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Chapter Text

Jin never lost his head.

It was something he had built up a certain level of pride in. No matter the situation or circumstance, though he might raise his voice, assert his dominance, dig his heels into the ground and refuse to move, he never quite lost his head. He always had a grip on himself enough to make sound, logical decisions.

Perhaps that’s why when it finally happened, he was so wholly unprepared to deal with it.

Namjoon had barely pulled into the driveway, barely turned the wheel back to straight and let the vehicle coast up to the garage, when Jin saw it. 

“Joonie,” Jin said blankly, reaching out and gripping Namjoon’s wrist. It was an automatic response, something completely out of his control. He’d not meant to do it, and from the grip alone knew that he might be hurting Namjoon because of it. Still, he held on tightly. He was afraid to let go before he could confirm that what he was seeing was the truth. “Namjoon.”

“Hey, hey,” Namjoon said. “What’s going on?”

“Namjoon,” Jin hissed again, this time his voice wavering just slightly. “Look. Look!”

Jin pointed through the window of the car to a small spot on the roof of their two-floor, Little House on the Prarie abode. Right beside his open bedroom window was five-year-old Jungkook, sitting on the edge of the roof with his legs dangling over the side, watching the two of them pull in. Namjoon gasped and slammed on the breaks before shoving the car into park. The movement startled Jin into action and he unbuckled himself wildly, almost snapping off the handle of their car door in his haste to get it open. Jungkook had always been a bit of a troublemaker. They’d warned the babysitter to keep two eyes on him. Instead, it seemed she’d ignored the advice and now Seokjin’s son was sitting right above an unsteady gutter, kicking his legs and watching everyone, unguarded, from the roof.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon croaked. “Oh my god. Kim Jungkook! Jungkook!”

“Jungkook!” Jin screamed. “Jungkook-ah, what are you doing?”

Jungkook smiled and waved at the two of them. Then he called down, “Daddy, look!” 

There was a logical little man in Jin’s head that was saying the situation wasn’t unsalvageable. It wasn’t even too unexpected. Jungkook wouldn’t slip and fall from the roof, and by the time Namjoon collected him, Jin would know exactly how to chastise the babysitter in a productive manner. But for the first time that he could recall, that little man was being pummelled to death by the hysterical father in him who was currently imagining his little Jungkook in a heap on the front lawn, legs and arms broken from his two-story fall. If he wasn't careful, he was going to put hands on that damn babysitter. 

“God, Namjoon, please do something,” Jin begged. He gripped Namjoon’s arm a second time, threatening to puncture holes in the man’s coat from how tightly his fingers were pressing. “He’ll fall. He’ll fall, I know it.”

“Let me go and get him,” Namjoon said, gently removing Jin’s hand from his forearm before taking off into the house. The front door slammed behind him and Jin startled, putting his hand to his head and watching Jungkook nervously. 

Jungkook had always been Namjoon’s and Jin’s adventurous child. Yoongi had been blessedly quiet growing up, and Jimin had been so clingy that Jin had never had to wonder where he’d gone off to. Taehyung and Hoseok had certainly done a little more peering into places that they shouldn’t have been, but it wasn’t until Jungkook arrived that Jin had truly understood the conundrum of parents trying to keep their kids alive. It seemed that the boy was dedicating any second alone to testing his mortality. Sticking things into sockets, playing with wires, finding sharp objects to poke things with. 

There was no quote or saying that could express how much Jin loved his children, but the hysteria drowning his mind and clouding his judgment was enough of a clue. 

Jin’s hands were shaking. He was two seconds from scaling the wall and pulling himself up onto the roof when Yoongi threw the front door opened and screamed, “Dad?  What are you doing!” Naturally, Hoseok was tailing him.

“Your brother climbed out the window,” Jin said, voice cracking around his words. “How did he get the window open? There’s supposed to be a screen there...” 

“There is a screen there,” Yoongi said, walking up to Jin and pointing to the small window covering laying discarded on the roof behind Jungkook. “He must have pushed it out.”

At that moment, Namjoon’s head appeared in the window. The man removed his coat and climbed carefully onto the pitch, feet at an angle as he moved slowly towards Jungkook’s mischievous little body. The boy looked over his shoulder and giggled, turning around so that his back was to the lawn, and Jin’s stomach dropped. 

“Kookie, come on, baby. We need to get inside.”

“No! Daddy, sit here with me.”

“No, Jungkook. You’re not supposed to be out here. Come on. Inside.”

Jungkook was a whip-sharp little boy. He had a lot of Namjoon’s characteristics just from years of following in the man's footsteps. Namjoon was always satisfying some curiosity, and perhaps Jin hadn’t done enough to discourage the dangerous types of experimentation his husband got into, but he’d been toeing a line between keeping his obligations as a parent, and peering over Namjoon's shoulders to see what would happen if Namjoon put that right there. He was a scientist at heart. He couldn't stop Namjoon from poking around and getting into trouble. So it wasn’t shocking at all that all Jungkook ever wanted to do was test some sort of limit. It was just that Jin felt so ill-equipped to handle it sometimes. 

“Jungkook,” Jin said, blinking hard to clear the burning from his eyes. “Please go inside. Please go inside.”

“How’d you even get out there?” Yoongi asked. “You’re not tall enough to take off the screen.”

“He pushed the chair up against the window,” Namjoon answered, scooting on his butt down the pitch until both legs were on either side of Jungkook. He wasted no time wrapping his arms around the boy and hoisting him into his lap. Jungkook made a soft noise of irritation, prying at his father’s arms to try and get out of his grip, but Namjoon held on tight and then started on his way back towards the window.

Jin took a deep breath. He didn’t look away from the roof until Namjoon and Jungkook had completely disappeared, and even then there was a moment of quiet pause. He needed to collect himself. All that he could think about was an injured Jungkook at the bottom of the gutter, crying and broken into pieces. That was his baby. That little boy was his baby. 

“Is Jungkook gonna get a spanking?” Yoongi asked.

Jin looked at the front door. The babysitter had fumbled her way outside and was looking at Jin, face scrunched up in extreme discomfort. Jin removed his glasses and folded the arms, shoving them into his coat pocket, then he took another deep breath, gathering oxygen in his lungs so that he wouldn't pass out.

“Yoongi, I want you to take your brothers upstairs and play with them. I’ll come and get you when I’m ready for you to come back downstairs.”

Yoongi never opened his mouth to ask because that's the kind of child that Yoongi was. A quiet, intuitive little boy. He simply grabbed Hoseok’s hand without question and lead him back toward the door, studiously avoiding the babysitter's eyes as he slipped past her without a word.

Jin couldn’t sleep.

Which he supposed was understandable. He'd exhausted himself on an emotional level - completely whittled his bones down to dust trying to crawl out of that nightmare of a scenario, and now that the adrenaline had leaked out of him and he was laying in bed with nothing more to do than reflect, it seemed to be coming back to him in waves. Anxiety. Panic. The image of Jungkook's smile as he waved from twenty feet in the air. Daddy, he'd said. Look. 

Jin was keeping Namjoon awake with his tossing and turning. The man had to head orientation on campus tomorrow, so Jin really ought to have been trying harder to keep himself quiet, but he couldn't stop frowning, sighing, rolling over from his side to his back to his side again. Eventually, Namjoon rolled over to face him, rubbing his shoulder gently and saying, "Jin, baby."

There was no pause before Jin's sharp, “Jungkook was on the roof, Namjoon. The fucking roof.”

“I know. I get it.”

“I might as well have just left him here on his own. The babysitter didn’t even know he was out there until Yoongi came out. And I warned her! I told her, Namjoon. I was very clear. I printed a letter three times and hung it on the fridge. How could she have missed it? Unprofessional.”

Namjoon’s hand was warm. Jin growled and shook his shoulders to dislodge his husband's hand, but Namjoon pulled back on him and forced him to turn around until they were chest to chest. Then Namjoon tossed an easy arm around the man's waist and pulled him closer. “Listen to me, Mr. Kim. I get it. I promise I understand. You know I do.”

“My brain can’t figure out how to work around it. I mean - how irresponsible!”

“It was irresponsible. She won't be coming back here."

Jin wasn't assuaged by that notion. He wanted recompense. He wanted her groveling and apologizing for almost killing his son. The guttural complaints probably told Namjoon as much and the man sighed. He spoke again before Jin could wind himself up further. "There’s never gonna be another set of people out in that world who love those boys as much as we do. I know that. One day they’re gonna get married, they’re gonna have kids, and I’m still convinced that you and I will be here thinking about them all the time. Are they alive? Are they happy? Is the world taking care of them? Every single day for the rest of our lives, we’ll be thinking like that, right?”

“How can we not?” 

“We caught him today. Jungkook is safe because we caught him today. He’s fine. He didn’t fall. He didn’t break anything. He made it. And tomorrow, he’ll make it, because nothing’s gonna happen to him when you’re around. That's what you told me when he was born.”

“I wasn't around today. What happens when I'm not here? When I can't catch him?” Jin asked. “Other people can live in a world without my children. I can’t.” 

“I know.” 

Jin pressed his nose up against Namjoon’s collar. His cotton smelled like the soap that Jin had used for everything. It was the same smell as Jungkook’s sweaters, Taehyung’s blankets, Hoseok’s hats, Jimin’s teddy bears. It was the same smell that Jin had depended on when Yoongi went away for summer camp and Jin had needed a reminder that the boy was out there somewhere, even if that somewhere wasn’t at home.

“It's not logical,” Jin said eventually. “The world isn't kind to him just because he's mine. God, I know it.”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t hope for the best,” Namjoon reminded him, voice soft and easy to digest. He was every bit the teacher Jin was and more. He spoke as if he had the answer to everything. “We should both wish for the easiest, most peaceful life they can live regardless of how possible it is. That’s our job as parents.” 

Jin took a deep breath. He wound his arm over Namjoon’s waist and pulled the man closer, and then he said, “On the fucking roof.”

“I can’t even remember the first thought that went through my head when you grabbed me,” Namjoon laughed. “ Oh god, Yoongi’s cut Jimin’s hair again .”

Jin thought back to the time he’d walked in on Yoongi shaving Jimin’s head. The child was only bald on one side, brown hair full and thick on the other. Jin had paused in the doorway and gathered his wits, and then gently taken the clippers so that he could shave Jimin on the other side. It was only afterward that he’d gone to his room and cried over the new, shiny-headed development of one of his youngest. It was even later when he'd sat Yoongi down and told him very sternly that he couldn't cut any of his sibling's hair anymore. He couldn't walk around with a small band of monks tailing him.

“They get into so much.”

“Well, their dads are both university professors. I’d be more concerned if they sat still and did what they were supposed to.” 

Jin laid his hand against Namjoon’s chest and tried to focus on the ring on his finger, watching it glisten in what little moonlight was filtering in through the window. What time was it? It was late. Namjoon should have been asleep by now. Jin tilted his head up and said, “I’m gonna sleep in Kookie’s room tonight.”

“I thought you might,” Namjoon said. “Go be with your baby and let me get some sleep.”

Jin swiped his finger along Namjoon’s nose. Namjoon yawned and then rolled away, effectively letting Jin know that he was going to bed. And Jin had no problem with climbing out of bed and tiptoeing his way through the dark halls of their house until he’d found his way to Jungkook.

The child’s room was quiet save for the soft hum of a solar system projector that Namjoon had bought him for his birthday. The walls and the ceiling were covered in fake stars. Jin grabbed the extra futon from the closet, one that he’d reserved mostly for nights when the boys were sick and needed company, and he spread it out beside Jungkook’s bed. Then he settled down onto it and closed his eyes, listening to the soft whirring of the machine, and Jungkook’s slow, even breathing. 

