that turmoil he thought he'd be stuck in forever. As ridiculous as he usually plays it out to be, Hoseok treating him like something so loved made him start to believe that too.

It's a life that Yoongi owes Hoseok. Hoseok always denies that, but Yoongi wouldn't have this life now without him. He repays Hoseok any time he can; caring for him, cooking, letting Hoseok cuddle him for as long as he wants, anything that will make Hoseok feel loved.

On the couch, Hoseok giggles as Yoongi curls closer to him, kissing up his jaw and down his neck. The alcohol makes everything a little lighter, a little more fluid, and his touches are more shameless than usual. Hoseok's hands are in Yoongi's hair, his lips kissing anywhere he can reach. The movie has been over for a while now.

"It's late," Hoseok says after a hiccup that startled him. "Let's sleep."

Yoongi sighs as he presses his face into Hoseok's neck, feeling the pulse there. He considers being stubborn for a moment before giving in and pulling away.

They still kiss in the bathroom like they can't quite help it, brushing their teeth side by side. Hoseok rinses his mouth and leaves first, letting Yoongi's mind roam as it tries to recall how he's managed to get here in the first place. Married, still in love, at ease, everything he thought was so far out of his reach before.

In the bedroom, Hoseok is laying down on his side of the bed like normal, though the pillow on Yoongi's side seems to have disappeared.

"Hoseok," Yoongi approaches with a knowing tone when he sees Hoseok trying to bite down a grin. "Where did you put my pillow?"

"Hm?" Hoseok acts oblivious, making a show of looking around before shrugging. "Where did it go? Someone must have hidden it."

Yoongi snorts as he sits down. Hoseok always acts silly when he's drunk. "Yeah? Who hid it?"

"I don't know," Hoseok says in a high voice. "Maybe someone-" he hiccups. "Maybe someone broke in and took your pillow."

That has Yoongi laughing so hard he ducks his head, shoulders shaking. "That's not good."

"No," Hoseok agrees. "But worry not, because..." He rolls around to lay on his back, smiling up at Yoongi. "I'll let you sleep on my chest."

There it is,  without fail. Yoongi bursts into another laugh, helpless at his husband's drunken antics. This isn't the first time he's done this. "Just give me my pillow back."

"No can do," Hoseok protests. "It's gone."

Yoongi gives in as a yawn overtakes him for a second. "Alright."

Hoseok actually looks excited when Yoongi shifts closer, reaching for him. He makes a noise when Yoongi lays his head on his chest and hugs him closer, kissing the top of his head. "Good husband," he murmurs. "Good husband."

There's a secret Yoongi has never told anyone. Even Hoseok doesn't know this.

Everyone thought his proposal was thoughtless, that there was absolutely no plan and Yoongi just went with the first idea that came to his mind, that Hoseok being sweet to him was a simple catalyst for the idea of marriage to come to his mind.

And maybe the wedding is thoughtless. That part, he'll accept that they were desperate and rushing, but the thought had planted itself in his mind long before the moment he said it.

Hoseok is smiling wide like he's never been happier to kiss someone. He runs his hands through Yoongi's unkempt hair, fingers stroking his cheek. "You know what?"

Yoongi looks at him. "What?"

"I might just marry you one day."

Chapter Text

The last time Yoongi talked to his parents was via a phone call when a relative had seen him at a gay bar.

Though it was out of the blue, he had prepared for that moment, knowing from the very first word how it would go and what it would entail (Yoongi, we need to talk). He had always known really, growing up, every little snide comment and frown taken to heart, keeping him awake at night. It had been a build up to that moment, the phone calls that became less frequent, from weekly to monthly to only holidays. Even then, he could feel that neither him or his studies meant much to them anymore.

It wasn’t anything horrific or loud. They called him, told him directly what they knew and how they felt about it. He explained, though not apologetically, and they hung up on him, and that was it. Yoongi prepared himself for it, and it wasn’t too bad.

He did cry at one point, he did mourn their loss from his life as though they had passed away, and his house in Daegu he could no longer go back to. It was bad, but not as bad when he came to see what happened with Hoseok.

In their haste to hold a ceremony, Hoseok had wanted his family at the wedding, if anything. He called them a few days in advance so they would have time to prepare and travel from Gwangju, but it had ended with Hoseok sobbing into his phone and soon into his hands as his calls no longer went through. All Yoongi could do then was watch someone he loved lose everything. He didn’t dare reach out to touch Hoseok from how fragile he seemed. It felt like it was his fault, and barely anything could convince him that it wasn’t. He proposed, he encouraged Hoseok to call his parents, and now all they had was each other.

Hoseok still had a year of school left and his studies began to plummet ever since the fallout. He considered dropping out at one point, confessed in a shameful whisper against Yoongi’s shoulder. I don’t know what I’m doing this for anymore.

Do it for yourself, Yoongi told him then, though he didn’t seem convinced. So Yoongi told him something stupid,

Do it for me, then.

Three years later, on the opening day of Hoseok’s private clinic, a gift box came along with a bouquet of orchids.

The gift was a set of animal shaker toys for toddlers with no card, but the address showed that it was a package sent from Hoseok’s house in Gwangju.

It was a start, perhaps not even a step, but the very simple gesture of turning around.

The first phone call came at the start of the next year, wishing Hoseok a happy new year, and perhaps that was the first step. Yoongi wasn’t too thrilled considering what had happened, though Hoseok’s teary smile afterward did sway him a little.

The phone calls became more frequent after that, with only Hoseok speaking to them and Yoongi listening to him as he cleaned the house. The invitation came later, and that was when he really felt scared. He felt scared, but then he saw how scared Hoseok was and suddenly his own worries no longer mattered.

Maybe that is what’s keeping him calm now that they’re in a taxi driving down Hoseok’s hometown.

Hoseok is quiet as he looks out at the streets, and Yoongi can only imagine the nostalgia each tattered sign brings, how it compares to his memories. He hasn’t said a word since they left the train station and it’s a bit unnerving; Yoongi had expected him to be animatedly pointing out every little detail of his childhood at every building they pass, all the stories behind each store and road they pass.

“Do you want to call them?” Yoongi asks him, watching the way he turns away from the window and tries to remember who he’s sitting next to. Yoongi keeps his hands to himself; Hoseok doesn’t like to be touched when he’s agitated.

“Yeah,” he croaks out after a brief pause before he fishes out his phone, willing his hands to still. “To let them know we’re close.”

Then it’s quiet again for a few minutes before they reach the front of the gates and exit the taxi with their one suitcase. They’re only staying for one day out of the three days of Chuseok, something like a compromise to minimize any possible damage.

Hoseok stares at the bronze doorbell like it’s a force that’s repelling him, so powerful that he can’t even lift his finger to press it. Yoongi watches him take a deep breath, close his eyes before opening them again to turn and grab Yoongi’s hand.

“No matter what happens, I’ll still choose you, okay?” he says, tightening his hold suddenly. “I always have.”

Yoongi blinks at him, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat as he nods. “I know.”

One more deep breath, then the doorbell rings.

It’s more reassuring to have Hoseok’s hand in his hold, he realizes, lacing their fingers together as they wait. A breeze brushes by and a leaf skitters across the road, a detail that makes him wonder if it brings any forgotten memory back to Hoseok.

The small door at the gate clicks open then, not too suddenly though enough to make Hoseok jolt and let go of Yoongi’s hand, leaving a jarring space in his palm that he can only close his fingers over, quietly mourning its loss.

A woman appears, and Yoongi feels like he’s looking directly at Hoseok’s eyes.

Hoseok’s mother is quiet for a moment, taking in the sight before she speaks. “Oh, look at you.”

Hoseok smiles. “Hi, Mom.” His hands are at his side, clenched like he doesn’t know what to do with them, if he should reach out or just keep them still.

His mother makes that decision for him when she reaches out to pull him into a hug. “My son.”

He has to bend down to reach her height, and Yoongi can only imagine what’s going through Hoseok’s mind right now with his mother’s arms around him. His eyes are shiny when his face comes into view again, pulling away, then he turns to Yoongi. “My husband, Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s initial fear returns to him for a moment, awestruck by those words and the realization that he’s being introduced to Hoseok’s mother for the first time, something that perhaps should’ve happened so much sooner than now, years later.

He turns back toward her to bow, though barely a word of greeting can leave his lips before he’s pulled down into a hug as well, the scent of strong floral perfume running up his nose as a bony shoulder jabs into his chin. The smell still lingers as he straightens up again. “Mother-”

“You’re very pale,” Hoseok’s mother comments with a watchful eye. “How charming. Everyone wanted to be milky pale like this, back in my day.” She smiles as she turns to make her way back inside. “Come on in then. Thereʼs still a lot to do…”

Quick, prompt, a little faster than what they have prepared for. Wordless, Yoongi turns to Hoseok, though his husband doesnʼt seem to know what to say either. “...Shall we?”

Hoseokʼs mother is quite active, quipping at every comment as though sheʼs trying not to let any awkwardness hang in the air. As they make their way through the house and up the stairs to put their bags away, Hoseok is constantly turning around to take in every little part of the room, each object, anything that doesn’t match his memory of the place, the changes.

“Ah, Mom,” Hoseok says once theyʼre in front of the bedroom. “Whereʼs Dad?”

In the briefest of moments, the look on his motherʼs face changes, though the smile returns as soon as it happens. “Heʼs out right now. Heʼll be back soon.” Then her eyes cast downward. “Dad is...trying his best.”

Hoseok doesnʼt say anything to that; perhaps he already knows. Yoongi has listened to the phone calls heʼd have in bed, talking to his mother about his father who has yet to come to terms with it all, the hand that he offers Hoseok to hold.

“Well.” Hoseokʼs mother straightens up. “Iʼll leave you two to it. Come downstairs once youʼve settled down, okay? Jiwoo should be here soon.”

“Alright.” Hoseok smiles too. “Thank you, Mom.”

The smile doesnʼt stay on for long; it wipes itself away as soon as they enter Hoseokʼs childhood bedroom.

It seems like a regular bedroom to Yoongi, with a bed, a closet, and a desk. Thereʼs a bookshelf in one corner near the window. Itʼs a regular bedroom with no color to indicate who it belonged to. It was a guest bedroom, void of any personality.

“There used to be a poster here, somewhere…” Hoseok murmurs as he looks around, face muted. “I canʼt remember where exactly, but I had one. And the bed used to be against this wall.”

Yoongi looks at it all with a scowl. Have they completely gotten rid of him?

“We can leave,” he feels himself say through gritted teeth. “We can head back right now.”

“No, hyung.” A hand comes up to grasp Yoongiʼs wrist, still careful. “Itʼs okay.” Then he smiles, like he knows Yoongi would want him to. “Letʼs take some of the stuff out of the bag.”

A few minutes pass by like that, then small footsteps can be heard patting around the hallway outside. Yoongi is still occupied with sorting out the toiletries when he hears Hoseok open the door to look, followed by loud panting and an even louder squeal.

“Mickey!”

He turns to see a small dog in Hoseok’s arms, wriggling around excitedly as Hoseok tries to get a hold of it. “Hey, pup! Oh, look at you,” he coos once he’s managed to cup the dog’s face. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.” Then his hold falters, a realization strikes. “Ah, you’re probably not a puppy anymore…”

Yoongi shifts to sit next to him. “He remembers you.”

Hoseok’s smile quirks up again at that. “Do you think so?”

“He came all the way upstairs to see you,” Yoongi tells him. Mickey hops off of Hoseok’s lap to pad around the room. With some of the excitement wriggled out of him, it’s obvious that he’s quite old now, legs moving at a sluggish pace and nose sniffing at all the stuff they’ve brought. Yoongi eyes the wagging tail and wonders how Holly is doing. How old would he be now?

The front door opens as they’re making their way downstairs with Mickey. Yoongi notices the way Hoseok freezes up, but relaxes as soon as Jiwoo pops her head in. “Ah, you’re here already. I thought we took the same train.”

“We finished preparing sooner than we thought so we took an earlier train.” Hoseok hops down the rest of the steps to hug his sister. “Thank god you’re here.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jiwoo says as she hugs him back, firm and reassuring. “I’ll make sure that it will. Mom and Dad really wanted to see you.”

Hoseok is quiet for a few seconds before he pulls away with a smile. “Do you know where Dad is?”

“He’s already home, I’m pretty sure,” Jiwoo hums. “I called him on my way here.”

Yoongi has heard Hoseok’s father’s voice on the phone from time to time, though always as little chime-ins and passing comments from when he’s talking to his mother. He was the one who reacted strongly, who raised his voice first; Yoongi remembers it so vividly that he feels goosebumps seeing the man there in the living room, knowing how he had crumbled Hoseok into pieces.

Hoseok’s father is wordless as he stands there, as though he’s waiting for the two of them to step in, to be the first to speak. His face is unreadable, eyes slightly wider than normal and lips parted like it’s impending a sentence, a greeting of some kind.

It makes Hoseok nervous too, still as he stands by Yoongi’s side. “Dad…?”

His father is still looking at him, quiet, then he finally speaks. “Let me look at you for a second, would you?”

Hoseok has his nose, Yoongi notices, and the shapes of their lips are familiar. He turns to Yoongi, suddenly. “Yoongi, is it?”

There’s something very held back about his words, like every single syllable is being carefully considered before spoken out. Yoongi bows deeply, willing himself not to tremble. “Hello, Father.”

Hoseok’s mother enters the living room from the kitchen and witnesses the scene. “Oh, you’re all together! Even Mickey.” She smiles down at the dog now asleep on one of the pillows. “We should get dinner started soon before it gets any later.”

“Ah, yes.” Hoseok’s father turns. “I’ve already got the noodles out for japchae.” Then he looks back. “Hoseok, if you want to…”

Even his cadence when he hesitates is similar to what Yoongi usually hears. Hoseok falters for a moment, blinks, then nods. “I’ll help.”

I don’t want it to be a tolerance thing, Hoseok had told him days earlier. I don’t want them to pretend that you’re not there or that if they don’t think about it then it’ll be fine. That’s not love.

Hoseok now turns back to look at Yoongi as he follows his father into the kitchen, worry creeping beyond his gaze. Yoongi shoots him a small smile assuring that he’ll be fine.

“Come then,” a voice says as hands grasp Yoongi’s. Hoseok’s mother smiles when he turns to her. “Come make some songpyeon with me.”

A moment alone with his husband’s mother—Yoongi doesn’t get a chance to panic when Jiwoo chimes in, “I’ll help too.”

Yoongi first met Jiwoo when months into dating, Hoseok had sat down next to him with a hesitant hand and told him that he came out, but it wasn’t much of a surprise to her. She had a knack for these things, he said, she’s better at figuring me out than I am. Yoongi loved her ever since the first meeting, the first glance of Hoseok’s eyes and nose, reconstructed into a feminine, outspoken starlet of an entity. It was easy to love her, almost natural from the many wide-eyed gaze and out-of-sight scowls to encounter someone who right off the bat said Oh, you’re definitely Hoseokie’s type.

She elbows him on their way to the coffee table where Hoseok’s mother is setting everything up. “Straighten your back a little,” she whispers. Yoongi pulls his shoulders back instinctively, ignoring her laugh.

“Have you ever had mugwort, Yoongi?” Hoseok’s mother asks as she pops the lid of a large tupperware box open. The dough is a dark jaded green and smells of herbs.

“I haven’t,” Yoongi murmurs, still too shy around her.

“It’s a specialty here,” she says, rolling her sleeves back as she begins to shape the dough one by one.

There isn’t much of a gesture for him to start working too, but his hands move automatically after a quick glance from Jiwoo, who’s already tearing a piece out from the box.

Yoongi feels a bit sickly, a bit lost and helpless though he doesn’t know why, just that he does. The atmosphere is foreign to him; crocheted blankets draped over old couches, embroidered throw pillows, chinese porcelain on old wooden shelves and small framed watercolor sceneries. There are framed photographs set around the room, although too far away from where he sits for him to make out anything more than figures and blobs of black hair, clueless as to whether any of them are Hoseok. They have to be, surely, they would still spare him that much love, a bit of acknowledgement. He wants to get back up on his feet and study all of them in detail, Hoseok over the years, the ones he has never known, if his nose has always been so perfect and what embarrassing haircut he had in middle school that made him cry; his braced smile, laughing at someone’s joke or smiling at the camera, all the things Hoseok has told him that he could only imagine.

Here he is, kneeled at the table, fourth songpyeon still a poor attempt at the neat, half-moon shape Hoseok’s mother and Jiwoo have so delicately—not to mention quickly—crafted. Hoseok would laugh at his wormy dough concoctions if he’s here, meanwhile shaping out something even worse than his. Oh god—he’s a lovestruck fool who craves for his husband now that he’s not near and there’s no one to be brave for. How embarrassing.

Jiwoo sighs, suddenly. “I wonder how those two are getting along in there.”

The smile Hoseok’s mother has on as a default melts into a sad one. “He may not show it, but he misses Hoseokie a lot. He was checking the train schedules to see when he’d be arriving. Missed him when he decided to go out and get noodles for japchae but oh,” she laughs, an airy old lady one, “the look on his face when I said his son was just upstairs with his husband. I’d never seen his hands tremble so much.” Her laughter dissolves into a sigh.

Yoongi could imagine it, in a way. Maybe Hoseok’s father would grasp at his arms to try and keep his hands still, or rub behind his ear as he speaks, the same nervous habit that Hoseok has. It makes him wonder, vaguely—just grazing the surface—how much of him now are remnants of his parents. He sees his mother sometimes when he looks in the mirror, in quick glances at any reflective surface that has made him keep his head down when he walks past windows or stands in the elevator. With Hoseok’s help, he’s managed to shake off his nail-biting habit and in the same breath, his father, the clicking sound of his teeth flicking a hangnail. Maybe in some alternate timeline, Yoongi still goes back to Daegu from time to time; maybe he’d be better at making songpyeon and have something that would impress Hoseok’s mother.

Eventually Jiwoo, overcome with worry, gets up from the table. “I’m gonna go check on them.”

The silence following that doesn’t go on for too long, something Hoseok’s mother makes sure of. “I didn’t want to ask this when Jiwoo was around because she’d call me nosy for it,” she says, the same sweet smile recovered now. “But how did you two meet? Hoseok said at university but I’ve always wanted to know the details.”

Oh. Not the type of what-do-you-do-and-how-is-that-going sort that he had prepared for. With surer hands, shaping one clumsy songpyeon after another, Yoongi reminisces the shared housing situation with Jooheon and Minhyuk, conveniently leaving out the underwear with instant ramen first encounter, then Jooheon’s horrific sleep apnea that kept Hoseok awake (something Hoseok’s mother groans and shakes her head at sympathetically), followed by the roommate situation and the 20th birthday.

The rest of it comes almost too easily—exam season, interning at hospitals, the first shift, the issues, the private clinic, all of Hoseok’s achievements that have always warranted a reaction bigger than Yoongi’s or his friends’, someone who’d grasp at their chest and sigh out my son is incredible.

“I’ve always thought you were so sweet,” Hoseok’s mother remarks. “We’ve never talked on the phone but you were always there in the background doing something. Hoseok would have to go ‘ah, sorry, Yoongi hyung is vacuuming right now,’ or you’d pop your head in through the door to ask him what he wants for dinner. ‘Yoongi hyung is a great cook,’ ‘Yoongi hyung bought us a massage chair,’ ‘I’m sick at home today but Yoongi hyung is bringing me food later.’ It’s just…” Her hands still, cradling the dough in her palms. “It feels like a blessing to know that he’s still cherished and happy even after what we’ve done. It’s truly a blessing.”

There’s something choked back about the way she speaks, and perhaps Yoongi had been too harsh in his mind, too scared to realize how nerve-wracking it is to face the son you’ve disowned years ago, to be given a second chance.

“He misses you too,” Yoongi tells her. “Very dearly.”

He finds Hoseok again once it’s time for dinner and all the dishes have been set on the table. With a smile, Hoseok pulls a chair back for him next to his own seat. He seems livelier now, more settled than he was when they just entered that afternoon, treading carefully in his own home. It relieves Yoongi a lot knowing that nothing bad had happened in the time he was alone with his father.

“Oh, look at this,” Hoseok’s mother says with an awestruck tone. “The whole family, back together again.”

Dinner is an assortment of colors. Jade green songpyeon sits at the end of the table with bright red beet ones that were made this morning. Zucchini, shrimp and fish pan-fried in egg batter a glowing yellow on perilla leaves, a large bowl of japchae with red and green vegetables and beef that Hoseok’s mother carefully distributes between five bowls. Courtesy of Hoseok’s father, there are glistening braised pork ribs and short rib patties (Jiwoo’s favorite, he learns) as well.

“You made those, didn’t you?” Hoseok asks him, pointing at the less fortunate-looking songpyeons. A curt nod from Yoongi makes him laugh. “They look like leeches.”

“He tried his best,” his mother chimes in, quick to save. “The taste is what matters.”

It’s a weird feeling, like a sudden snap back in time to the days where this is familiar to Yoongi; the light jokes over the dinner table, some have-you-tried-this accompanied by a generous portion of it that he has to accept with both hands. Bickering over the table about who gets the last piece of what, a light scolding from one of the parents that they’re not children anymore, listening and laughing along to a past memory he was never a part of. He should call his brother when he’s free.

“Star of the school festival, he was,” Hoseok’s father muses. “Him and his friends would perform some idol song on stage and the girls would lose it.” Hoseok shakes his head at that, quickly denying it. “Girls would crowd around to watch him dance in the practice room. What wild times they were,” he reminisces. “Never brought one home, though.” Then he smiles. “It makes sense now.”

Hoseok’s mouth is crooked in a half-smile, unsure how to take that remark. “High school was fun,” he says, “but I was defensive of a lot of things at the time. I was scared.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jiwoo speaks up in a careful tone, wary of the situation, similarly to her mother. “No one ever really assured you that it was okay.” Hoseok nods at that appreciatively.

