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Jimin scrubbed away at a grease stain on his pan, knuckles red from the hot water, and brush bristles rubbed raw. He bit into his cheek and pushed harder, refusing to sink into the exhaustion behind his eyelids and abandon the messy scene before him.
The dishes were long overdue for a cleaning, the sink practically full for a couple days now. Between Seoyeon’s dance practices to the multitude of other household chores occupying him, Jimin found many excuses to leave the kitchen be.
It was coming up on eleven o’clock now, however, and there was no use sitting on the couch and watching the clock tick while he waited. Yoongi should have been home hours ago, Jimin reminded himself for the nth time that night, fingertips numb as he bore into a particularly frustrating stain. He should have gotten home before Seoyeon’s bedtime, and it should have been Yoongi’s turn to put the rowdy four-year-old to sleep. Instead, Jimin was left to endure her whining and puppy eyes, insisting despite her complaints that she needed to rest.
At least the house was quiet now that she was tucked in.
Jimin dropped the pan with a groan, letting it sink into the suds as he watched with hooded vision. There were still a few plates left to tackle; Seoyeon had microwaved cheese on one for some mysterious reason earlier that day, and the aftermath was a horror to observe. Jimin supposed he should be grateful that he had already wiped out the microwave.
Jimin gingerly reached down and plucked up the massacred plate and wrinkled his nose. He could really use a drink—a strong one.
The omega began humming to himself to distract from his general discomfort, keeping his vision on the sink below him rather than any of the clocks surrounding him. He didn’t want to know what time it was anymore, or how far the moon had travelled across the city skyline. The evident passage of time and general silence within his home would only frustrate him more.
Jimin’s posture stiffened and his shoulders hunched up to his neck when he heard the passcode to the apartment’s front door being entered. For a moment, Jimin didn’t want it to be his husband, didn’t want to deal with the growing tension between them, or accidentally lash out when Yoongi was in his most tired state.
Jimin didn’t realize he had scrubbed the plate in his grasp clean until he lifted it. His red and raw hands plucked up a towel, and he slowly wiped at the wet porcelain, staring out the apartment windows rather than looking toward the entryway, the click of the door resounding across the hardwood floors.
Yoongi sighed as he shuffled out of his shoes, and Jimin quietly set his dry plate on the countertop, palms gripping the edge of the clean granite. Yoongi was ruffling his hair as he entered the kitchen, stopping cold after a belated second. He blinked at Jimin.
“I figured you’d be asleep right now.”
Jimin bit the inside of his cheek. “You know I have a hard time sleeping alone.”
Yoongi made a small grunt and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. You didn’t have to—” He surveyed the kitchen, brows furrowing, “—Clean literally everything, though.”
“It’s a good distraction,” Jimin stated. “And someone has to keep things clean around here.”
Yoongi shifted on his feet, an awkward silence between them as Jimin rinsed and dried another plate. Yoongi tapped the counter, searching for a reply that wouldn’t rile Jimin up any more.
“Did Seoyeon go down without a fight tonight?” Yoongi asked, glancing behind himself in the direction of the dark hall.
“Less fussy than usual,” Jimin said with a small smile and a shrug. “The hard part was the bath. She ran to her room before I could get a towel on her hair, so she dripped water all over the floor and soaked the back of her shirt. She’s getting too good at wiggling out of my arms.”
“She’s a bundle of trouble, hm?” Yoongi snorted.
“She behaves better when you give her baths. I think there’s something about your tone that she takes more seriously. Or maybe she just likes to watch me get frustrated. I have to say, ‘Ah, what’s Appa gonna think when he hears about this? I don’t know if he’s going to buy you any more ice cream.’”
“I hope that works.”
“Mm, sometimes. She’s probably starting to figure out how empty a lot of my threats are.”
Yoongi made a small noise of agreement, then stepped closer, brushing his hand along Jimin’s nape. His thumb massaged down into the stiff muscles between Jimin’s shoulder blades.
He must have been trying to ease Jimin, but the contact’s warmth swiftly grew into a scathing heat, reminding Jimin of just how long his husband had been gone. Yoongi had left the apartment before Jimin was fully awake, only a few quick words exchanged between them, and Yoongi had returned rather late the night prior, too. He hadn’t properly touched Jimin in a long while.
“How was the office?” Jimin curtly asked, bringing the subject back around.
“Fine. I worked with Joon for a few hours,” Yoongi replied, cautious. “We’re also working out a producing gig with a new artist. I can’t really talk about it until it’s finalized, but it’s an exciting opportunity.”
“I bet,” Jimin said absently. His hands had been unoccupied for about a minute now, faucet off and dishes stacked beside him. “What held you up so late?”
