Chapter Text
Taehyung made it three hours into his shift without embarrassing himself.
That was worth noting.
He rounded on patients, corrected a resident’s potassium replacement plan, answered two consults, and only checked his phone four times.
Four.
Jimin called it “a miracle with cheekbones.”
Taehyung ignored him because he was a professional.
He was Dr. Kim.
Attending physician.
Competent adult.
A man capable of completing a shift while his mate and daughter were at home without him.
Mostly.
He stood near the nurses’ station with a chart in one hand, explaining renal function to a resident, when Jungkook’s head lifted from the front desk.
Jungkook’s eyes widened.
Then his mouth opened.
Then he shut it again, which was how Taehyung knew something serious had happened.
Taehyung stopped mid-sentence.
The resident blinked.
“So, for potassium replacement—”
The elevator doors opened.
Yoongi stepped out wearing a soft black shirt, loose pants, and Yerin strapped to his chest in a cream baby carrier.
Taehyung forgot potassium existed.
Yerin was asleep against Yoongi’s chest, one cheek squished against the carrier, mouth slightly open, one tiny fist curled near Yoongi’s collar.
And Yoongi’s collar—
Taehyung stopped breathing.
The collar sat low enough to show the mating mark on the side of Yoongi’s neck.
Visible.
Uncovered.
In the hospital.
In front of everyone.
Taehyung stared.
The resident followed his gaze.
Jimin turned around.
Nurse Choi appeared from somewhere, because apparently she could sense emotional damage through walls.
Yoongi walked toward them, one hand resting over Yerin’s back. His hair was soft from the wind outside, his face a little tired, his mouth set in that familiar line that meant he already knew everyone was looking and had decided to tolerate it for exactly as long as he felt like it.
He stopped in front of Taehyung and lifted one eyebrow.
“You’re working.”
“I know,” Taehyung said.
“You were speaking.”
“I was.”
“You stopped.”
“I did.”
Yoongi’s mouth curved.
“Professional.”
Taehyung looked at Yerin.
Then Yoongi’s face.
Then the mark.
Then Yoongi’s face again.
“You’re wearing her.”
“She refused the carrier seat.”
“She looks comfortable.”
“She’s using me as furniture.”
Taehyung swallowed.
“You look—”
Yoongi pointed at him.
“At work.”
Taehyung closed his mouth.
Jimin leaned against the counter, delighted.
“No, no. Let him finish. This feels important for morale.”
Yoongi turned his head.
Jimin immediately looked down at the nearest paper.
It was blank.
Nurse Choi sighed from beside the medication cart.
“I’ve worked in this hospital for twenty years, and I have never seen an attending lose brain function this beautifully.”
Taehyung’s ears went hot.
“I have brain function.”
Yoongi glanced at the resident.
“He was explaining potassium?”
The resident nodded, looking like he regretted having eyes.
Yoongi looked back at Taehyung.
“Finish.”
Taehyung stared at him.
“With you standing there?”
“I can move.”
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
Jungkook bent over the keyboard like the desk had suddenly become fascinating.
Yoongi’s ears went pink.
“Tae.”
Taehyung cleared his throat and turned back to the resident with visible effort.
“Renal function stable. Replace cautiously. Recheck levels.”
The resident waited.
Taehyung looked back at Yoongi.
Yoongi blinked.
“That was all?”
“It was the important part.”
“You abandoned the rest for pretty omega and baby.”
Taehyung looked helpless.
“Yes.”
The unit reacted quietly because Yerin was asleep, but quietly did not mean invisibly.
Jimin covered his mouth.
Nurse Choi put one hand to her chest.
The resident took one step back, presumably to reconsider his career.
Yoongi stared at Taehyung.
Then down at Yerin.
Then back up.
“You are lucky she’s asleep.”
“I know.”
“And that I’m wearing her.”
“I know.”
“And that you’re pretty.”
Taehyung’s whole face changed.
Jimin whispered, “Oh, he hit back.”
Yoongi ignored him.
Taehyung stepped closer, then stopped himself before touching.
That, more than anything, made Yoongi soften.
Barely.
But Taehyung saw it.
Of course he saw it.
“You’re here for Bogum?”
“Six-week checkup.”
“Did you drive?”
“Dad dropped us off.”
Taehyung’s eyes flicked over him.
Not Yerin.
Yoongi.
His shoulders. His mouth. The way he was standing. The baby carrier strap sitting a little too close to his neck.