His mother wipes her mouth with a napkin, a sympathetic look on her face. Will she ever be able to shake the guilt away? “I had a feeling, a long time ago.” She blinks. “It still felt different when I heard you say it for the first time. I still felt unprepared.”

Hoseok’s smile is sad but he isn’t scared. Under the table, Yoongi reaches for his hand, watching his expression soften when their fingers close around each other. “It’s okay, Mom. Dad too,” he says in a clear tone, genuine and honest. His father’s face changes, something wide, bright and new. Hoseok squeezes Yoongi’s hand. “Ever since I met Yoongi hyung, I never felt ashamed of being gay again.”

After dinner is when Yoongi gets to look at the photographs up close.

“I was such a dork,” Hoseok says through a chuckle, smiling at his sixteen-year-old self in a bowl cut with his lanky arms crossed at his chest. “But I really thought I was the coolest kid in town.”

Yoongi’s eyes shift back to the five-year-old cladded in a pair of yellow overalls standing on top of stone steps (I just got scolded here so I wasn’t having a great time, Hoseok supplied). “You were.”

Save for a few conversational clashes, the evening has gone better than he has really expected. Hoseok is relaxed and less uptight, narrating every photo like it had just happened yesterday with a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder.

Hoseok’s father is kind, especially animated when it comes to telling stories, though he quickly goes quiet when encountering a possible slip-up that might offend Hoseok or Yoongi, shoulders only coming back down when Jiwoo changes the topic or Hoseok explicitly tells him that it’s okay. He hasn’t talked to Yoongi privately, nor has he made any move to pull him aside. He looks like he wants to, is the thing; Yoongi has no problem with an impersonal visit and no heavy talks, though their eyes would always meet when Yoongi turns to look, something in his gesture showing that he’s holding back or is still trying to gather the courage. Yoongi doesn’t really mind; he still doesn’t know what he would say to Hoseok’s father in private.

“Oh, hyung.” Hoseok pats his shoulder. “Now would be a good time to give her the present.”

It was something Hoseok had said in passing, walking past a display in the mall. My mom wears these scarves all the time. It’s a large square one with prints of china blue porcelain, intricately painted on florals that look like a single pattern when scrunched up.

There’s a look of bewilderment in her face when Yoongi mentions a gift, and an even bigger one when she opens the box. “Oh, how long has it been since I wore one of these?” she muses, wrapping it around her shoulders like a shawl. “How lovely!” Yoongi is more prepared for the hug this time round, managing to lightly wrap his arms around her when she pulls him in.

“It’s not the traditional sort of gift, is it?” Hoseok’s father comments. Yoongi has a half-second moment of panic before he smiles, light-hearted.

Hoseok’s mother grasps his hands into a gentle hold. “I have something for you, too.” She disappears and promptly returns, Yoongi’s gift still around her shoulders, and hands him a rather heavy box. “Hoseokie said you have a lot of back pain.” She taps on the box. “This has chamomile in it so it’ll treat muscle pain and help you sleep better. If you finish this then I can send you more, no problem.”

“That’s fine, please,” Yoongi takes the box with a smile. “This is very kind. Thank you.” It’s an old people kind of product, he thinks, with the tiger logo and dense liquid in translucent bottle form that probably doesn’t taste very good. Still, there’s an ache in his heart looking down at it, at the fact that she remembered and cared enough for a guy she has never met prior to this. He feels Hoseok’s arms around him, hand on his waist, pulling him close at just the right moment.

They talk more into the night, going through photo albums of Hoseok and Jiwoo as children, then teenagers, and then it was only Jiwoo; her graduation, in a peach satin dress at some friend’s wedding, in a light coat somewhere in Japan in front of blooming cherry blossom trees.

“Hoseokie’s wedding photos,” Jiwoo suddenly points out. “You should put them in here too. Or frame one.”

“Oh,” Hoseok’s mother squeaks in a high voice, having never considered the idea. “Yes, yes, that’d be lovely, wouldn’t it?” She turns to her husband who nods curtly. “You must send some.” She sighs, a quick one, regret of never having attended despite Hoseok calling to invite them. The memory is still harsh in recollection. “Tell me,” she says, setting the album down. “The wedding. What was it like?”

Hoseok smiles at that. “Hyung proposed when I was treating a cut on his shin in the bathroom.” The memory comes back to Yoongi—sitting on the toilet while Hoseok gently rubs alcohol over the cut, how he had said it so hurriedly Hoseok thought he was joking when that was all he could say in that moment, the realization that it will be him now and for the rest of this life. Just him, and the world can do whatever it wants with everyone else for all he cares. “The wedding itself was pretty quick. We just booked a hall in a hotel and a few of our friends and noona’s attended.”

“It was really rushed,” Yoongi adds. “I’m not really sure why it was.” But he is—he was scared of it being all a dream, of more things going wrong if they wait. Everything was done with an irrational fear that he would lose Hoseok if he didn’t hurry. But that’s too foolish of a thing to say to Hoseok’s mother, whose smile has fallen a little. She had probably expected something grand, or at least, something decent.

It consumes Yoongi all too quickly, this tar of loath that lives in his lungs, crawling back up, choking him. A kind mother, a supportive father, a home to come back to for the holidays—Hoseok lost all of that for a crummy wedding in some hotel with a birthday cake, all for someone like him.

“It was the happiest day of my life, as cliche as that sounds,” Hoseok says, voice bright, beautiful smile, holding Yoongi’s hand so openly in front of everyone. “I can send you the pictures.”

“Hoseok-ah,” his mother says near the end of the day, “my son.” She smiles. “Thank you for giving Mom and Dad another chance.”

Hoseok smiles back at her, a mirror image of each other. “I wanted to come home.”

Once it grows too late, the last of their pleasantries are exchanged before separating to their rooms upstairs. The lamp on Hoseok’s nightstand flickers on, a warm tone washing over the room.

Before Yoongi can say anything, Hoseok is already pulling him into a kiss. It’s an automatic reaction when Yoongi closes his eyes, leaning closer when he feels Hoseok’s arms around his neck. Hoseok kisses him, pulls away for a second, then kisses him again, and again. “I really really love you,” he whispers once they part far enough to look at each other. “You know that, right?” Yoongi croaks out an answer, voice suddenly hoarse from the pressure in his throat. His eyes are already growing blurry before he can even compose himself. He can just make out the curve of Hoseok’s smile. “Don’t look so sad when I say that.”

“I’m not sad,” Yoongi manages to say, though his voice breaks.

He hears Hoseok coo, though it’s quieter than other times as his arms tighten enough to pull him into a hug. “I know, baby,” he breathes. “I know.”

They stay like that for as long as they feel like they need to after everything. Yoongi slips in bed first, his book left untouched in his bag; too much has happened for him to focus on any story that isn’t his.

Hoseok enters the room with damp hair, his towel at his shoulders. He crouches down on the floor to pat his travel-sized skincare on and towels his hair dry before slipping into bed, taking Yoongi’s hand into his and pressing a kiss to every knuckle. “I regret letting go,” he murmurs against his skin. Yoongi doesn’t have to ask what he’s referring to; the incident early that afternoon is still jarring to him. “For a moment then,” he whispers. “It felt like I was a teenager again, getting caught with the boy I like.”

“You like me?” Yoongi asks, purposely sounding bewildered just to hear the bright laughter that bounces around the room.

“Yeah, I have a big fat crush on you,” Hoseok says, rolling on top and cringing at the loud creak from under them. “Oh, we’re in for one hell of a night.” He leans down to kiss Yoongi. “Today went well, don’t you think?” Yoongi hums, and kisses him again. “Few little bumps here and there. I don’t like the way they avoided saying it.” Another kiss. “I’m gay. It’s okay to say that.” Another one, deeper this time, slower. “But they like you and you’ve been very sweet,” he says against Yoongi’s lips. “Didn’t even have to show off your dental degree, or your A-list patients.” He smiles when Yoongi smiles, their laughter huffing out of their noses. 

Yoongi’s hands wander as they kiss, falling into a trance, alone at last after a long day of careful touches and constant audience. The bedframe lets out another devastating groan as their weight shifts to one side and Hoseok rolls back over with a helpless laugh, and isn’t that the most wonderful sight to see, falling asleep?

Come morning, Yoongi is the first to wake up. He slept well despite the creaking bedframe. It was most likely how much he ate the night before, but all the anxiety from yesterday must’ve knocked him out cold. Hoseok is still asleep next to him; he gives the honeydew skin and rumpled hair a final glance before leaving to wash up and head downstairs.

The only other presence there is Hoseok’s father, who gives him a meek smile when their eyes meet and offers him coffee. Yoongi makes one for himself then one for Hoseok, though holds off on pouring the hot water in to keep it from cooling before Hoseok shows up.

The small talk is straightforward. Did you sleep well? Yes. The bedframe there is old and creaky. I didn’t mind it. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you since last night.” I could tell, Yoongi doesn’t say. “You were there with Hoseok to witness everything that happened and I feel like I owe you an explanation too.”

Yoongi sits down on a stool, trying to feign nonchalance. “I told Hoseok everything yesterday and apologized, but I regret every word of that conversation,” he begins grimly. “It was something I never thought I’d have to confront, and so I let all my anger and confusion talk for me, which I shouldn’t have.”

“I understand,” Yoongi says in the long silence following his words.

“It was unfamiliar,” he goes on to say. “All of it. This sudden news and the wedding, all of a sudden.” He huckles. “I sent him to Seoul to study and he came back with a husband, never having said a single word about liking men before, ever.” His face falls, suddenly. “I hung up on him, furious, but the next month or so, I spent wondering what I had done wrong for him to never feel safe enough to tell me, if he was already married and how the wedding went.” He looks at Yoongi. “What his husband is like.”

Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee. “It was a difficult time for him. He only has fond memories of it now, but there was this hint of sadness within him throughout it all that I couldn’t brush away.” A pause, Hoseok’s father averts his gaze. “It hurt him badly.”

A thoughtful nod, acceptance, another sip of coffee. “I don’t think I’ll ever shake it away, this guilt. But now that I’ve seen him again, now that we’ve met, it’s dissipated a little, knowing that I didn’t completely ruin his life.” A smile blooms on his face. “He’s still the bright, happy Hoseok I know, only happier now.

“It feels so silly now, all that anger and worry,” he says with a grimace. “It stressed me out badly. He’s never said anything, what about his studies? What about grandchildren? It’s all so…” he chuckles, a bit pained. “I should’ve at least been excited that he was getting married.”

The grandchildren thing sticks to Yoongi. It still makes him nervous to say in the few times that he has announced it. “Well…” He gulps. “Hoseok and I, we’re hoping to adopt in the future when everything’s more stable, housing and all,” he says, thankful for how calm he sounds. “Or surrogacy. We’ve already found some places for both options.”

His eyes go wide and at that moment, Hoseok hops into the kitchen, unaware of the light of the moment. Wordlessly, Yoongi turns to pour hot water into his mug. “Is this true?”

“What is?” Hoseok asks, sleep still lingering in his voice.

“About children.”

“About- oh.” Hoseok’s eyes go wide too, a spitting image of his father. “Yeah,” he breathes, turning to Yoongi, figuring out what they were talking about. “Yes. We’ve only agreed on it though. Not like we’ve made any calls. We’re still deciding on which option to go for.”

“Why not both?” The suggestion takes them by surprise. Hoseokʼs father has a beaming smile on his face. “Get a surrogate for the first one, have a go at a baby, then get a youngling off the rack for the next one.”

The next one. Just the thought of it is so bewildering and far away. Hoseok’s eyes meet his. Two kids?

Before either of them can even think of a response to that, Hoseok’s mother enters the kitchen. “What’s all this ruckus so early in the morning?”

“Kids!” Hoseok’s father says excitedly, edging onto a squeal.

Hoseok panics at his mother’s corresponding wide eyes. “You can tell her all about it, Dad, We’re gonna…” he turns to see his dog on the floor. “We’ll go walk Mickey.”

They had escaped in a hurry, although getting to explore the street Hoseok grew up in is fascinating. It’s on a hill just almost too steep but enough to feel like it’s a trek while Mickey is happily meandering ahead of them on a leash held by Hoseok.

“The park is up there,” is Hoseok’s curt response to Yoongi’s complaints of going uphill. There’s a story for every shop and house they pass; the street corner where he crouched down and cried because he thought he got lost when he could’ve just kept walking, or the bush that a street cat gave birth in. This unrestrained, animated talk is what Yoongi had expected on their car ride here.

Because of his eye condition, Mickey has to wear sunglasses when he’s out to protect his vision. It makes for a funky look overall, something that pleases Hoseok but at the same time saddens him, realizing how long it had been since the last time he saw him, still young and healthy. They stop to watch him poop with way more fascination than it warrants, and Hoseok crouches down to scoop it up with a doggy bag, feeling nostalgic.

They walk up to the park where the concrete sidewalk turns into grassland. It’s still empty, with the rest of the world still waking up. Mickey has taken the liberty of sitting down to rest his legs. The sun is just above the horizon, nestled behind the trees, the warm orange glow of Hoseok’s skin, his delicate hand blocking the rays from his eyes. Yoongi is a little bit in love with him—or more than that—a lot more.

Hoseok turns to him and smiles. “Thanks for coming with me, hyung.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “It’s what you wanted. I’m glad you’ve talked things through.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok breathes, looking out at the trees, the sun that’s slowly rising. He chuckles, then.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” he says, though his smile is wide. “I was just thinking about how you’re really it for me.”

Chapter Text

It had never been easy, rejecting someone. It got harder every time he did it.

Tough as it was, however, Kim Seokjin, sixteen, lived by the philosophy that he would never make a decision he knew he wouldn’t be happy with.

He knew it by now, the pattern of reaction. It varied from person to person, although a smile was always part of the sequence.

“I really am sorry,” he said, already suffocating in the awkward air he had concocted.

“Please don’t be,” she said with a strained voice, weakly shaking her head. “I hope you end up with someone you’d say yes to.”

Seokjin frowns at the registration form before setting the clipboard back down on the desk. “Pardon me,” he says as he taps on the empty section under his name, “do you need to have Jungkook’s mother’s name and contact details?”

Name: Jeon Jungkook

Father: Kim Seokjin

Mother:                    

This kindergarten is the closest one to their place that they could find that seems decent enough to his standard. Jungkook is sitting next to him, playing with an old fidget spinner Namjoon found under a couch cushion that has so far managed to keep him still. At Seokjin’s question, the receptionist looks down at the form then back up, processing the question but then comes up seemingly blank.

Seokjin feels his eyebrow twitch. “I’m asking because if you need it for his identification purposes then I can fill that in, but not if it’s for emergency calls or parents registration.”

“It’s for registration,” she says. “We need more than one contact number just in case.”

“Alright, well.” Seokjin spins the pen around between his fingers. “I’m afraid his mother is out of the question.”

“That’s alright.” The receptionist spins in her chair to pull out another form. “If you could fill this form with another guardian’s contact details then we can register that instead. It should preferably be a relative,” she explains. “We’ll also need a photocopy of their ID and any additional information that you might not have onhand right now.”

The guardian form details a list of parental authority that are granted in case of emergencies and a fill-in statement of consent—it feels like a slap in the face. Seokjin takes a deep breath in, trying to compose himself.

As politely as he can, he slides the form back. “We won’t need this.”

He works on the rest of the registration form, flips back to the first page, then fills in the last box.

Father: Kim Seokjin

Mother Father: Kim Namjoon

“Father, mother… Can you believe it?” Seokjin grumbles as he starts the car and jabs his finger against Namjoon’s contact on the touch-screen monitor. “What is this, the 80s?” The dial tone plays on for a while before his patience runs dry and he hangs up. “There’s just absolutely no way they can truly operate if they don’t have the phone number of the woman that popped Jungkook out—”

He cuts himself off promptly before turning to Jungkook who is still focused on his fidget spinner, trying to balance it on the buckle of his seatbelt. He probably didn’t pick any of that up, thankfully. Seokjin sighs as he drives; how the hell has the cards played out so that his son is the only person he can vent to right now?

Well, a five-year-old child will have to do. “Jungkook-ah,” he says, then repeats himself when he gets no response. “Jungkook-ah—don’t say ‘hm’. We’ve talked about this.”

“Yes?” Jungkook complies.

“Is Kim Namjoon your dad?” Seokjins asks him.

“Yes.”

“Am I your dad?”

“No.”

“What was that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s right,” he huffs as they stop at a red light. Miraculously, traffic is still awful in the middle of a weekday. Who wouldʼve thought? “And what does that mean? How many dads do you have?”

A long period of silence. Turning to look now, the fidget spinner is still spinning on his son’s finger, though his free hand is gripping his chin thoughtfully before he answers, “Two?”

Seokjin reaches out to ruffle his hair. “Smart boy. Maybe you don’t need to go to school,” he grits out as he ponders. “Homeschooling is a thing now, isn’t it? Just have to make Namjoon retire…” The light turns yellow, and Seokjin covers the fidget spinner with his hand, finally stilling it. “You’re gonna get carsick if you keep staring down at it,” he says. “Wanna listen to music? I’ll put up Daddy’s playlist.”

Seokjin still remembers why he joined the music club in high school, or maybe a better question would be how.

It wasn’t even a band or an actual music club…was it songwriting? Roughly, perhaps. It had five members and he knew exactly one of them because of a group project they both put half an effort in.

To answer how, it began with him waiting out in the hallway for his brother to finish up his extra class so they could go home. The far end of the hallway had weird Garageband music coming out of it.

The rest of it… either the details are fading or Seokjin is too embarrassed to admit that he remembers it. The key point of it was that he had stood in front of the club’s room almost every week until the guy in the thick glasses noticed him and he had to pretend that he was interested in the club and was in no way spending his waiting time staring at him.

Years later, Seokjin is here with a tiny hand uncomfortably grabbing his thumb and index finger as they make their way up into the elevator, with bags of takeout onhand.

He replays the event in his mind, imagining the different ways he could’ve approached it and evaluating each of them. He couldʼve thrown a fit, demanded to speak to some higher-up to criticize their heteronormative system, or maybe started an unwanted speech that no one asked for about how offensive it was to erase Jungkook’s other capable employed father out of the picture when the concept of Jungkook in itself was his idea and they’ve been doing very well because of him.

Not a good idea, no, but nevertheless it’s fun to imagine him performing a very loud and very public declaration of his appreciation for his husband.

There are plenty of reasons to marry Kim Namjoon, after all.

• Kim Namjoon is brainy when he has to be (and sometimes when he doesn’t. Most times.)

“You’re telling me…” Seokjin trails off for a moment in disbelief. “... you’ve just finished three different projects for three different clients ahead of schedule after weeks…” He turns to the TV. “...And the first thing you want to do to kick off your rest period is to watch a complicated quiz show?”

Namjoon just shrugs, eyes fixed on the airing episode of Problematic Men. “It’ll be good for Jungkook to learn too.”

“He’s five years old.”

“He’ll absorb Tyler Raschʼs intelligence.”

Silence any ignorant voice that dares to say Kim Seokjin wouldn’t do anything for love. This moment is purely for Namjoon’s sake; sitting next to him on the couch, listening to him figure out the answer to every question before more hints are even dropped and doing mental maths. Mental maths. For fun.  Jungkook, probably taking after Seokjin more in this case, doesn’t care for it at all as he plays with a cheap camera on the mat.

Namjoon doesn’t really stop overworking his brain, he finds, and sometimes it does more harm than good, resulting in a bad burnout that can last up to a week.

Admittedly, there’s been less-than-proud moments in the past, way back when they were in school and Seokjin would hand his practice exam paper over to a kid two years younger than him to explain how the hell this 8-mark question with one equation was supposed to be solved.

Now that Seokjin is working in a field far from Namjoon’s expertise, all that extra brain power left is used on brainy quiz shows where contestants sit at a desk and press their buzzers. The best part of it—or the good part, if he wants to downplay it—is how excited he gets, be it when he isn’t sure what the answer is or when he gets it right. For a brief moment, Seokjin would see the same overexcited highschooler yelling at the little TV screen, bouncing on the floor at his family’s house as the bell rings at another correct answer.

• Kim Namjoon is an okay househusband

Namjoon technically isn’t a househusband. He still has his freelance job that he does at home in his office and an ever changing work schedule. This also means that in the times where he isn’t occupied with several projects at a time for months, he sometimes has his periodic dry spell where no new work is coming in, leaving him with free time and a growing son who’s eating portions of children twice his age.

“It smells odd.” Namjoon panics from the screen.

“Lower the heat,” Seokjin says, trying not to yell at his phone when he’s at work, frowning when Namjoon whines about it not helping. “Lower it— turn the camera around and show me the stove. It goes lower than that. Yeah, no, to the left all the way, it won’t turn off, more. Yup. Lift it off the heat if it’s starting to burn.”

This is a nightmare, and it wouldn’t be stressing Seokjin out this much if Jungkook isn’t part of the equation as the one extra mouth Namjoon has to feed. An alarm on his computer rings, signalling the beginning of another meeting in five minutes and he sighs.

“I have to go,” he says, ignoring the way Namjoon acts like he’s being betrayed. “Don’t forget to add the spring onions later when it’s cooked, okay? I trust you.” He snickers when Namjoon makes a skeptical face. “I do. Send me a photo when you’re done.”

When Seokjin checks the notification on his phone once the meeting is over, he finds a photo of Jungkook stuffing his face with a portion of rice too big for his tiny mouth.

Super average but edible!!, the message says. The kid likes it anyway!

• Kim Namjoon can be enticing when he feels like it (but also when he doesn't)

This is self-explanatory. The state of Namjoon’s appearance varies throughout the months, depending on how much work he has to do and Jungkook’s appetite from meal to meal (someone has to clear up the leftovers). Sometimes he’d get back into shape on his break, and those times also happen to be the same period where he would get too overheated at night to keep a shirt on.