“Ah, I was just… finalizing things. A few changes turned into some larger revisions, and I sorta lost track of time,” Yoongi said, volume dropping. “It was a, uh, one-time thing. I didn’t mean to stay so late—”
“You said six o’clock, hyung,” Jimin interrupted. “Remember when we agreed on that weeks ago? You’d have all day in your studio, and you’d be back in time to have dinner with us, and some time to spend with your daughter.”
“I know,” Yoongi said. “I swear I didn’t mean to.”
“But this isn’t the first time,” Jimin said, tone sharpening. “We agreed on six o’clock, but you’re rarely back before eight. You always tell me this is the last time, that you’re gonna set an alarm, that you’re gonna be better about it. But you never keep your word.”
“Jimin,” Yoongi stated, straightening up. “Things are busy right now.”
“Aren’t they always?” Jimin retorted, expression pinched. “And even if that’s the case, Namjoon-hyung can pick up some of your slack. You shouldn’t ever be too busy for your family.”
“I didn’t realize you were so upset about this,” Yoongi said carefully, putting a bit of distance between them as Jimin’s cheeks and neck flared red.
“Seriously?” Jimin huffed. “You should be thinking about what it’s like in my position, being a stay-at-home parent and never knowing when your partner’s gonna be around, how much you can rely on him to help out. The least you could do is call when you know you’re going to be held up.”
“Jimin-ah, I’m sorry,” Yoongi coaxed. “We made this decision together when you were pregnant with Seoyeon, though—that you would be the one to stay home and take care of her. If that’s not what you want anymore—”
“It’s not Seoyeon,” Jimin argued. “The problem isn’t her; I don’t mind being home to take care of her. I just…” He inhaled deeply. “I don’t like being alone so often. I’m proud of what you do, hyung, but there’s a limit to how much of yourself you should be dedicating to your job. You get to spend so much of your time outside, with your friends and colleagues, and I can barely spare time for a nap or a coffee date with Taehyung. Do you not see how unfair this is?”
Jimin could practically see Yoongi’s defenses raising, from the firm purse of his lips to the clench of his jaw.
Floors down, a siren blared, the city a cacophony of noise no matter the hour. The skull-ringing blare echoed up and into their apartment, filling the air between them and setting the thick tension alight. The siren grew louder before it began to fade, Jimin watching Yoongi with labored breathing until the atmosphere stilled, returning to a silence potent enough for a pin-drop to reverberate.
Yoongi turned his head away, swallowing as his throat tightened with evident frustration. “I work very hard,” he said slowly. “Day after day, because I care about my family and want to provide for you. It’s my hard work that’s gotten us so far, that’s gotten us this expensive home and nice furniture.”
“Yeah, because you definitely did everything on your own,” Jimin scoffed. “Never mind the husband you have at home tirelessly keeping up with the expenses and the maintenance of this apartment. Or what about before we had all this?” Jimin growled, gesturing wildly. “What about when we lived in a tiny, cramped place with no savings, while I worked two jobs to let you follow your dreams—”
“Of course I appreciate that. We both have made sacrifices—”
“Don’t tell me about sacrifices,” Jimin exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I gave up dancing to have your baby, Yoongi, and to take care of her while you’re off being a celebrity. I bathe her, feed her, tuck her in every fucking night!”
“And who’s the one who gives you the money for all that?” Yoongi coldly shot back, gaze narrowed and piercing. “I give you the money for the bills, for her clothes and food, for all your jewelry and makeup and designer-brand shit. Everything you own,” he hissed, pointing out toward the living room and their bedroom beyond, “Comes from me. What would you have without me?”
Jimin flinched at the ice in his words, stumbling back a step. “Without you?” He echoed, voice hoarse. “I guess I would have a husband who loves me enough to be around, to wash the dishes every once in a while, to not… hold that over my head.”
Jimin bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to tear up as emotion swelled within his chest, filling his lungs until oxygen was scarce.
Yoongi sucked in a sharp breath, a mix of hurt and offense marring his face. “Why would you say that?” He rasped. “Jimin, I love you more anything else in the world. I…”
Jimin sniffled and shook his head, clutching the counter’s edge as his head swirled. He needed to get away, needed to push past Yoongi and maybe lock himself in their bedroom for the night. His heart just stung, and he desperately wanted some reprieve.
“That’s not what it feels like when you say stuff like that,” Jimin muttered, feeling a hiccup rise up his throat.
There was tiny creak in the floorboard beyond them, then a little voice; “Why is Papa crying?”
Jimin’s head whipped up, and Yoongi spun around, the both of them shocked to find their daughter peeking into the kitchen.