Yoongi noticed.
He always noticed now.
“She’s getting heavy,” he admitted.
Taehyung’s posture changed at once.
“Back?”
“A little.”
“Shoulder?”
“Mostly.”
Taehyung reached toward the carrier strap, then paused.
Yoongi sighed, fond despite himself.
“You can fix it.”
Taehyung’s fingers moved carefully, adjusting the strap where it dug near Yoongi’s shoulder. He tried not to touch the mark.
Failed.
His thumb brushed the edge of Yoongi’s collar.
His gaze dropped.
Everyone caught him.
Nurse Choi looked at the ceiling.
“Lord help us.”
Yoongi murmured, “Keep your hands professional.”
Taehyung’s voice lowered.
“I’m trying.”
“You’re failing.”
“You came here like this.”
“Like what?”
Taehyung looked at him.
Then at Yerin asleep between them.
Then at the uncovered mark.
“Like mine.”
The nurses’ station stopped functioning.
Jungkook pressed one hand over his mouth.
Jimin turned fully around, walked three steps away, then came right back because he had no self-control.
Yoongi’s face went red in stages.
“You cannot say that in public.”
“I said it quietly.”
“The whole unit heard.”
“The unit has good hearing.”
“You’re impossible.”
Taehyung smiled, soft and completely gone.
Yoongi should have scolded him.
Instead, he adjusted Yerin’s carrier with one hand.
“She really is getting heavy.”
Taehyung straightened.
“Do you want me to take her?”
Yoongi looked up.
There it was.
Not just eagerness for Yerin.
Concern for him.
His shoulder.
His back.
The way he was pretending standing did not still take more energy than it used to.
“Yeah,” Yoongi said. “For a bit.”
Taehyung froze.
Yoongi lifted an eyebrow.
“What? You wanted to.”
“I did.”
“Then stop looking like I offered you a kingdom.”
Taehyung looked down at his scrub top.
Then at Yerin.
Then at Yoongi.
“Wait.”
Yoongi blinked.
“What?”
“I need to change first.”
Jimin, who had been pretending not to hover, turned around immediately.
“You need to what?”
Taehyung was already reaching for his locker key.
“I’ve been with patients all morning.”
Yoongi stared.
Taehyung’s ears went pink, but he kept going.
“She’s six weeks old. I’m not putting her face against hospital germs.”
Nurse Choi made a wounded sound.
“Oh, that is unfair.”
Yoongi looked at her.
“What is?”
She pointed vaguely at Taehyung.
“That. The face, the baby, and infection control.”
Jungkook whispered, “Devastating combination.”
Yoongi ignored them because his throat had done something stupid.
Taehyung was still looking at him, suddenly uncertain.
“Too much?”
Yoongi looked at his mate.
The doctor.
The alpha.
The man who wanted to hold their daughter so badly he could barely stand still, but stopped himself because her cheek would be pressed against his chest.
Yoongi softened before he could stop it.
“No,” he said quietly. “That’s good.”
Taehyung’s expression eased.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Go change, clean surface.”
Jimin made a wounded sound.
“Clean surface. I’m unwell.”
Seokjin appeared from around the corner.
“Why is Jimin unwell?”
Nurse Choi sighed.
“Dr. Kim is changing his scrub top before wearing the baby.”
Seokjin stopped.
Looked at Taehyung.
Looked at Yoongi.
Looked at Yerin asleep against Yoongi’s chest.
Then muttered, “I hate when men raise standards in public.”
Namjoon came up behind him, pharmacy badge clipped neatly to his coat and a paper bag in one hand.
“That is actually reasonable.”
Seokjin turned.
“Not helpful.”
Namjoon looked at Taehyung.
“I brought electrolytes for Yoongi, by the way. And snacks. Seokjin said not to bring medical supplies because that would make things worse.”
Taehyung nodded, deeply respectful.
“Thank you.”
Yoongi looked between them.
“No bonding over practical panic.”
Namjoon adjusted his glasses.
“Too late.”
Taehyung disappeared toward the staff locker room and returned two minutes later in a clean scrub top, hair slightly messier from changing too fast.
Yoongi looked him over.
Taehyung stopped.
“What?”
“You look nervous.”
“I am.”
“You’re a doctor.”
“She’s ours.”
That was unfair.
Everyone heard it too, which made it worse.
Yoongi looked away first.
“Come here.”
Taehyung came immediately.
The transfer took three adults, one sleeping baby, and more dignity than Yoongi had expected.