Namjoon was right about a lot of things. Much of his and Jin’s marriage had been the man spitting wisdom that he was too young to speak with such conviction, but Jin could feel Namjoon’s words sinking into his bones nonetheless. 

The boys would be alright. That much was true. Jin just had to trust his own abilities to keep them safe, and otherwise put every ounce of himself into hoping that the world was kind enough to let them live. It was the best he could do.

“Dad.”

“Mmm.”

“Dad, wake up.”

Jin peeled his eyes open slowly. He was stretched out on the floor of Jungkook’s room and everything was illuminated. The sun had risen and it sounded like an entire circus was hosting in his house. He could hear Taehyung screaming, footsteps thudding down the hallway as he ran away from his siblings. He could hear the television roaring in the other room. And then there was Jungkook who was crawling into his lap and sticking his fingers in Jin’s nose.

“I'm awake, Kookie.” 

“Can I eat apple sauce?”

Jin took a deep breath and sat up fully, cradling Jungkook against his chest in the process. Jungkook wrapped his small arms around Jin’s neck and bit his shoulder. He was obviously full of energy. Already, the room was covered in a thin layer of legos, and now that he looked at it, Jungkook had stripped his bed of its sheets and balled them up at the end of his bed. The walls had new pictures that Jin hadn’t seen the evening before. The closet doors were open and a few of the outfits were down and crumpled on the floor. 

“How do you get into so much?” Jin asked quietly, amused by the sheer amount that Jungkook was able to accomplish without waking him up. 

“I didn’t know you were gonna sleep in here,” Jungkook accused. “You don’t sleep in Yoongi’s room.”

“I used to,” Jin admitted. “Then he outgrew me. He doesn't want his poor old dad in the room with him.” 

“He’s nine.”

“That's right. And you’re five, so that means I've got -" Jin lifted his hand and counted slowly from five to nine, "four more years before you kick me out, right?" 

Jungkook didn’t answer. He wiggled his way free of his father’s lap and took off in the direction of Taehyung’s screaming. Jin watched him go, lips pressed into a smile. He had more than a few years with all of them but it was nice still to have a younger one in the house, even if he was a completely and utterly self-destructive little beast. As if to make a point, there was a loud creaking noise followed by a crash that sounded expensive, and then Yoongi's voice. 

"Jungkook! Oh my god! Look what you did!" 

Jin stood up and stretched. Then he walked towards the bedroom door, ready for another day.

Chapter Text

Oh, how Jin hated Saint Valentine’s Day. 

For the last few years it had started in the most sickening way. Come some ungodly hour of the morning, Namjoon would gently wake Jin up so that he could crawl between the man's legs. They’d fuck quietly, careful of jogging the bed and waking the kids, and by the time sunrise hit they'd be back asleep again, waking to the sounds of their alarms. 

This Valentine’s day wasn’t much different. Jin woke up to Namjoon’s lips trailing their way softly down his neck. The bulk of Namjoon’s body was already pressed in between his thighs. Kim Namjoon was heavy, and it was impossible to stay asleep with the hard line of Namjoon’s cock pressing up against Jin's in his cotton pajama bottoms, so Jin did the same thing as always. He allowed Namjoon to undress him, spread him open with his thick fingers and fuck him deep and slow.  

They’d never had any problems. The kids had yet to be disturbed by it. They slept through the occasional headboard knocking on the wall, the stuttered moans that Jin couldn’t keep to himself when he came the first time, even Namjoon's grumbled words of adoration when he coaxed Jin into a second climax. Jin wasn't sure why this year would be any different.

Namjoon was two minutes deep into a stroke that had Jin gagging. The man’s hips were like a piston and he was fucking Jin so good that the man almost forgot he was supposed to stay quiet. They were both sweaty, filthy, covered in lube and come, and Jin was trying not to cry. Namjoon's cock was big. Jin had been ten miles away from any semblance of sanity, couldn’t focus on anything but the pressure of Namjoon’s cock splitting him open again and again, and he’d missed it. The telltale squeaking of his and Namjoon’s door being pushed open. The soft pitter-patter of a child’s footsteps crossing the carpet. The (quite frankly) offended sound of a little person about to lose their cool.

It wasn’t until Jungkook screamed that Jin realized how stupid they’d both been. Good sex after you'd had kids? As if. 

“No! Daddy, don’t do that!”

Something soft hit Jin’s face and he gasped, releasing his iron-clad grip on the pillow behind his head and blinking himself back to consciousness. As he did, Namjoon choked, scrabbling so quickly off of Jin’s body that he slipped off of the bed entirely, tugging the blanket (and the alarm clock on the side table) to the floor with him. Jungkook had thrown a slipper at them.

“Fuck,” Namjoon hissed.

“Don’t do that! That's bad! You're a bad man,” Jungkook cried.

“Kookie, baby,” Jin said on autopilot, voice shaking from the adrenaline. He couldn’t see anything. He scrambled for something to cover himself with, hands dancing along the sheets of the bed until he located his pants. He slipped them on quickly before turning on the light.

Jungkook looked petulant. His brows were furrowed as he tromped his way around the mattress to finish what he’d started, another rubber-soled weapon in hand. Namjoon wrapped the blanket firmly around his waist, shielding his head when Jungkook reached him and began to batter him.

“Kook, stop,” Namjoon begged.

“No! If you’re not being very good right now, you’re-”

“I’m not doing anything!” Namjoon argued. “Listen, we were just-”

“No! No, Namjoon,” Jin butt in. His husband wasn’t the most eloquent speaker when he was panicked. Honestly, he spent so much time cooped up in an office entertaining his university students that he often forgot how to appropriately explain concepts to his much younger children. When Namjoon opened his mouth it was a bit like pouring water onto a grease fire. Jin needed to intervene or Jungkook was going to leave this room with college-level sex education. “We were just playing a game.” 

“A stupid game,” Jungkook screamed. “It didn’t sound very fun.”

“No,” Jin said. “You’re right. Daddy was… daddy was… uhm.” 

Jin couldn’t think clearly. His legs were shaking and the sweat was cooling to the inside of his pants. His mind was full of static. His ass was aching with the phantom pain of Namjoon having yanked his cock free. His focus was at zero percent, gradually slipping and then fuzzing out altogether when another soft voice spoke from the door, “Dad?”

“Oh God, no” Jin moaned, bending forward and hiding his face in his hands. “No, no, go back to bed, Hobi. We’re fine.”

“What’s going on?”

Namjoon took a deep breath and said, “Nothing. Hobi, go get back in bed. I’ll come in and tuck you in, just give me a minute. Jungkook,” He said more gently, reaching out and gripping his son's small wrist in his hand. “Daddy was playing a little too rough. It's early. We shouldn't have woken you playing a silly game. Next time, I’ll be more careful.”

“You made dad cry,” Jungkook hissed, tiny little voice full of venom. “I don’t like that.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to retort but all that came out was a snort. Things went downhill from there. 

St. Valentine’s Day started more formally in the hours that followed. It remained the worst day of the year. The sun rose, the birds screamed from their frosted little perches of the trees outside, and the Kim household was as full and frantic as always. The kitchen was a warzone, Jin pressed up against the fridge with his arm raised high in the air so that he could protect his cup of coffee, and Yoongi was reaching around him to snatch his poster back from Hoseok who had, not surprisingly, stolen it from his wall that morning.

"Give it back!" Yoongi screamed.

“Hobi, give it back,” Jin repeated gently. "It's not yours so please don't take it without asking." 

Hoseok screamed and then dove around the counter, ignoring Jin entirely and skipping off into another room with Yoongi hot on his heels. 

Taehyung was standing beside Namjoon at the counter, chattering away about his grand plans for the art class that day. Jimin was dawdling in and out, venturing between rooms sporadically and humming a tune that Jin couldn't identify.

Only Jungkook seemed to be different. His cheeks were flushed pink and he was frowning over at Namjoon with his arms folded tightly over his chest. Jungkook was obviously sleep deprived. He’d barely rolled out of bed this morning, and that was entirely, entirely Jin and Namjoon’s fault. Jin sighed and set his coffee mug down on the counter. When Namjoon leaned in close because of the proximity and puckered his lips, Jin kissed him automatically.

Jungkook hissed at them.

Honest to god, teeth bared, lips back, hissed at them.

Jin looked over his shoulder so quickly that his neck strained. Before he could reprimand his son for the outlandish behavior, Namjoon said, “Uh… Kookie, was that you?” 

“I don’t like you right now.”

“Hey. Ah, ah,” Jin said immediately. “We don’t talk like that to your father. It’s not nice.”

Jungkook doubled down. His feet were swinging from the kitchen seat and he tilted his chin towards his chest so that he was looking up from under his eyelids at both of them. The boy may have picked up on Namjoon’s sense of curiosity, but that sour exterior was all Jin. The quick and honest words, the head shaking, the emotional gestures. Jungkook was a lot like Jin, and it was more noticeable with every passing day. 

“Kim Jungkook,” Jin tried again, this time more sternly.

“It’s okay, babe,” Namjoon mumbled, tilting his mouth towards Jin’s ear so that it wouldn’t be heard across the kitchen. His warm hand was touching Jin’s waist, comforting, as he continued, “I did something wrong and I need to fix it. I’m gonna talk to him, okay?”

“Now?  He has to catch the bus.”

“I’ll take him to school today.”

Jin looked at Namjoon, eyes bouncing from his lips to his nose to his eyes. He was so handsome in the morning, hair parted and coiffed out of the way. Just like all of those years ago when they’d taken the same Linguistic Principles course and Namjoon had spent almost the entire lecture cozying up to Jin via flirtatious, multi-colored post-it notes. All Jin wanted to do was kiss him. Kiss his lips, his nose, the corners of his eyes, right where the creases were when he smiled. But then a soft grumbling sounded from over his shoulder and he sighed, opting to just reach out and run his palm gently along Namjoon’s jawline instead. 

“Alright. You handle it. Take care of our son, Namjoon-ah,” Jin whispered. 

Before leaving the kitchen, he went to Jungkook and crouched beside him, taking his warm little hand and kissing the back of it. “I love you, Kook. Be good at school today, okay? No more stealing Mrs. Yoon's rings.”

“But she -”

“Ah,” Jin cooed. “No. No more. You have to be good. At least until you get home.”

Jungkook was considering. He licked his lips and then reached out, wrapping his short arms around Jin’s neck so that he could hug him goodbye, and then he kissed Jin’s ear sloppily.

“Yeah, okay. Goodbye,” he said.

Taehyung made a gagging noise from the kitchen doorway, having migrated over there during Jin and Namjoon’s hushed discussion. Jin nudged him out and moved his way down the hall towards the sounds of a crying Hoseok, and a rapidly apologizing Yoongi. 

It was hard not to worry.

Jin drove to work with a giant cloud over his head. The streets were crowded, his car was at a standstill, and his phone had been blessedly quiet the entire twenty-minute ride to campus. There was little else to do but think about his babies. Not just Jungkook, but Hoseok (who had been transported to the school bus with a tissue shoved up his bloody nose), and Yoongi (who had still been apologetically holding Hoseok’s hand all the while), and then Jimin (who had cried because Hoseok was crying and he knew it would get him extra kisses). Taehyung had been the only normal one of the morning, sitting in his seat on the bus and shaking his head slowly as it had pulled off. 

With a sigh, Jin dropped his head to the steering wheel. 

God, he loved his family, but when had he decided that his life would be like this? He’d spent every one of his childhood years swearing off of children and the idea of domesticity. Now he was practically drowning in it. He had a holiday picture hanging from the rear-view mirror, for fuck’s sake. Namjoon in his stupidly cute Christmas hat, Jungkook just a swaddled bundle of blankets in Jin’s arms. 