Seoyeon was clinging to the wall, eyes huge and glassy, like a miniature version of Jimin’s own puppy gaze. Her round cheeks were rosy, bottom lip wobbling as she glanced between her parents. She was a groggy mess—her hair sticking up from tossing around on her pillow, her oversized sleeves covering her hands.
Jimin quickly wiped at the moisture gathering at his lash-line, making sure no tears had fallen free to streak down his cheeks. “Papa’s not crying, baby,” his said, voice warbly. He rushed forward and stepped around Yoongi’s frozen form, bending down to scoop Seoyeon up. “I’m alright,” he said, mustering a weak smile for her.
As Jimin walked out of the kitchen, cuddling Seoyeon to his chest, Yoongi found his bearings and trailed after them.
“Jimin,” he said, tense yet quiet.
Jimin turned on his heel to fix Yoongi with a narrowed gaze. “I’m done talking to you right now.”
“Dropping this is only gonna make it worse,” Yoongi argued, making furtive glances at their daughter. “Put her back to bed, and let’s go sit down.”
“No,” Jimin stated, frown etched deep. “I need space, hyung. I think I’ll stay with Tae for the night—”
“It’s late,” Yoongi sighed.
“He’ll understand. And I’m taking my baby.”
“Wait, no,” Yoongi swiftly argued. “She’s my daughter, too—”
He stopped when Seoyeon shifted around in Jimin’s grasp to blink at Yoongi blearily. The furrow of his brow lessened, and his shoulders slumped.
“Hi, sunshine,” Yoongi murmured. “I’m sorry we woke you.”
“It’s just one night,” Jimin whispered, hoping Seoyeon was too tired to fully process what was going on. “You’ll barely miss us.”
“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi coaxed.
“Don’t use that tone right now.” He bit his lip, trying to hold his ground, then craned his head down to look at Seoyeon. “Is it okay if we have a sleepover with Uncle Tae?” Jimin asked.
Seoyeon looked even more confused, and she stared at Yoongi for a few moments, waiting for an affirmation. Yoongi averted his gaze.
“Yeah,” she mumbled. She rested her cheek on Jimin’s shoulder, clearly done with this conversation.
Yoongi seemed ready to say more, but Jimin turned his back on him and wandered to the hall. When he reached Seoyeon’s room, he set her down on the toddler bed stacked with plushies, and he stuffed a change of clothes into one of her backpacks. Jimin knew he wouldn’t need to bring anything extra for himself, so he simply plucked Seoyeon up again. He spotted her favorite blanket before he left, grabbing it and slinging it over his shoulder beside her.
He put his wallet and phone in his pockets when he returned to the living room, pausing a moment to wrack his brain as to where he left his keys. Yoongi was idling where Jimin had left him, arms crossed as he watched Jimin flit about.
Yoongi eventually retreated to the dining table and returned with Jimin’s keys in hand, waving them for Jimin to see.
Jimin bit his lip, flushing pink as he snatched them from Yoongi’s grip.
Despite his evident displeasure, Yoongi apparently realized there was no use in arguing with Jimin anymore. He simply tugged on Jimin’s sleeve to make him stop, then pressed a gentle kiss to Seoyeon’s forehead.
“Drive safe,” Yoongi murmured, a tinge of dejection in his tone, as Jimin pulled away and retreated to the front door.
Jimin didn’t look back before exiting, promptly leaving the apartment and making the short trip down to the parking garage. He heaved a sigh of relief when he had Seoyeon buckled into her car seat, and he slumped into the plush leather of the driver’s side after slamming the door shut.
“Why’s Appa not coming?” Seoyeon asked, words slurred. She rubbed her eyes and squinted out the window to the dim parking garage.
“It’s just a Papa and Seoyeon sleepover,” Jimin lightly replied.
“We have those all the time,” she grumbled. Seoyeon sunk into her chair and rested her cheek against the belt strap.
“I know,” Jimin said, smile faltering. “It’s gonna be fun, though. We haven’t seen Uncle Taehyung in so long. We can probably make waffles in the morning, and watch a movie?”
Seoyeon merely grunted in reply.
Jimin took a steadying breath and turned the ignition.
Jimin and Yoongi had been together since what felt like the beginning. Jimin was fresh out of high school, beginning his job as a children’s dance instructor while he continued to train during his off-hours. He wasn’t looking for commitment, and he had never been in a serious relationship. But he got asked out by a charming alpha with a deep voice and a hot leather jacket at a bar one night, and Jimin simply couldn’t resist.
He supposed the rest was history—feeling them click so naturally, falling in love, moving in together, working tirelessly to keep themselves afloat in the big city. Yoongi was always worth the trouble, though; and as Jimin would soon learn, he was well worth the sacrifices, too.