It’s all part of a menacing scheme personally plotted against Seokjin, truly. The muscles come with the added personal benefit of Namjoon’s confidence, which can mean tank tops and shorts in the winter or a single towel straight out of the shower, and sometimes Jungkook being used as a deadlift like a cheaper (but just as exciting) version of the viking ride at Lotte World.

This period of Threateningly Hot Kim Namjoon is always accompanied by a sly look behind his bare shoulder and a very sleazy delivery of “What are you looking at, hyung?”

“Your ass,” Seokjin says monotonously one evening, fed up. “I’m looking at your ass, Kim Namjoon. Is that what you want me to say? I’m ogling at your physique because I’m attracted to you. You’ve got a hot piece of ass. Happy?”

Namjoon has a coy smile on his face as he tidies Jungkook’s toys on the floor, shaking his head. “Always so feisty.”

As smug as it makes him, and as irritating as it is for Seokjin, it’s hard to deny something that is right. Worst of all, perhaps, is probably the fact that Kim Namjoon still has a very hot piece of ass even when he’s not actively in shape, and this is a nightmare Seokjin pretends to have to put up with every day.

• Kim Namjoon always understands

To put it lightly, their wedding day had them shitting their pants.

They were grown adults by then, which made it even more embarrassing. Namjoon was pacing and Seokjin was wondering if it was possible to develop a nail biting habit right at that moment.

“Wait,” Namjoon spoke up, fingers about to comb through his neatly styled hair before Seokjin grabbed his wrist. “Are we supposed to kiss?”

Seokjin shrugged, trying to play it cool like they weren’t on the same boat at that moment. “Probably.”

As Namjoon continued to pace, Seokjin felt like he was drifting out of his body. It was happening, somehow. They had managed to get to this point and it was going to happen, and Namjoon was panicking.

“Here’s the deal,” he presented, catching Namjoon’s attention. “If we both suck it up and kiss, I’ll let you touch my butt.”

It took Namjoon’s eyes widening in surprise and the following chuckle that made the panic dissipate from his face. “What? You’re ridiculous.”

“Hey, I always keep my word like a real man,” Seokjin assured him.

“You’ve broken multiple promises multiple times.”

“Well I mean it this time!” he argued, shoulders shaking as he began to crack up. “You should be thankful for this husband privilege, you know? Not anyone can touch my butt.”

“God…” Namjoon rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, heedless of the light makeup he woke up early to get done. “Okay, alright. Deal.”

Their hands brushed for a moment then, Namjoon’s fingers sliding over Seokjinʼs palm like a small thank you.

Leading up to it, Seokjin died at least three times and Namjoon looked like he never got resurrected after the first time. It was silly, considering how normal it actually felt when it came to the actual kissing.

‘Normal’, that was the word Seokjin used to describe it in his head.

Namjoon was nervous, so was he, yet it still felt okay, and he didn’t feel that it had to be any more than that. Kissing Kim Namjoon felt normal, like it was how things were always supposed to be.

The wedding was good overall, like how weddings should be, minus the overly emotional speeches and crying because no one felt compelled by their love enough to shed a tear, which he thought was fair enough.

It wasnʼt until he was in the hotel room, lying down on the clean white bed in his tuxedo next to Namjoon when it really hit. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” he heard Namjoon say, just as breathless.

“Any regrets?” Seokjin asked him.

The sheets under them shifted as Namjoon shook his head. “Not at the moment, no. You?”

Seokjin blinked up at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything.”

A calm silence stretched over them at that moment, and he felt like a child.

“Hyung,” Namjoon said, voice quiet. Seokjin turned to him with a hum. “Can I kiss you again?”

Seokjin’s heart stopped and there was no other way to clear the pressure in his chest than to joke, “Jumping into it right away, are we?”

Namjoon made a ridiculous face at that. “It’s not a weird thing to ask.”

“Maybe not,” Seokjin said as he shifted up to his elbow before reaching a hand over to cage his husband. His husband. “What if you regret it?”

Namjoon smiled beautifully. Too beautifully. “I’ll let you know.”

Seokjin felt his ears heat up. “Don’t jut your chin out this time,” he murmured before leaning down.

It was still okay this time, a kiss not as light as the one at the wedding, but Namjoon was pushing his chin out again like he was nervous. Seokjin brought up a hand to push it down with his finger, chuckling at the noise Namjoon made.

They stayed close when they pulled away as Seokjin looked down at him, the finger on his chin swiping down, caressing his face, and the dizzy feeling returned.

Seokjin leaned down again, the press of their lips firmer this time, moving carefully, and then it was impossible to stop. Namjoon’s hands were on his back, holding him close as their lips part.

They were both panting when they pulled away, and something about Namjoon’s gaze at that moment kept Seokjin focused on it. The glimmer in his eyes, his shiny lips, then the sudden frown. “Why are you crying?”

Seokjin blinked, and a droplet splattered onto Namjoon’s cheek. “Huh?”

“Hyung?” Namjoon’s gaze scattered everywhere, trying to find out what was wrong. “Are you okay—”

Seokjin shushed him, shaking now as he lowered himself down until he could press his face into Namjoon’s shoulder, sniffling. “I’m fine, just let me—” he heaved out a sob. “It feels like my heart is about to explode.”

Six years, he thought as he cried. He had six years to prepare for this moment yet it still felt unreal even as his face was pressed into Kim Namjoon’s shoulder.

“It’s not a big deal,” he tried to say when Namjoon suggested getting help. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just…” he sighed again. “This is fucking crazy.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon replied, voice lighter now. “What do you want me to do, hyung?”

Hold me, he thought about saying, but it somehow felt too selfish in his mind. He ended up not saying anything and Namjoon stayed still, quietly waiting as Seokjin’s breathing began to slow again.

His hands drifted down then to his lower back before stopping. “Does this mean I can touch your butt now?”

The laugh that came out of Seokjin was uncontrollable but hoarse, like a cough. “Shut up,” he said, voice still recovering as he hiccupped. “Yes. Whatever. Touch it. I don’t care.”

He felt Namjoon chuckle too, though his hands stayed where they were on his back. After a while, Seokjin pushed himself back up, hovering over him, probably looking like a hot mess. “Regrets?” he asked again.

Namjoon still smiled at him. “I’ve never been more sure of anything either.”

• It can’t be anyone else

Namjoon’s room was a mess; a custom for when heʼd get too busy to maintain it. Laid on his crumpled bed sheets was a sweater with a whale stitched on it that Seokjin got him; three worn out books sat at his nightstand, accompanied by two crumpled wads of tissue of unidentifiable source that they never addressed; an array of booklets and brochures spreaded across his old desk as he tapped his fingers over them. Some of them were closer to home, some outside of Seoul, a few overseas in some city Seokjin had never heard of.

Namjoonʼs mind was far from it now though, so stressed his brain had decided to focus on something else, leading to a reflective rant about his mother bringing up marriage when he was talking to his parents about university.

Kim Namjoon had huge ambitions and the likeliness to devote himself to them, even if it meant drifting away from things that would become less important. Seokjin knew, sitting there, almost a year into college and overdue for a haircut, that if he didn’t cling to this now, he’d only grow further away, enough that even his fingertips would soon be unable to brush any part of Kim Namjoon.

Then, and perhaps only then, would Seokjin truly feel the heartbreak in the fact that what Namjoon felt for him was a light breeze compared to the natural disaster that had been haunting Seokjin, and maybe it would never change.

How else could he keep Kim Namjoon around?

“Well, they like me.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Seokjin was a creator of endless bad ideas, but also way too determined to stick to them once they were out there. He tried not to wince at the way Namjoon whipped his head around to look at him. “They might not mind if itʼs me you marry,” he said, fighting the urge to bite his lip, using all of his brain power to come up with something on the spot. “My parents probably wouldnʼt mind me marrying you either.”

Namjoon’s expression was difficult to read, which only assured him that this was the worst decision ever made by any man to ever exist. An ache rised in his throat, and he wondered vaguely if this was how he had made every single person he turned down feel, and perhaps he’d suffer a century being tortured in some kind of hell to repent for his sins.

And then Namjoon spoke.

“Do you want to marry me, hyung?”

Was now the time to tell the truth? Probably. Would today be the day Kim Seokjin stopped being a pussy and opened up about how he truly felt? Like hell.

“Well thereʼs no one whoʼs more eligible right now,” he mused, trying to mask the tremble in his voice. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be good to completely lie. “So yes,” he croaked out, then quickly cleared his throat, and the panic suddenly got to him. “Maybe. I think I’d make a good husband.”

Awful plan, awful execution, awful outcome. Namjoon was looking away now with a frown, chin jutting out which meant he was either stressed or thinking very hard.

Trying not to make it obvious, Seokjin tilted his head from side to side, willing his hair to cover at least the tips of his red ears, feeling a little more secure now that they were hidden; maybe pushing back the haircut was a sign.

“I guess I wouldnʼt mind eating your cooking everyday.”

For a moment, it didn’t register that that was Namjoon’s response, not until Namjoon cocked his head to the side like he was wondering why Seokjin hadn’t said anything.

That was the beginning of everything.

After tucking Jungkook in and making sure that he’s settled for the night, Seokjin comes out of the bedroom to find Namjoon just exiting his office with a yawn, one hand absentmindedly slapping the wall behind him a few times until the light shuts off before closing the door.

Seokjin briefly wonders if Namjoon had figured it out somehow during the years that followed that moment, some kind of realization in the middle of the night that this was Seokjin’s embarrassing but hopefully cute secret. Maybe that’s why they were moving so slowly at the beginning; not because they were close friends getting married but because Seokjin was somehow still so scared of being that vulnerable.

It’s been six years since the promise, four since they got married—in total, ten years of whatever the hell this is that oddly feels like comfort.

Namjoon yawns again with an abstract noise that’s supposed to be a greeting. With the hectic work schedule and some major project, they haven’t been able to see each other today. Seokjin accepts the end-of-the-day yawn-greeting and walks up to hug his husband.

“Hello,” Namjoon lets out clumsily before his arms come up to wrap around Seokjin, and the world dutifully vanishes. It lets him revel in the reality that this embrace is what he has landed into after the stupid yet terrifying leap that he took; Kim Namjoon’s hold, all because of a first love he was too prideful to outwardly admit.

When Seokjin presses a kiss to his neck, Namjoon jolts. “Oh,” he breathes, arms going stiff for a second against Seokjin’s back before relaxing again. He makes another noise when Seokjin shushes him. “Is it time to be quiet now?” he asks, voice already lowering.

Seokjin nods, lips moving against Namjoon’s neck as he whispers, “No talking.”

It’s quiet once his husband complies, almost tranquil. It isn’t that Namjoon talks too much, or at most it’s only partly that, but there’s no need to talk; not in this moment where they feel the rise and fall of their chests, the shared warmth, the hold they’ve molded over the years to fit each other perfectly, the several different things that accumulate into a single quiet whisper of I love you—I know.

Chapter Text

When has life become static?

At which point on the timeline did it decide that things shall settle?

Hoseok wakes up, goes to work, comes home, sleeps, then does it all over again. He remembers being afraid of a cyclical life where each and every day is the same one with slightly varying details.

Now though, sitting in his office, halfway through his work day, the idea doesn't seem so bad to him.

Outside the clinic, he hears the dentist of Min's Dental talking to the young security guard who sounds like he's being held at gunpoint and is fighting to get every syllable out of his mouth.

After that little incident at the park a few weeks ago… he has to hear this.

Sticking his head out of the door and ignoring Jimin's confused look, he turns to see Yoongi talking to Son Junho about the air conditioning. He bites back a laugh, watching the interaction; their past exchanges have been memorable. Junho is struggling to settle on where to look, and Yoongi just seems confused.

"Say, doctor…" Junho gathers the courage to speak. "Do you happen to… are you single?"

Jimin snorts from behind him and Hoseok jolts, turning to shush him as they watch Yoongi's expression shift just the slightest bit.

Dr. Min is quiet for a moment before he says, "You're way too young for me."

"Huh?" Junho panics, hands flailing, and it feels like Jimin stuffs his entire face into Hoseok's shoulder to keep from laughing. "No, no. I was just curious if it was you that day at the park..."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. "The park?"

"What park?" Jimin whispers, still trying to make sense of everything.

"Long story," Hoseok whispers back.

They watch Junho take a deep breath. "That day at the park, I think I saw you with —"

"How about me? Am I old enough for you, doctor?" Hoseok decides to intercept, swinging the door open. "Hello, Junho-yah."

Yoongi looks at him. "Dr. Jung."

Hoseok easily comes up to the both of them. "What were you two talking about?"

"You should know," Yoongi deadpans. "Considering that you were very obviously eavesdropping the whole time."

"You're right," Hoseok nods, proudly owning it. "I just wanna hear what Junho here has to say." Then he directs his gaze very deliberately to Junho and quirks the corners of his lips up, the same smile he gave him that day. "What did you see at the park?"

The look on Junho's face makes Hoseok wonder how he's gotten so good at mind games. Maybe messing with people like this gives him the upper hand for once after all the times he's had to hide or feel ashamed, or maybe it just adds more color to his day. "I think… I saw you and Dr. Min together at the park…?"

Hoseok tilts his head. "Did you? What were we doing?"

Junho gulps. "You were… together."

"Together?" Hoseok repeats. "Junho…do you think Dr. Min and I are… dating?" He makes a scandalous face before turning to Yoongi. "Are we dating, doctor? So I am your type after all."

Yoongi squints at him. "We're not dating."

"Ah." Hoseok pouts. "Shame. I'd make a good boyfriend." He turns back to Junho and, without saying another word, just stares at him, clenching every muscle in his body to stop himself from breaking into laughter.

Eventually, the air gets uncomfortable enough that Junho excuses himself back to his post, and Hoseok turns to an unamused Yoongi. "He saw us?"

Hoseok shrugs. "He sure thinks he did." He laughs when Yoongi curses, ears turning red. "Come on, it was just one little date at the park! Speaking of dates…" He waggles his eyebrows, an old technique that used to make Yoongi laugh.

It seems to have been neutralized, considering Yoongi's unchanging expression. "I was gonna come tell you that before I stopped to talk to Junho actually," he says. "The restaurant cancelled at the last minute."

"Ah, really?" Hoseok asks, not expecting that of all things. "Is there anywhere else you wanna eat?"

"Yeah but it's a Friday," Yoongi says. "I don't know if we'd be able to get into any of the nice places without a reservation."

"That's true… oh well," Hoseok pouts again, but this time it's less of an act. "No more date night for poor little me, then."

Yoongi shrugs. "We'll find time again. I'll cook tonight," he says in a slightly lighter tone, something closer to consolation. He scrunches his nose. "Like always, but I'll cook something different."

Hoseok smiles at that, though he's still slightly disappointed about the reservation getting cancelled. "I shall leave it to chef Min again today."

Back to work, Hoseok fills in the details of three-year-old Song Dowoon's vaccination into the booklet. He's still pouting at him with tear-stained cheeks, an elephant-patterned bandaid on his arm. Part of being a pediatrician seems to be apologizing to multiple children multiple times a day.

"All done," he says with a smile, handing the booklet back to Dowoon's mother. "He'll need to come back for the second dose in three months."

She seems to be a single parent, based on what he's observed. Dr. Jung Hoseok and his private clinic was recommended to her through a mother's support groupchat, and she's been messaging him for the past few weeks with what feels like any and all emergencies Dowoon encounters. That, and a lot of crotch-related questions.

"Ah, we might be out of the country in three months," she suddenly says as she's checking her schedule, and her voice is already adopting the usual panicked cadence. "We won't be back until the month after. Will he be okay?"

"He'll be fine," Hoseok tries to reassure her.

Consultations seem to always start with health-related questions before drawing onto parenting questions and behaviors. Before Hoseok even realized, he's explaining how children can start speaking at different ages and where Dowoon could be picking up different words his mother has never taught him.

"I'm really sorry for bothering you so much," Dowoon's mother says solemnly. "I'm still new to this and all these websites have different explanations for one thing so it's hard to know what's right."

She looks tired, like she's missing a bit of color. Hoseok shakes his head. "I know how overwhelming things can get sometimes, especially around this age. Please don't worry."

Comfort and reassurance feels like part of the job; something he didn't realize in school until he was thrown into the actual environment. Hoseok has learned by now what new parents need to hear when things get tough.

His words make Dowoon's mother smile a little. "Do you have any children, doctor?" she suddenly asks.

"Ah, I actually don't," he says, rubbing the back of his head. "A lot of new parents have the same issue and worries, so it's nothing new."

And there it is—the gaze flickering down to his left hand, eyeing his ring. Mentally, Hoseok adds another point to his scoreboard against Yoongi to see who has more supposed wives.

But then Dowoon's mother asks, "Are you and your partner considering it?"

Partner.

Hoseok is pleasantly surprised—that's a first.

"We are," he quickly says. "Yes. Down the line."

"Oh, how nice," she beams. "What a lucky kid they'll be. You already know everything."

Externally, Hoseok chuckles sheepishly, brushing the compliment off. Internally, he's found the phrase he'll be overthinking for the rest of the day.

Min's Dental is already closed by the time Hoseok is locking the doors to his clinic. On his way back, he listens to Jimin vent about a small fight he had with Taehyung, then they part ways into their separate apartments, approaching the end of the cycle.

"Hello, hubby," Hoseok murmurs with all the enthusiasm he has left at the end of the day, shrugging his coat off. He sees Yoongi turn to him from the kitchen, eyes blinking red and grimacing. "Oh no," he laughs. "Is it the onions?"

He bumps Yoongi's hip with his when he enters, offering to chop the onions instead while Yoongi busies himself with the stew.

Over dinner, Hoseok recaps Jimin's entire rant about Taehyung getting mad at him over a misunderstanding and how they're having a stand-off to see who'd cave and call first. Yoongi listens attentively, adding his own commentary to each incident. Maybe it's a testament to their lives now, the fact that the most interesting thing about their day is someone else's day.

"Hyung," Hoseok says. How many times has he said that to Yoongi? He's been saying it for years. Over a thousand? A hundred thousand? Hyung. "Are we boring?"

Yoongi chews as he considers the question, then concludes, "I'm not bored."

He picks up and washes the dishes like it's nothing after that. The answer is simple, but it makes Hoseok smile so easily.

"Are you bored?" The question comes through the sound of water rinsing the plates. 

"Me?" Hoseok asks, though it's not like anyone else is there. "I don't know." He chuckles. "Is that bad?"

At that, Yoongi only shrugs as he continues washing the dishes. "We're not exciting, but I'm not bored."

Afterwards, they watch a trash reality show that they've been too invested in and discuss these people's lives and relationships in detail. Yoongi also takes the chance to reiterate that Hoseok is as good as dead if he tells anyone that they obsess over this awful show.

Once the show is over, Hoseok plays a video game, feet resting on Yoongi's lap while Yoongi reads something on his phone before they separate to wash up.

In bed, Hoseok shifts around to look at his husband, and in the moment where Yoongi isn't looking at him, he just stares.

The same nose, same lips, the same angle he's seen for years, the shape of his eyes that curve when he looks up to meet his gaze.

Hoseok reaches out to him, pressing a thumb to his cheek. "Do I still make your heart race?"

For a while, Yoongi just looks at him and blinks. "Not really," he says.

Hoseok smiles. "But you're not bored?"

Yoongi shakes his head.

"How come?"

"I don't know how you see it," Yoongi murmurs, shifting to lie on his back, letting Hoseok’s hand slip down to his shoulder, "but to me, this is the default. Your heart doesn't race at things that are the default, but you don't get bored of it either." Then he turns his head back to look at Hoseok, adding, "I still love you, obviously."

Hoseok laughs at the sudden confession. "Obviously."

Love can just be looking into his eyes and feeling his nerves dissipate.

"You know hyung," he says to the dark. Yoongi hums in question. "I get really worried sometimes. About the kid." Then he chuckles. "And we don't even have them yet."

"What are you worried about?"

"I'm worried about…" Hoseok trails off. "I'm worried about everything a parent would be worried about. I even know what to say to these parents who are worried, but I'm still worried."

"What are your worries?" Yoongi asks again.

"It's…" It comes to his surprise that it's not easy for him to admit it out loud. "...What if it's completely different when it's my turn?" He chuckles, but there's no humor there. "What'll we do if we mess up?"

At that, Yoongi murmurs, "We'll be fine."

"You don't know that for sure," Hoseok rebuts. "I don't know everything."

"You don't have to," Yoongi says. "I know we'll be fine."

Slowly, Hoseok turns to him. "How do you know that?" he whispers.

Yoongi looks at him. "I just do."

Hoseok presses a little kiss to Yoongi's shoulder before pulling away, getting ready to sleep, but not before Yoongi adds, "I had fun today."

"Hm?" Hoseok hums, curling up on his side. "From the show?"

"That too, yeah."

"What do you mean?" Hoseok chuckles, curious now as he turns back around. "We did nothing today."

"Yeah," Yoongi breathes, and it's that look that always seems to get him, this awe that glosses over Yoongi's eyes. "I like doing nothing with you."

Maybe he's not bored.

Hoseok shifts up, just enough to hold himself up and drape an arm over Yoongi. Yoongi is pliant when he leans down to kiss him, a soft pressing of lips, for the thousandth time possibly. Even with that thought in his mind as he pulls away, taking in the details of the face he knows all too well, he tilts his head to kiss Yoongi again.

"Hyung," he whispers, and the fondness of it still remains.

Shyly, he brings Yoongi's hands up to his chest, pressing his palm to the constant that has followed him since their first meeting. He watches Yoongi's eyes widen as he feels the rapid thrumming under his hand. "Seriously?" he breathes, smiling when Hoseok chuckles. "Oh, how embarrassing," he teases, sliding his hand up to pull Hoseok down into his hold, hugging him close. "You still have a dumb little crush on me."