Taehyung removed his white coat and handed it to Jungkook, who accepted it with far too much reverence.
“Don’t be weird,” Yoongi said.
Jungkook clutched the coat.
“I’m normal.”
“You are holding his coat like it has national value.”
“It has pens.”
“Put it on the chair.”
Jungkook put it on the chair.
Yoongi loosened the carrier straps from his own shoulders. Yerin stirred but did not wake, which felt like a miracle given the amount of people emotionally vibrating nearby.
Taehyung whispered, “Careful.”
Yoongi looked at him.
Taehyung pressed his lips together.
“Sorry.”
“You’re lucky I know you mean me.”
Taehyung’s eyes softened.
Yoongi looked away before the entire unit got another show.
Too late, probably.
Everything was everyone’s business now.
Yoongi helped fasten the carrier over Taehyung’s clean scrub top. Taehyung’s hands hovered uselessly because he did not want to touch the wrong strap, the baby, Yoongi’s waist, or all three in front of witnesses.
Yoongi clicked the final buckle and tightened the side.
“There.”
Yerin was now strapped to Taehyung’s chest, still asleep, one tiny hand tucked near his collar.
Taehyung looked down.
His face opened so gently that the whole hallway suffered for it.
“Oh,” he whispered.
Nurse Choi put a hand against the medication cart like she needed support.
The peds nurse, who had somehow joined the crowd, whispered, “That should require a warning sign.”
Jimin nodded, eyes wet.
“Agreed. Emotional safety violation.”
Seokjin stared at Taehyung.
Then at Yoongi.
“You did this on purpose.”
Yoongi rubbed his shoulder.
“I got tired.”
“You weaponized recovery.”
“Efficient recovery.”
Hoseok arrived from the ED, took one look at Taehyung in scrubs with Yerin asleep against him, and laughed.
“No, that’s ridiculous.”
Namjoon looked at the nurses melting near the desk.
“We may need crowd control.”
“My daughter is not a morale campaign,” Yoongi said.
Yerin chose that moment to sigh in her sleep and press her cheek deeper into Taehyung’s chest.
The hallway lost the fight.
Yoongi closed his eyes.
“Fine. She’s a small morale campaign.”
Taehyung barely heard them.
He was looking down at Yerin like she had personally rewritten gravity.
Yoongi watched him for a second too long.
Taehyung noticed.
Of course.
He lifted his eyes.
“You okay?”
There.
Again.
In front of everyone.
Yerin strapped to him, the unit silently collapsing, and Taehyung still looked at Yoongi first.
Yoongi’s chest went warm.
“Better now that I’m not carrying her weight.”
Taehyung’s expression sharpened.
“Sit.”
Yoongi lifted an eyebrow.
“Excuse me?”
“Please sit.”
“Better.”
Taehyung looked around, found the nearest chair, and pulled it closer with one hand while keeping the other protectively over Yerin’s back.
Nurse Choi whispered, “Oh, come on.”
Yoongi sat because his shoulder really did ache and because Taehyung’s face would become unbearable if he did not.
Taehyung crouched beside him.
With the baby strapped to his chest.
In clean scrubs.
Looking absurdly beautiful.
The unit collectively pretended not to stare.
Badly.
Taehyung touched Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Here?”
Yoongi nodded.
“Yeah.”
Taehyung rubbed once, gentle and careful.
Jimin made a tiny dying sound.
Yoongi pointed at him without looking.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You felt loudly.”
Seokjin crossed his arms.
“I’m just saying, if I had known babywearing Dr. Kim was going to be an option, I would have charged admission.”
Namjoon nodded thoughtfully.
“Hospital fundraiser.”
Taehyung looked up.
“No.”
Nurse Choi sighed.
“I’d donate.”
Bogum found them like that five minutes later.
He stepped out of Omega Health, tablet in hand, and stopped at the sight of half the hospital gathered around Taehyung, who had Yerin strapped to him and one hand on Yoongi’s shoulder.
Bogum looked at Yoongi.
Then at Taehyung.
Then at the staff.
“Do I want to know?”
“No,” Yoongi said.
Taehyung said, “I changed my scrub top.”
Bogum blinked.
“Good?”
“For germs.”
Bogum looked at Yerin.
Then back at Taehyung.
“Actually, yes. Good.”
Seokjin threw both hands up.
“Stop rewarding him.”
Bogum smiled and looked at Yoongi.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“Excellent. Come in.”