Kids weren’t part of Yoongi’s plan, and although Jimin didn’t mind the thought of being a father, he hadn’t wished to take up the role that young. He was twenty-one when they found out he was pregnant. Money wasn’t abundant, and the bills seemed to pile up endlessly, but Yoongi’s big break was just on the horizon. They could feel it.
Jimin quit dancing, took a huge step back and allowed himself to be cared for rather than the other way around. When the money came, Yoongi assured Jimin over and over again that he didn’t have to worry, that Jimin could simply stay at home with Seoyeon. He would give them a comfortable life.
Life could never be easy, however, and over the years the couple faced more than a few spats. Amidst their biggest fights, Jimin learned that the best course of action was to allow them time and space. When they were alone, they could truly sort out their thoughts without stoking the flame further.
Taehyung knew this all, as well.
When Taehyung opened the door to find Jimin on his front porch, Seoyeon cradled in his arms, he heaved an exhale and ushered them in. “I don’t know why you don’t just make Yoongi sleep on the couch,” Taehyung muttered as he shut the door behind them.
Jungkook was in the dark living room, eyes wide as he took in their guests. His features were highlighted by the shifting colors of the television in front of him, his lips parted in question.
“They’re staying over,” Taehyung curtly informed his boyfriend. “I hope the guest bed’s clean.”
Jungkook stood from the sofa and stretched his arms. “Even if it’s not, I’m not washing the sheets at this hour.”
“Is the little one knocked out?” Taehyung asked, peering over Jimin’s shoulder. He brushed his fingers through Seoyeon’s hair.
Jimin hummed. “She didn’t last the drive out to the suburbs.”
“Understandably. It’s almost midnight.”
“Hey, I can tuck her into the guest bed while you guys discuss whatever this is,” Jungkook spoke up, padding over to them. “I’m sure you’ve got a lot to vent about.”
Despite the mocking hint in his tone, Jimin nodded with relief. He carefully passed Seoyeon over, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders once she was secure in Jungkook’s arms.
“Thank you,” Jimin said, passing off her backpack, too, after a pause.
As Jungkook departed, Taehyung grasped Jimin’s hand and led him toward the sofa, settling them down into the soft cushions. Taehyung muted the TV and leaned into the armrest, fixing an expectant gaze on Jimin.
“What’re you fighting about now?” He prompted.
“You say that like we fight all the time.”
“Well, you bicker every other minute,” Taehyung shrugged.
Jimin puffed out his cheeks, fiddling with his sleeves as he tried to find the simplest way to summarize it all. “Things just haven’t been working for a little while.”
Taehyung’s lips curved down, and he leaned forward. “What do you mean? The spark went out? You’re not getting along?”
“Not quite… that,” Jimin shook his head. “More like we’re both being stubborn about how we live our lives, and it’s not exactly connecting the way it should. If that makes sense?”
“But,” Taehyung drawled, considering, “When you get married, you don’t really have two separate lives anymore, right? Not that you aren’t an individual, but you’re like, collaborating within your shared life. At least, that’s how it’s always seemed to me.”
“Yeah,” Jimin softly replied. He worried his lower lip. “It’s just… how is that supposed to work if he’s never there? We’re not exactly working together if we barely spend any time together. It used to be a decent balance between his music and his home life, but now I’m home alone basically all the time. It’s frustrating that I signed up for a partner and he’s not—not showing up.”
“And you’ve told him?” Taehyung asked, carefully observing Jimin’s reaction.
“Of course—”
“I mean, earlier than today. Have you really talked about this before? In depth?”
“I’ve tried,” Jimin said meekly. “We set ground rules, and he doesn’t listen to them. He keeps coming home late.”
“Maybe it’s because he doesn’t understand why those rules are so important, or why it means so much to you,” Taehyung suggested, squeezing Jimin’s hand. “It’s definitely not right for him to be spending so much time in the studio, but if you’ve never really shared your side of things, there’s no wonder he hasn’t made any serious changes.”
Jimin reached back to rub at his stiff and aching neck, gaze downcast. “It feels like Seoyeon’s growing so quickly. Even if hyung doesn’t think he needs to be around to help me, he should at least be with her more often. You only get so much time to spend with your kids.” He massaged deeper into the muscles around his should blades. “God, maybe I really should have made Yoongi talk this over with me months ago. It’s been building up way too long.”
Taehyung nodded in understanding, his thumb soothingly kneading Jimin’s palm. “You gotta get on the same page with your husband. As much as Yoongi annoys me, it’d be a pain in your ass to find someone new at this age.”
Jimin gaped. “I’m only in my mid-twenties!”