It was fucking Valentine's Day. Years ago, when Namjoon had finally convinced him that spending the holiday together was worthwhile, and they'd gone to a small movie theatre and watched something that Jin had paid zero attention to. And afterward, Namjoon had treated him to a burger and fries at some cheap joint on campus. And afterward, afterward, Namjoon had taken him home, manhandled him out of his clothes, and nearly fucked him unconscious. The next morning, they'd woken up under Jin's thick duvet, bodies sticking to one another because of the heat. It was disgusting. Romantic. Perhaps one of the most memorable nights of Jin's life. He wished now that it hadn't changed - that Valentine's day wasn't some holiday that they needed to get out of the way before daybreak. He wanted those long, endless afternoons back. You know, when they had nowhere to be and holidays were a chance for them to lounge around in bed, kissing and loving on each other.

Maybe he didn't hate Valentine's Day. Just what became of it after he had children.

Jin yelped when his phone began to ring from the cupholder. He picked it up and answered with a “Joonie” before he even checked the caller ID. Namjoon had habits, and a debriefing (when the kids were going through something) was one of them. Jin had expected the call sooner.

“Hey, baby. Where you at?”

“A few minutes away from the student union. What’s going on?”

“Just took Kook to school.”

Jin sighed again. This time it was in relief. “How’d the meeting go?”

“He’s still a bit confused, but he’s… you know. He’s Jungkook,”   then a bit more quietly, “I had to make a deal with him though. Starting tomorrow, no touching you for a week.”

“A week!” Jin gasped. As if someone were in the car with him, Jin began to throw his arm around, tilting his head in mock-irritation (to the amusement of the man in the neighboring car). “Ah, wow, Namjoon, look at what you did! Why am I being punished! It's unfair. Completely unfair. You get me in trouble with these kids more often tha-”

“Come home,” Namjoon said suddenly. His voice was light and he sounded like he was smiling.  “It's Valentine's Day. Skip your office hours and come back to me.”

“Yah, Joon-ah,” Jin grumbled. “Don’t test me.”

“Come home, baby,” Namjoon repeated. “It’s gonna be a looooong week." 

With a quick glance upwards, Jin considered himself in the mirror. He wasn't sure if the family man, or the young, adventurous adult he'd once been was looking back at him. He wanted so badly to be both of them.

Then the person behind him honked and he flinched, blinking rapidly to clear his mind for a second. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Jin put on his turn signal. He smiled when Namjoon’s deep laughter rumbled over the phone. 

St. Valentine’s Day may have been the absolute worst holiday in the world, but when Jin returned home twenty minutes later and had barely made it through the door before Namjoon was pressing him into a wall and working him out of his coat, he couldn't help thinking that without it, him and Namjoon wouldn't be who they were. Every single brick in the foundation of their marriage laid out on the backs of this stupid fucking holiday. He hated it, but he loved Namjoon silly. And Namjoon loved Valentine's Day. He used it as an excuse to pepper kisses along Jin's chest, to whisper old promises into his ears, to thank him for sticking it out a bit longer. 

For those reasons alone, Jin would agree to wake up year after year. Valentine's Day wasn't going anywhere. 

Chapter Text

“Daddy, I can’t sleep.”

“Mm.”

“Daddy. Daddy. I can’t sleep.”

“Mm. Yoongi, go back to bed,” Namjoon grumbled.

Jin breathed deeply and rolled over, tugging the heavy duvet on top of himself so that he could snuggle down into its warmth and fall back asleep. He was being roused from his dreams by what sounded like his son Yoongi, but couldn’t have been his son Yoongi, because his son Yoongi never woke them up in the middle of the night. In all of their nine years as parents, Jin had all but convinced himself that Yoongi was part alien - some solitary child who would rather suffocate himself in his pillows than ask his parents for help with menial things. 

It was clearly all a dream and second by second, Jin fell back under the thick blanket of unconsciousness, almost slipping into the void fully.

Then there was a sniffle. 

Just the soft, muted sound of a blocked-nose and a thick throat, followed by a hiccough.

He knew his son's voice like the back of his hand. This was absolutely, 100% not a dream. 

Jin woke up faster than he ever had in his life. His eyes were still burning with the sticky residue of sleep when he peered from his cocoon and croaked, “Yoongi? Baby? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Even as a baby Yoongi had been quiet. Even-tempered. Strong-willed. Jin can remember so many sleepless nights, sitting over Yoongi’s crib and waiting for him to cry because he’d heard that babies often did that when the sun went down. The boy never cried, and Jin just stayed hunched over the bars of his baby bed, stroking his fat little cheeks with the back of his fingers until Namjoon collected him and told him that everything was alright. Some babies were just that way. 

It had been so long since he’d worried about Yoongi that his heart had started beating funny in his chest, small alarms ringing that if this child (of all of them) was struggling with something, then an inevitable, unsolvable problem had occurred. 

“Joon, get up,” Jin said as he fought his way free of his blankets and turned on the light.

Yoongi looked utterly harassed. His eyes and nose were red as cherries, his hair was matted and sticking up at odd angles. He’d opened the top three buttons of his shirt and scratched at his chest so that long, angry lines were running along the expanse of his milky skin, and he was standing at the foot of Jin’s bed nervously fiddling with the hem of his clothes. Jin huffed, trying not to make a scene out of his son’s appearance, but he hopped out of bed too quickly for it to be anything casual. With his arms already open, Jin met Yoongi halfway, wrapping them around his boy’s body and kissing his forehead.

“You’re alright,” Jin murmured, mouth covered by Yoongi’s full head of hair.

It was as if having company set Yoongi off. The boy buried his face in the cotton of his father’s clothes and sobbed, shoulders shaking with his own distress. His voice was muffled by the fabric. Jin was grateful because hearing it more clearly than this might have broken his heart into pieces.

Namjoon was climbing out of bed in an instant, moving over to crouch behind Yoongi. The man’s hands were bigger, warmer, more firm where they rubbed at the small of Yoongi’s back, and his voice was just a deep rumble when he said, “Talk to us. What’s going on?”

There were a few minutes of Yoongi soaking the front of Jin’s shirt, nose dripping onto the fibers until Jin could feel it on his chest. This all felt so familiar, yet so foreign. Jimin and Hoseok left their snotty imprints on his stomach, Jungkook’s sniffles always landed on his shoulder, tears soaking the crook of Jin’s neck as the man held him in his arms and rocked him calm. Taehyung often cried into a tissue and let Jin rub his back until he was feeling alright. Yoongi.

Yoongi didn’t cry much. There was no usual.

Eventually, Yoongi turned his head. His eyes were squeezed shut and Namjoon kissed his cheek.

“Take your time.”

“Life is bad right now,” Yoongi said immediately. 

Namjoon’s head shot up and he frowned at Jin. Before either of them could figure out a response, Yoongi continued, “Hobi hates me. He’s b-been telling me all week that he hates me so I’ve been in a bad mood. I didn’t do good on any of my tests. Nobody wanted to be my partner for the - the class activity. Now I c-can’t sleep. I’m gonna be awake forever.”

“Oh, my Yoongi,” Jin breathed. “No. You’re not gonna be awake forever. You’re just tired.”

It was almost five in the morning. The kids would be waking up for school in a few hours.

“And Hobi doesn’t hate you,” Namjoon said quietly. Now his long fingers were carding through Yoongi’s hair, tugging out all of the matted pieces so that the boy would look somewhat human again. “Hate is just love on a bad day.”

Oh, kids loved the word. Jungkook was almost at that phase. Everything was ‘no’ or some alternative, but equally frustrating response. Jin had never encouraged the word. He knew how little it meant, though, when it was coming from the lips of a toddler, or a frustrated adolescent. Yoongi hadn’t quite worked that out.

“It’s fixable,” Jin said sweetly. “I promise.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I know. It’s because you’re frustrated. I want you here with me tonight, okay? I’ll stay awake with you. We can feel crazy together until we fall asleep.”

Parenthood was difficult. There were so many variables that it seemed impossible to prepare for. Nine years ago, Jin and Namjoon had stood on the porch of their first house. Namjoon’s hands had been shoved awkwardly in his pockets. Jin had been drowning in a sweater that was too big, and he’d had his arms folded protectively over his chest. Neither of them had been speaking, too panicked by what was about to happen to move their lips. But twenty minutes later, a car had pulled into the driveway, and a caseworker had grabbed a small car seat from the back, baby all bundled up safely in its confines. Jin had never felt so warm. So safe. So prepared. For all it’s ups and downs, Jin only ever remembered the moments like these. The ones that made him feel completely, wholly, undeniably in love, and the ones that made him feel like because of it, anything was fixable.

He was Yoongi’s dad. Whatever was going on right now, he could fix it.

Namjoon went back to bed first. Jin and Yoongi followed after a few minutes more of holding onto each other. The sheets had gone cold by that time, and so Jin shivered and rolled Yoongi up in the duvet with him, laughing when the boy made a soft noise of disapproval.

“Get the lights, Joon-ah.”

Namjoon stretched over the two of them to turn out the lamp, kissing each on their forehead as he settled back down into his spot.

Jin had a formula that he hoped would work. He hummed an old lullaby that he couldn’t place the name of, and then wrapped an arm around Yoongi under the blanket and rubbed his back. Yoongi didn’t make a sound. He watched Jin’s lips as the man sang, waiting patiently for time to pass until his eyes grew too heavy. They fluttered closed inch by inch, moment by moment, and a few minutes later, the soft waves of his snoring were deep and even.

Fixable. Everything was fixable.

Jin canceled classes so that he could take Yoongi out.

The boy stumbled into the kitchen at almost noon of the next day and screamed, “DAD? I missed the bus!”

“Yup. Because I turned off your alarm. I’ve got you for today,” Jin responded calmly.

Yoongi’s face was a hysterical combination of disbelieving and amused. He sputtered over a number of responses before dragging himself across the kitchen and sinking slowly into one of the empty seats at the table. His button nose had lost the red glint from the night before, but his pajama top was still torn open. It was also nice to see that his hair had gotten absolutely, endearingly unmanageable. Sort of like Namjoon's hair was in the morning. A well-rested bedhead. That made Jin's chest ache.  

“I don’t have to go to school?”

“No. Not today.”

“But it’s a school day.”

“Not if you’re not going to school, it isn’t,” Jin laughed. “Sometimes there are more important things to take care of. Like lunch and a movie?"

Yoongi looked between Jin and his empty glass of orange juice. The books spread out on the table. He scratched his nose and sunk down in his seat. It was obvious he was stumped. Which was alright, because if his children could guess every trick he had up his sleeve to fix a bad day, then they might not need him anymore, and that thought was unacceptable.

“What movie? And what lunch?” Yoongi asked.

“Whichever you want.”

“Of both?”

“Of both,” Jin confirmed. "What are you feeling? Pizza? Tteok-Bokki?" 

Yoongi gasped. Then he smiled. He didn't say much, but his face started glowing at the prospect of a good day. No school, just food and movies. The boy chuffed as he slid back off of the chair and ran from the kitchen, feet stomping loudly as he made his way to his room. Jin could hear him giggling and chatting to himself through the walls. Ten minutes later, the boy had slid on his red beanie, a big sweater, and a ripped pair of jeans. Jin raised an eyebrow knowingly when he returned. Minus the beanie, the two of them were matching. Yoongi ran to Jin's side and grabbed his hand, tugging him up from the table and screeching, "Come on! Let's go! I've been waiting to see the new Spiderman! It's gonna be so cool. Like, so cool." 