The appointment was both necessary and annoying.
Yoongi hated being a patient even six weeks later. He especially hated being a patient in a room where Taehyung was present in doctor clothes but not acting like a doctor at all.
He was acting like a mate.
Which was worse.
Kinder.
Harder to mock.
Yerin stayed strapped to Taehyung through the first half of the appointment, sleeping against his clean scrub top while Bogum asked Yoongi about bleeding, pain, feeding, appetite, sleep, mood, and whether he felt supported at home.
Yoongi answered honestly.
Mostly.
“Tired,” he said.
“Expected,” Bogum replied.
“Sore sometimes.”
“Still within range.”
“Overstimulated by relatives.”
“Not a medical condition, but understandable.”
“Annoyed at you.”
“Baseline.”
Yoongi narrowed his eyes.
Taehyung’s mouth twitched.
Yerin woke halfway through and decided Bogum had insulted her personally.
She opened her eyes, saw him, and screamed.
Bogum paused.
Yoongi looked at her.
Taehyung looked at her.
Then at Bogum.
“She remembers you,” Yoongi said.
“She was six minutes old.”
“She’s advanced.”
Taehyung nodded automatically.
Bogum glanced at him.
“You are still worse.”
“I know.”
Taehyung unfastened the carrier with Yoongi’s help and lifted Yerin out. She quieted once she was against his shoulder, but kept making small offended noises into his scrub top.
Bogum checked Yoongi’s healing, his vitals, and the rest of what needed checking with professional calm and only minor self-preservation.
At the end, he sat back on his stool and tapped the tablet.
“Everything looks good.”
Yoongi watched him.
“Good?”
“Good. Healing well. No concerns from the exam. Keep listening to your body, ease back into activity, call if anything changes, and keep the postpartum mood check-in we scheduled.”
Taehyung’s face changed at the word activity.
Yoongi saw it.
Bogum saw it.
Unfortunately, Yerin stopped fussing at that exact moment, leaving the room far too quiet.
Bogum looked at Taehyung.
“Do not make that face in my exam room.”
Taehyung blinked.
“What face?”
Yoongi stared at him.
“You know what face.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You became aware of medical clearance.”
“I am a doctor.”
“You are absolutely not a doctor right now.”
Bogum stood.
“For the record, I am clearing him medically, not authorizing you to be embarrassing before lunch.”
Taehyung’s ears went red.
Yoongi pointed at Bogum.
“That is the first useful thing you’ve said.”
“I delivered your child.”
“And enabled prenatal health.”
Bogum sighed.
“Still second?”
“Still second.”
Taehyung looked between them.
“Who is first?”
Yoongi looked at him.
Taehyung nodded slowly.
“Right.”
Yerin chose that moment to spit up on Taehyung’s clean scrub top.
Everyone paused.
Yoongi looked at the stain.
Then at Taehyung.
Then at Bogum.
Bogum lifted both hands.
“That was not me.”
Taehyung looked down at Yerin with genuine pride.
“She waited for clearance.”
Yoongi closed his eyes.
“I’m raising her alone.”
After the appointment, they returned to the unit because Yoongi had promised Jungkook one Yerin viewing under controlled conditions.
Controlled lasted eight seconds.
Jungkook had made a small sign for the front desk.
WELCOME BACK, YERIN-AH
No glitter.
A miracle.
Yoongi looked at it.
Jungkook stood very still.
“I remembered.”
Yoongi nodded once.
“Good.”
Jungkook’s face lit up.
Jimin cried because Yerin opened one eye.
Seokjin said he was not emotional, then reorganized three chairs to hide that he was emotional.
Hoseok took a photo of Taehyung wearing Yerin, then immediately sent it to the group chat with the caption:
Hospital productivity has fallen by 40%.
Namjoon looked down at the baby, then handed Yoongi the paper bag he had brought.
“Electrolytes. Oat snacks. Also nipple cream, but Seokjin told me not to say that loudly.”
“You just said it loudly,” Seokjin said.
Namjoon blinked.
“I said it at a normal volume.”
Jimin whispered, “There is no normal volume for nipple cream in public.”
Yoongi took the bag.
“Thank you, Namjoon.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You are dangerous but appreciated.”
Namjoon accepted that with a small bow.
Taehyung had to return to work after twelve minutes.
He looked like someone had asked him to abandon civilization.
Yoongi took Yerin from him before the sadness became contagious.
“She’s coming home with me,” Yoongi said.