“The clock’s still ticking, Jiminie,” Taehyung dramatically sighed. “And I’m not sure how many alphas want to get involved with someone who’s already pregnant.”
Jimin froze, palm laying flat against his nape. “What?” He dumbly replied. A moment passed before he warily glanced around the empty living room. “Who told you that?” He whispered. “I haven’t even told anyone.”
Taehyung snorted. “I know you like the back of my own hand, Jimin. Your spine gets really stiff when you’re pregnant, so you make a habit of rubbing at your neck, like you’ve been doing the past few minutes. And honestly, I could tell from your awkward and uncomfortable posture when you first came in. I’m surprised I noticed before Yoongi.”
Jimin tried to shake off his residual shock. “Like I’ve been saying, he’s not exactly around much to notice anything.”
“Kinda makes me wonder how you got knocked up, then,”
Jimin made a disgruntled noise and scooted away, Taehyung chuckling at his embarrassment.
“It’s alright; I’ll use my imagination.”
“Please don’t,” Jimin grumbled, curling into himself.
Taehyung patted Jimin’s hand, taking a deep breath as his laughter died out. “I know you guys will make up in no time. But just in case you don’t, I hope you know I’d marry you and raise that newborn as my own in a heartbeat.”
Jimin arched an incredulous brow at him. “How selfless of you.”
“Of course, it’s who I am at heart. The child support payments we get from Yoongi won’t hurt, either.”
Jimin rolled his eyes and nudged Taehyung’s hand away. “Thanks for always thinking ahead.”
“You bet, babe,” Taehyung winked. “You need anything before you head off to bed?”
“A pair of sweats?” Jimin suggested.
Taehyung hummed and rose from his seat. “Okay. We’ll get you settled in, and I’ll go find Kook before he gets too tired and grumpy. He loves to complain about how I don’t give him enough attention.”
“I thought that was the point of you two moving in together?”
“Right?” Taehyung heartily agreed. He shook his head as he meandered toward the hall. “I don’t know why I picked the neediest boyfriend.”
Once Jimin was changed and ready for bed, he nearly collapsed on the mattress next to Seoyeon, understandably exhausted out of his wits. Seoyeon was undisturbed by his entrance or the rustling of the bed as Jimin pulled back the sheets. She was laying like a starfish with her mouth open, relaxed in a very deep sleep.
Jimin admired her round face and chubby cheeks, reminding himself what all this was for—his daughter he loved more than the universe and all the stars within it. Yeah, he could make an endless amount of amends with Yoongi for Seoyeon’s sake, as long as she was happy and well-cared for.
Eyelids drooping, Jimin reluctantly turned away from her, flicking off the bedside lamp before he nuzzled into his pillow and drifted off.
○
Morning sunlight was warm and harsh against Jimin’s eyelids. He stirred, legs tangled in his sheets, and scrunched up his nose in annoyance. Jimin shifted over and reached out to Yoongi’s side, patting around to wake his husband.
“Hyung, close the blinds,” he grumbled.
Jimin continued to feel around, palm only skimming across bunched up sheets and a pillow. His scrunched his brow. Yoongi rarely got up before Jimin, especially without tapping Jimin to let him know he’d overslept.
Jimin heaved a deep breath and opened his eyes, indeed met with an empty, haphazard other side of the bed. It took him a few more seconds of groggy contemplation to recall the previous evening, and the fact that Yoongi hadn’t occupied this bed with him in the first place.
Jimin slowly sat up, rubbing at his bleary eyes as he tried to take in the stillness of the guest room. “Seoyeon?” He called, voice raspy and hoarse.
A giggle echoed down the hall, the deep timber of Taehyung’s voice following soon after, words muffled from the distance. Oh, Taehyung must have gotten his daughter up and left Jimin to rest.
Jimin honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in. There was always a little girl to dress and feed, grocery shopping to do, or chores to get started on. This kind of morning felt pretty nice.
He rubbed at an ache in his lower back as he slid off the edge of the bed, wandering toward the door to check out the commotion beyond. Jimin ruffled his bedhead and stepped into the hall, Seoyeon’s excited chatter growing in volume.
Jimin smelled breakfast and heard the sizzle of a griddle, unsurprised to find Taehyung in the kitchen and Seoyeon at the dining table. Seoyeon had a big plate in front of her, waffles stacked high and dense. There was no way she was going to finish even two of them, but she had already drenched the entire serving in syrup. She was raising a can of whipped cream when she spotted Jimin, a grin blooming on her face.
“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Taehyung called, leaning on the countertop to get a better look at Jimin. “I figured you could use the extra hour of sleep.”