Yoongi's grip was firm. His hand was warm. His laugh was sweet. 

Truly, everything was fixable. 

Chapter Text

Jin was underwater.

No, he wasn’t underwater. He was laying in bed with the flu (or some equally sinister illness), and it just felt like he was. His head was stuffed, his nose was blocked, and the only sounds registering in his ears were those of an angry Jimin, stomping his feet and demanding to be let into his bedroom.

It wasn’t easy being sick with children. Jin’s absence had been noticed after the first few hours, but somehow the other kids were managing without him. It was only Kim Jimin who was struggling to cope with the change.

“Dad wants me in there! Let me in, you’ll see!”

“No, Minnie, ” Namjoon soothed, his deep and commanding baritone vibrating against the old wood of their bedroom door. “Dad needs rest. He can’t play with you right now.”

“Not to play! I promise it’s not to play,” Jimin argued. “He wants me to come and keep him company. You ask him and see what he says! He’s gonna say yes, I know it.” 

Jin snorted and rolled over, sweating out his fever amidst the pile of blankets Namjoon had dumped on him. His pillow was soaked through, hair stuck against his forehead. His back was aching terribly and the rest of his body felt heavy, as if he'd been injected with lead. He wanted to cuddle his Jiminnie more than anything, but it was better to stay quarantined in his room as he waited for the fever to subside.

Yes, even though it was so, so lonely in there. Quite boring, too. 

Eventually, Jimin gave up, but not before trying to wrestle his way into the room by force. The handle jiggled, and then Namjoon sighed. The ensuing struggle was no more than Namjoon repeating himself and Jimin cutting him off to explain, yet again, why he should be allowed into the room to chaperone his father.

Jin burrowed further down into his fort. If he could just roll over and go back to sleep, he was certain that he would wake up refreshed and polished. Ready to take on the world. Ready to coddle his kids. Yeah. That’s all he needed. 

A tad bit more R & R. 

Waking up to a chest full of phlegm wasn’t fun. 

Jin’s eyes flew open when he realized he couldn’t breathe and he rolled automatically onto his side, coughing up the mucus and then promptly choking on it as he fought for more air. He couldn’t breathe through the rattling in his chest, and every movement seemed to force more phlegm out of his body. Jin squeezed his eyes shut and hacked until his eyes were soaked, tears running down his cheeks and dripping from his chin.

There was a pair of hands on him, one patting between his shoulder blades and the other hovering beneath his mouth to catch whatever was falling from his lips. 

“Breathe, baby,” Namjoon said. 

“I can’t,” Jin gasped. He coughed again and again until his throat was raw and his jaw was aching. He felt as pathetic as he looked. Namjoon was probably watching him closely, mapping every godforsaken feature of his face. It was humiliating. “Oh, god, Joonie. I’m sorry.”

“That’s it. I’ve got you.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“You’re sick,” Namjoon reminded him. “The sooner it comes out, the sooner you’ll feel better. Just cough it all up.”

Jin had lost all track of time - he couldn’t tell if it was late at night or early morning. Everything felt depressed and ugly. Colorless. His body and his mind were rebelling, sewing small threads of anxiety through the fabric of his sanity. Namjoon had drawn the curtains, likely to prevent the sun from waking Jin up and forcing him into another migraine, but all it had done was lock him in a box of darkness. 

Jin swallowed and it felt like a million pins running down his throat. He whimpered and gripped the sleeve of Namjoon's sweater.

“I need water,” He whispered. 

Namjoon tugged a tissue from the box on the nightstand and wiped his palm, tossing the waste into the garbage before standing up fully and patting Jin’s thigh.

“I’ll get it.”

“Namjoon…” Jin begged. “Could you come and stay with me afterward? I feel like I'm losing my mind.”

"Yeah, baby. We're gonna get you better, 'cause honestly, I think Jimin's on his last straw too.”

Namjoon’s look was gentle. He considered Jin with the same love and patience that he’d shown his children a hundred times before. Jin could barely see him from how dark the room was, but he knew, could almost feel the look on him. The kids, every time they got sick, would cling to Namjoon and Jin like sloths. They'd cry and beg to feel better because it was difficult coping with the discomfort when you were too young to understand why you felt so terrible. Apparently Jin wasn’t immune from feeling like a child. He wanted Namjoon here with him, grounding him, guiding him back to his sense of humanity. He wanted to be clingy, just this once.

“Wait for me. I'll be right back." 

Jin’s skin was sensitive, almost too sensitive to comfortably remain under the blankets, but he released Namjoon’s shirt and shivered down into them anyway. The floor creaked with every step that Namjoon took, and before Jin could blink the man had disappeared. He was alone again.

Not for long. 

Against the silhouette of the door, a small head of unruly hair appeared. Jin frowned, trying to make out which child was breaking the law.

"You’re alive!” Jimin hissed. “I thought daddy was lying.”

“I’m alive, Minnie,” Jin croaked.

Jimin nudged the door open a little more, careful not to upset the squeaky hinges and alert Namjoon. The man was still in the kitchen. He wouldn’t hear the noise anyway, but Jimin was a smart trouble-maker, covering his bases. The boy barreled across the room, running right to the edge of the mattress and leaning up over it. He kissed Jin’s hip through the blankets, the only place he could feasibly reach, and then took off back toward the door. All in the span of thirty seconds, the boy had come and gone.

Namjoon’s voice sounded after a while. He was walking down the hall with Yoongi, giving instructions on how to put the kids to bed. 

“Yeah, daddy, I got it,” Yoongi said evenly.

Namjoon kicked the door open fully with his foot, a tray in his hands. Jin could see the outline of them illuminated by the lights in the hallway. Even without the details, Jin could fill in the blanks. He knew what Namjoon and Yoongi looked like when they were worrying, fussing, putting their heads together to solve a problem.  

“Hey dad,” Yoongi called. “You still alive?”

“Why does everyone in this house think I’m on the way out?” Jin said severely. 

“They’re all losing their minds,” Namjoon reminded him. “They don’t see you for a few days and it’s like a crack in their damn reality. ' Ah, dad’s gone! Wah! Where is he!'"

“We don’t sound like that!” Yoongi argued.

Namjoon laughed. “Go get Kookie in bed for us. I left you something in the fridge for when the others have gone to sleep.”

“Okay,” Yoongi said. He peered around Namjoon and called, “I love you, dad. Feel better.”

Jin’s heart stuttered in his chest and he balled himself up more in his blankets, competing with the illogical part of his mind that wanted to jump out of bed and kiss Yoongi’s face all over. A few days were too many days of absence, apparently. Maybe Namjoon had been onto something - Jin was feeling almost helplessly unreal without the regular hugs and kisses he’d grown accustomed to. He wanted to cuddle every single person in this damn house.  

“I love you, Yoongi,” Jin said. “Dad’ll get better quickly.”

“You should. I… Hobi misses you.” 

“Ah. But you miss me too, right?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi admitted shyly. His voice was just a murmur, but Jin didn’t mind. He felt validated, a little bit stronger than he had felt in the moments before. Yoongi missed him. 

“Alright, go take care of a Kook,” Namjoon said. “It’s already past his bedtime.”

Yoongi waved awkwardly and then stuck his hands in his pockets, shuffling off down the hall. 

Jin couldn’t stand to lay in bed and watch the world move on without him. He sighed and squeezed his eyes closed, rubbing at them with his fists to clear the burning of his tears. He was a grown man. An adult. And he was ashamed that a few days of illness was enough to reduce him to a blubbering idiot. Namjoon had never seen him like this. They’d been married for years and somehow, Jin had managed to avoid every version of the plague that'd befallen their house.

“I’m sorry, Joonie. You can go to the kids,” Jin breathed.

“I won’t leave. You asked me to stay.”

“It was a stupid request. Go and put them to bed. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Jin,” Namjoon said seriously, putting down the tray and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I don’t like you being sick. None of us do. But we like taking care of you, so please let us do it. Seriously. Even Yoongi’s been asking after you every few hours. Hoseok filled up your water bottle. Taehyung helped with the soup that you ate yesterday. They don’t get to do anything for you - you’re so… on top of things all the time. I know you’re not used to being taken care of, but let us do this, alright?  You’re always on the front lines with the garbage cans and the cold rags and water bottles. We can do it too.” 

Jin’s lip wobbled. He turned his head to the side to hide the evidence of his distress, but he wasn’t quick enough or strong enough to stop Namjoon from gripping his chin and turning it back.

“Fine,” Jin said. "Just... I'm embarrassed. Forgive me for being like this."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Let's get you better." 

The rest of Jin’s night was a blur. The loss of a few restless hours followed by a break in his fever. Namjoon never left. He changed Jin out of his sweat-soaked clothes, ran him a bath and refilled his water bottle. Jin had never felt so fond. He could say it over and over again and it would never be any less true; all Namjoon ever did was raise the bar, outdo himself, make Jin fall deeper and deeper into the hole. As the early morning rolled in and Namjoon crawled into the tub with him, washing him down and then cradling him comfortably in the space between his legs, Jin couldn’t help but think it.

There was never, ever going to be a day in his life when marrying and loving Kim Namjoon was a bad decision. If he had the choice, Jin would choose him a million times over.

Jin got better.

Which was bound to happen, but which everyone was so impatient for that it felt unlikely. 

Standing at the kitchen counter with his regular cup of coffee two days later was a blessing. Namjoon had woken the entire house up at once, screaming Dad’s awake. Get up and get ready for school. A few minutes later the heavy thuds of several children’s feet were approaching. Jin smiled into his mug and took another swig before setting the cup away from him, safely out of his hands so that it wouldn't be broken amidst the incoming traffic.

Taehyung skid around the corner first, barely staying upright in his non-grip socks. He had just reached Jin’s waist when Hoseok did slip around the corner, screaming as he collided with the floor. He was up in seconds, running straight to Jin and latching on to him all the same. Jimin wasn’t as quick as the others, but he was no less happy when he gripped the frame of the archway and used it to propel himself around the corner and into the kitchen. Yoongi came much more slowly. By the time he reached Jin, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin had already arranged themselves comfortably, settling against his side. They clung to him like tape even when Yoongi slipped between all of them so that he could take center stage and hug him properly. 

They were all sorted around each other like pieces of a puzzle, watching as Jungkook arrived. 

The child had come equipped with all sorts of gifts. He was wearing his small, blue backpack and it had been filled with personal projects that Jin had never seen before. Lego structures and teddy bears and even a few cloth-demons. His arms were still comically short, weighing so little, but he carried an armful of books that were likely heavier than himself. He had barely passed the counter when he dropped them on the floor. 

“Jungkookie, what’s all that?” Jin asked.

“For you,” Jungkook said plainly. 

“They’re all for me?”

“Yup.”

“Gifts because I’m sick?”

“Yup. Just wait. I’ll show you,” Jungkook said. He sounded satisfied, ready to show off his collection. The other kids released Jin one by one and went to help the youngest sort them all out. They lined up books and then dug object after object out of the backpack, staging them against the table and the counter in some chaotic mess. Once they'd finished, the kitchen looked like a playpen, but Jin loved it. He covered his mouth and nodded his head slowly, making a big show of the display. 

"Oh, this is amazing. Kookie, look at all of the things you bought me! They're beautiful!" 

If Jungkook had been a peacock, his feathers would have fanned out proudly. Though he lacked the large and colorful plumage, he did the next best thing, tilting his head a bit and letting his eyes flutter closed. There was a soft, coy little smirk on his lips. Jin went to him and picked him up, kissing the side of his mouth and praising him just a little bit more. God, he'd missed this ridiculous type of affection.