Hoseok hums as fingers stroke through his hair, each touch a syllable to a quiet sentence they'd share through held breaths. "I like you so much, Dr. Min," he says jokingly. "What should I do?"

"I'm afraid that goes beyond my job description," Yoongi says sharply, and Hoseok laughs.

He pulls back to look down at Yoongi. "So am I still your type? I know I used to be since I was hot stuff back in uni." He grins.

"You age like fine wine," Yoongi murmurs, then his hand slips up to Hoseok's chest again. 

Hoseok cackles when he realizes what he's trying to do. "It's not that easy to make my heart race, you know? Simple pickup lines won't work."

Yoongi pouts, a special sight. "So you don't like me that much." 

"Stupid," Hoseok chuckles, leaning down to brush their noses, whispering,

"I like doing nothing with you, too."

Chapter Text

Yoongi brushes his teeth by himself one night. Hoseok will be back in a few days from his meeting in Jeju. He had rolled his eyes when it was first brought up, a meeting about some medicine at a beach resort. It was easy money, however, considering that it’s been fully paid for by the company that invited him and if anything, a few days to kick back and relax is the least Hoseok deserves.

Going from being around each other daily to only texting and occasional calls makes him feel younger than he is, like this is somehow a new relationship between two people who have only talked online. The photos Hoseok has been sending are amusing; his fancy dinner, the view of the sea with a smudge of his finger near the lens, clumsy selfies taken in front of a window. Yoongi saves all of them and feels a little stupid for it.

That’s a constant feeling throughout all of this. He’s almost bewildered by how silly it all is, especially when Hoseok stops by to stay the night at his parents’ house in Gwangju and, mindful of the thin walls here, tries to be discreet when he’s on facetime, lying in his bed and hiding under the covers. Only a glint of his eyes and a part of his forehead is visible.

“You look ridiculous,” Yoongi comments, but Hoseok argues that he isn’t much better since he’s in bed too. At least he’s not under the covers like a teenager trying to flirt with his first boyfriend at night. “How are your parents?”

“They thought you’d be with me for some reason,” Hoseok explains in a hushed voice that makes Yoongi snort. “I was wondering why they kept looking behind me or out the window the entire time. Then my dad–” Hoseok’s sentence breaks as he tries to hold in his laugh, “he asked me if you’re still busy unpacking upstairs. This was at night. I showed up in the afternoon, and somehow he thought he’d missed you going up the stairs with your bags and you’ve been unpacking up there for hours. God–” His efforts to be quiet are ultimately futile when he cackles, recalling the whole thing, even wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“What can I say?” Yoongi shrugs. “I like to be prepared.”

He can still make Hoseok laugh—that’s something he’ll be prideful over until the end of time. Hoseok isn’t even on the screen anymore, his phone recklessly abandoned on the sheets, tussling around as he shakes. Eventually, he regains his composure and sits up, scooting closer to the bedside lamp where his warm smile is fully visible. “Did you see the photos I sent you?”

“I did,” Yoongi breathes, a quiet genuine moment. On the old shelf next to Jiwoo’s graduation photo is a framed photo of Yoongi and Hoseok in their cheap suits, clumsily dancing at their makeshift wedding.

For a moment, Hoseok just looks at him. “How’s work, nerd?”

“Same old tooth knocking,” Yoongi murmurs, making him laugh. “I have a dental student coming in to shadow me next week but get this. This kid today was a riot. He had to get his tooth pulled out for braces so I got him local anesthetic and had him wait for fifteen minutes so he was numb. Straightforward, right? No,” he recalls today’s mishaps dramatically. “He was still in pain when I started tugging at his tooth. And guess what?” On the screen, Hoseok tilts his head. “Three extra shots, for one tooth, that’s what it took for him to not feel it. His entire mouth was numb at that point. Couldn’t even talk properly.”

Hoseok used to listen to these stories with a grimace, though Yoongi has only realized now that he’s grown so accustomed to them that he’s amused now. “What a day.” He brushes his hand over his hair, a detail Yoongi fixates on for a while. “Am I meeting you at home tomorrow?”

Yoongi hums. “I wanted to pick you up but my schedule’s fully packed.”

It’s an open target for Hoseok to coo at him. “My dear husband wants to pick me up at the airport,” he muses ridiculously, laying the back of his hand on his forehead, “too bad we have bills to pay and we just bought a car.” He suddenly flops onto his side, propping his head up with his hand in what Yoongi identifies to be his attempt at being flirty. “Darling.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Yes?”

“I miss you.”

“I doubt that.”

“How dare you.”

“It’s been five days.”

“But I do,” Hoseok insists anyway. “I’m gonna sweep you off your feet once I see you again, spin you around and stop just as you’re about to hate me.”

“How romantic,” Yoongi entertains him flatly with a response.

But Hoseok doesn’t sweep him off his feet when they meet at the door. Instead, Yoongi takes care of his suitcase, which has probably laid dormant ever since Hoseok came back hours ago. It’s unusual, though he doesn’t question it as he sorts out all the clothes that need washing. “How was the flight back?” he asks through the open door of the bedroom to the living room where Hoseok has draped himself over the couch in his shorts. “Not too bad?”

“No, not bad,” he hears Hoseok mutter quietly, getting up from the couch. Yoongi half-expects him to come say hello, but he drags himself further down the hallway. His voice comes up again, quieter and echoey. “Did you move the ibuprofen bottle?”

“It should be in the cupboard,” Yoongi shouts back, zipping the suitcase back up.

“I looked. It’s not there.”

“It’s–” Yoongi gives up and goes to look for it himself, reaching under Hoseok’s arm to where the bottle is, hidden behind the new pack of medicine he had ordered. “There.” He sets it down, and Hoseok takes it wordlessly. The attitude is getting to him a little. “You look happy to see me,” he deadpans.

That makes Hoseok sigh, though he’s still frowning. “It’s not that,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a light kiss to Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi doesn’t react to it. “What’s gotten you so grouchy then?”

As though he’s been cornered, Hoseok confesses, “I’ve been having this weird migraine since Tuesday… painkillers help a little, but it hasn’t gone away.”

Knowing how low his pain tolerance is, Hoseok’s demeanor makes sense now. “Where does it hurt?” Yoongi asks him.

“Everywhere," Hoseok says dramatically, though he scoffs at himself. “Well, mostly this half of my face, from my cheek to my temple.” He gestures to the area with his hand.

That’s enough to give Yoongi an inkling of what’s happening. “Lie down.”

Hoseok sighs. “That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“Lie down,” Yoongi insists.

At that, Hoseok complies confusedly, though he quickly catches on when he hears Yoongi rummaging through his equipment drawer. Life returns to him just like that. “No, no! If it’s my teeth then I’ll go to my dentist.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Yoongi quips, pulling on his gloves. “I’m just gonna check. If it’s really a problem with your teeth then go to your dentist. I don’t care.” Yoongi approaches the couch with all his tools in hand. Hoseok is propping himself up with his elbows. “Lie back down.”

Hoseok lies down but childishly covers his mouth. “I haven’t shown you my teeth once in the seven years we’ve known each other. What makes you think I’m gonna start doing it now?”

Yoongi frowns, resting his empty hand on his hip. “I’ve seen your teeth, dumbo.”

“I’m not gonna let you examine it,” Hoseok argues, hand still protecting his mouth. “That’s too much.” 

This is something hoseok’s been adamant about for as long as they've known each other. By his logic, seeing the inside of someone’s mouth in detail will discourage the other person from ever finding them attractive ever again, so it’s been a hard-set rule that Yoongi will not perform any dental procedures on him. Yoongi never really understood it but complied anyway, up until now.

“Would you rather pay the consultation fee instead of letting me check?” he challenges Hoseok, who is fully doubling down.

“If that’s gonna hold our marriage together then yes,” he insists.

Yoongi sighs at that. “Come on, don’t be difficult. Your teeth are fine.” He gently pushes Hoseok back down, pulling his hand away from his mouth. He sets his tools over a towel on the coffee table and kneels down at the couch, brushing his thumb over Hoseok’s bottom lip. “Open up.”

Hoseok grumbles something before eventually complying, parting his lips the slightest bit before Yoongi has to jam them open, pulling a corner of his mouth back with a finger, to which he doesn’t hesitate to express how much he hates that. “Hey!”

“I've had four-year-olds who are better than this,” Yoongi mutters under his breath. “Ah, the lighting-” He twitches, shifting around, frustrated by his own silhouette blocking the ceiling light behind him. “Sit up for a second,” he instructs, then comes up to sit on the couch once Hoseok does. “Put your head on my lap.”

It’s the first time Hoseok smiles since Yoongi’s seen him, though it’s his greasiest smirk yet. “Doctor,” he swoons, lying down and looking up at Yoongi. “Are you sure this is orthodox?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, though he brushes Hoseok’s hair out of his eyes. “Tilt your head back a little, then to your left. A little more. Good.”

It’s pleasant for a short while. Hoseok seems to enjoy the little touches, the slight brushing of his fingers over his lips, and his chin, though he starts complaining again when Yoongi’s dental mirror is under his gum.

“This hurts,” he says, barely comprehensible with his tongue pushed down.

“You’re just dramatic,” Yoongi quips. He notices something protruding from behind Hoseok’s upper molar and gently taps on it, making Hoseok wince. “Does that hurt?”

“Yes, don’t do that,” Hoseok answers with a huff. Still dramatic.

“Right.” Yoongi pulls everything out and softly pushes at Hoseok’s chin, closing his mouth. He pulls off his gloves and pats Hoseok’s shoulder. “Time to get your wisdom teeth out, old man.”

“Huh?” Hoseok sounds offended, though not at the old man part. “Why?”

“Your wisdom tooth at the back where it hurts is sticking out weirdly,” Yoongi explains. “The root is probably pushing on a nerve which is what’s been giving you that migraine.”

“That—” Hoseok tries to argue, though he’s coming out short on what to say, and settles. “No, yeah. That makes sense.” His brows knit together. “Is there no other way?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I don’t think so.” But then he notices how Hoseok’s face pales at the response. “...You’re scared?”

Hoseok bites his lip, not denying it. “Scared isn't the right word, just…” he tries to gather himself, breathing slowly. “Anxious. I’ve never done it before. I know it hurts.”

“It will, especially if you’ve let it grow out to that point,” Yoongi tells him honestly. “But it’s only for one night. You’ll be fine the next morning.”

Hoseok still looks unsure, so Yoongi leaves to clean his tools and shower. They don’t bring it up during dinner, which they let pass casually. It isn’t until they’re both in bed that Hoseok gives in. “Would I be able to work the next day?”

Yoongi lies down with a groan, pulling the comforter over himself. “If you take good care of yourself and ice it well then you’ll probably be fine. It might swell a little for a few days but it’s not too bad.” Hoseok’s face doesn’t change, and he chuckles to himself, reaching out to run his fingers through his hair. “I’m not being very reassuring, am I?”

Hoseok shakes his head, though he closes his eyes for a moment as Yoongi touches him. This is something he has to cradle carefully; Hoseok lets himself be helpless around Yoongi, and it’s only with trust that this is possible. His guard is completely down, and he finally puts himself first after entire workdays of prioritizing his patients. To be childish, to whine and complain; Yoongi accepts it all, knowing that he feels safe enough to not restrain himself.

“How’s your migraine?” Yoongi asks him.

“It’s faded a little,” Hoseok murmurs, “but it’ll flare up again when I eat.”

Yoongi plays with the hem of Hoseok’s shirt, humming. “You’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you.”

That makes Hoseok smile as he lifts himself up on his elbow and takes Yoongi’s hand, pressing his cheek into it. “Darling.”

“What?”

“Am I still handsome to you?” he asks shakily, laughing at himself.

He’s expecting a joking response, something that’ll only make him laugh more. Yoongi brushes his thumb over his cheekbone. “When you did your hair for that conference…weeks ago, I think, when you swept all of this up—” His hand pushes Hoseok’s hair up and away from his face, looking into his eyes daringly. “I couldn’t even look at you then. It felt like I was a teenager stealing glances at my crush in class. I had never felt so shy.” He lets the hair fall back down. “Even like this, you’re gorgeous.”

Hoseok looks like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, eyes scattered around before turning to Yoongi’s, then he ducks his head with a laugh. “I didn’t expect that.” Then he gets eager, shifting on top of Yoongi, smiling down at him mischievously. “Will you kiss this gorgeous guy back this time?”

Yoongi pretends that he hasn’t been waiting for it this entire time. He presses his lips to Hoseok, then slowly parts them, letting himself indulge. One of his hands runs through Hoseok’s hair, the other dragging down his back to his hip, fingers skimming under the hem of his shirt to feel his skin, making up for all the days that he’s been gone.

Hoseok gingerly pulls away to smile down at him, squeaking when Yoongi surges up to kiss him again. “That actually made my heart jump,” he breathes, clutching at his own chest.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“It’s true!” Hoseok insists, gradually dropping his weight and pressing his face to Yoongi’s neck. “It’s true.”

Hoseok had originally scheduled his appointment on the coming Thursday when his clinic would be closed, though the pain had gotten so intense that Yoongi demanded he move it to tomorrow.

And with that, Hope’s children’s clinic is locked up on a Tuesday morning as soon as a mother and a baby stroller leaves its doors.

Min’s dental is still open as usual. Dr. Min is at the front desk discussing their remaining equipment stocks when Dr. Jung walks past without his coat. They make eye contact for a brief moment before Yoongi nods, a quiet gesture, and watches him leave. From Hoseok’s hardened gaze, he can tell that he’s putting up a brave front.

Yoongi drapes a towel over his patient, leaving only their mouth visible through a hole. He turns to look behind him. “Haseul, was it?” The young girl standing behind him nods. Out of all the students he’s had shadowing him, she seems a bit more enthusiastic. “I’m going to do a wisdom tooth removal on Mr. Kang here. Feel free to ask questions whenever you need to.”

Curiously, she does an awkward side-step to the other side of the patient for a better look, quietly watching Yoongi handle the needle his assistants provided, naming each equipment in the form of a question as if she’s taking a quiz. She mostly observes, listening to Yoongi communicate with the patient, checking in on pain levels. “How long does this usually take?”

“Depends on how far the tooth has come out. I’d have to make an incision if it hasn’t broken out of the gum, but it usually doesn’t take longer than twenty minutes.” As he talks through his process, the other part of his brain constantly reminds him that Hoseok is somewhere in a clinic a few stations away in the same position. “It seems intimidating, especially because the patient will feel a lot of pressure when I’m rocking the tooth here like this, but it’ll be fine,” he says as he works, slightly distracted by the thought of Hoseok. “Once it heals, the pain won’t come back again. Thereʼs no need to worry.”

“Oh,” he hears Haseul exclaim. “That’s very thoughtful of you to say.”

Yoongi feels his cheeks heat up once he realizes what he’s said, and quickly shakes the thought away as he finishes up.

The dental clinic is a complete contrast to Yoongi’s. It’s located on the fifth floor of the building, with plenty of sunlight coming through the glass walls overlooking the parking lot. It’s much more spacious, with multiple dentists working in specialized areas, one of them being Yoongi’s classmate from university.

Hoseok isn’t done yet, so he waits on one of the many oddly luxurious couches, scanning over the eccentric decor—a blue and indigo color scheme, marble counters, posters advertising clear braces, a small room with a sink with a portrait of Marilyn Monroe hung on the wall. Yoongi finds no design inspiration from this place, though only the slight jealousy over the presence of windows and clear view of the sky.

By the time he’s gotten bored of looking at his phone and moved on to skeptically skimming through a leaflet about veneers, something brushes his knee and he looks up to see Hoseok with gauze stuffed in both cheeks. His eyes go wide. “You got both sides removed?”

Hoseok doesn’t talk, but only responds by holding up four fingers. Yoongi definitely didn’t expect him to have them all removed at once. “Get it over with, I guess.” Hoseok nods coyly in response, making him chuckle. “Let’s go home.”

Yoongi’s concern only grows as they quietly make their way to the car without Hoseok saying a word, only nodding to whatever Yoongi says, though he deflates a little once they’re driving home and Hoseok has mustered enough energy to whine. “Is it still numb?” he asks.

“My mouth is wobbly and weird,” Hoseok garbles out his complaints through the gauze from the passenger seat, poking at his lips and pinching his cheek. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Don’t do that.” Yoongi quickly stops him, pulling his hand away. “You’re gonna bruise your face. Bite down on the gauze more.”

“If I bite hard my head hurts,” Hoseok rebuts, less articulate now that he’s biting down, complying anyway.

“You need to stop the bleeding first,” Yoongi tells him. “I’ll get you painkillers once we’re home. Just bear with it for now.”

At a red light, Yoongi reaches for him, caressing his numb cheek then his ear that he gently rubs. Hoseok leans into it, closing his eyes. “You did well,” he murmurs. “Let’s try to eat a little bit once the numbness wears down and get some rest.”

Hoseok has grown drowsy by the time they’re in the elevator to their floor. Yoongi pulls out a napkin and dabs at the drool on the corners of his lips and his chin.

“Take your shirt off,” Yoongi instructs once they’re inside. “The blood’s gonna stain it.”

“I feel like that’s an excuse to get me shirtless,” Hoseok deadpans.

“There’s already blood on your shirt, babe,” Yoongi tries again, utilizing the pet name.

Hoseok makes a noise, looking down at himself, and makes another noise when more blood dribbles onto his shirt at the movement. Yoongi’s patience runs dry as he sits him down and undoes the buttons on his shirt himself before he leaves to take care of the stains. He comes back with an ice pack wrapped with a cloth, though Hoseok doesn’t seem like he wants anything touching his cheeks right now.

That evening, Yoongi helps change Hoseok’s gauzes once they’ve turned a dark red. Afterwards, they turn on a rom com drama they’ve both been secretly invested in while Yoongi takes the opportunity to massage Hoseok’s shoulders and back, hoping that it distracts from the pain.

“I’m kinda hungry,” Hoseok complains after a while, still muffled.

“You sound like your lips are still numb. Has the bleeding stopped?” Yoongi asks. “Let me check.”

It’s a mess of blood and gauze in their bathroom sink, though it slowly clears and after a quick scan of the wounds with a phone flashlight (Hoseok did not like this), Yoongi concludes that eating now should be fine, despite the numbness.

With that, he throws together some old cooked rice to quickly make porridge, then lays out a few side dishes that are soft enough for Hoseok to chew.

Hoseok makes a silly attempt at trying to eat himself, the spoon missing his mouth a few times as though his coordination still hasn’t come back and he can’t really feel the spoon at his lips. After a minute of struggling, Yoongi takes the spoon and slowly feeds him.

“How are you feeling?” Yoongi asks as he gathers up the rest of the porridge with his spoon.

Hoseok smirks, though it looks more like a grimace with the numbness still there. “Good now that you’re spoiling me.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he warns, feeding him the last bite, careful not to touch the stitches. “No more wisdom teeth to take out. This is gonna be the last time.”

Hoseok pouts at that. “I have to go back next week to take the stitches out.”

Yoongi scoffs. “How old-fashioned. I use dissolvable stitches. Goes away on its own. You’re getting ripped off.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes at that. “Yeah, whatever. Is there ice-cream?”

“I remember you buying some last Thursday,” Yoongi murmurs as he gets up to check. “I don’t think popsicles are a good idea right now. The soft ones are fine. What flavor?”

“Mint choc.”

“Pick something else.”

“You’re prioritizing your hate towards mint choc over spoiling your husband?”

“Mint choc has solid chunks in it, smartass.” He pulls out a tub of chocolate, then falters. “Is this an excuse to get me to keep feeding you?”

Menacingly, Hoseok blows him a kiss. He laughs when Yoongi comes back with a spoon anyway, extremely pleased with himself. He sits primly, propping up his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands, accepting each spoonful of ice-cream. Yoongi is pretty sure he can eat by himself now.

A surreptitious smirk takes over him once Yoongi cleans up, an ice pack pressed to his cheek. “I’m gonna say something risky.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t say it if it’s risky,” Yoongi says as he turns back to wash the dishes.

“I’m gonna say it anyway.”

“Whatever.”

“You’d be the one who spoils our kid.”

“No I wouldn’t,” Yoongi vehemently denies as he feels his cheeks prick with warmth. He’s so offended by this sudden comment that he stops to turn back around. “I’d enforce discipline. I’ll do it all; curfews, location updates, music lessons. You’d try to play Cool Dad and secretly let them go hang out with friends instead of cram school.”

Hoseok is delighted by how worked up Yoongi’s gotten. “Oh, wait til they bring home a…b–...bo–” he pretends to choke the word out, “boy.”

At that, Yoongi rests a hand on his hip. “I’m not that strict”

“At fourteen.”

“Don’t fuck with me.”

Hoseok’s laughter fills the entire room with life, bouncing off the walls and against countertops. Yoongi observes it quietly for a moment. This was how it happened, wasn’t it?

It was there, back in the days of gray clouds and dull sunrises outside the window, textbooks and dry eyes squinting at laptop screens in the dark, a friend of a friend of Minhyuk’s classmate who urgently needed somewhere to stay. The poor kid who was just getting used to the city and coming in to live with a group of men who put off doing laundry. It was that blissful, unapologetically happy laugh that cut through the gray of the clouds at the end of the day, the one that made Yoongi stare in awe, feeling that intense pulsing in his chest and thinking, oh shit.

Six years later, it’s still here, still just as powerful, the one constant in his life, all those cheesy lines about someone being their light and intertwined souls.

Yoongi walks up to him, brushing fingers through his hair and leaning in close. He watches Hoseok flutter his eyes close when their noses brush, then he pulls away, walking down the hallway to the bedroom. “Guess we can’t kiss until you’re better.”