“Yes, thank you,” Jimin said softly. He gestured to Seoyeon’s waffles and arched a brow.
“Ah,” Taehyung drawled, smirking. “I heard from little miss that you promised her waffles, and I never disappoint as a host.”
Jimin nodded in understanding, walking toward the table with a smile. “And that’s why you’re her favorite uncle.” He settled a palm atop Seoyeon’s head, watching her dig into the fluffy pastry, whipped cream forgotten for now. Jimin belatedly noticed that Seoyeon’s hair was tied up into two neat, bouncy pigtails. He combed his fingers through their loose strands. “Did you do this?” He asked Taehyung.
“Koo did!” Seoyeon excitedly corrected around a mouthful. She kicked her legs out under the table, her feet far from reaching the ground.
Jimin glanced back at Taehyung for confirmation.
Taehyung shrugged. “It was a good distraction for them both while I cooked. He did a surprisingly decent job, too.”
“Mm, much better than you would’ve managed,” Jimin replied
Taehyung scoffed and simply returned to his crackling griddle. “What d’you want, Jiminie? Eggs? Sausages? Waffles? I’ve still got batter, and the fridge is stocked.”
“What’re you having?”
“An omelet, I think.”
“I’ll do the same, then, please,” Jimin replied. When Taehyung levelled him with an expectant look, Jimin hunched down shyly. “And a waffle, too. But just one.”
“Right, you only let yourself put on so much baby fat,” Taehyung mused. “Sit down while you wait. Seoyeon’s already spilled the syrup once; she’s better off having an eye on her.”
“Oh, I know,” Jimin sighed, settling in the chair beside her. He had cleaned up nearly all of her messes for the past couple years. She could be quite the tornado.
Jimin noticed his phone farther down the table; he must have left it on the couch the night prior. He reached out and plucked it up, the screen flashing alight to show him that he had a litany of messages and voicemails, all of which were from Yoongi. Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose and clicked the power button to put the device back to sleep. That was not a headache he wanted to deal with before getting some food in his system.
Taehyung worked quick, having a plate in front of Jimin by the time Seoyeon had finished her first waffle. Jimin offered a series of thanks before digging in.
He watched Seoyeon as he ate, amused by how she struggled with the sheer volume of the food in front of her. Although she was evidently already full—she had the small stomach of a four-year-old, after all—she continued to shove forkfuls into her mouth, chewing slowly.
When Jimin was halfway through his breakfast, Seoyeon had practically given up, resorting to dipping her finger in syrup and licking it off. She eventually rediscovered the can of whipped cream, and Jimin had to sternly tell her that she needed to wait for him to operate it in her stead. Taehyung didn’t need that getting everywhere, and Jimin didn’t want to spend the rest of the morning washing it off of Seoyeon’s face and out of her hair.
Jimin gave her a nice little dollop of the cream on her plate, hoping that would last her a couple minutes, and stood to bring his plate to the kitchen. He stopped at the sink and began rinsing it, Taehyung behind him as he shut off his cooking supplies, ready to head to the table and eat, too.
There was a knock on the door, and they both paused immediately. Taehyung set his plate back on the counter and exchanged a confused look with Jimin. “Be right back?” He said, leaving the kitchen to answer it.
“It’s not Kook, right?” Jimin called.
“No, he’s gone to work for the day,” Taehyung replied.
Jimin heard the clicking of the locks, resuming his rinsing as he waited.
The door creaked open, and Taehyung uttered a grunt of dissatisfaction. “Why are you here?” Was his dull greeting.
“Good morning to you, too,” Yoongi replied.
Jimin shut his eyes for a brief moment, collecting his composure. God, at least he’d gotten the chance to eat first.
“I don’t think Jimin’s ready to talk with you yet.”
“C’mon, Taehyung. Let me see my daughter.”
Taehyung grumbled something incoherent, a span of seconds passing for footsteps resounded and the door slammed shut. Jimin genuinely wondered if Taehyung had shut the door in Yoongi’s face. Yet, Taehyung clearly had more patience than anticipated, as Yoongi was paused in the kitchen entryway mere moments later.
“Jimin,” he quietly greeted.
Jimin merely allowed him a curt nod.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Fine,” Jimin stated. “Rested.”
“Good,” Yoongi replied, idling as he searched for more to say.
Then Taehyung shoved his way through, physically jarring Yoongi. “Go see your daughter,” Taehyung said, fixing him with a challenging glare.
Yoongi exhaled, probably figuring it was a fight not worth picking, and turned away to find Seoyeon.
“I can make him leave—”
“No, it’s fine,” Jimin interrupted, volume low. “I’m glad he at least wants to see Seoyeon. And she likes being around him, so… yeah, it’s fine.”