Jin had spent nine years familiarizing himself with the love and care that went into healing another person. When Namjoon rounded the corner with his fingers on the buttons of his blouse, hair already slicked back professionally, muttering something to himself about the paperwork that he hadn't finished, Jin was smacked with such a sickening case of affection that he almost dropped his son. Is this what it felt like to spend days in the pits, and to come out unscathed on the other side, knowing that it was because of the person standing in front of you? Was this what it felt like to be so grateful that all you wanted to do was wrap your arms around the person and squeeze? Jin loved Namjoon to death, and every inch of that love doused him as the man joined them in the kitchen.

"Joonie, look what Jungkook got for me," Jin said.

Namjoon walked around the counter and his eyes widened. He pulled the toothbrush from between his lips and said (very carefully), "How'd he carry all this?"

"Because he's a strong boy," Jin laughed. "Look at his muscles. Kook, show daddy your muscles."

Jungkook leaned back and flexed, arms completely covered by his bedclothes. They looked like the baby, limp noodles that they were, but Jungkook was pretty damn cute, cowlick and all. Namjoon must have agreed. He choked on his spit, holding his hand under his jaw as the toothpaste started to drip. Hoseok screamed, "Ew, daddy. Go spit it in the sink!" and Jimin squeaked in agreement, scooting just a bit further away from the man.

As Jin laughed and stepped aside to let Namjoon pass, he thought about one thing. How getting sick wasn't any fun, and yet there were still perks - perhaps little ones that were better appreciated once the fever had broken.

Not for the first time, Jin felt cared for. Looked after. But the reminder was long-awaited and well-earned. The warm feeling in his chest rumbled happily as he carried Jungkook to his room to help him get ready for school, and for the rest of the day he basked in the residual feeling of a family that loved him, too. Getting sick was shit - but the aftermath was (probably) well worth it.

Chapter Text

Halloween in the Kim household was a mess, but only because Hoseok couldn’t gather his wits for long enough to go outside and actually participate in it. Jin stood inside of the front doorway with his hand on his hip, looking down at his son who was huddled over on the staircase in his Mario suit. His little mustache was cute, but his wide eyes and his severe tone when he told Namjoon “I just can’t go, daddy,” was even cuter.

“It’s gonna be fine. Nobody’s gonna scare you,” Namjoon tried again. It was the same old argument they had every year and it never seemed to stick.

Since long before Jin had become a parent, the neighborhood he lived in had hosted a halloween celebration. It was a foreign concept, one that, in the early years, had him flinching every time his and Namjoon’s doorbell would ring, kids calling from outside and begging for candy. Now it was somewhat normal. Houses around the block were decorated, and the men and women who lived in the neighborhood dressed for the holiday. It wasn’t quite October unless the goofy costumes and ferocious masks were out. The kids loved it - all except Hoseok, whose anxiety about the holiday was inconsolable.

“We can stay in, baby,” Jin said softly. “We don’t have to go.”

“He should go,” Namjoon said, voice slightly sharp. “Hobi, they’re just masks.”

“Masks that he’s afraid of,” Jin argued.

“Masks that he’ll continue to be afraid of if he hides every year and lets his imagination get carried away. Babe, he has to go.”

“Daddy, no . I don’t like those stupid masks! Mr. Park is always wearing them! The ones with the black eyes and the bloody mouths. I’m not going.”

Jin took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He understood his husband’s suggestion. The sooner Hoseok confronted his anxieties, the sooner he could strip them of their power. At the same time, that was an adult concept. Forcing Hobi out into the land of monsters with nothing but a cartoonishly large hammer seemed like a recipe for disaster, even if Jin and Namjoon were there with him every step of the way.

“Joon, take the kids and go,” Jin said. “We’ll catch up to you.”

“Babe...”

“Please. I know what you’re thinking. I know where your heart’s at, but It’s not gonna work. Just let me talk to him.” 

Namjoon seemed hesitant to agree. He ran his fingers through his hair and licked his lips, staring at Jin so hard that Jin’s cheeks went red. Eventually, he moved toward the door and slipped past Jin, into the crisp air of the early autumn evening so that he could make a way for the candy with the four that were waiting for him.

“Dad,” Hoseok said immediately, glancing side-long at Jin and frowning. “I can’t do it.” 

“Hobi,” Jin responded. His voice was soft and even. “It feels like that. You’re scared right now, and I get that.”

“You told me that it’s alright to be scared of things! That it keeps me safe!”

Oh, how to explain anxiety to a child? Jin moved to the steps and sat down, encouraging Hobi to crawl up into his lap so that he could hug him from behind. The boy’s suit was ridiculously large, and the awkward position put a strain on Jin’s lower back, but he wrapped his arms solidly around his son’s waist to keep him comfortable and then kissed his cheek. 

“Do you trust dad?”

“Yeah.”

“And do you trust daddy?”

“Sometimes. Yeah, I guess.”

“Do you think I’d ask you to do something that would hurt you?”

“...no, probably not.”

“And if something did want to hurt you, do you think I’d let it?”

Hobi sighed dramatically and kicked his legs. His heels struck the wood of the staircase over an over in a pattern of soft thumps that filled the temporary lull in the conversation. Eventually, he grumbled, “No.”

“That’s right. Not a goblin or a demon, or ten thousand, million ghosts, could touch you while you were with me. If we go out there together, you’ll be safe. There’s nothing - nothing to be afraid of. Please trust me. Daddy and I will be wherever you need us to be, when you need us, okay?”

Hoseok made a dejected noise, hat tilting down over his eyes as he leaned back against Jin’s shoulder. The boy sounded exhausted. He felt heavy in Jin’s grip. What Namjoon and Jin were asking of him didn't feel fair. For someone so young and so small to face such real and valid threats, things that terrified him, against the illusion that not doing so might go against his parent's wishes. Jin wanted the best for his kids, and maybe it would have been better to stay inside, but this was the third year in a row the child had avoided the holiday and Jin didn't want him missing out on those memories and experiences with his siblings. So, yeah, he pushed a bit harder. Just a bit. 

“I get to come back if I really don’t like it.”

“That’s fair.”

Hoseok removed Jin’s hands from his waist and turned around in his lap.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise, my love. If you don’t like it - we come back together.”

Jin made a mistake. Like many times before, he’d pushed too hard and fucked it all up. 

But as a small consolation, the burning shame on Namjoon’s face was equally if not more impressive than his own. The man was absolutely beside himself trying to calm Hoseok down. 

“I told you! Daddy, I told you!” Hobi howled. 

“I know, I know,” Namjoon cooed. He was crouched down with his arms wrapped around Hoseok’s body. The boy was sobbing loudly against his neck. 

Two feet away from them was the most grotesque recreation of a demon that Jin had ever seen. It was unsettling, truthfully, and even Jungkook seemed to be shying away from it, arms wrapped tightly around one of Jin’s thighs as he considered it wearily. Yoongi’s lips had turned down in disgust and he pushed it aside.

“Hobi, it’s okay,” Taehyung tried. “It’s just a doll.”

“No, it’s - it’s…” Namjoon stuttered. “God. We shouldn’t have… daddy shouldn’t have made you come. I’m so sorry.”

Hoseok was having none of it. His Mario hat was gone, knocked free when Yoongi had triggered the sensor on the front lawn of Mr. Park’s house and sent a demonic entity flying at all of them. Hoseok had dropped everything and run so quickly to Namjoon’s arms that Jin thought he’d imagined it. Then Jungkook had screamed and bolted for Jin’s legs and he’d known, immediately, that they’d fucked up. Halloweensucked and Kim Hoseok was never going to sleep well again. 

With an air of defeat, Jin walked Jungkook to Namjoon’s side and then switched children with him. He hoisted Hoseok into his arms despite the child being a tad too large for it.

“I’m gonna take him home. No more monsters.” 

And just like that, they walked home together with Taehyung hot on their heels. 

That night, Namjoon didn’t return for a long time. Jin had given Hoseok a bath, wiping every tear from his face that dripped from his big, worried eyes. He’d kissed the boys swollen and pink cheeks so many times that his lips went numb, and when the sun had fully set and they were all in pajamas, curled up on the couch watching Coco, the front door creaked and Jimin’s voice called, “Dad?”

“In here, baby,” Jin called back softly.

Hoseok had fallen asleep crying. His cheek was pressed up against the itchy cotton of Jin’s sweater, but his eyes were closed nonetheless, chest shuddering with each deep, even breath he took. Jin stroked his hair as the rest of his children filtered into the living room with their Halloween spoils. As loud as they were, Hoseok didn’t stir. 

“Dad, look what all I got!” Jungkook shrieked. 

He was still in his costume which was a raisin box that the boy had made and painted himself. He looked too cute as he sat down and tipped his candy on the floor, sorting through it to show Jin his loot, and Jin just smiled and watched him pick through it like a bird.

“Hey, that looks good, Kookie!” Taehyung said. He wiggled his way off of the couch to join the youngest on the floor, beckoned by the sheer amount of sugar he could be shoving in his cheeks. Taehyung reached for a small confection, gripping the metallic wrapped in his fingers and lifting it up to his face. “I came home too early, so I didn’t get many of these ones.”

“You can have some of mines.”

“Okay,” Taehyung smiled. “Then can I have this one?”

Jungkook shrugged and continued to sort through his haul. 

“Jungkook, you’re so sweet,” Jin encouraged. “Do you think Hobi can have some when he wakes up?”

“Yoongi has Hobi’s bucket,” Jimin said. “He carried both.”

Jin wasn’t overly surprised. Yoongi and Hoseok were like two peas in a pod. Though they fought more than any of the other siblings, they were also noticeably codependent. Whenever Hoseok was in emotional turmoil, Yoongi seemed in-tune with it, thinking three steps ahead so that he could help fix the problem. The child was intuitive to begin with, but with Hobi, he seemed almost as capable of patching up the boy’s ills as Namjoon and Jin combined.

Eventually, Namjoon joined them in the living room. He’d dressed down to something more comfortable, coat all but forgotten by the door, and immediately went to the couch so that he could bend over and smother Hoseok’s sleeping face with kisses. When he was done, he shifted a bit so that he could kiss Jin, too. It was almost apologetic, a little bit too slow, tainted with guilt over how the night had turned out.

“God, I’m such an idiot.”

“You? Who do you think sat him down and riled him up? I’m a grade-A dick.”

“I know, I just - honestly, Mr. Park can go fuck himself.”

Jin choked on his spit. When Hoseok flinched and began to shift restlessly in his arms, Jin wrapped him up more tightly, shifting his body so that the boy would be comfortable. Hobi didn’t wake, though he grumbled unhappily and furrowed his brows as he might’ve on the way out the door to school. Jin gritted his teeth and then smiled up at Namjoon, formulating a plan that might work for all of them. 

“What do you think about a sleepover?”

“YEAH!” Jimin screamed, voice echoing off of the walls.

“You mean in the living room?” Taehyung asked around a mouth full of toffee.

Namjoon, hearing the way the boy slurred his words with nothing but a gelatinous blob of sugar in his mouth, went to Jungkook and Taehyung as if he'd just realized the grand mistake they were in the process of making. Too much sugar before bedtime was going to end disastrously for all of them. The man began to scoop up errant pieces of candy, shoving them into the safe haven of the bucket as he said, “Go tell Yoongi to grab the sleeping bags out of the hallway closet. You all carry one and we’ll set a little fort up out here.

The good thing about having five children was that something as simple as changing sleeping location was akin to a party. A sleepover, yes, or even a camping trip. It was something new and glamorous. Exciting. The kids ate it up every time, and in true fashion, Jimin skittered from the living room with his voice whooping in tiny little sounds that reminded Jin of a fire siren. Jungkook and Taehyung panicked, chasing after him in an effort to grab as many ‘fort-related necessities’ as they could.