Hoseok immediately protests in true Hoseok fashion, piping up as he chases Yoongi down. He’s quicker than Yoongi expected and it takes him completely by surprise when he’s suddenly grabbed and scooped up, his feet leaving the ground.

“Where the hell did you get all this energy from?” he carps, yelping when Hoseok adjusts his hold.

“Energy isn’t worth asking about right now,” Hoseok says, then grimaces. “Injuries, on the other hand…”

Yoongi’s shock reduces to a frown and he deadpans, “You just pulled your back, didn’t you?”

“Yup.”

“I’m not giving you another massage.”

(Yoongi does give him another massage. And a kiss.)

Chapter Text

One of Namjoon’s writing assignments in middle school was called ‘Me in twenty years’, essentially detailing what he imagined he would be like as an adult. He wrote about being muscular and having a beard, and when he was told to write about his career, he mentioned being an astronomer.

Almost exactly twenty years later, adult Namjoon is slouching in a hotel chair he’s molded to fit the curve of his awful posture, staring blankly out at Hong Kong’s cityscape, the endless streams of cars and pedestrians. They all disappear for a brief moment when he closes his eyes as a yawn breaks out of him, and he blinks his watery eyes back to his tablet and laptop screen. He’s starting to miss his giant monitor in his home studio more every day.

Seokjin only needed him for the first two days, giving his input on the project’s visual aspect and designing different alternatives. The trip here has been paid for by Seokjin’s company and the flight dates are fixed, so the only way for Namjoon to fly home early to reunite with his 20-inch tablet and four-year-old would be to pay for an early flight out of his own pocket. He had considered it for a brief moment, though it wouldn’t be worth it. The weather conditions have limited the number of flights per day and skyrocketed ticket prices, and from what Namjoon has heard from the occasional phone calls from their friends who are looking after him, Jungkook wouldn’t necessarily be over the moon to see Namjoon and be separated from his favorite doctors days earlier than he was supposed to be.

Long story short, he’s stuck here in this wildly fancy hotel room, working on his laptop and missing his son. He doesn’t even get to see Seokjin during the day either.

It’s odd; when has fatherhood become so ingrained within him? At what point did being a dad become his main purpose, so important that he feels half complete now that he isn’t preparing kid-sized meals and monitoring a small child brushing their teeth?

“I even wrote about it in my middle school essay,” he explains to the active call on his laptop. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do for a living, but I just really wanted to be a dad.”

Hoseok chuckles at the frankness, though it gradually dies down into something more vulnerable. To Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi are the pinnacle of a strong, loving relationship. He’d never even imagine that the topic of kids would have them this divided. “...I’ve wanted that for a really long time too. It was how I got into this field in the first place. I don’t know how—...” He cuts himself off to a quiet, though the call picks up a grainy chuckle. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? I knew what I was getting into, choosing to be with someone who doesn’t want kids. I don’t know why I never really thought about it,” he breathes, “the fact that I’d have to choose between my potential child that I’ve been dreaming about and the person I love.”

The words weigh heavily on Namjoon’s chest. Truth be told, he’s never thought of it that way. Seokjin wasn’t fond of kids, he knew that, but he promised. “Jin hyung promised me one kid,” he tells Hoseok.

The call is quiet for a while before Hoseok asks, “Do you know how he could promise you that?”

“Do I know how?” Namjoon repeats the question, not expecting it. “I think…maybe that was the compromise he was willing to make. Maybe he believed that his perspective could change. I don’t know exactly…just that I never doubted him when he said it.”

“...Because he loves you enough to believe it’ll work?”

Love. That’s a funny word. “I guess so,” Namjoon murmurs, chest light and cheeks warm.

How would he even define that? He thinks about it long after the call with Hoseok ended. It’s dark outside. Love. He’s been married for three years, and perhaps he does know it in his head but he’s clueless on how to even explain it or put it into words.

Of course he loves Seokjin. Why else would things be the way they are now if he doesn’t? Of course Seokjin loves him.

His heart suddenly clenches. Seokjin loves him?

Like some kind of mirage, Seokjin is there, staring out at the vivid lights outside the window. His tie is loosened and his blazer is off and draped over one arm. Seokjin loves him, right?

This crisis must’ve gotten to his head and damaged some of his rationality. He doesn’t think as he approaches Seokjin, as he wraps his arms around Seokjin’s middle and hides his face in Seokjin’s shoulder. He’s never done this before and Seokjin knows this too, if his reaction is any indication.

Namjoon feels the slight jolt at the touch, the way his wide shoulders tense.

What is he searching for with this? He buries his nose into the crook of Seokjin’s neck, smelling his cologne. Their marriage is filled with unspoken things, actions that don’t warrant explanations. All he knows is that there is no sense of obligation to their affection towards each other, that they have nothing to prove to anyone. Instead, touching is sacred and quiet, reserved for only the two of them; for Namjoon, who learns to cradle the one person who chose him and for Seokjin, whose pride and at the same time, selflessness, stops him from expressing what this kind of affection means to him, let alone ask for it.

“What’s this?” he hears Seokjin ask him once he makes no move to say anything.

“Just saying hello,” he murmurs. Seokjin has no response to that, and though Namjoon expects him to shove him off or do a weird wiggle out of the hold, he stays. Namjoon tightens his hold. “Long day?”

Seokjin hums, and Namjoon can feel it under his lips. “It’s interesting, all of it, but god is it draining,” Seokjin complains. “Have you eaten?” Namjoon shakes his head against Seokjin’s shoulder, and feels a light jab of an elbow into his side. “You’ve been in the hotel all day. Why haven’t you at least ordered something? I thought you ate already so I went out to dinner with the team.”

“Lost track of time,” Namjoon excuses, and he feels slightly like a stubborn child as he tightens his hold. “I don’t want food, hyung.”

“What do you want then?”

“You.”

It takes Seokjin a second, though he snickers. “That’s your attempt at trying to seduce me?”

Namjoon shrugs. “We haven’t gotten our money’s worth with this suite.”

“We didn’t pay a dime for this.”

“Hyung,” Namjoon whines, lifting his head to look at Seokjin. God, he’s handsome; it gets a bit frustrating at times. And somehow this handsome man loves him? Loves him enough to be held in this private suite in Hong Kong? He considers asking, though Seokjin’s gaze has a way of rendering him speechless.

It’s Seokjin who turns to kiss him first, gently, like a small consolation for teasing him earlier. One of his hands comes up to Namjoon’s face, fingers combing over his hair as the kiss deepens. He hums when Namjoon’s hands trail over his chest, tugging at his tie and pulling it off, letting it drop to the floor.

“Yah, yah!” Seokjin breaks the kiss to reprimand him. “This is my fancy special occasion tie and it’s a bitch to wash. You can’t just leave it on the floor.” Breaking the hold, he crouches down to pick his tie up, carefully smoothing it out and hanging it in the closet along with his blazer. He shakes his head when Namjoon apologizes and starts undoing his top button.

Catching on, Namjoon reaches for him, taking over. He hears Seokjin chuckle, probably at his furrowed brows as he carefully undoes each button. Having popped one before and getting an embarrassing swollen lump on his forehead from the way it flung right into his face was a big enough lesson on maintaining his composure during foreplay. “Is this a fancy special occasion shirt?” he asks.

“Not as fancy,” Seokjin says, tilting his head to catch Namjoon’s lips again and letting his shirt slip off his shoulders.

It must be love, Namjoon thinks to himself as Seokjin gently pulls his glasses off, folding it carefully and setting it down on the nightstand before pulling his shirt off, gripping the neckline so that it’s wide enough to not catch on Namjoon’s nose along its way up. “Hyung,” he whispers, and hears Seokjin hum in response, one hand caressing his cheek. He squints as hard as he can, straining his eyes to make out the details of the skin-colored blob in front of him. “I can’t see without my glasses.”

The blob that is Seokjin breaks into a laugh at that. “I look the same. You’ll be fine.”

“No,” Namjoon argues childishly, groping for his glasses and sliding them on. Seokjin’s face is in clear view again. “I wanna see.”

“Your glasses are annoying when we kiss,” Seokjin complains, still kissing him anyway. “They get in the way. See?” he points out when his nose catches the front of Namjoon’s glasses, tilting them off-center. “Like that.”

Namjoon ignores him as he drifts his lips over soft skin, enjoying the minute shudders and hitched breaths. As loud as Seokjin is day-to-day, he grows quiet in intimate moments to the point that Namjoon has to strain his ears to hear him. Though when the Maplestory soundtrack blares out along with the annoying vibrating sound, all of Namjoon’s efforts go to waste. “It’s after work hours,” he says against Seokjin’s stomach, a reminder for him not to answer.

Except Seokjin has a different ringtone for work-related contacts, and this isn’t it. “Yoongi’s facetiming me,” he says once he’s pulled his phone out of his pants.

Sitting up on the bed, they answer the phone half naked before they even think about it. Seokjin seems to catch on first when he straightens up and walks toward the living room where the lights are on. “Ah, hello bun.”

“Papa.”

“Yes, Jungkook?”

Though Jungkook doesn’t say anything. Namjoon is pulling his shirt on and dropping his glasses in the process when he hears Yoongi ask, “Is now a bad time to call?”

“No, no, it’s fine, I was just changing,” Seokjin assures him, lying a little too effortlessly. “I haven’t talked to him today.”

Namjoon shows up next to Seokjin once he’s dressed just to ward off suspicion. He coos at the extreme close up of his son’s face on the screen, having taken Yoongi’s phone into his little hands. “Oh, my little YouTuber.”

“Don’t manifest that kind of career for our son,” Seokjin sasses.

“Influencers get all kinds of jobs these days.”

“Don’t care. I’m gatekeeping him from the industry.”

Though Namjoon had felt slightly bad for essentially tricking Hoseok and Yoongi into babysitting his son, he feels even worse for igniting this conflict between the two of them in his desperate dialogue of his trickery. Jungkook seems happy though, despite not saying much other than Papa. Yoongi, who wasn’t as keen on the idea, seems far from miserable, talking to Jungkook like he’s a fellow adult man and taking every little jumbled sequence of words the boy lets out seriously.

Seokjin ends up singing Jungkook a lullaby through the call before saying goodnight. Once he hangs up, he squeezes Namjoon’s shoulder before leading the way to the bathroom.

It has to be. There’s nothing like this.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Seokjin murmurs, muffled by his favorite pillow that he brought with him from home. “How the hell do you resist the urge to just hibernate in hotel sheets?”

Namjoon shrugs, sitting against the headboard. A single stripe of sunlight draws itself over their crumpled sheets, over Seokjin’s head like a halo. “Habit, I guess. I have to be responsible since I’m working for myself.” Seokjin’s hair is sticking out in tufts, with some strands framing his eyes. For a while, Namjoon just stares at him, minutely worried that he still seems exhausted. “Did you sleep well?”

Seokjin shifts around on the sheets, moving a little closer. “Honestly, some of the best sleep I’ve had in ages. Thanks to last night, whatever the hell this mattress is made of, and the fact that I didn’t have to keep one ear perked in case a small child toddles into the room crying about some weird dream about getting chased by an elephant.” He sighs, closing his eyes. “I kinda miss Jungkook though.”

“God, me too,” Namjoon says solemnly. Though Hoseok is very active with sending him updates, he just misses the weight of his son on his hips, expressing strange trains of thought and warped world views he’s never considered before. “One more night.”

“The last meeting ends at five,” Seokjin tells him, sounding more awake now. “Wanna go out and get dinner? Reach a level of drunkenness that wouldn’t be appropriate around a curious four-year-old?”

Namjoon chuckles at that. “What a compelling invitation. Sure hyung.” He smiles, meeting Seokjin’s gaze. “Let’s go on a date.”

Seokjin’s eyes don’t stay on his for long, flicking away as he buries his entire face into his pillow, the tips of his ears bright red.

Namjoon wonders what would count as their first date. Neither of them had actually asked the other out; there’s no benchmark for the progress and development of their relationship, at least not in the conventional way others have it. Would the first outing since getting married count as a first date? The reception dinner? Or would it be the first thing they did together after making that promise? Watch a quiz show with his parents? It’s like Namjoon has never gotten the chance to be nervous on a date, never had that moment to fuss over himself in the mirror making sure that he doesn’t look like a doofus in front of Seokjin. He always has been.

Maybe he should care about that more, even just a little bit as they walk through the restaurant to their table and Namjoon notices every gaze that follows his husband, hair swept back so that every bystander gets to feast their eyes on every bit of his face. Seokjin isn’t one to fuss over his appearance either, though not in the same way as Namjoon where he doesn’t care, but rather he doesn’t have to.

Namjoon stares at his lips for way too long, glossed over by the soup, pursed into a circle as he chews, dabbing the corner with a napkin. They part to ask him, “How’s work? Is that annoying client project done yet?”

“Just about,” Namjoon murmurs. “They finally settled on the one millionth rough layout I did for them and now I’m working on actually putting the graphics together. I still need to wait until I’m back in my studio to work on the finishing touches.”

Seokjin hums at that. “Sorry for dragging you all the way out here with me.”

“It’s fine, seriously,” Namjoon quickly says. “It’s not that big of a hassle. And it’s been a while since it’s just the two of us, isn’t it?”

A corner of Seokjin’s lips quirk up, and his gaze drops back down to his food. “I guess so.”

The sudden sheepishness makes Namjoon smile too. “Has it been good for you?”

“It’s weird,” Seokjin mutters as he picks at his food. “It’s still work so I’m still exhausted at the end of the day, but sometimes it does feel like a break, just a few less things to worry about. Having you here is different though.”

“In a good way…?” Namjoon tries.

Seokjin smirks. “No,” he jokes before shaking his head. “It’s good to have someone who knows what I want without me saying it,” he admits quietly, and this is rare, expressing their feelings verbally, something this vulnerable.

They follow Seokjin’s itinerary of getting drunk, though it becomes clear that Namjoon is less proactive with this task. Seokjin’s entire face is red, spread all the way down his neck, even his hands that shakily grab Namjoon’s as they slip into the back of a taxi. Namjoon feels a weight slump onto his shoulder. “I’m really drunk.”

“I did try to stop you,” he says gently. He did, though it was more of him giving it a go and saying he at least tried rather than actually stopping Seokjin. There’s no stopping Seokjin. “You can go wash up and sleep once we’re back. I’ll pack up our things.”

“Great plan,” Seokjin breathes as he turns his face into Namjoon’s neck, kissing him there. “Thank you.”

Namjoon jolts a little at the sudden kiss. The taxi driver seems to pay them no mind, and he lets out this hoarse laugh. “Now I know you’re really drunk.”

“What?” Seokjin argues, suddenly offended like he wasn’t the one who said it first. “I’m thankful.”

Namjoon chuckles at that. “You’re breaking our decade-long PDA pact right now, hyung.”

“And what about it?” Seokjin rebuts, shifting around so that his entire face is buried in the junction between Namjoon’s neck and shoulder. “You were my first love, we’re married and we have a son. We’re raising a human together.” His words trail off into another kiss on Namjoon’s neck. “Let me have this.”

Seokjin spills a lot of things when he’s drunk, from extremely honest thoughts about his business partners to more mundane things like confessing that he was the one responsible for the crack on Namjoon’s phone screen, but never this. “...I was your first love?”

“Why do you think I joined that stupid music club?” Seokjin mumbles against his skin.

“We didn’t even know each other when you joined.”

“You didn’t know me.”

“Hyung,” Namjoon pulls away, trying to get Seokjin to look at him. His heart is all the way up his throat when Seokjin’s bleary gaze meets his clear ones. “Are you serious?”

Seokjin squints at him, frowning. His entire face is still red, though his skin feels warmer when he hides his face in Namjoon’s neck again. It’s enough of an answer in itself that a wave of shock just washes over Namjoon.

His husband is in love with him. It’s such a profound statement in his head, yet so embarrassing to even imagine saying it out loud. Seokjin presses another kiss to his neck and settles. Namjoon takes his hand on his lap, quietly lacing them together. Would this be the most scandalous, thrilling thing in the world if they’re dating? Would a touch so simple make him feel like he’s about to throw up a flurry of butterflies that have filled his stomach? Namjoon rubs his thumb over the back of Seokjin’s hand, thinking over it all as flashes of neon lights from outside drift over their bodies. The fact that he was someone’s first love, let alone Seokjin’s; the fact that Seokjin practically fought to have this because he loves Namjoon that much.

For a moment, Namjoon closes his eyes and lays his head on top of Seokjin. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Namjoon’s ‘Me in twenty years’ assignment took up a total of five pages when a majority of his classmates only took up two, mostly due to his handwriting and overabundance of detail on each point. On the final page, he simply wrote, I will be a father. I will have a family that I love.

Chapter Text

Jinsoul the barista is the first person to notice it, though only in a passing glance too quick to be sure.

The next person to notice is Jiwoo, as Dr. Min nonchalantly enters the clinic with his coffee in hand. “Oh, doctor—”

Dr. Min turns around, though the first patient of the day swiftly enters, so she supposes she could tell him later. “...Nothing.”

The thirty-year-old businessman who showed up for a root canal treatment has a cloth over his eyes for the entirety of it, though he notices it too as he sits up to listen to the dentist’s final instructions. He knows what it is, but knows better than to say anything as he promptly leaves to pay.

Sooyoung, the receptionist of a nearby clinic, enters with Junho the security guard, holding the door open for the businessman to leave.

“I’ve managed to drag him here, but no one’s at his post right now so it’ll need to be quick,” Sooyoung tells Jiwoo, who quickly gets up to show the dark stain on the ceiling she’s just found that morning and the awful smell coming from it.

Sooyoung comes back to the front desk to avoid the smell, nosily checking out the clinic’s system on the computer before quickly straightening up when Dr. Min comes out to get his coffee. “Good morning doc—” she sees it, becoming the fourth witness of the day, “—tor Min,” she finishes, clearing her throat. “...How was your weekend?”

“I only had the Sunday off,” Dr. Min murmurs over his straw. “Spent most of it looking at apartments online, unsuccessfully, but it was pretty good overall.”

“Pretty good, huh…” Sooyoung mutters with a smile plastered on her face. “Are you planning to move?”

“Not anytime soon, no,” Dr. Min says, turning to look out at the hallway, and this angle is enough for Sooyoung to confirm what it is. “The current one is fine but it’s just too small. A good stroller would barely fit into the elevator. Oh, Junho,” he greets the security guard. “How soon can you get that thing fixed?”

“I’ve notified maintenance just now, doctor,” Junho quickly says as he types out a message on his phone. “They’ll probably arrive sometime in—” His eyes go wide. Jiwoo and Sooyoung look at each other. They all see it now.

“This afternoon?” Jiwoo finishes, tone chirpier than usual.

“Ah, yes,” Junho confirms, shaking himself out of it, looking anywhere but at Dr. Min now. “It should all get sorted by today…”

Dr. Min has a hickey on his neck.

It’s a reddish purple mark on the side of his neck, just above the high collar of his shirt, standing out against his pale skin. News spread fast through word-of-mouth and by lunchtime, the entire floor, the security unit, and the cleaners have heard about it.

The range of reactions are far and wide, from a disinterested grunt to intensive speculations, hashing up the old discourse they had let die in the past.

“You all remember it right?” Chaeyoung says animatedly, paying no mind to the people entering and leaving the café. “That time Dr. Min sent an ‘I love you’ to the building’s groupchat?”

Jinsoul, currently on her break and sitting with the group at a table, frowns. “I thought it was settled that that was for Junho because he was coming to fix the lights.”

“He does like light fixtures,” Jiwoo agrees quietly.

Sooyoung, being on her phone, only processed half of the conversation. “What, you think Junho gave him that?”

“No!” Chaeyoung screeches, a little too loudly for a busy café and shamefully curls into herself. “We don’t know for sure if that message was for Junho. My point is that his partner could be someone in this building, which would mean that someone we know gave him that mark!”

“You’re really passionate about this, unnie…” Jinsoul says nervously, getting up to go back to her shift.

“Aren’t we all?” Chaeyoung rebuts.

Sooyoung shrugs. “I mean yeah, it was amusing to see him come to work with a hickey, but so what? He’s not trapped in a loveless marriage. Good for him.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t entertain that logical response. “You’re no fun. You’re all missing out on how fun this whole thing could be. Aren’t you curious? Isn’t it exciting that it could be someone in this building? The culprit could be here right now!”

The door to the café swings open as Dr. Jung enters, making a beeline towards the counter to place an order. He only notices the group once he’s waiting for his drink. “Ladies. Have you had lunch?”

“We have,” Jiwoo tells him. “Did you just come in to work, doctor?”

“Yes, it’s a late start for me today, thankfully,” Dr. Jung hums. “Did I miss anything fun?”

“Well,” Chaeyoung shoots up, believing that if anyone, Dr. Jung would happily join in on gossip about Dr. Min. “Get this…your neighbor, Dr. Min…”

A grin lights up his face. “...Yes?”

“He came into work today with a huge hickey on his neck.”

His eyes go wide and his smirk reduces to a small ambiguous smile. “...He did?”

“Apparently it’s a huge one on the side of his neck,” Chaeyoung whispers loudly, trying to be secretive but also not. “The placid Dr. Min…can you believe it?”

“B-Barely…” Dr. Jung says in a hoarse voice. “I better go see it with my own eyes.”

“You two are quite close, aren’t you?” Chaeyoung goes on to say, oblivious to his nerves. “Do you know who his partner is? We think it’s someone here.”

“We?” Sooyoung chuckles. “Only you think that.”

“It could be a bug bite,” Dr. Jung tries to say.

Jiwoo hums, pointing at him like that’s a good point to consider.