Taehyung looked doubtful, but he didn’t question Jimin. “Okay,” he conceded, grasping his plate and setting a course out of the kitchen once more.
When Jimin followed after him, he found Yoongi bent down beside Seoyeon, their daughter trying to feed him giant pieces of syrup-soaked waffle. Yoongi didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he seemed to be enduring it for Seoyeon’s sake. She didn’t quite understand that not everyone else liked the things she liked yet.
Jimin pursed his lips when he noticed a smear of whipped cream on Seoyeon’s cheek. He couldn’t tell if Yoongi had done that, or if the girl had managed it herself.
As Yoongi chewed the soggy pastry, he listened to Seoyeon enthusiastically ramble about her morning, nodding along in encouragement and feigning excitement himself.
“—And we watched cartoons, and Uncle Tae tried to braid my hair, but he was bad at it, so Koo pulled it up, but the ponytail was bad, so I said pigtails, so we sat on the couch and he did pigtails, but he had to leave, and I came here to eat, and there were so many waffles! I already ate lots, though, but I know Uncle Tae can make more for you, Appa.” Seoyeon finally stopped to take a breath.
Yoongi jumped in before she could start again. “Oh, that’s a nice offer, baby, but I’m already so full from what you’ve fed me.” He pinched her rosy cheek and smiled down at her warmly. “Thank you, though. You’re so good at sharing.”
Yoongi paused, glancing up at Jimin as his expression mellowed out. “Actually, I need to talk with Papa for a bit, too. Do you think you can keep Uncle Tae company while we step away?”
Seoyeon’s eyes widened, and she glanced between them all. “Okay.”
“Thank you,” Yoongi said softly. He brushed his fingers through her hair, kissed her forehead, and straightened up.
“Go to the back patio. I don’t wanna hear your arguing,” Taehyung grumbled, pointing to the sliding glass doors.
Jimin bit the inside of his cheek, reluctant to confront this tension at all. But then Yoongi offered out his hand, and Jimin’s heart did a little skip. He supposed he could be a responsible adult for a few minutes.
Jimin gently grasped Yoongi’s hand and let himself be led out of the house.
The sun was already rather high in the sky, only a scatter of clouds drifting over it to block the harshest rays. At the edge of the porch was a fence, and the two drifted over to lean upon the top railing.
Jimin watched a tree in the yard, its branches swaying, lush, green leaves shimmering under the yellow light. The shadows the leaves cast were ever-changing, like a dusting of glitter on the lawn below.
“I wish you would’ve told me earlier,” Yoongi finally murmured. “I didn’t know this was getting to you so much.”
Jimin rested his weight against the railing, slumping into the wood as he exhaled. “Tae kinda pointed that out to me last night. I guess… I got so wrapped up in my assumptions that I forgot to really talk about what was going on in my own head. I figured you knew, and maybe you just, I don’t know, didn’t care all that much.”
Yoongi shifted to face Jimin, lips downturned. “I never want to upset you,” he said, nearly a whisper. “I love you so much, Jimin, and I can’t express enough how grateful I am for what you do for Seoyeon, and how you support me no matter what.”
Jimin pulled his lower lip between his teeth and nodded, emotion welling up once again. “I love being her dad,” he replied. “But it gets so hard sometimes, feeling like I’m doing it alone.”
Yoongi shifted his stance, grasping for the right words, still simmering in the past few hours they had spent separated. His appearance was more ragged than usual, skin lacking color and under-eyes dark with a lack of rest.
Jimin felt a gentle, coaxing urge to cuddle up with the alpha and simply let him nap.
“After you left, I had a lot of time to sit and think. I didn’t really get much sleep. But I realize I need to do better. Yeah, my job is so fucking important. God, it’s all I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid.”
Jimin hummed in affirmation. He reached out and rested his hand atop Yoongi’s as the alpha formulated what he would say next. He clearly wanted to avoid any more misunderstandings or verbal slip-ups.
“But you’re more important, really. I want you to be happy with how things are, with our family and our relationship. So, I… I talked to Joon a few hours ago. We’re going to work on putting gap days into my schedule. No work, not at the studio or at home. I won’t even answer emails. And I’m going to set a real curfew, I promise. If I’m late by even a minute, you’re going to call me, okay?”
Jimin met his gaze, took note of the sincerity in Yoongi’s expression, the insistence of his tone. Jimin smiled. “And if you’re too distracted to answer?”
“Call Namjoon, the receptionist, whoever. Someone will drag me out,” Yoongi firmly stated. He squeezed Jimin’s hand. “I’m going to help out more, and you’re going to tell me when something’s wrong—like when you need a break, or when something between us just isn’t working.”