When it was just Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jin in the living room, Namjoon huffed.

“That was genius.”

Jin smirked and shrugged his shoulders, then the room fell into a silence that was only broken by the humming of the television in the background. Eventually, Jin laid his nose against the top of Hobi’s head and breathed. Then he said, “He loves you, Namjoon. Whenever he’s in trouble, he runs to you first. He trusts you so, so much.” 

“Well apparently, he shouldn’t.”

“No, there's nobody out there more qualified to take care of him. You’re still the person they trust the most. We made a bad judgment call, that’s all. For now, we forgive ourselves. Next year, we wait here with him until he’s ready to confront whatever the hell that stupid ass decoration is in Mr. Park’s yard. Not a moment sooner.”

Namjoon opened his mouth, response already sitting at the edge of his lips when Yoongi yelped, and then Jimin made an even more telling 'ooooh no' . There was a second in which an eerie silence fell on all of them. The two of them trained their ears instinctively toward the hallway, well aware that the calm always preceded the storm. Then, all at once, Taehyung wailed, “Daddy! DADDY! THERE’S A MONSTER IN THE CLOSET!”

There was little else to do. Namjoon moved impulsively, bolting for the stairs and only pausing for a second in the doorway. Maybe he had something else to say, something that he thought couldn't' wait or some other validation he needed before being shipped off to 'bedtime routine'. Jin stopped him with an encouraging, “No more monsters, Joonie. Go help them before we have four more Hobi’s in this damn house.” 

Even the prospect was too much for either parent to cope with. Namjoon turned on his heel and ran quickly in the direction of his screaming kids. 

Chapter Text

01. Jin Loves an Awkward Joon

“Okay, Namjoon, I get it. You don’t have to say that.”

“Say what?”

Jin glared over his shoulder, hoping that the daggers shooting from his eyes were strong enough to actually scare Namjoon off of his awkward behavior. “You know what.”

“Making Love? That’s not even a - what’s wrong with that phrase?”

“I don't like it. It makes me feel weird.”

Namjoon snorted around his sandwich. The two of them were walking through the only isolated part of campus around lunch time. A garden-type area right beside the science building that was overrun with trees, bushes, and the occasional flower patch. Jin suspected that if this small, makeshift park weren’t so far from the food court, more students would spend time here. It was scenic and the sun (when overhead) illuminated it well. As it was, fall had broken and the weather was getting chilly. It smelled a bit like dead leaves and dirt, but who needed incense when you had the aesthetic. In their jackets and with their easy lunches in hand, Namjoon and Jin were alone.

“If I say I wanna make love to my husband, I don’t think that sounds weird at all. I think it’s sweet.”

“You think it sounds sweet because you’re slightly awkward,” Jin laughed. “You’re a scientist, Joon. Not a poet. So I’m telling you, as your husband that loves you to the ends of the earth and back, it doesn’t sound as good as you think it does.”

“Okay. Well. Doesn’t change the fact that I wanna bend you over my desk and... make love to your sweet, delicious body.”

“Stop!” Jin huffed, though he was smiling. He extended his arm and pressed his sandwich into Namjoon’s mouth to stop the man from talking, and as Namjoon yanked a corner of it off and chewed on it, Jin asked, “Is it good?”

“Mmm,” Namjoon hummed, swallowing before he said, “Don’t change the subject. Answer the question. When we go home, can we make love together?”

“That question is objectively terrible. I'm not even gonna dignify it with an answer."

Namjoon laughed, one arm snaking around Jin’s waist so that he could tug the man closer. Jin stuck his tongue out and wiggled his way free, coquettish and playful. Namjoon shoved his sandwich in his mouth and then reached for Jin again, this time winding both around him from behind and rocking him side to side happily.

Jin suffered with Namjoon for this reason: the man was surprisingly awkward, but almost dangerously more handsome because of it. If the words make love had come out of anyone else’s mouth, Jin would have shut the whole conversation down ten leagues back. Instead, all he really wanted to do was tell Namjoon that any words coming out of his gorgeous, petal lips were acceptable because Jin loved him to death. 

There had to be boundaries, though. And to the common man, make love was single-handedly the most virginal phrase to ever exist. He needed for Namjoon to know that.

And then never use it again. At least not in public.

“So what’s the difference then?” Namjoon mumbled around his sandwich. He was wearing that goofy grin, fully aware that at this point, Jin was just saving face. There was no real issue. Silly banter was the secret to a successful marriage, or at least that’s what it felt like sometimes. Jin reached over his shoulder and pulled Namjoon’s sandwich from between his lips so that the man could talk properly.

“The difference in what?”

“The types of sex.”

“Well, there's anal. There's oral. You like bukake? That sounds like something you'd be into." 

Namjoon rolled his eyes and nuzzled Jin’s cheek. His glasses slid down his nose a bit and Jin reached over his shoulder to bump them back up with a knuckle. Namjoon looked so handsome in them that he couldn’t let them fall off. Also, he didn’t want to pay for new lenses if these ones scratched on the pavement.

“There’s a difference, you know? Like when we have sex in the shower at 4:00 AM but it has to be quick in case the kids wake up. That’s not making love. That’s just… you know, sex. But then, when Jackson’s babysitting and we get the night in, and you’re stripping for me, begging for my - my thing -”

“Oh my god. Shut it down, Namjoon. Shut it down.”

“-and I’m looking in your eyes, and touching all over your body, taking my time with you, you know-”

Jin choked, a sorry sound slipping from between his lips as he tried to stave off the incoming blush. No, Namjoon wasn’t talking particularly sexy. In fact, Jin could make an argument that any other human being in the world’s dick would have shriveled up and fallen off of their body at this sorry excuse of a conversation. But you know, there was no other man in the world like Namjoon. Nobody else in the whole universe who complimented Jin’s sense of humor like Namjoon. The man was always completely missing the mark on anything remotely sexual, but doing it so confidently that stupidly, it worked.

“You’re a scientist and you just called your dick your thing. God, I thought making love was the worst of it, but your sex talk is the equivalent of a child flipping through an anatomy book and trying to read it out loud,” Jin laughed. He stopped and turned in Namjoon's arms just so that he could drink in the man's look for a second. 

“It still gets you off, so I don’t know what that says about you.”

“You get me off. The things that come out of your mouth are a travesty and have nothing to do with it."

"Oh alright Mr. Valentine's day-"

"Nope, stop-"

"2014, you made me fuck you-"

"Joon, we're on campus-"

"While reading from the dictionary in English-"

"Oh, god, please,"

"And explaining the words you didn't know in very technical Korean because you said the way I spoke made your dick wet-"

"Please," Jin hissed, shutting Namjoon up for a second. He could feel how red his cheeks had gotten. Maybe they were both a bit awkward. "Look. I’ll level with you. Making love is your thing, right? But can't we call it something else?”

“Like what?” Namjoon laughed. 

“You’ve got a Ph.D. in astrophysics. You tell me.” 

Namjoon looked from Jin’s eyes to his lips, then he leaned in and kissed him. Just a quick, warm press of lips interrupted by a soft puff of air when Namjoon started to giggle like a child. When he laughed like this, his nose scrunched and his lips pressed together, his eyes squeezed shut, Jin couldn’t help but touch him more. He leaned in for a second, and a third, and a fourth kiss. And then Jin stopped them both by shoving Namjoon’s sandwich back into his face.

“Come on, handsome. Walk me to my next class.”

Namjoon fumbled for Jin’s hand, catching it and entwining their fingers. Then the two of them walked and ate their sandwiches, finishing out their lunch in something akin to a glorified treaty. Undoubtedly, Namjoon would continue to use 'lovemaking' unironically. But one day Jin would break him of the habit. A little task that he could give himself to keep his relationship with Namjoon on its toes.

Little afternoons like this? Well, they were what Jin lived for. 

02. (Pre-Family) Jin Dreams of Stork

“I want a child.”

“What?”

“A child, Namjoon. I want a baby.”

Namjoon raised his head from Jin’s lap and stared up at him. The man’s face was an interesting combination of shocked, concerned, and amused, and Jin would have been endeared by it if his entire soul wasn’t lifting out of his body in fear of what he’d just admitted. Laid up together on their porch swing with their books and their papers around them had seemed like the perfect time to bring it up, but now that Namjoon was watching him like this, perhaps Jin should have just kept his mouth shut.

“You want a kid?” Namjoon asked quietly.

Jin closed his book and took a deep breath. He probably should have just waited to talk about kids. Babies. Seriously, he and Namjoon had only just married a year ago and they were so busy, both taking tenure positions at the University so that they could buy their brand spanking new house. But Jin wanted a baby. He’d always wanted a baby, and now it seemed that they had so much more space, an entire house to fill, and it was so quiet, and Jin was feeling so… vacant.

“Don’t you think we’re ready?”

Namjoon licked his lips and then sat up, careful to not bump Jin on the way.

“I think you’ve always been ready,” Namjoon admitted, smiling softly. “I’m not sure about me.”

“Well then it doesn’t do us any good considering that I won’t do it without you.”

Namjoon moved his own books from around him, stacking them beside the porch swing so that he could pull his legs comfortably up onto the seat with him. He looked like a college student more so than a professor, old sweats and a hoodie with the school logo stamped on the front. Jin waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

“You don’t have to be ready right now,” Jin assured him. “But when you are, I am, too.”

Namjoon seemed conflicted. His back had gone a bit tense, hand fumbling for Jin’s hand so that he could hold it. His brows were furrowed and he was staring out at the front lawn, suddenly drawn into an interior monologue that Jin would have paid his weight in gold to hear. There was a long, quiet moment where neither of them spoke. Jin reopened his book with one hand and spread it out on his lap, fingers of his other hand intertwined with Namjoon’s.

He pretended to read while Namjoon worked through his thoughts properly.

“What would we do with a baby?” Namjoon’s hand was warm and a bit sweaty, flexing and gripping in a way that was almost too much.

Jin squeezed back and said, “We’d take care of them. Feed them. Teach them how to read. You know, those sorts of things.”

When they looked at each other next, Namjoon’s panic was palpable. Jin hissed and untucked himself from his materials, sliding a bit closer and flinching when his book rolled from the cushions, hitting the porch loudly. It was all so tense and so terrifying, that for a moment Jin thought he’d made a mistake. But the second he set his chin on Namjoon’s shoulder and kissed the man’s jaw, the terror deflated and gave way to a confidence that he’d rarely ever seen in himself. He waited again for Namjoon to speak. 

"I can't share you yet," Namjoon admitted. "I'm too - I'm too selfish for that. Could you wait for me? Just a little bit."

Jin smiled and nuzzled along Namjoon's jaw. His nose kissed the sensitive skin there, and he hoped that when he spoke, the vibrations of his response traveled up through Namjoon's skin right into his body.

“Of course."

03. Modern Warfare With The Single Mom

Namjoon’s personality was fairly conflict-avoidant. 

The man had found himself in multiple situations that required a clear, unemotional response and didn’t have the strength to carry it out. Though with issues pertaining to his kids, he always managed to put his foot down, with anything else, he struggled when the outcome might be less than savory.

An example: the park. 

Now, Jin was aware that many a single mother or father showed up at the park on any given day. He knew this because he spent an indecent amount of time with his own kids at the park. There were few days when he wasn’t accosted by someone. A lone father looking for a quickie in the woods. A mother asking for his number so that they could meet up when Namjoon wasn't there. There was something in the air, something unavoidable, and that was the magnetism of the loving and doting father. Jin wafted that image - he loved his kids and people loved that he loved his kids.

With Namjoon it was two million times worse.