But Chaeyoung is hard to convince. “Oh, please. I’m sure he’s well-off enough with his dentist money to live somewhere with no bugs. But gosh is his partner irresponsible, whoever that is,” she suddenly laments. “Dr. Min’s such a private person; I’m sure he didn’t want people to know what he’s up to in his spare time. It isn’t hard to be more careful.”

“Yeah, that’s…” Dr. Jung tugs at the collar of his shirt, readjusting his tie. “That’s…definitely unexpected.”

Chaeyoung’s eyes light up, suddenly. “So do you know who he’s married to?”

“I…” Dr. Jung wipes a droplet of sweat from his temple. “...Yes? I suppose I do.”

“You suppose?” Chaeyoung repeats, skeptical.

“It’s complicated,” he tries to say, but then Jinsoul calls out his name from the counter. “I’m running late so I’ll get going now,” he excuses himself with a smile, and legs it out of the café before any further questions could be asked.

✧

Jung Hoseok’s streak as a little jokester has come to a soul-crushing end. This is the first time since working in this building that he fails to casually lie and confuse people about his relationship; the hickey thing caught him off-guard and he was too flustered to come up with a fun response. He hasn’t had a chance to process how much trouble he’s in, having to vaccinate an entire family and their nanny, followed by a consultation about a five-year-old that’s been having trouble breathing through his nose.

He focuses on that first; playfully apologizing to the screaming kids as he pokes them with a needle, using a pair of tweezers to take out a small bead that the five-year-old had somehow snorted. Then, and only then, when the next patient is running late and he has about ten minutes to spare, does he freak out in the break room.

It’s funny, undeniably; it’s really fucking funny actually, the fact that Yoongi’s just been walking around and working, oblivious to the giant hickey that no one knows how to approach him about. Hoseok laughs even though he’s mortified because it’s definitely his fault, and there’s no way to spin it to make it not his fault. Sure, maybe he got a little carried away, maybe he wasn’t that sober when he did it, and Yoongi had already left for work by the time he woke up this morning so he didn’t even get a chance to notice and warn him beforehand, but there’s no way Yoongi isn’t going to be mad once he finds out about this, and the fact that everyone in the building is talking about it only adds to Hoseok’s inevitable prison sentence, for he is completely guilty— the one true culprit behind this crime.

Jimin isn’t here today; Hoseok’s not sure if it’d be better or worse if he is. He paces around the small break room, thinking and thinking about how he could even plead his case against Yoongi. He’s a young guy! Should he be punished for having a nice little evening with his husband over some drinks? Is being romantic a crime? Perhaps this wouldn’t have happened if Yoongi didn’t have such a kissable neck—That’s right. Yoongi could’ve stopped him! He’s never hesitated to put his foot down before; they’re both guilty!

Hoseok shakes his head; this approach wouldn’t fly, not with Yoongi. “God, I’m in deep shit…” he murmurs under his breath. Yoongi will be upset with him no matter what he says, maybe he should just accept that. Is there anything he can do right now?

An idea sparks then—lessen the blow, be so sweet that Yoongi won’t be mad at him for long, get as many kisses in as possible before Yoongi inevitably bans it once he notices the hickey. That’s an idea he can work with; he keeps this at the back of his mind as he welcomes another family and their new baby into the clinic.

His next window of free time is his lunch break, and he playfully marches into Min’s Dental like he’s done absolutely nothing wrong. Jiwoo has left for lunch already, and he finds Dr. Min in the break room by himself, rinsing off a glass at the sink. “Dr. Jung,” he greets flatly, unsurprised by his presence but asking anyway, “What brings you here?”

“Just dropped in to say hello.” Hoseok decides to lay it on thick right away, coming up to hug him from behind, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “How’s work, gorgeous?”

“What did you do?” Yoongi catches on immediately.

Hoseok freezes, but plays dumb. “...What do you mean what did I do?”

“You’re being touchy,” Yoongi says as he dries his hand, making no move to push Hoseok off. “What bad news are you about to drop on me?” he asks, turning to face Hoseok.

Don’t panic, Hoseok yells at himself. He can’t let it slip now. “Just feeling a bit clingy.” He leans in to press light kisses into Yoongi’s hair, coming face-to-face with the giant hickey . It’s at an angle where Yoongi can’t see it himself, thankfully, but it still makes Hoseok gulp. It’s deep purple.

“And why is that?” he hears Yoongi ask, and almost forgets what he said earlier.

“Well, it’s sad to wake up alone,” he says, pulling away and pouting, hoping to god that it’s cute.

He’ll take Yoongi’s light smirk as a win. “You were the one who decided to sleep in today.”

“I know, I know.” Hoseok leans in, pressing his forehead to Yoongi’s. “What do you want for lunch?”

“My next appointment is at two, so just something around here,” Yoongi says, unphased by the proximity but chuckling when Hoseok kisses the tip of his nose, lips drifting across his cheek to his jaw. “I think hooking up in the break room I share with my employees instead of getting lunch is where we should draw the line.”

“How unsexy of you,” Hoseok complains, though he gives in at that, finally pulling away. Yoongi seems charmed enough. “Wanna go to that vegetarian place again?”

Yoongi pulls a face. “I thought you didn’t like that place.”

“But you do,” Hoseok rebuts. “We can go.”

“Okay…?” Yoongi follows him out of the clinic, crouching down to lock up. “What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok squeaks. “Just contributing to the upholding of our marriage by compromising.”

Yoongi turns back to squint at him, definitely suspicious, but eventually lets it go. “...Right.”

The food still tastes plain and boring the second time round, indifferent from the first, though Hoseok pushes through and chews on his bowl of greens for Yoongi. And animals, but whatever. It isn’t all for nothing, he tries to think, seeing how Yoongi is enjoying it all. He doesn’t bring up anything related to the mark on his neck, no mentions of strange looks from other people or any murmuring around him; just completely oblivious to it all.

Could Hoseok even get away with not telling him at all and letting it fade away? Pretend it never existed? That doesn’t feel right, however. If anyone, Hoseok should be the one to tell him. It shouldn’t be a big deal; the best thing to do is own up to it like a man.

…Perhaps after work. Not because he’s a coward, though. This whole thing might distract Yoongi if he knows, he tries to justify in his head as he goes back to work.

Throughout the afternoon, the building’s groupchat is dominated by this discussion, growing and developing in detail, conspiring the different possibilities. Chaeyoung’s theory seems to have caught on, with speculation over each suspect in the building. Not the wellness clinic doctor down the hall, not the ENT doctor upstairs, none of the skin clinic receptionists, not Dr. Jung—definitely not Dr. Jung. Dr. Jung is out of the question for multiple different reasons. Does Dr. Min even like men? Hoseok snorts at the messages. He wonders how Yoongi would react to all this; he has the chat muted, however, only ever checking it when he needs to contact maintenance, though Jiwoo does it for him most of the time anyway. Hoseok can rest easy for now.

Things are calm for the rest of the day, up until both clinics have closed and they meet at the elevator to go to the parking lot.

“I’m gonna go to the toilet,” Yoongi announces.

Hoseok is still calm, for it has yet to click. “Do you want me to get the car first? I can drive down and pick you up at the entrance.”

“Sure.” Yoongi hands him the key. “Thanks.”

Only when Hoseok enters the elevator by himself does it click.

The bathroom has mirrors.

There’s a slim chance that Yoongi might not notice it, but Hoseok can’t count on that at all; it only takes a glance to notice something dark near the side of his neck, and that’ll be it.

“I was going to tell you, but I didn’t want to distract you,” Hoseok rehearses under his breath as he tries to find their car. “I’m sorry, I understand that you’re embarrassed—” He slips into the driver’s seat. “—and I’ll be more careful next time. God, please don’t be mad.” He pulls out of the parking spot. “Please don’t be mad…” He drives down to the road, stopping at the front of the building where Yoongi’s standing. “Please, please, please…”

Yoongi opens the car door and slips in without a word.

Hoseok lets the silence stretch on for a while before he hesitantly asks, “...Everything alright?”

“Hm?” Yoongi hums in question as he reads an email on his phone. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just checking in,” Hoseok says in a high pitch. “Like the good husband that I am.”

Yoongi snorts at that, though doesn’t push it. “Okay.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” Hoseok grits out sarcastically, making Yoongi laugh.

“Thank you, darling,” Yoongi mirrors his tone. “Is everything alright with you?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Hoseok chirps. “Great bit of communication exercise there.”

“Our marriage is saved,” Yoongi fake-cheers.

“Our future child is guaranteed a loving home,” Hoseok adds just as tonelessly, though they both eventually break into laughter seconds later.

Hoseok is so at ease he actually forgets about it once they’re home and preparing dinner. He doesn’t think about it at all until the dishes are cleared and they’re sitting at the couch, not entirely focused on the show they’re watching but too lazy to wash up.

For a brief moment, he peels his eyes away from the screen to turn to Yoongi, about to make some unnecessary commentary on the current scene, but makes eye contact with the hickey once more, and that’s when it all comes back to him. Maybe now would be the best time to tell him, though perhaps after softening the blow a bit more… 

Hoseok reaches for the remote in Yoongi’s lap and pauses the show, ignoring Yoongi’s confused noise as he shifts around to straddle him. He doesn’t say anything at first, just caressing Yoongi’s face, running a hand through his hair. “Your hair’s getting long. Are you gonna get it cut?”

“You like it like this,” Yoongi murmurs, eyes fixed on Hoseok’s, though his hands are still by his side.

“I do,” Hoseok admits, voice light. “Not sure if the work field would agree though.” Yoongi just shrugs. “You’re gonna complain about it getting in your eyes eventually.” Hoseok plays with the strands, brushing them back, trying to gather them behind his head, though they’re still too short for that. “Is that gonna be your thing, doctor? Hair so long you have to tie it back when you go to work? I’m not sure I’d like that.”

Yoongi quirks up an eyebrow. “No?”

“I think I might get possessive,” Hoseok lowers his tone, leaning in and dodging Yoongi’s lips to kiss the corner of his mouth, teasing him. “What am I gonna do if some big hunk sees you like this and comes to sweep you off your feet?”

“Because that’s totally my type and I’m not besotted with you at all,” Yoongi murmurs sarcastically, hands slowly coming up to rest on Hoseok’s hips.

Hoseok tuts. “The therapist isn’t gonna like what she hears at our next session.”

Yoongi stares at him for a second more before barking out a laugh that sets Hoseok off too, shaking in each other’s hold. “Fuck,” Yoongi manages through his cackle, “why do we keep doing this couple-on-the-brink-of-divorce roleplay? I don’t think this is normal.”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Hoseok says shakily. His stomach actually hurts. “Shit, I was trying to set the mood. You ruined it with that besotted line.”

“Yeah, right,” Yoongi rebuts dismissively, tightening his hold on Hoseok’s hips. His eyes flicker to the TV screen behind Hoseok. “Set the mood? What part of this conglomerate drama got you so hot and heavy?”

Hoseok doesn’t answer, opting to shut Yoongi up by pressing their lips together which works a treat. He hears Yoongi hum when he deepens the kiss, interested nevertheless, though something about his movements must’ve been too frantic, too quick, because Yoongi eventually breaks away. “Seriously, something’s up, isn’t it?”

Hoseok bites his lip, still hesitant. He knows he’s pushed it back for too long. “...Yes.”

He watches Yoongi’s eyes flicker across his face, analyzing him, calculating, then it grows tense. “...Did your parents say something again?”

“What? No, no,” Hoseok quickly says. “It’s not that bad. Nowhere near it. Not at all.”

Yoongi looks genuinely confused now. “So what’s the deal?”

Alright. Time to ‘fess up, Jung Hoseok. “Babe.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow as he squints. “Yes?”

Hoseok tries to start out easy. “Remember last night?”

“...Yes?”

“Well, I might’ve gotten carried away, and…”

Yoongi tilts his head. “And?”

Yeah, there’s no other way to put it now. “...You have a hickey on your neck.”

Yoongi blinks at that. “I know.”

…Did he hear that right? “...You know?”

“This one here,” Yoongi pokes at the exact spot. “I only noticed it when I was already at the clinic. There wasn’t anything I could do then.”

Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to be genuinely confused. “So you just…embraced it?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Not so much embraced it. I just kinda ignored it.” Then a thought strikes and he frowns. “That’s what you’ve been so worried about?”

Hoseok sputters. “I thought for sure you’d be embarrassed and stay mad at me for like a day or two. Everyone’s been talking about it.”

“I’ve heard that,” Yoongi says casually. “Let them talk, it’s not that big of a deal; I’ve been immune to it all after accidentally sending that text. I didn’t think you were being extra nice because of that.”

It slowly dawns on Hoseok, a replay of his entire day. “...I ate that veggie bowl for nothing,” he murmurs out in horror.

Yoongi chuckles, completely amused by the whole thing. “You’re cute.”

Floored. Flabbergasted. Hoseok is absolutely gobsmacked. He’s been deceived. Tangoed. And he absolutely hates it. He was supposed to be the sneaky one. Yoongi has stolen his personality. “I think we spend too much time together,” he laments, slipping off of Yoongi’s lap to lie down but letting his legs drape over it. “Let’s take a break and have some time apart.”

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says, a hand reaching down to brush over Hoseok’s thigh. “Our therapist might be disappointed if we show up separately.”

“Hyung, I swear to god,” Hoseok warns weakly when Yoongi’s shoulders begin to shake again. “You’re the one who keeps derailing into the couples counseling joke.”

“I wholeheartedly believe you started it,” Yoongi argues, though he’s laughing again, eyes scrunched tight as he curls over Hoseok’s legs.

With a sigh, Hoseok admits defeat, sitting up once Yoongi has calmed down. “Sorry for giving you a hickey,” he murmurs.

Wordlessly, Yoongi undoes the top buttons of his shirt, pulling it aside to show an array of marks trailing down his chest.

“Oh,” Hoseok breathes. “...I’ll only apologize for the top one.”

Yoongi snickers. “Gotta make it even.”

Those words don’t register in Hoseokʼs brain right away. “Huh?”

And it’s too late. Yoongi tackles Hoseok onto his back before he even has a chance to defend himself. “Hey, hey!” Hoseok shouts when Yoongi’s lips latch onto his neck, squirming away and covering Yoongi’s mouth with his hand. “I work at a children’s clinic,” he says through a laugh. “I need to be wholesome.”

“It’s just a bug bite, doctor,” Yoongi manages to say as tries to pull Hoseok’s hand away, cackling at how much force they’re both using.

The laughing wears them out fairly quickly, and they end up a panting mess on top of each other. Hoseok feels Yoongi’s hands working over his shirt but has no energy to stop him anymore.

Yoongi’s lips start off soft on his skin, slowly adding pressure. It feels good; Hoseok’s breath shudders, feeling the light sting, flinching when Yoongi lets go. “You’re evil…”

“Says you,” Yoongi quips, pulling the collar of Hoseok’s shirt back up. “See? It’s covered… Sort of. I guess don’t tilt your head too far back.”

“How considerate of you,” Hoseok says dryly. “Thanks, angel.”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

Seokjin was the first one to bring it up.

“Three years.”

Namjoon was too occupied with the boxes to catch on. “Hm?” 

Seokjin set down his giant box of fragile dishes on the counter. “Do you think we can manage at least three years together?”

Namjoon perked at the odd question, still not getting it. “I mean… I hope we can. That’s a rather low minimum though.” Then he frowned. “... Do you think we can? Unless you don't and that's why you're asking..”

Seokjin snorted at that. Of course he'd be this silly. “At least three years of marriage is required to adopt. We’ve already met the minimum annual income quota with just my income alone. All that’s left is to reach that three-year point.”

That was when Namjoon finally got it. “...You’ve looked into it already?”

Seokjin made a conscious choice to avoid eye contact, knowing the look Namjoon gave him would be too much. “Yeah? Isn’t that what you said you wanted? Your one condition for this whole thing?”

“Yeah, but…” Namjoon trailed off. “...Really?”

Seokjin crossed his arms. “I promised, didn’t I?”

“Oh,” Namjoon breathed, expression unreadable like he was still trying to process it all. “Hyung, I…” He set down the box he was holding. A million words went through his mind, it seemed, as his gaze scattered, lips parting. Eventually, he settled, “Can I kiss you?”

Seokjin shrugged at that, a measly attempt at nonchalance. He could feel his ears burning as Namjoon approached. “Wouldn’t have married you if you can’t.”

✧

When Seokjin blinks his bleary eyes open, he can’t seem to make out anything; there's light coming somewhere from his right but that’s about it. It isn’t what he sees that gives him an idea of where he is, but rather the other sensations—the smell of their fabric softener, the feeling of cotton against his cheeks, the slow rise and fall of Kim Namjoon’s chest, the light hand on his back.

“Did you sleep at all?” Seokjin grumbles out, surprised by how gravelly his voice sounds. “God, how long was I out?” 

“A little bit,” he hears Namjoon say, a rumble against his ear. “It’s been about an hour, I think.”

“What did you do the rest of the time?”

“Just looked at stuff on my phone.” The hand on his back drags up to his shoulder. “You were in really deep sleep. I accidentally played a video super loud but you didn’t even react to it.”

“Didn’t hear it at all,” Seokjin confirms. That’s rare. He usually stirs at the smallest of sounds, just a simple click of the door or clothes ruffling, the horrifically creaky bed frame he thought he could tolerate but led to a spontaneous order of a new one the very next morning. Now that he’s awake, he considers moving, but it’s all too comfortable like this, on top of his husband, face hidden in his chest.

The hand squeezes his shoulder. “Feeling better?”

Seokjin sighs. “A bit,” he says, then quietly, “...Thanks for staying.”

He hears a clatter near him; Namjoon leaves his phone on the nightstand. The now free hand comes up to hold him by the waist, enclosing him. “How could I leave you by yourself when you came home and collapsed like that?”

“Collapsed,” Seokjin repeats incredulously, trying to lighten things up once he hears the emotional edge Namjoon’s voice takes. “I didn’t collapse . I just wobbled.”

“That doesn’t scare me any less,” Namjoon rebuts.

“I'm fine,” Seokjin insists, though he knows that won’t calm him. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“Mm.”

“And for using your chest as a pillow for an hour when you have work.”

“I work at home. Iʼm at home all day,” Namjoon says, tightening his hold. “I’ll work whenever I want.”

Seokjin snickers. “Lucky me.”

Itʼs some time in the afternoon, Seokjin can’t tell when exactly as he lifts his head to look at Namjoon. He has his glasses on, eyes piercing through them. His mouth is lifted in an odd quirk. “What?”

“Stupidly handsome,” Namjoon quietly snides.

Seokjin scoffs, though he feels the tips of his ears burning up. “You say the sweetest things.”

The kiss is gentle, just the lightest press of lips, lingering, then parting just enough to look at each other, to chuckle under their breaths about nothing before leaning in again. Namjoon’s hands drag up and down the length of his back, caressing, brushing through his hair.

“What time is it?” Seokjin asks.

“3:40” Namjoon says as he dazedly glances to check the clock behind Seokjin before trying to catch his lips again.

“Ah, us time’s over then.” Seokjin pulls away, rolling his eyes at Namjoon’s shameless pout. “Don’t give me that. It’s Jungkook’s recital today.”

He expects Namjoon’s frown to drop, like the event had slipped his mind, but it stays pertinently in place. “Isn’t it at 4:30? There’s still time.” 

“We gotta beat the traffic. That awkward shuffle trying to find a free seat just to end up standing against the wall at the back can never happen again,” Seokjin rebuts, sitting up and away, though held back by Namjoon’s hold on his wrists, pout deepened. “You’re actually unbelievable.”

“And you’re grouchy and mean,” Namjoon refutes childishly, sitting up too so that they’re face-to-face. “Plus you worried me.”

“Alright, alright,” Seokjin relents, pulling his husband closer by the shoulders as their lips lock, another quiet apology and a more obvious thank you.

Seokjin is feeling incredibly pleased with himself, sitting snugly in a plastic chair that’ll soon grow uncomfortable, two rows away from the stage, a camera bag on the empty seat next to his as his husband tries to find an adult-sized toilet. Once he returns, they spend their time observing the parents that begin to filter in, some with accompanying teenagers and toddlers, occupied with phones and sticky ipads.

“We might not be perfect, but I’m glad Jungkook’s not an ipad baby,” Seokjin remarks, turning back to Namjoon. “If anything, we did right by him there.”

Although Namjoon isn’t completely listening. His eyes are still fixed on the teenagers, the older boys, talking to their parents and laughing with their friends. Seokjin initially takes that gaze as some sort of melancholy for the past, although the awe within it points to something else in their distant futures, some faraway point in their lives where they’ll look back at this moment in disbelief of how quickly it had all passed. Right now, however, they can hardly even picture it.

“Heh,” Namjoon breathes out belatedly. “Might be a lot less work for us sometimes if he was an ipad baby.”

“Not sure if him growing up with an awful attention span and no grasp of empathy after stumbling across a liveleak video would be a very fair trade though,” Seokjin rebuts, half-serious.

Namjoon laughs at that. “Alright, no Cocomelon for the boy.”

Parents slowly filter into the hall, and Seokjin finds quiet delight at the sight of late-comers awkwardly shuffling to the back after failing to find any vacant seats.

It takes another while before the lights lower, which Seokjin thinks is a bit dramatic for a first-grade recital. A class of children toddle on, though not Jungkook’s group, and he tries not to grimace as the parents next to him start sticking their giant tablet up in the air, leaning over to his side to capture their kid at the far right. The horrifically uncomfortable moment persists for the rest of the show, which to his favor is no more than three minutes long, and he thanks whatever higher being responsible for determining the little brain capacity kids have to memorize basic choreography.

The next class makes their way up on stage and that’s when Seokjin and Namjoon spot him, in the second row on the left, just behind a short yet lanky kid with glasses.

Seokjin’s eyes suddenly widen. “You put him in overalls?”

He can hear the mirth in Namjoon’s voice. “Isn’t he cute?”