“I know.”
“You will finish your shift.”
“I know.”
“You will not follow us to the elevator like a tragic drama lead.”
Taehyung opened his mouth.
Yoongi raised one eyebrow.
Taehyung closed it.
“Okay.”
Yoongi softened.
“Come here.”
Taehyung stepped close.
Yoongi lifted Yerin slightly between them.
Taehyung kissed Yerin’s hair first.
Then Yoongi’s cheek.
Then, because he had no survival instinct, the side of Yoongi’s neck near the mark.
Nurse Choi made a sound from the station.
Yoongi’s face heated.
“Tae.”
“What?”
“At work.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that like it stops you.”
“It doesn’t.”
Jungkook whispered, “Documented.”
Yoongi turned.
Jungkook looked down at his keyboard.
“No archive.”
“Good.”
Taehyung brushed his thumb once over Yoongi’s wrist.
“Text me when you get home.”
“I will.”
“And if your shoulder hurts—”
“I’ll use the heating pad.”
“And eat.”
“Seokjin packed food.”
“And rest.”
Yoongi looked at him.
“Tae.”
Taehyung stopped.
Yoongi shifted Yerin carefully and touched Taehyung’s sleeve.
“I’m okay.”
Taehyung’s eyes searched his face.
Yoongi let him.
Then added, softer, “Today was okay.”
The words hit Taehyung harder than they should have.
His throat moved.
Yoongi pointed at him.
“Not here.”
Taehyung nodded quickly.
“Later.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll take maybe.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, but he was smiling when he turned toward the elevator.
He did not cover the mark.
Not once.
Taehyung finished his shift.
Barely.
According to Jimin, he became “functionally employed, emotionally elsewhere.” According to Jungkook, who had not made an archive but had apparently taken mental notes, Taehyung checked the time eighteen times after Yoongi left. According to Nurse Choi, he only walked into one supply cart, which she called “impressive given the circumstances.”
By the time he got home, the apartment was dim and quiet.
Quiet-ish.
Yerin was asleep on Yoongi’s chest on the couch, her little face turned toward his neck, one hand curled in his shirt.
The black shirt.
The mark still visible.
Taehyung stopped in the entryway.
Yoongi opened one eye.
“Shoes.”
Taehyung looked down and took them off immediately.
“Hands.”
He went to wash them.
“Scrub top.”
He looked down.
“I changed before I left.”
“You touched hospital.”
“I also wore a coat.”
Yoongi stared.
Taehyung went to change.
When he came back in a clean T-shirt, Yoongi looked satisfied.
“Better.”
Taehyung came to the couch and crouched beside them.
Yerin slept through it.
Yoongi looked at him.
“Long shift?”
“Long after you left.”
“That is pathetic.”
“Yes.”
Taehyung’s gaze dropped to the mark again.
Yoongi did not cover it.
Taehyung reached out, then stopped himself.
Yoongi sighed.
“You can touch.”
Taehyung’s fingers settled lightly at the edge of his collar, barely brushing skin.
Not claiming.
Not asking.
Just remembering that Yoongi had chosen not to hide.
“You really left it uncovered all day,” Taehyung said.
Yoongi looked down at Yerin.
“She kept pulling my collar anyway.”
“She has priorities.”
“She has grip strength and no manners.”
“She gets that from you.”
Yoongi looked at him.
Taehyung smiled.
“Lovingly.”
“Better.”
Taehyung sat beside him on the couch.
Careful.
Always careful now.
Yoongi leaned into him without making him ask.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The apartment was messy in the now-usual ways. Burp cloth on the armrest. Half-empty water bottle. Folded laundry in a basket nobody had energy to put away. The visitor policy still on the door. Jimin’s phone no longer in the umbrella stand, thank god.
Taehyung’s hand rested on Yerin’s back.
Yoongi’s head rested against Taehyung’s shoulder.
“You looked ridiculous today,” Yoongi said.
“Which part?”
“Baby carrier. Clean scrub top. Emotional hallway collapse.”
“I did not collapse.”
“You spiritually slid down a wall.”
Taehyung laughed softly.
“You looked pretty.”
“You said that at work.”
“I showed restraint.”
“You said mine in front of nurses.”
Taehyung’s ears went pink again.
Yoongi smiled.
Small.
Private.
“I didn’t hate it.”
Taehyung went still.
Yoongi closed his eyes.
“Don’t make me repeat that.”