If Jin didn’t accompany the man to the park, Namjoon wouldn’t make it back for hours, terrified to argue with the woman who was trying to press her number to his chest and ask for a drink later on that week. 

Just once, when Jin and Namjoon had gone to the park together, had the situation occurred right under Jin's nose. Yoongi had run off with Jungkook in the direction of the swings, Hobi and Jimin were playing in the small sandbox by the slide, and Taehyung was sitting on the tarp by Jin’s feet working on a Rubik's cube. Namjoon had sauntered off to find the bathroom, promising Jin he’d be back in a few minutes. But twenty minutes passed before Taehyung reminded Jin that his daddy was gone, and that he had likely fallen in a ditch somewhere or broken the handle off of the bathroom door or choked on a peanut.

“Your daddy’s fine, Taehyung,” Jin said softly. “He’s a big boy.”

Taehyung glanced over his shoulder and fixed Jin with a look that said what they were both thinking. Namjoon was a big boy with an even bigger brain who somehow still managed to find himself in mortal crisis every other day. If he was running late, it likely wasn’t because he was willingly doing it.

With a huff, Jin reached out to pet Taehyung’s head. He leaned in to nuzzle Taehyung’s cheek when the simple touch wasn’t enough. Taehyung batted him away, smiling to show he didn’t really mind it. Then Jin stood up and said, “I’ll be back, okay?”

“Can I come with you?”

“No. Watch your brothers,” Jin said. “If something’s really wrong with your daddy, you’ll have to tell them where I went.” 

Taehyung nodded his head and went back to his Rubik’s cube.

It didn’t take Jin long to find Namjoon. The man was a few feet from the bathroom, running a hand through his hair and nodding slowly. There was a short woman in front of him that Jin had never seen before and she was chatting so animatedly that Jin couldn't help slowing to a stop, eyebrows raised as he listened in. It was curiosity. Were Namjoon's prospects as aggressive or generous as Jin's? Were they as desperate? Embarrassing? Jin could hear a soft conversation happening between them, though Namjoon seemed significantly less interested by it than she did. Straining to pick up on what they were saying, Jin tilted his ear in their direction.

“I think it’s admirable for you to have so many kids, you know? Like, it’s my dream to… to have kids someday.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon said. His voice carried so easily. It was deep and rumbling. “I hope you get your kids.”

“And wow, I mean, look at your ring,” The girl whispered, taking Namjoon’s hand and raising it to her eyes. Jin could see her biting her lip, looking along Namjoon’s fingers a bit longer than was strictly necessary. Jin didn't blame her. The man's fingers were outrageously pretty.

Namjoon laughed nervously and took his hand back, cradling one with the other and rubbing his wrist. “I mean. It's a good wedding ring. You know. For a married man.”

"Yeah," The girl cooed. She looked between Namjoon's hand and his face. 

Namjoon took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. Jin was surprised Namjoon didn't recognize him. He was probably too stressed to pay close attention to surroundings that weren't immediate exits.

“I mean. I don't know," The girl continued. "I just. I really like dads who take care of their kids. You came alone? That's dedication."

"I didn't come alone," Namjoon clarified.

"Well that's okay. Maybe you could introduce me to your kids-"

Alright, that was enough. Jin chuffed and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“KIM NAMJOON, ” Jin said loudly, closing the distance between all of them with a large smile on his face. Poor Namjoon was two questions from sweating, neck red and body hunched in on itself, and Jin couldn't stand to see it. This woman was a vulture and Jin wasn't about to let her pick at his husband's bones. Looping a protective arm around Namjoon's waist, Jin smiled at the stranger with what amounted to mirthful enthusiasm, and then he said, “Excuse us. We have a literal circus of babies running around the playground. My husband doesn't have time to flirt with you right now."

The woman looked affronted. She paled to an unhealthy color and then cleared her throat.

"I was just-"

"No, it's fine, really-" Jin cut her off, already yanking on Namjoon and tugging him away. He didn't have time for this. It wasn't his fault she couldn't read the room, though Jin considered that once he got home, he'd have to spend some time teaching Namjoon how to let people down more immediately. But Jin wasn't totally heartless. As he walked away, over his shoulder he yelled, "There's a handsome man at the icecream truck here every Tuesday. His name's Jackson Wang. He has kids and he's single, so go take a whack at him."

Beside him, Namjoon snorted. His arm wormed its way around Jin's shoulders and he tugged the man in close to his side, pressing his lips sloppily against Jin's temple. A soft thank you for the save. Jin would wait until he got back to the playground to let Namjoon know that it was actually Taehyung who had saved him.

For now, Jin just leaned into him and giggled like a kid, aware that the woman was likely glaring at them from behind. 

Chapter Text

Christmas was Namjoon’s favorite season of the year.

Jin knew this from experience. The man was one step from turning in an application to the North Pole. Namjoon had always loved everything about it; the season, the weather, the music. Christmas was like a warm blanket that Namjoon rolled himself up in at the end of the year, refusing to take it off until the next holiday demanded it.

The feeling had rubbed off on Taehyung who, much like his father, waited for the entire year to hear the first note of Mariah Carey’s music on the radio. And when it did-

“Daddy!” Taehyung shrieked.

Jin dropped the mug of hot chocolate he’d been holding into the sink. The ceramic landed loudly in the basin, liquid spilling out of it and going down the drain as it cracked neatly in two. When Jin turned slowly to look at the expectant Jungkook standing by his legs, he realized the mistake just in time for Namjoon to come barreling around the corner, and while Jungkook stared up at Jin mutinously, the opening notes of All I Want For Christmas Is You began to play.

“Kookie-” Jin choked.

Jungkook frowned more deeply, then he turned sharply on his foot and stomped away.

Welp.

Namjoon had already made a fake piano of their kitchen table, slapping it with the pads of his fingers as Taehyung began to breakdance behind him. Jin appreciated the dad-son duo making a concert out of their kitchenware just as much as he appreciated Yoongi and Hobi singing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in the neighboring room. He loved that Jimin was waltzing through the halls and gathering tinsel and decorations for his pillow fort in his bedroom. He even loved that Jungkook was so serious about his hot chocolate, he was likely staging an uprising against his siblings and his parents.

Mariah Carey's song had single-handedly kickstarted the chaotic Christmas eve that Jin had become accustomed to.

It was close to bedtime, and the ritual of the holidays demanded treats. So with a soft smile, Jin plucked the broken pieces of the cup from the sink and then rinsed his hands so that he could start over again.

In the cupboard, there was a family set of mugs that Jackson had bought them a few years ago. Jin lined them neatly up on the counter. 

This was how the night was gonna go: Jin would make a larger batch of hot chocolate now that he'd botched the first glass. He'd set the mugs on the island after he'd filled them, and then he'd call the kids in. Namjoon would be particularly touchy, would probably dance him around the kitchen as the kids downed their drinks, and when everyone was done, they'd all hole up in the living room with the fire going and a movie playing on the television. Hours would trickle by until the kids were dozing off, and as Jin and Namjoon transported them to their rooms, they'd beg to open just one gift, daddy, please, and of course Namjoon would let them. After that, they'd all go to sleep, and Christmas eve would slowly bleed into Christmas.

Like every year, Namjoon's enthusiasm was as much of a tradition as the rest of it. Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without the delayed gratification of Mariah Carey on the radio.

As Jin filled a pot with milk and set it on the stove, he chanced a look up at Namjoon popping in his bedclothes and Taehyung tapdancing in his slippers. The snort he let out surprised even himself.

Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, Jin wasn't sure he could do Christmas eve without the theatrics anymore.

“Dad, do you think Santa is gonna bring a lot of things for us?”

“Mmm, I don’t know, Kookie,” Jin hummed. “Have you been a good boy this year?”

“I’ve been good. Super good.” 

“Is that so?” Jin asked. He was sitting on the edge of Jungkook’s bed petting the boy's hair, wiping the soft strands back from his forehead so that he'd settle down and sleep. Jungkook's room had been decorated with Christmas lights, and Jin watched the reflection of color in Jungkook's eyes as the boy squinted them happily, kicking his legs beneath the blankets.

“I think he’ll bring me a reindeer.”

Jin leaned back and his mouth dropped open in mock surprise. "A reindeer? You think you're ready to take care of an entire reindeer?" 

"I'm ready for sure."

Jin hummed, tilting his head in disbelief. "Mm. I think you'll feed him and play with him, but are you really ready to pick up all the poop?"

“Ew. Reindeers don’t poop!”

"Yes they do. Everything poops. And if you have a reindeer, they extra poop, but they don't have hands. That means you gotta be their hands and pick it up for them."

Jungkook giggled and tugged the blankets up closer around himself, still smiling. He was being so sweet right now, chatty because his imagination was growing bigger than his body and it needed some place to rest. Jin would be that place. With a soft huff, Jin leaned in and nuzzled Jungkook's cheek, kissing him once, twice, three times on his warm skin. Jungkook unearthed his arms and wrapped them around Jin's neck and held him close, and he was still kicking his legs and making happy sounds in the back of his throat. He smelled like the soft detergent that Jin washed his clothes with. He smelled like hot chocolate and sugar cookies. He smelled like a little home, and Jin burrowed down to hug him closer, suddenly feeling quite protective of his youngest son.

"I love you, Jungkookie," Jin whispered. "My little star."

In the neighboring room, Namjoon was putting the other kids to bed. Hoseok screamed and laughed, and then Jimin's voice followed. Jungkook released Jin's neck and looked up at him.

"Do I have to sleep now?"

"No, but the sooner you sleep, the sooner Santa will come."

"They're playing..." Jungkook trailed off, face falling a bit. The boy hated when his hyungs were involved in something without him, and the muffled sounds of roughhousing - just giggles and thuds and the occasional scream - were coming through the walls. It did sound like the other boys were having fun. Their resistance to sleep was not intentional; it was a fatal combination of sugar and Namjoon's unwillingness to discipline them during the holidays. Jin wasn't shocked that they still hadn't climbed into bed yet. But Jungkook wouldn't sleep until the others were quiet. "Can hyung come sleep here?"

"Which hyung?" Jin asked quietly. "We can check."

"....Taehyungie."

"Ah, the infamous Taehyungie," Jin clicked his tongue. "I feel like if he comes in here, the two of you aren't going to sleep at all. What do you think?"

"We will." 

That was probably a lie. A cute lie. Jin laughed and tapped Jungkook's chin, then he turned over his shoulder and screamed, "Taehyung-ah!"

It only took a moment for Taehyung to pop up in the doorway. His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing hard, and he had one of Jimin's teddy bears under his arm. Unsurprisingly, Jimin skidded around the corner and rammed into Taehyung a second later, accidentally pushing him against the door in the process. The two of them bounced off of the wood and collapsed in a heap of laughter, and after that, the entire room broke down in a fit of giggles. Jungkook's high tinkling laugh and Jimin's snorting as he rolled over and held his stomach. Jin shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. At this rate, the kids would be awake until seven in the morning.

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do," Jin said clearly. He stood up and tugged on Jungkook's blanket until it was down by his feet, and the boy shivered, rolling closer to the wall. Taehyung stood up and then he helped Jimin up. "Both of you are gonna come over here and get in the bed, and I'm gonna read you a story."

"What story?" Jimin asked as he skipped to the bed. 

"Well, whichever story you guys agree on. After that, we're gonna sleep, because if we doooon't..." Jin trailed off, and he waited.

"Santa won't come?" Taehyung tried.

"Absolutely right. He's on a time crunch, you know."