Too cute. Lethally adorable. “Fucking evil,” he murmurs under his breath.

Jungkook is a very loud and energetic kid at home, though it all simmers away on stage in front of a crowd of parents. He’s curled into himself slightly, little fists following the choreography half-heartedly. Namjoon has his camera up and filming, staying within his personal space like a decent member of the public, Seokjin notes.

His son’s eyes are scanning the room, focused on the back and the sides. It takes him a while before he spots them near the front, and it’s obvious when he does. His nervous lips stretch into a smile, his bunny teeth poking out in a manner so cute it tugs painfully at Seokjin’s heart strings. Staring at his son, he widens his eyes, does a funny thing with his lips and wiggles his shoulders to the song. It makes Jungkook laugh and eventually put a little more oomph into his dancing, wiggling his hips and smiling wide. That’s my boy, Seokjin thinks.

Namjoon had suggested that they be obnoxiously loud at the end of the performance, screaming at the top of their lungs like they were watching Queen at Live Aid, but Seokjin quickly shot the idea down. Let’s be adults for once. So like the adults that they are, they clap sensibly as the children skitter off the stage, though Namjoon does manage to sneak a medium-volume whoop in.

The enthusiasm doesn’t die down on the drive home as Namjoon continues to shower his son with praises, even managing to convince Seokjin to get them nuggets from a drive-thru. “I swear you’re a prodigy!” he says with all the sincerity in the world. “They should’ve put you at the front.”

“I didn’t want to be in front,” a little voice says from the passenger seat.

“Aw, humble,” Seokjin adds, making Namjoon snort. “It’s okay, bun. As long as you’re comfortable.”

As he turns into their street, he feels something; a light, fleeting feeling in his chest that he can’t decide is good or not. It feels familiar, however…

✧

“I’m not sure how I feel about a one-year-old,” Seokjin murmured, squinting at the documents on the screen. Fourteen months. “Didn’t we mention three being the youngest? Motor skills developed?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why they did this…they said this was the best match for our circumstances. He’s only been at the center for a few months, apparently,” Namjoon sighed. “Aw, he’s cute though.”

Seokjin wasn’t looking at the screen anymore. He didn’t like this feeling, this hesitance. It’d feel strange to call the center saying they didn’t want this child, as if he was some faulty product, a dog in a cage at the pound they could saunder through and choose from. At the same time, this wasn’t what they had in mind at all, and this sudden change of plans is making him nervous.

“It’ll be fine,” Namjoon said firmly, and Seokjin settled with that.

They were sitting on an old leather couch, ripping at the seams. Seokjin had managed to fight the urge to pick at it so far, staring at the closed door.

“Hyung,” he heard Namjoon’s faint voice near him. He hummed in question though to no reply. He understood it as soon as he felt a light brush over his fingers, and he turned his hand to accept the touch. Namjoon’s palm was clammy and his grip was trembling, almost like he was terrified. Seokjin vaguely wondered if it was an appropriate reaction to have while waiting to meet their son, but the same sensation was running through his body. It was terror at the prospect of it all, the biggest thing that would ever happen to them. They held each other in white-knuckled grips as they waited.

He came in hesitantly; the caretaker had to pause as she opened the door, waiting for him to follow. His wrist in her hold was small, almost weightless, stumbling in, ambiguous whether out of nerves or still-developing motor skills. His eyes were practically bulging out of his face from how wide they were, staring at them, reading them.

“Oh,” one of them let out softly, Seokjin wasn’t sure who; it was like a vignette had grown around him, blurring out the corners. It might have been him, not out of surprise—it was something less punctuated but more intense. Something deep in his chest he had never felt before, like it was trying to squeeze his heart out of his chest, magnetized to something. The force of it was so overwhelming he failed to form words, just faint breaths.

“Hello, Jungkook,” Namjoon was the first to say, and the tremor in his voice was enough to drive Seokjin to tears. He tried to blink them away before they could fall, desperate to not miss any of this moment. This was all Namjoon ever wanted, from the very beginning, and the reality that he was finally having it now had dawned on him so intensely.

Jeon Jungkook—they asked to keep his surname unchanged—the boy stopped a reach away from them, hand still in his caretaker’s hold. She bent down to his level, speaking to him softly, “Can you go give your dads a hug?”

He didn’t react to that request, making no move to shift backward or forward. As he remained static, his caretaker pushed him gently, trying to get him closer to them, though his eyebrows furrowed as he stumbled back to his spot, face reddening.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Seokjin quickly said. “It’s okay. Whatever he’s comfortable with.”

They had regained a bit of their earlier confidence after the first meeting, though it seemed like everything they ever knew dissipated the first night Jungkook came home.

For a minute, they watched him explore the space, or at least looked around the best he could considering the most he could do was toddle. They weren’t supposed to leave him to get used to a new environment; he wasn’t a cat—nothing like it. They had prepared a corner for him with stimulating toys on soft pads which they had set him on first, though he eventually found his way out of the area. Soon, he seemed to consider the rest of the room rather uninteresting once he found a plastic bottle cap from under the couch.

“Oh, please don't put that in your mouth,” Namjoon said, then immediately panicked thinking that it would only encourage the boy to do exactly that.

Seokjin was the first between the two of them to reach out. “Look,” he said, gently taking the bottle cap and setting it sideways on the floor. With a light flick of his finger, he sent it rolling. Jungkook made a noise, trying his best to crawl after it. This was the most active they had seen him so far, even laughing when Namjoon sent the cap flying back to Seokjin’s direction. He wasn’t too nimble on his feet just yet, tripping over them and just managing to land in Namjoon’s arms.

“Careful there, bud,” Namjoon murmured in a soft tone; he had already developed a new speaking voice reserved for his son. “Ah, this is why I wanted to keep him in the soft corner,” he complained in the tone meant for Seokjin, trying to help position Jungkook back up. “He’ll hurt himself.”

“We’re watching him now, it’s fine,” Seokjin told him. It settled faster than he thought, this acceptance. It was fine if their son didn’t want to hug them right away, it was fine if he ignored all the toys they painstakingly researched and bought for a stray bottle cap. “As long as he’s comfortable.”

It was love, that heavy thing in his chest. Although love in itself was a concoction of an unbelievable number of other emotions.

✧

“I’m home,” Jungkook announces as they enter the empty apartment.

“Stop addressing the ghosts, Kook. It creeps Papa out.”

“Can ghosts have nuggets?”

“Only if they did a good job at the recital like you did.”

Dinner goes by like usual with Jungkook still attempting to freak Seokjin out with his made-up stories about the ghosts in the apartment. Seokjin and Namjoon are doing the dishes when a sharp sound cuts through the air, suddenly enveloping them in darkness.

Namjoon reacts first, albeit not very helpfully. “Oh?”

“Ooh,” Jungkook exclaims cutely from the table.

As calm as he can possibly be after having his mind bombarded with ghost lore written by a five-year-old, Seokjin gropes around for the towel and dries his hands. “Stay where you are, Kook,” he instructs, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “Namjoon, can you get the flashlight? I’ll call reception.”

The blackout won’t be for any longer than an hour. Seokjin sighs as he uses his phone flashlight to navigate the apartment.

“Found the flashlight,” Namjoon says from behind him, and Seokjin turns around to find a spitting image of Ju-On.

“Fuck!” he exclaims, flinching back, then slaps his hand over his mouth when his brain registers the sight of Jungkook with a flashlight shining from under his chin. The big eyes are only making it worse, really.

In the dim light, he sees Namjoon’s face change from amusement to surprise. “Oh, that’s–”

“Fuck,” Jungkook repeats in his small voice.

“No, no, don’t say that,” Seokjin finds it in him to say.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Hyung…”

“Don’t give me that tone when you were the one who started this!”

“Fuck.”

One arduous spontaneous lesson on curse words later, they settle in the living room. Small lit candles are set on the shelves and the coffee table where Jungkook is occupied with paper and crayons.

“Imagine having an ipad baby in this sort of situation,” Seokjin mutters from the couch a step away, watching his son. “Once that thing dies, it’s over.”

Namjoon chuckles from next to him. “You’re still on that?”

“Hey, it’s a very kind testament to our parenting,” Seokjin argues. “This is primitive compared to those kids. Look how self-sufficient our boy is, entertained by some paper and crayons.”

“Alright, alright,” Namjoon concedes, slowly nodding off as his slow blinks turn into closed eyes. “Good job to us.”

“Exactly,” Seokjin murmurs, blinking his eyes close as well.

Two seconds. They both have their eyes closed for two seconds, and in those two seconds, their son has decided to stick his drawing paper into the small candle on the table and casually start a fire.

“Oh, shit. Jungkook!” They both spring up. Jungkook is still trying to draw on the actively burning piece of paper when Namjoon snatches him away. Seokjin grabs a random binder from the shelf and quickly snuffs the flame out.

It all happened for no longer than five seconds, though it feels like they’ve had five consecutive heart attacks in that time span. “Sorry I grabbed you so hard, bun,” Namjoon murmurs, rubbing Jungkook’s wrists. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“Shit,” Jungkook parrots.

“That was you this time,” Seokjin quickly says. He flips over the binder in his hand to find a charred cover of their old tax records and shrugs. “That was a close call.”

“Well…” Namjoon sighs after making sure that Jungkook was okay. He was slightly shaken but seems to have recovered from it already, if the second curse word of the day is anything to go by. “At least he knows now.”

“And now we know to get battery lamps,” Seokjin adds, trying to lighten the situation.

“Don’t put your kid next to an open flame,” Namjoon mutters. “Lesson learned... we’re still good dads, right?”

“Good enough, hopefully.”

✧

It was midnight, but Jungkook was still wide awake. They washed and dressed him without much hassle; he was thankfully compliant with everything, though perhaps him being so still was why he still hadn’t used the last of his toddler energy for the day. That, and Seokjin imagined that being in a completely foreign space was enough reason for him to stay alert too.

Namjoon yawned widely, not bothering to cover his mouth. They were still on the floor of the living room after managing to convince Jungkook to play with one soft carrot toy from the corner. He rubbed his face on it, stuck it in his mouth, gnawed his gums at the green stem. His birth parents noted in his profile that he ate a lot and didn’t vocalize much. The adoption center said that he mostly kept to himself in the months that he was there. All the information was there, though he still felt like a mystery to Seokjin.

“What are you, a bunny?” he said, bemused at the sight of the boy chowing down on the toy carrot. “I wonder if he’s still hungry.”

“I’ll go get snacks,” Namjoon immediately perked up and slipped into the kitchen, eager to please. Only after a cup of yogurt and a pouch of juice did the boy show any sign of drowsiness.

His crib was set next to their bed. They had heated debates over this wretched thing; there were far too many different designs and extra functions for them to agree on just one. They eventually went with Namjoon’s pick, though none of that extra stuff really mattered now that their son was actually sound asleep in it. It was one in the morning, though the both of them were still awake just watching him.

“I feel like I can do this for hours,” Namjoon whispered. “He’s…”

“Yeah,” Seokjin whispered back. That heavy feeling in his chest hadn’t gone away. “I know.”

“How do you feel?”

“A little tired. A little scared. I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“We’ll be fine,” Namjoon assured him.

Subtly, Seokjin took a deep breath and leaned into him. “Yeah?”

“We’ll be fine.”

✧

The power comes back just as they tuck in Jungkook who’s fast asleep. “What a day he’s had,” Namjoon comments. “A ground-breaking performance recital, channeling a famous Korean cinema ghost, and attempted arson.”

“And two new curse words learned,” Seokjin grumbles as they leave the bedroom. He slumps down on the floor, leaning against the couch. “Put that in the parenting diary. Right next to that photo of you begging him at his feet to leave the clinic.”

“That was ages ago,” Namjoon whines as he comes to sit down on the couch, drained. “Really, you never let anything go.”

He says it jokingly, though there’s an irrefutable truth to that. That heavy feeling is still looming over him and the memories that are resurfacing from it. That night that he thought he had sorted out, or at least worked around for the time being, the one where Jungkook asked about a mother. It’s been vehemently haunting him, coming alive in the quiet. Seokjin’s voice goes weak. “Namjoon, I…”

Namjoon catches on to that slight change of tone immediately, smile dropping and eyes widening. “What’s wrong?”

It all happens so fast it hurts Seokjin’s heart a little, so he tries to smile. “Calm down, it’s not that bad. It’s…” he sighs. “I’ve got this awful feeling in my chest…I thought it’d go away if I acknowledged it quietly, but it’s still here.”

It’s clear on Namjoon’s face that he’s alert now, careful of every word he’s about to say. “Is it about Jungkook?”

“Honestly? Only partly,” Seokjin says. “He probably doesn’t even remember what he said, but it kinda sent me into a spiral.”

And so he recounts it to Namjoon; that night where Seokjin couldn’t sleep and Jungkook had a nightmare, moments before Namjoon found them in the living room, the single word Jungkook said that made Seokjin hesitate to speak. Namjoon listens to it all quietly, eyebrows furrowed and lips lightly pursed once Seokjin finishes.

“We should’ve expected it,” Seokjin says, trying to fill the silence. “Well, we literally did earlier on before we even met him. But it all just left my head the moment he said it. I don't know, I just—” he sputters, as though he's reliving the moment. “...Shit, I'm not used to this,” he laughs hoarsely, feeling weirdly embarrassed about the whole thing. “I don't overthink things, not about him. I'm supposed to be the calm one.”

“You’re not supposed to be anything,” Namjoon tells him, calm. “But you’re right; I don’t usually see you this stressed.”

“I don’t know if I said the right thing, but I thought it was right in that moment, yet it’s stuck with me for some reason. I can’t shake it off,” Seokjin murmurs. “Thoughts keep creeping up. Like what if he asks that again? He definitely will. What if it bothers him? What if he feels like he’s been missing something he’s seen his friends have but he doesn’t? What if—”

“We’re not enough?” Namjoon says it for him.

It makes Seokjin flinch, but he nods. “Yeah.”

Namjoon takes a long deep breath before he speaks again. “I want to believe that that won’t be the case, and that we’re doing everything we can for it not to be, but that’s all I can do… just everything we can. And hope that our everything is enough.” Quietly, he admits it, “I’m scared too.”

The weight of the situation is so heavy that Seokjin can’t help but laugh. “Ah, look at us… what if he grows up to be a worrier too?”

“Really puts nature versus nurture to the test then,” Namjoon jokes.

Seokjin shifts around to look at his husband. “Sorry for keeping this from you.”

“Don’t be,” Namjoon murmurs. “I don’t think it would’ve been easy for me either. But you can rely on me more, hyung.”

Slowly, Seokjin turns his face into Namjoon’s lap, conscious of each deep breath he takes. He feels Namjoon’s hand brush over his head.

“Tell me it’ll pass.”

“It’ll pass,” Namjoon says.

“Say it again.”

“It’ll pass,” he says, gentler.

Seokjin sighs, curling deeper into his lap, eyes fluttering closed as he focuses on Namjoon’s light touch, the fingers carding through his hair. “I only really believe it when I hear you say it,” he whispers.

They stay like that for a while, Seokjin trying to calm down and Namjoon patiently accompanying him. Eventually, Seokjin musters enough strength to lift his head and look at his husband. “I love you.”

Namjoon’s mouth quirks into a wonky smile. A hand comes up to clutch at his heart, though languidly as if he isn’t even aware that he’s doing it. “Still gets me every time.”

Seokjin chuckles tiredly. “Is it weird?”

“Not at all, no,” Namjoon quickly says, though his smile remains. “It makes perfect sense. It doesn’t matter if there’s no exact explanation for it—” At this, he pauses, and the rest of his phrase comes with a quiet tremor. “Sometimes it feels like you’re the only thing that makes sense in this world.” His gaze meets Seokjin’s. “I love you too, hyung.”

He leans down when Seokjin tilts his head up until their lips meet, lingering. “Come up here,” Namjoon murmurs, pulling at Seokjin’s arms until he shifts up from the floor to the couch and they’re in each other’s tight hold. It’s only then does the heavy feeling lighten, slowly dissipating as Seokjin buries his face in Namjoon’s shoulder, breathing him in.

With this love, there was a hurt that came with it all. They loved their son and it hurt. They loved him too much for it not to.

“It’ll pass.”

“It’ll pass.”

Chapter Text

It’s raining heavily outside. The clinic is underground so there aren’t any windows to see it, but the storm has grown loud enough to be heard through the music from Hoseok’s regular playlist. It’s becoming more humid inside too, with all the young kids being brought in after school in their wet muddy shoes from the puddles outside. He can smell how damp it is, mixed with the pubescent hormonal sweat of some of the older kids. Safe to say, Hoseok isn’t having the best day of his career so far, and it seems like he isn’t the only one affected by the weather today.

“Has your fee gone up again?”

Hoseok jolts at the sudden sound; he didn’t even realize he had begun to space out in the first place. He turns to see the father of the 12-year-old he had just spoken to, sliding his office door open after having closed it just a few minutes ago. Hoseok’s gaze flickers to the printed receipt in the man’s hand, then re-registers the question. “...Again?”

The man raises the piece of paper. “I could’ve sworn that you used to charge less, doctor. I hope you don’t mind if I ask about how you price things. I tried asking your receptionist but she doesn’t seem to have a clue.”

“Ah, no, Jiwoo doesn’t usually work here so she wouldn’t know,” Hoseok tries to regain his composure, stretching the corners of his mouth out into a smile. “The fee depends on the nature of the appointment, and the cost for renting this space had gone up too, so the general fee was increased to cover it.” He smiles brighter. “I hope you understand.”

The man sighs at that. “We’ve trusted you with Gayeon’s health for years, and our newborn’s. I understand that it can’t be helped, but I thought that at least you would be someone who values things like that.”

Stunned, Hoseok tries to school his expression into a calmer one. He takes a deep breath in. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” he says, smiling still. “If you’re unhappy with the fee, I’m happy to adjust it to what it was before.” He turns back to his computer. “You may take a seat while I redo–”

“No, no, doctor. There’s no need for that,” the man quickly intercepts. “This is what you asked for, this is what I’ll give you.” He waves the receipt around. “I just wanted my feelings to be heard, is all.”

Another deep breath. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Ha,” Hoseok says. “Thank you.”

He slumps back into his chair the moment the door slides close again. Can this day get any longer?

His heart sings a little once he checks his appointments for the day. The storm must’ve discouraged a lot of families from coming in as the rest of the appointments for the day have either been cancelled or rescheduled. Sure, his wallet is a little thinner than usual but he’ll worry about it later; this is a wonderful excuse to close up and go home early.

Jiwoo is sitting quietly at the front desk when Hoseok exits his office. “Did Mr. Ha say anything weird to you?”

Jiwoo immediately straightens up. “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she says with a smile, though it dampens slightly. “I’m sorry I got a bit stuck when he demanded to speak to you. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

Hoseok stares at the way her mouth twitches; he knows it all too well. “You have nothing to apologize for. Thank you again for letting me steal you from Dr. Min for a few days.”

Jiwoo chuckles at that, and it’s a little more genuine than before. “Doesn’t really feel like stealing since he’s away. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Hoseok catches on, grinning at the implication, but he plays it cool. “How would I know?”

“Well, you’re a doctor,” Jiwoo rebuts, tone playful. “I’m just asking for your professional opinion on stomach bugs.”

The response actually elicits a full laugh out of Hoseok. “Ah, right, my expertise.” He pops his hip and strikes a pose like he’s pondering it. “The average person takes about one to three days to recover from a stomach bug.”

Jiwoo tilts her head. “It’s been three days. Is Dr. Min the average person?”

When Hoseok smiles at her this time, it’s genuine too. “Anything but.”

✧

It’s still pouring outside by the time Hoseok makes it home. The apartment is dark, and he switches the lights on one by one as he walks down the hallway, stopping at the living room where only a reading lamp is illuminating his husband on the couch, the pale skin of his torso on display and draped across the cushions, his t-shirt left pooling on the floor near him. Hoseok whistles. “Hey, sexy.”

Yoongi immediately groans at that, shifting to lie face-down. “Fuck you.”

Hoseok coos at the little expletive. “You’re feisty, but your words have no bite.” He comes to kneel down next to him, dragging a hand over his back and tucking his jokes away for now. “Feeling better?”

“The tiniest bit,” Yoongi says as he shifts to lie on his back again. Hoseok knew he wouldn’t last long, lying on his sensitive stomach like that. “I feel less dizzy when I move around, but I don’t have the energy to get up.”

Hoseok presses the back of his hand to Yoongi’s forehead and frowns. “Feels like a fever. Do you still have a headache?”

“Every now and then.”

“Diarrhea?”

“Yup.”

“Vomiting?”

“Hence the shirt on the floor.”

“Nausea?”

“I think that’s a given if I’ve been throwing up.”

“Don’t get sassy with me when you’re lying here shirtless,” Hoseok threatens, laughing when Yoongi smacks his hand away from his bare chest. “Have you taken the meds I gave you?”

“Yeah.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hoseok is pleasantly surprised. “Good boy.”

“Ugh, don’t be gross,” Yoongi groans. His lips are chapped. Hoseok then notes the empty glass on the coffee table.

“Maybe I spoke too soon,” Hoseok says as he gets up to head towards the kitchen. “You need to drink more if you’ve been throwing up. That’s like basic health 101, doctor.”

“I don’t have the energy to get up,” he hears Yoongi say tiredly. “But then sleeping too much makes me dizzy.”

Hoseok sighs, coming back to the living room with a new glass of water. “Bet you were a fussy baby too.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, briefly getting up to drink the water Hoseok hands him in small sips. “Eh, I don’t remember.” Then, quietly he murmurs, “Not like it can be confirmed either.”

Hoseok’s heart sinks a little at the reminder. It’s something they’ve known and accepted for a long time, but he supposes that it’ll always hurt, just a little. He reaches out to brush Yoongi’s hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear. Yoongi’s pain is quiet but nevertheless palpable. “Are you hungry, darling?”