“I won’t.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
Yerin made a tiny sound between them.
Both looked down.
She settled.
Taehyung brushed one finger lightly over her back.
“She had a big day.”
“She slept through most of it.”
“Emotionally, big day.”
Yoongi huffed.
“Fine.”
Taehyung was quiet for a few seconds.
Too quiet.
Yoongi knew that quiet.
He opened one eye.
“No.”
Taehyung blinked.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You said nothing with intent.”
Taehyung’s mouth twitched.
“So.”
Yoongi closed his eye again.
“There it is.”
“Bogum cleared you today.”
Yoongi slowly opened both eyes.
Yerin slept on his chest, completely unaware that her father had chosen danger in their living room.
“Kim Taehyung.”
“What?”
“Are you asking what I think you’re asking while our daughter is asleep on me?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I am only acknowledging medical information.”
“Your face is not medical.”
Taehyung looked down.
Tried to fix his face.
Failed immediately.
Yoongi stared at him.
Taehyung said, very softly, “You came to my workplace wearing our baby and showing my mark.”
Yoongi’s ears warmed.
“That was not an invitation.”
“No.”
“And you cried internally about infection control.”
“Also not an invitation.”
“And you let half the hospital watch you become a babywearing disaster.”
Taehyung smiled.
“That might have been an invitation for public shame.”
Yoongi laughed quietly, careful not to wake Yerin.
Taehyung looked too proud of himself.
“Don’t get smug.”
“I made you laugh.”
“You are still shameless.”
“Cleared shameless?”
Yoongi stared at him.
Then Yerin chose that moment to stretch, frown, and let out the smallest, rudest grunt either of them had ever heard.
Taehyung froze.
Yoongi looked down at her.
Then back at him.
“Your daughter says no.”
Taehyung pressed his lips together.
“She said later.”
“She said you’re embarrassing.”
“She can mean two things.”
Yoongi shook his head, smiling despite himself.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Taehyung’s expression softened.
“Still?”
“Still.”
“Pretty?”
Yoongi looked at him.
“At this point, unfortunately.”
“Useful?”
“You changed scrub tops for germs and carried her so my shoulder could rest.”
Taehyung’s face went quiet.
Yoongi reached for his hand.
“Yes,” he said. “Useful.”
That did it.
Taehyung’s eyes went wet.
Yoongi sighed.
“Oh, baby.”
“You can’t say that after saying useful.”
“I can. I’m cleared.”
Taehyung laughed, broken and soft, and bent to kiss Yoongi’s cheek.
Then Yerin’s hair.
Then the edge of Yoongi’s jaw, because apparently even with a newborn between them and a full day of public humiliation behind him, Taehyung still could not keep his hands or mouth entirely to himself.
Yoongi let him.
For a moment.
Then he lifted one finger.
“Food first.”
Taehyung blinked.
“What?”
“You’re asking about being cleared. I’m saying food first. Then shower. Then maybe.”
Taehyung stared.
“Maybe?”
Yoongi’s mouth curved.
“You said you’d take maybe.”
“I did.”
“Good. Be grateful.”
“I am extremely grateful.”
“Too grateful. Calm down.”
“I’ll try.”
“You won’t.”
“No.”
Yerin shifted again and sighed against Yoongi’s chest.
Both of them looked down.
Their daughter slept between them, warm and rude and perfect, one tiny fist holding the edge of Yoongi’s shirt like she had decided the uncovered mark was her business too.
Yoongi touched the back of her hand.
Taehyung’s arm settled carefully around both of them.
Outside the window, the city kept moving.
Inside, the couch was too small, the laundry was unfinished, dinner still needed reheating, and the man Yoongi loved had spent the day losing every ounce of professionalism because Yoongi walked into a hospital looking like himself.
Not hidden.
Not careful.
Not alone.
Yoongi leaned into Taehyung’s side.
“I liked today,” he said quietly.
Taehyung kissed his hair.
“Me too.”
“You were ridiculous.”
“I know.”
“Everyone saw.”
“I know.”
Yoongi looked up at him.
“And I was okay.”
Taehyung’s face changed again.
Soft.
Careful.
Wrecked.
Yoongi lifted one hand before he could cry too loudly.
“Quietly.”
Taehyung nodded.
“Quietly.”
Yerin slept.
Taehyung held them.
Yoongi let himself be held.
And when Taehyung whispered, “Always,” Yoongi did not correct him.
He only smiled, closed his eyes, and held his hand tighter.