“Mm, I could… use the extra free time,” Jimin admitted. “Seoyeon can be draining. I mean, a serious joy, but—well, y’know.”
“I know,” Yoongi agreed, rubbing his thumb along Jimin’s knuckles. He observed the omega for a long moment, from the purse of his lips to the residual dark circles under his own eyes. “Jimin-ah, is this still what you want to be doing fulltime?”
Jimin paused, taken aback by the question. His lips parted in hesitation; he supposed he hadn’t given any real thought to the matter. Being a stay-at-home father had been his life for almost five years. It was getting hard to imagine straying from that, especially with the knowledge that a new baby was on the way.
“I’m not sure, honestly,” Jimin breathed, eyes downcast as Yoongi twined their fingers. “For now, I think I’m okay. But I might feel a bit different in the future. I do miss dancing, miss having those friends and having that drive.”
“You could start taking classes again—”
“Ah, let’s give it a couple years,” Jimin interrupted, trying to hide his smile as he imagined his very pregnant self attempting to do a plie, or even worse, a split.
Yoongi arched a brow, suddenly confused.
Jimin began to snicker and hunched forward, his forehead landing on Yoongi’s chest. His shoulders shook, and he tried to catch his breath. “M’sorry, I keep forgetting you don’t know,” Jimin uttered between wheezing chuckles.
“Now I feel like you’re just teasing me,” Yoongi sighed.
“No,” Jimin whined, forcing himself upright with a palm splayed over Yoongi’s heart. “I’m not, really.” He inhaled deeply. “I’m terrible at finding the right timing, hyung.”
“Jiminie, honestly. Now you have to tell me. What’s the big secret you find so funny?”
“It’s really not funny,” Jimin admitted. “It’s gonna be a serious pain in my ass soon. But, uh, hyungie,” he put on his sweet, lilting voice, patting Yoongi’s chest lightly. “We’re gonna have another baby.”
Yoongi tilted his head, simply staring at Jimin for a long while. A gust of wind rustled his hair, and Jimin couldn’t help but be amused over his husband, pretty and perplexed, stood idle like a moment frozen in time. Then Yoongi blinked, and color returned to his cheeks. His eyes widened first, then his lips quirked up in a disbelieving smile.
Yoongi quickly reached out to wrap his arms around Jimin’s waist, pulling the omega into a hug. He nuzzled into Jimin’s neck while Jimin giggled with joy. Yoongi kissed the warmed skin of Jimin’s neck, trailing up to his jaw, his cheek, and finally to his awaiting lips. A few pecks, then a longer kiss, the contact imbued with every ounce of emotion he could muster.
When Yoongi pulled away, gaze raking over Jimin’s entire form in awe, he asked, “How far along?”
“Six weeks,” Jimin practically purred, clinging onto Yoongi’s bicep as an anchor.
“Baby,” Yoongi breathed, tugging Jimin back in to kiss his forehead. “God, now you really can’t be stressing yourself out.”
Jimin shook his head. “Hyung, don’t do that helicopter thing again. I’m fine.”
“I’m only concerned—”
“I know,” Jimin dramatically sighed. He gave his husband a quick peck. “But calm down.”
Yoongi glanced to the sliding glass doors, expression lighting up all over again. “Oh, we should tell Seoyeon.”
“Later,” Jimin gently argued. “After the first ultrasound, when everything looks okay. Then at least we’ll have a picture to show her.”
“She’s going to make a chaotic big sister.”
“Yes, but a sweet one, too,” Jimin added.
Happy and relieved that their qualms had been settled, the couple reentered the house to find the table completely cleared of breakfast’s mess. Taehyung and Seoyeon were on the living room floor playing Go Fish, Taehyung dramatically wailing every time he allowed Seoyeon to gain the upper hand. He really was a great uncle.
“Who’s winning?” Jimin asked as they shut the sliding glass behind them.
Seoyeon perked up and grinned at her parents. “Me!” She squealed, raising her hand.
“She’s just too good,” Taehyung stated, shaking his head with defeat.
“Appa, wanna play next?” Seoyeon asked, her eyes practically sparkling as she looked up at Yoongi expectantly.
Yoongi approached behind Jimin, wrapping his arms back around the younger’s middle. “Sure, sunshine,” he replied, resting his chin on Jimin’s shoulder.
“Yes,” Seoyeon breathed, returning to her round at hand. “M’gonna beat you, too, Appa.”
Yoongi hummed in agreement, splaying his palm over Jimin’s stomach, a rumble of contentment reverberating in his chest.
Jimin’s posture eased, eyes drifting shut as a sense of peace washed over him. He rested his hand atop Yoongi’s.