“Not that much,” Yoongi says, softening at the touch. “I’ve been throwing up everything I eat. Feels like I’m just wasting food.”

Hoseok shakes his head at the last comment. “Can we try clear soup? Or something light?” He tries to negotiate. “You have no energy ‘cause your stomach’s empty.” He smiles when Yoongi lightly nods. “Great. Get better so I can kiss you already.” Hoseok kisses the tip of his own fingers on his clean hand and presses it to Yoongi’s cheek, grinning at the light blush that creeps up his husband’s face. Still got it. He grabs the discarded shirt on his way up. “I’ll take care of this.”

Yoongi suddenly makes a noise of protest. “You don’t have to clean the vomit off my shirt. Fuck.” He weakly grabs for Hoseok. “I’ll take care of it later.”

“In sickness and in health, babe,” Hoseok says as he steps away.

With Yoongi’s shirt soaking with a stain remover, Hoseok takes care of dinner. His mother calls as he’s putting vegetables and ginger into a boiling pot.

“I guess this weekend isn’t looking so good then,” she says defeatedly.

“Seems like it,” he murmurs. “I didn’t think he’d still be sick, but maybe I should’ve known…” He turns down the heat on the stove, letting the broth simmer. “His immune system has always been pretty weak. I think it’s because he doesn’t get enough sleep so although he doesn’t get sick often, it’s really intense once he does.” He wonders if this all sounds like an excuse. Hoseok had always felt it, even before things fell apart with his mother, that she would always deny it when she’s very clearly upset with something, though she makes no effort to hide how she really feels. It makes it uncomfortable to talk to her sometimes.

“Did he eat the stew I sent him?”

“Yes, he loved it,” Hoseok quickly says. “He didn’t really have much of an appetite, but he finished it. I snuck myself a serving too. Thank you, Mom.”

His mother still sounds disappointed. “We were really looking forward to seeing you two again.”

“We do too,” Hoseok tries. “We’ll visit as soon as hyung’s better, I promise.”

The call is quiet for a while, so quiet that he can hear the broth bubbling under the lid. His mother sighs. “Okay, Hoseok.”

Hoseok leaves his phone on the counter once the call ends, and it’s as though all the exhaustion he’s kept at bay today breaks free at that moment. He sits down on the tiled floor, hugging his legs to his chest. A hug would be nice right about now, and a hand brushing through his hair, a warm nook to hide his face in while he complains. He can’t be selfish right now though, not when Yoongi’s still sick and practically bedridden. He presses his palms to his cheeks, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, pretending for a second that he’s in bed, nose pressed to Yoongi’s sternum and breathing in the scent of his fabric softener, curled into each other in Yoongi’s small creaky bed, back in that time where he didn’t need to be an adult just yet.

“Are you okay?”

Yoongi is standing in the kitchen, though leaning on the dinner table for support. Heʼs pulled on a clean shirt.

Hoseok slowly gets up from the floor. “Just tired.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Uh.” Hoseok tries to regain his focus as he checks on the broth. “Maybe later. I want you to get better first. I told my mom we won’t be able to visit this weekend.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Yoongi says, accepting the bowl of broth as he sits down. “Do you…feel bad for that? It’s not your fault.”

“Later, hyung,” Hoseok breathes. “Please.”

It’s strange to think that there are still things about Hoseok that Yoongi doesn’t know fully, and that it’s the same case the other way around. He wonders if there was a possibility somewhere, at some point in time, for things with their parents not to be the way they are, if he would’ve ever had a place at a dinner table in Daegu and met that tiny toy poodle Yoongi had always talked about. Life now is more than fine as it is, of course—Hoseok doesn’t think he’ll ever not quietly ponder about the things he doesn’t have, however.

Yoongi takes small careful sips of the broth, wary of it somehow making its way out of his stomach later. When he pauses, Hoseok expects him to comment on the taste, maybe it’s more bland to his palate since he’s sick—but he says the last thing Hoseok would expect to hear. “You know, my dad asked about me once.”

Stunned to a quiet, Hoseok has to remind himself to speak. “What?”

“It happened two years ago. My brother told me about it a year ago,” Yoongi murmurs, stirring the broth around with his spoon. “It was probably a slip-up, ultimately. My brother was visiting and they were looking at old photo albums. There was an old photo of me in highschool wearing a shitty black wig for an event and hyung must’ve mentioned how I wanted to try growing my hair out back then, ‘cause then Dad asked if I ever did.” He shrugs once he’s finished speaking, as if the gesture would help make it not seem like that big of a deal. Absent-mindedly, he tucks his long fringe behind his ear. “My hair was still short at the time so hyung said no, and that was it.”

That wasn’t it, of course. There’s something there about the fact that Yoongi’s father hasn’t seen his youngest son in so long that he doesn’t really know what he looks like now, nor the full scope of what he has missed over the years spent pretending that Yoongi doesn’t exist. Hoseok watches the smallest shifts and twitches in Yoongi’s expression, still trying to wrap his head around it now. “Do you think he’d like your hair now?”

Yoongi chuckles lightly at that. “Absolutely not. Maybe a little, if I’d shaved the underside so that there’s no hair at the back of my neck, but no,” he says softly. “I want you to know that I’ve chosen you too, and I’ll make the same choice everyday.”

Hoseok is still taken aback by it now, the way Yoongi always seems to know what to say in these situations. Because he really can’t risk getting sick too, and just so he doesn’t take this too seriously and start tearing up, Hoseok blows his husband a kiss, which he wrinkles his nose at. “In sickness and in health, truly.”

They’ve been sleeping separately for the past few days, with Yoongi insisting that the couch is fine and Hoseok’s back deserves the comfort of the bed since he’s the one going to work each day.

“Honey,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom as Hoseok steps out of the bathroom, and Hoseok is kind of embarrassed by how easily he’s swayed by a pet name. Yoongi is in bed with a fresh towel draped over him. “Can you do me another favor?” he asks, patting the empty space next to him, and Hoseok practically sways into him.

“I’ve washed my hands, doc,” Yoongi says as he reaches out to pull Hoseok closer, not stopping until Hoseok’s face is pressed to his chest through the towel. “Forgive me, I’ve been too occupied with being fussy that I haven’t asked you how you’ve been doing.”

“You’ve been having a debilitating stomach bug. I think that should excuse you,” Hoseok murmurs, eyelids already fluttering when he feels Yoongi’s fingers combing through his hair. “But it hasn’t been too good. There’s so much happening that it can get kinda suffocating, I guess.”

Yoongi hums softly at that, understanding. He continues to quietly comb through Hoseok’s hair, perhaps assuming that that was all his husband has to say. Hoseok leans towards that idea before eventually changing his mind. “Do you ever miss our college days?”

“Sharing a place with those troglodytes who don’t clean up after themselves?” Yoongi asks. “Fuck no.”

The immediate answer gets a chuckle out of Hoseok, despite everything. “I was thinking more of how simple it all was. It feels like our problems back then were so much smaller.”

“I know what you mean, I was just dicking around,” Yoongi says. “But still, maybe because you’re having a hard time now, you don’t remember exactly how bad it was back then, but I do. Even before we got engaged and that thing with your parents went down, I could see how the thought of it was weighing you down the closer we got, which really didn’t help on top of all that med school shit.”

“Oh, fuck,” Hoseok curses at the wave of anxiety that suddenly washes over him from the mere recollection of all the studying he had to do. “You’re right, shit. That was horrible.”

“I don’t like how I was back then, the way I treated you,” Yoongi quietly confesses, tightening his hold on Hoseok like he’s reliving those moments too. “I know everything played a part in where we are now, so I wouldn’t go back to change anything, but I’d never even want to go back in the first place. Once was enough, I think. But…” his voice tapers off into silence.

Hoseok is curious now. “But?”

Yoongi sighs loudly. Hoseok feels it in the way his chest deflates. “If anything, it’d be nice to feel what it’s like to fall for you again,” he murmurs, clearly embarrassed. “...Is what I’d say if I was an absolute loser.”

The horrific save has Hoseok cackling into Yoongi’s chest. “Oh, you’re in love with me,” he says through his laughter, a mix of disbelief and exhaustion. “You’re actually adorable, doc.”

“Yeah, well,” Yoongi sputters and it’s so obvious that he’s blushing. “Your boyfriend in college would never say anything like that, so you don’t have to miss him.”

“I’ll miss him a little, ‘cause he was so cute,” Hoseok rebuts playfully, puckering his lips and planting a kiss on Yoongi’s sternum. “Wish I had a husband who isn’t sick right now, though.”

“Tough luck.” Yoongi says with a chuckle. “Guess my live-in doctor isn’t doing a very good job.”

“Well good doctors can only do so much with a difficult patient,” Hoseok snides, and all that stress that had been riddling him the entire day is far behind him now, all from a bit of touch and comfort. “Hyung,”

“Hm?”

“...This dad at the clinic today was a total asshole.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.”

“He was rude to Jiwoo too…”

✧

Yoongi is off today, though he’s been off for a while. Miraculously, he’s only missed a few classes, though the ones he did manage to attend passed by like they never even happened. It’s been happening far more than he likes, this whole thing with him nodding off from his own life, and what he likes is for it to not happen at all. In a way, it feels like non-existence, being cooped up in bed, in his small room with the lights off and the curtains drawn.

There’s a knock on the door. Yoongi closes his eyes.

The door clicks open anyway, which he immediately grumbles about but makes no move to acknowledge any further.

“Hyung,” a voice comes.

Yoongi’s eyes pop open at that. “Seok.”

Hoseok is smiling when he looks up, though he’s trying his best to bite it down. “Thought I’d stop by to see if you’re awake. Jooheon and I are going to study at the library for a bit if you want to come with us.”

Yoongi slowly sits up, absentmindedly scratching the back of his ear. “I just woke up.”

Hoseok’s smile brightens for some reason, like there’s something endearing about any of this. “I thought as much. Here.” Something nudges Yoongi’s knee, and—how the hell was he so distracted by Hoseok’s face that he didn’t even notice the iced coffee Hoseok brought? “You have the easiest coffee order to memorise.”

Yoongi looks down at the drink in his hand, then back up at Hoseok. “Why?”

Hoseok tilts his head at that. “Hm? It’s just a large iced americano.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Oh.” Hoseok shrugs. “I wanted to.”

The first sip of the coffee wakes him up a little, and he hopes that it’s the caffeine hitting his empty stomach that’s making his chest feel so tight. “Thanks for this. You really don’t have to.”

“I know that,” Hoseok says, still smiling as he sits down on his small mattress on the floor, pillow fluffed and blanket neatly folded compared to the mess that is Yoongi’s bed. “Do you like it?”

Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s talking about coffee or something else, so he doesn’t answer. “You’re not gonna get anything out of this.”

“I know that,” Hoseok repeats softly, leaning closer to prop an elbow on Yoongi’s bed next to Yoongi’s lap, and it’s slightly frustrating that he doesn’t seem to take the hint.

“It’s rotten work.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Look,” Yoongi says pointedly, tone more stern now, meeting Hoseok’s gaze. “You’re not gonna get what you want out of this.”

The smile remains on Hoseok’s face as he asks, “What do you think I want?”

“Some kind of cleaned up, pristine…changed man,” Yoongi murmurs over the straw of his drink. “Someone you can mold into your soulmate. That’s not gonna happen.”

That actually makes Hoseok chuckle, and Yoongi hates how pretty it is. “I'm not asking for your hand in marriage, hyung,” he says, eyes casting down to Yoongi’s hands like he’s thinking about it anyway. “I just want you to acknowledge me a little and stop pretending that this isn't happening.” He smirks, then. “I don’t think I’m fighting a losing battle here.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi challenges. “What makes you think that?”

Hoseok bites his lip again, still looking at Yoongi’s hands. “I've seen you kiss other people, and you weren't nervous, but your hands were shaking when we kissed. Both times.”

That answer renders Yoongi speechless for a moment. He’s dealt with this kind of mess before; feelings that are nothing but a hassle, yet he feels so out of depth now. He tightens his grip on his coffee and clenches his free hand into a fist. “I don't know what you want me to say.”

“That you like me.” Hoseok looks up then, eyes bright and hopeful. “Do you?”

Yoongi scoffs at that, turning away. “You're persistent.”

“Well, you haven't said no.”

“Hoseok,” he says with a sigh. He doesn’t want to be condescending or treat Hoseok like a child, but it doesn’t feel like he’s listening at all. Hoseok’s eyes are still fixed on him, so certain and determined. This might not be the first time someone pretty has fluttered their lashes at him, but it’s definitely a first for him to care this much, and to just know that there’s no way this wouldn’t immediately end up in flames, because it will. In a way, it doesn’t really matter how Yoongi really feels; Hoseok doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into, begging to peer into Yoongi’s hollow void of a mind like a bug flying straight into a burning hot furnace.

Or—maybe it matters a little, how Yoongi feels. He sets his coffee down on his night stand and reaches for Hoseok, brushing his fringe from his eyes. Yoongi cares. He cares so much that he’d rather break a tiny bit of Hoseok’s heart now, to make the smallest dent by pushing him away, than to let him come closer and shatter it completely. He combs his fingers through Hoseok’s hair as he leans down, gently planting a small kiss on Hoseok’s forehead. “You don't want this,” he says softly. 

Hoseok isn’t smiling anymore when he pulls away, and his tone isn’t as bright. “That's still not a no.”

Yoongi licks his lips. He can’t say it because it wouldn’t be the truth, but he can’t just lie either; Hoseok would be able to tell right away. He shakes his head, though he isn’t sure what that gesture really means either.

Hoseok closes his eyes for a second, sucking in a breath. He’s stoic when he opens his eyes again, standing up. “I guess you’re not coming?”

The invite to the library had left his mind the moment it entered minutes ago. Still, Yoongi shakes his head.

“Right, I’ll tell Jooheon,” Hoseok says as he reaches the door, tone final like he had nothing else to say, but then changes his mind. “One more thing, hyung,” Hoseok turns back to face Yoongi. “Don't ever pull that shit again.”

Yoongi looks at him. “What?”

“Give me that pity kiss and tell me I don't want this,” Hoseok says, and it’s clear that he’s upset. “You don't get to decide what I want. I've made up my mind.” He steps out of the room, not looking back anymore. “I'm waiting for you to do the same.”

Quietly, Yoongi listens to the sound of Hoseok’s footsteps as they grow distant, his flat tone in a murmured conversation with Jooheon, followed by the sound of the front door clicking shut.

Yoongi sighs, burying his face into his hands. “It wasn't a pity kiss, idiot.”

✧

It’s still bright outside by the time Hoseok leaves work, and the sun beam hitting his car’s dashboard lifts his mood so fast he almost cries. The sun lights up the apartment a bit when he enters. The dining table is wiped clean but there are unwashed pots, pans, and other dishes in the sink, and the couch doesn’t look like a makeshift bed anymore. The trash has been taken out and the washing machine is whirring. Hoseok can hear the shower running in the bathroom and the tenseness in his heart begins to settle.

Hoseok is just about to finish with the dishes when he feels hands on his waist, followed by a kiss pressed to his shoulder that makes his chest bloom. “Hey, doc. Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi murmurs into his shoulder, then his lips drift to his ear. “I’m fine now.” His hold around Hoseok tightens, and Hoseok can’t seem to focus on the dishes anymore by the time Yoongi’s lips meet his. God, it’s been too long. Something about Yoongi’s touch now is so ravenous it makes him shiver.

“Hyung,” he gasps into the kiss when he feels Yoongi’s hands wander from behind, pulling his buttoned shirt from his pants, palms slipping under and dragging from his stomach all the way up to his chest. “Hyung!” Hoseok yelps, ridiculously flustered as he tries to grab at Yoongi’s hands but end up soaking his shirt. “Fuck. I still have soap suds all over my hands.” He reaches over to rinse his hands and flicks the droplets at Yoongi until he behaves, whining and wiping his face on Hoseok’s shoulder. “Don’t you wanna take it easy?” he asks as he dries his hands on a towel, turning to face Yoongi. “You’re recovering.”

“I miss you like crazy,” is all Yoongi says before surging in again, and Hoseok easily gives up any ounce of decency he was trying to retain just from having Yoongi’s lips on his skin and his thigh slotted between his legs.

Yeah, this is a lot better, the thought brushes by Hoseok again that night as he lies in bed skin-to-skin with his mouth pressed to Yoongi’s collarbone. For a moment then, it really does feel like things couldn’t be simpler, and just that thought alone brings a kind of comfort he hasn’t felt in a long time.

✧

Yoongi falls asleep alone again tonight, with the floor mattress beside him left unoccupied. Hoseok hasn’t slept here for a while—in fact, he hasn’t seen much of Hoseok at all. He can’t even recall when they last spoke to each other, if they’re on good terms or not. How has he managed to slip into that blur again? Why is everything so hazy when he’s by himself?

A light sound wakes him up, a soft thud near the foot of his bed. In the dark, Hoseok startles when he turns to see Yoongi sit up. “Shit, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

Yoongi reaches over to switch the bedside lamp on. In the haze, he sees Hoseok with his coat slung over one arm, and his backpack dropped to the floor. Yoongi squints, and that tight feeling in his chest returns. “You’re leaving?”

“Uh, yeah,” Hoseok says hesitantly like he isn’t sure how to approach Yoongi. Did he say something stupid again last time? “To Gwangju for the weekend.”

Oh. Yoongi blinks. “You weren’t here the past few days. Where were you?”

“... In my room.” Hoseok shrugs. “Jooheon’s been staying over at his girlfriend’s place lately so it’s been quiet enough for me to sleep there.” He points at his packed bag. “I forgot my spare charger here.”

It hurts. The fact that this hurts is so stupid. “I missed you,” he whispers.

Hoseok’s eyes widen in the dim light, clearly caught off-guard, though he tries to laugh it off softly. “Thought I was doing you a favor by giving you some space.”

Silently, Yoongi pats the empty space next to him on the bed and Hoseok, though clearly in a hurry, sits down. “I'm not gonna tell you what to do, but I'm telling you that it won't be easy with me,” he says, and he isn’t sure where these words are coming from. “I'm…exhausting to be around, and you're gonna get fed up. I shut people out, and sometimes it feels like I can’t control it. I try, but just trying isn't enough,” he confesses. “You deserve better than someone who just tries.”

Hoseok is quiet for a moment, not expecting to hear any of this either. “I'm not doing this because it's easy,” he says, gentle as always. “I'm doing it because I like you, plain and simple.”

Yoongi actually lets out a soft chuckle at that. “That, I'll never understand.”

“Even so,” Hoseok goes on to say, hand brushing over Yoongi’s crumpled comforter, “I think trying is pretty great.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I think it’s gonna get old after a while. I don’t want to waste your time.”

Hoseok doesn’t say anything, not until Yoongi looks up at him. There’s a small smile playing at his lips. “You were eating instant ramen in nothing but your underwear when we first met. You told me that you ran out of clean clothes so I lended you a shirt from my suitcase. You didn’t throw things at me the same way you would at Minhyuk hyung or Jooheon even though I pissed you off the same way they did. You told me that I have what it takes to be a good doctor one day. You hate being touched, but you cuddled me when I was stressed and couldn’t sleep. It’s all special to me,” he confesses. “You’ve never wasted my time.”

It’s all too much, looking into his eyes while hearing him say this. Yoongi’s gaze flickers down to Hoseok’s hand, the minute tremble and twitches of his fingers, the nerves he’s hiding to fully say what’s in his heart. “If you’re sure, then…”

Hoseok’s smile is suddenly shy when he looks back up. He’s biting down on his lower lip, and though the light is dim, there’s enough to illuminate the blush that spreads across his cheeks. When he speaks, it’s breathless. “Say it, please?”

Yoongi looks at him, and it’s like he can see all the way into his soul. “I like you,” he whispers. “But you know that already.”

Hoseok hums at that. His eyes are shiny. “I might’ve had inkling.”

His hands still shake as his fingers caress Hoseok’s cheek; he can tell because he can feel the way Hoseok is smirking against his lips. The nerves coming from Hoseok is palpable too, however. Even as their lips part a little, as they tilt their heads more, Yoongi can feel the lightest tremble in the kiss, and maybe this won’t be as bad as he thought it would be.

Hoseok’s gaze scatter everywhere when they part, though their noses are still brushing. “Is this real?” he breathes.

Yoongi shakes his head, though this time it’s to rub their noses together. “Don’t you have a train to catch?”

Out of nowhere, Hoseok shoves him hard, and his back hits the bed so suddenly the air gets punched out of him. “The fuck?” he wheezes.

“Asshole,” Hoseok huffs. “I’ve been chasing you for weeks and you’re doing this now? Right when I’m about to leave?” 

Yoongi sputters incredulously as he tries to get back up. “You told me to make up my mind and I did!” 

“Ah, seriously!” Hoseok shoves him back down again, though he has the audacity to giggle this time. He checks the time on his phone. “Well, I really have to go now.”

Yoongi nods, and the smile he gives Hoseok feels so helpless. “Be safe.”

Hoseok stares at him for a second before surging in for another kiss, like the reality of it all hasn’t quite sunk in yet and he has to check again. Yoongi reciprocates, dragging a hand up and down his back. Has it ever been this easy to make someone so happy? Has someone's happiness ever affected him like this? He feels like he’s floating, but most of all—alive.

“Okay,” Hoseok murmurs, still kissing him. “Okay,” he whispers, slowly pulling back and sitting up again. His smile is crooked when Yoongi sits up too, and he presses one last kiss to Yoongi’s lips before gathering enough willpower to leave.

Even as he’s left alone again, Yoongi spends far too long just sitting there, rubbing at his lips and grinning like an idiot. He’s still present, mind still processing everything, and he’s not so confident now in the thought that this won’t last.