Work Text:
A loud shriek echoes through the quiet little house. Yoongi drops the piece of toast he was just about to snack on and sprints in the direction he heard the terrifying noise coming from.
He pushes open the master bathroom door, “What is it? What happened?” His eyes meet Seokjin’s terrified gaze as his husband tugs furiously on his hair.
“Yoongi! What happened to my hair?!”
The mop of brown locks has been chopped in various places from a comfortable, uniform length to a mess of chunks heavily accented by short, choppy bangs at the front that stopped a centimeter above Seokjin’s eyebrows.
Yoongi hid his budding smile behind his hand before Seokjin could notice, even though he was too busy tugging on his new, short bangs. Yoongi had an idea what this new hair do was the result of. Slowly, he slipped up to Seokjin’s side and cupped his elbows, tugging gently to capture his attention.
“I think it suits you, hyung.”
Seokjin eyes him warily, though Yoongi can see the mixture of disbelief and fondness fighting to make their presence known.
“You know who did this, don’t you? That’s why you’re not freaking out right now, isn’t it?” Seokjin fires quickly. He looks back at his reflection and frowns deeply.
Yoongi feigns hurt, “Excuse me. I never freak out. That’s always you, dear.”
Seokjin scoffs and starts tugging again.
Yoongi rolls his eyes fondly and pulls Seokjin’s hands away from his hair, “I have an idea who might be responsible, yes.”
Seokjin follows as Yoongi leaves the bathroom and makes his way to the first room on the right in the hallway.
If one were to happen upon the scene, it would just appear as two five year olds cutting paper hearts for Valentine’s day with their red and blue safety scissors, the low table an absolute mess of scraps, spilled glitter and uncapped, drying glue sticks.
But if you were someone in search of a poor hairdresser, you might have a different perspective on the scene.
As a father, Seokjin felt warm fondness expand in his chest and spread through him. As a man who had a job and needed to look decent and put together for it and also as an adult who needed to go outside, Seokjin felt frustration drip into the serene blossom of fatherly adoration he had been enjoying.
Before he could act, Yoongi cooly stepped over to the table and knelt beside the working boys.
“Hey kiddos,” he started innocently enough, “What are you working on?”
Taehyung finished cutting out what looked like his sixth pink heart and unfolded it to its full size, beaming at how the parts at the top looked rounder than the last heart, which kinda looked choppy. He set the heart down and prepared to bring the purple glue stick in for landing. “Valentines!” he chirped and smashed the glue on the construction paper, dragging it in three, thick lines before scribbling back over them to cover as much of the pink as he could. Then he reached his sticky hand towards the silver glitter shaker and upturned it over the heart, shaking three times before pausing to regard his work like a true artist. He closed one eye and poked his tongue out, eyeing the left half of the heart. With two more shakes, he nodded to himself and deemed this heart a masterpiece.
“Just like Starry Night hyung,” he said, looking up at Yoongi.
Yoongi picked up the heart and tried not to grimace as the excess glitter ran off the paper onto the table and floor. “Like the pictures we saw on TV yesterday?”
Taehyung nodded and grabbed a navy blue piece of paper, folding it over to match up the edges.
Behind them, Seokjin shifted from leaning against the door frame to come kneel beside Jimin, who was busy sticking adhesive foam hearts to a larger, red heart. His little, chubby fingers struggled to peel the white plastic off the back.
“Let me help, Minnie,” Seokjin said, gently taking the foam heart. He carefully handed it back to Jimin, and watched him meticulously place it over the ‘아’ character in ‘난 당신을 사랑 아빠’.
Seokjin shares a look with Yoongi across the table and silently glares at him. Yoongi pouts for a second before nodding slightly.
“Boys,” he starts carefully, “have you looked at appa’s hair today?”
Taehyung looks up and grins, “Appa looks cute like Taehyungie!”
Seokjin tuts softly, almost letting his smile overtake his features, “Do either of you know how it got to look like this?”
Jimin glances at his twin and the two seem to communicate telepathically because in the next instant they are both proudly claiming to be the mystery hairdresser. They look at Seokjin with such wide eyes that Seokjin almost falters in his quest to scold the toddlers.
“Jimin, Taehyung, you know you’re not allowed to use your scissors on anything but paper. Cutting appa’s hair was not okay.”
Jimin noticeably looks fallen at the discipline, “Do you not like it?”
Seokjin has to steel himself from those big doe eyes and pouty lower lip, “It’s not that, Jimin. But I can’t have you two cutting my hair just because you want to. Scissors can hurt you if you’re not safe. You could’ve hurt yourself or appa if you weren’t careful. Appa goes to someone whose job is to use special scissors to cut hair only when his hair gets too long so everyone is safe. Do you understand?”
Taehyung frowns at the half cut heart in front of him, “But appa said he couldn’t see yesterday because of his hair. And when Taehyungie said that, appa cut my hair with skissors and I could see again. Minnie and me didn’t want appa to not be able to see.”
Yoongi patted Taehyung’s back, “That’s a nice thing to think, but Taehyung and Jimin aren’t allowed to use their scissors on hair. The rule is that your scissors are for paper only.”
Taehyung and Jimin share a guilty look between them, “Does that mean we’re in trouble?”
Seokjin inhales, “You are in trouble for cutting my hair without asking and for breaking the scissors rule, but do you understand why?”
Jimin squeezes the edge of the table, embarrassment heating up his cheeks, “Because… because hair is only allowed to be cut by special scissors…” Taehyung nods solemnly along.
“That’s right,” Seokjin agrees. “So that means no snack or TV time today as punishment. Okay?”
The twins pout deeper, but answer ok in unison. They slowly go back to their heart making and Seokjin and Yoongi leave the room.
Seokjin walks to the master bathroom and resumes appraising his hair. Yoongi leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed leisurely against his chest.
“The bangs are relatively ok… but…” he sighs, “they did a number on the rest of my hair. I’m probably going to have to shave the sides and give myself an…” he shivers, “an undercut.”
Yoongi chuckles to himself, “You’re going to look so young and sexy, hyung.”
Seokjin retrieves his electric razor from the third drawer, “I guess that’s the result of a five year old’s handiwork. God, I have to give myself an undercut. I’m going to look just like one of my students,” he chuckles almost humorlessly, but there’s a little glimmer starting to peek through as he thinks of the explanation he’s going to have to give his co-workers. “No one’s going to believe my twin five year olds gave me a haircut. Maybe I can wear a beanie.”
Yoongi shakes his head and smiles, “You’ll definitely look like one of your students, then. Make sure you don’t forget to wear your wide rim glasses and stop at starbucks before lecture. Oh and a tweed jacket and brown loafers.”
Seokjin laughs and this time it squeaks genuinely, “Now you’re describing English majors. Acting majors have variety,” he gestures with the razor. “I could wear stripes and bold flower prints and white sneakers, or an anime t-shirt I got online and sweatpants and Uggs and be a theater student, but I’ve never seen my students make that much effort on a Tuesday.” He turns and regards Yoongi, “You should see them on Thursday at 8:30, that’s the pyjama witching hour.”
Yoongi smirked, “We’ve both been there. I have no regrets.”
“I never wore my pajamas to class. I usually had tutoring before my classes so I had to be composed for those.”
“God,” Yoongi pushes off of the threshold and puts his hands on Seokjin’s hips and pulls him closer, “you are the epitome of the golden student. How did you find me in the slums of Music Theory?”
Seokjin rubs his nose against Yoongi’s, sneaking a peck on his cheekbone, “You’re magnetic, Yoongi-chi. I’m telling you, I was drawn to you. It was fate that I tripped over your chair and spilled my papers all over you in the library. Destiny. We must have been star crossed lovers in our last lives.”
Yoongi presses a kiss on Seokjin’s plump lips, “Whatever it is, I’m so happy you did. You have shitty hair because of that. It’s a miracle.”
Seokjin scoffs and pulls away, a quiet smirk on his lips, “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute, Yoongi.”
Yoongi winks and shoots two finger guns at Seokjin before turning them into finger hearts. He slips out to go check on the twin cosmetologists before someone else's hair falls victim.