Jungkook gasped, completely affronted. Jimin crawled into the bed and right onto Jungkook's body, blowing a raspberry on his cheek until the boy was squirming and screaming for Jin to help. Jin sighed and gripped Jimin's shoulder, turning him over and nudging him onto his back, then Taehyung climbed into the bed properly.

"Okay, my babies. Pick a book. Where are Hobi and Yoongi? In bed?"

"Yeah. Daddy's telling them a story," Taehyung said. "About that one time he met Santa at the supermarket." 

Jin tried not to roll his eyes. Namjoon's story was completely inconsistent with the idea that Santa only came out once a year, and it was to deliver presents. All of the kids (except Jungkook) knew that the knockoff Santa at the mall was just an imposter. The real Santa was a magician who poofed into the house early Christmas morning to deliver their just deserts. Yoongi was the only child who no longer believed in Santa at all, but he sat around and made sure that the others never questioned the magic of the holiday by helping Namjoon fabricate silly little stories like this.

"Ah, yeah, he runs into him often," Jin muttered. "Alright then. Come on. Book name." 

Unsurprisingly, all three of them screamed a different title. Then there were the ten minutes of compromise in which Jimin managed to convince his younger siblings to go with How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Jin went to grab the book from the bookshelf, and then he dragged Jungkook's tiny step stool over to the bedside to give himself somewhere to sit. The bed was already at capacity, so hunching over onto a stool that was made for toddlers and young kids was the best he could do.

When he started to read, the kids cuddled up with one another.

Jungkook was out before the middle of the story. Taehyung was out before the end. By the time Jin was closing the book, only Jimin was awake. The boy was obviously fighting sleep, but he was watching Jin's face with a soft sort of attention that Jin could only make sense of because he mirrored it. Jimin was his little one; his middle child. Jin reached out and carefully ran his fingers through Jimin's hair, mindful of the siblings that were wrapped around his body like baby squids.

"Sleep, baby. I'll be here in the morning."

Minutes trickled on. The house was quiet, and with each push of his fingers along Jimin's scalp, the boy's eyes fluttered closed a bit more until they stayed that way. 

Only after Jin could hear the deep and even breathing of all three of them did he get up and put everything back where it belonged, leaving the warmth of Jungkook's tiny little Christmas cave to check on his other loves.

A glass of wine and a warm couch. 

That’s what Jin lived for.

With the kids asleep and nothing but a quiet night ahead of them, Jin sat comfortably on the sofa with his fingers wrapped around the stem of a glass, his feet in Namjoon’s lap. He’d probably aged himself ten years with the image he made; an old scholar who didn’t have much energy to do anything but lounge around and wait for the next day to come while his children slept. Namjoon had been pampering him like a housewife, though it had much more to do with the holiday cheer than a regular desire to rub the knots from his husband's feet, but then he'd gotten distracted by the television and now they were sitting so comfortably, so quietly together.

And Jin had wine.

Namjoon laughed at something on the television and Jin tilted his head to the side until his cheek was resting on the back of the couch. He wondered if Namjoon was as happy as he was these days.

It wasn't a constant happy. Naturally, there were days when Jin wanted to pull his hair out. Days when he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something nasty. Days when his patience ran out and he locked himself in the bathroom, disguising his respite as a nice, warm bath. But most days weren't like that. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd needed a break. Maybe it was truly the season; maybe Namjoon had an airtight argument for putting Christmas on a pedestal. 

“Joonie,” Jin called, holding his glass tighter to his chest so that he wouldn’t spill it.

Namjoon looked away from the television and squeezed Jin’s foot.

“Jinnie,” he responded. 

Jin snorted.

“Happy Christmas.”

Namjoon smiled. Actually, he hadn't stopped smiling since the day began, but now his cheeks were curved up so high that his dimples looked dangerous. The man was wearing his glasses and his hair was pushed back off of his face, and him and Jin were in a stupid matching pajama set that was decorated with snowflakes and awkward seasonal phrases. Namjoon looked so handsome that Jin was a bit stunned by it (this was a regular occurrence - he'd had been whipped by Namjoon's beauty since the day he'd first shaken his hand). Now, what was more alluring than anything, was the sense of elation that came with it. Jin wanted to bottle it up and shelve it for the future so that they could access these feelings any time of the year, not just when the weather broke and was too cold to be comfortable. Not just when the fire was lit and the cookies were on a plate on the counter for Santa. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to do that? Just capture all your good feelings in a bottle and stow them away for when the rain clouds came in?

Jin's foot twitched in Namjoon's lap as the man began to rub his foot again.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Namjoon said. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Jin sipped on his wine and went back to watching whatever Christmas jingle was on the television. It was a program that showed every year, a collection of singers and dancers who were celebrating the season by showing off their skills. Namjoon adored it. There was a girl standing in the middle of the stage introducing herself. She was from Daegu, she said, and she was here to sing I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause. Jin superficially understood the song. He'd heard it a million times on the radio, but he wasn't an English speaker and had never gone through the motions of translating it. When it started, the most he could do was hum along. 

He wasn't totally surprised when Namjoon actually started to sing, he was just... bewildered by how on-key it was.

“I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night,” Namjoon sang. He tilted his head back and tapped the beat of the song on Jin's leg. "She didn't see me creep, down the stairs to have a peep. She thought that I was tucked up in my bedroom fast asleep..."

"What does it mean?" Jin asked suddenly, cradling his glass a bit tighter against his chest.

Namjoon raised his eyebrows, not skipping a beat as the song went on. He shifted Jin's legs off of his lap and turned himself carefully, crawling his way onto Jin's body. This time when he sang, he sang in Korean instead. 

"Then I saw mommy tickle Santa Claus..." fuck - Namjoon was gonna spill his drink if they weren't careful. Jin huffed and slipped deeper down against the couch, holding his wine glass out in front of himself to remind Namjoon it was there, "underneath his beard so snowy whiiiiite -" Namjoon took the glass and gently set it on the floor, "Oh what a laugh it would have been, if daddy had only seen-"

"Namjoon, shh, the kids," Jin snorted, trying his hardest not to laugh at how badly Namjoon was holding the notes now that they were longer and higher. Namjoon didn't seem ashamed. His dimples were still very, very deep in his cheeks.

"-mommy kissing Santa Clause last niiiight."

Jin had a lapful of Namjoon. The man was humming the tune because the bridge was only instrumental, and he leaned in to steal a kiss that Jin was all too eager to receive. Jin's fingers ran gently along Namjoon's jaw as he tilted his head and took a deep breath of his husband's happiness; the man's lips were warm and his large body was boxing Jin in against the couch, and Jin might've said he lived for wine and a sofa, but really he lived for Namjoon's weight over his thighs as the man licked his way between Jin's lips so this was the perfect, and only, way this night could go.

Namjoon pulled away for a second and mumbled, "I'd better not catch you kissing Santa Claus underneath no mistletoe."

"Oh my god," Jin laughed, breathing against Namjoon's lips and kissing him again. "You're so damn corny. I love it." 

"I mean it - I'll stick the divorce papers on that new Keurig he bought for you. I know what he's trying to do."

Jin laughed too loud. The wine was making him warm and the weather was making him warmer and one of Namjoon's hands was on his waist, and so Jin was wrapping his arms around Namjoon's neck. It was too domestic, almost more than he ever could have wished for. It was impossible not to laugh.

How had he gotten so lucky?

"What's he trying to do, then?" Jin asked quietly. "Tell me."

Namjoon pulled back a bit, eyes settling on Jin's lips when he spoke again. "Well first off, he's trying to marry you. Run off with you to some island in the sun so that he can start a family with you, maybe have a million babies-"

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. He wants you wearing his ring and his clothes," Namjoon said. "He wants you thinking about him all the time. You know. His hands and his lips. His muscles. His cock."

"Santa? Oh my..." Jin hissed.

"Mmm, that jolly motherfucker. I've heard he's got a big dick."

"Oh my god," Jin choked, breaking into hysterics at the thought of it. Defiling Christmas was no laughing matter, but Namjoon was... well, Namjoon. An unpredictable man, a smartass, the best fucking husband in the whole goddamn world. Jin absolutely couldn't handle it. He laughed until his sides were aching and his lungs were rattling. He laughed until Namjoon started to laugh. He laughed until Namjoon had to kiss him to shut him up, sliding his tongue easily between his lips and then chortling against his open mouth. He only spoke after he'd licked every bit of wine from Jin's tongue.

"You know, I'm thinking he wants you all to himself," Namjoon panted. 

And Jin leaned up and nipped at Namjoon's jaw, cheesing as he responded, "Mmhmm. I sure fucking hope so."  

Santa didn't bring Jungkook a reindeer. 

But he did bring a smaller, more manageable substitute. A tabby cat named Toulouse who'd trotted out of a small box with a note attached to his collar. 

It's come to my attention that you've all been Super Good. Unfortunately, I can't gift you any of my reindeer - each one of them is an important member of my family, and I don't know what I'd do without them. I'm hoping that in exchange, you might accept this new friend of mine who needs a home. His name is Toulouse and he loves you so much already. Merry Christmas, Kim Family, and a Happy New Year.

-Papa Noel.

Jungkook cried because Hoseok cried, and then the kids collectively spent the rest of the day welcoming their youngest sibling to the family, ignoring every single other gift under the tree.

If Jungkook folded Santa's letter up and stuck it down the waistband of his jeans, Jin didn't say a thing. He'd end up finding the note the next day on Jungkook's dresser, and he'd shove it into the crack between the mirror and its wooden frame just for safekeeping. Soon, it would be Jungkook tapdancing to Mariah Carey in the kitchen. For now, the boy was happy to be swathed in the thick blanket of Christmas magic.

Chapter Text

Jin had a feeling that if he stared at Namjoon for too long, the situation was going to escalate. 

Sitting across from each other at some fancy, upscale restaurant on the tail end of a ridiculous fight was already awkward enough without the heated glare that he was shooting across the table. Honestly, they both could have done without it. But Jin, feeling a little petty and a lot disappointed, couldn't help himself. His arms were folded tightly across his chest and he was leaned back cooly in his seat, and every time the waitress came by to refill their drinks, he wordlessly raised his hand to stop her and waited for her to walk away.

She hadn't been by in twenty minutes.

Eventually, Jin grumbled, “I’m just not sure what to make of it, Kim Namjoon. I don't mean to be frank, but have you actually lost your damn mind?"

There was a brief pause and then Namjoon scoffed.

“You know what?” He said clearly, loudly, just as his gaze shot from the image of the skyline outside of the window to Jin’s irritated stare. The man had done well to keep his mouth shut. He'd been trying to avoid the conversation altogether by staring pointedly out at the city beyond the restaurant. Now, he looked too harassed to stay quiet. It was certainly clear in the way that his voice wobbled when he warned, “I think you need to cool it.”

“What did you say?"

"I said, I think. You need. To cool it."

Jin couldn't - he didn't - for fuck's sake, if he hadn't been angry before, he was livid now that his husband was trying to shove the metaphorical sock into his mouth. He'd never been quiet about things he didn't like, and Namjoon ought to have known better. This wasn't the first time that Namjoon had tried to cut him off, but it was the only sure-fire way to get under Jin's skin, to piss him off beyond belief. He'd always hated it. "Are you kidding me? Cool it? My god, don’t you dare-”

“No. Jin,” Namjoon said sharply, hand raised to cut the man off. Jin went mute out of shock, not out of an actual desire to obey, and Namjoon groused, “You’ve been pissy for days. You’re nitpicking every little thing I do. You’ve been stomping around the hotel, mumbling under your breath, moving my fucking conference papers everywhere-”

“I told you that that wasn't intentional,” Jin fired back.

Namjoon gripped the table and leaned forward, voice a low growl as he hissed, “And you don’t think you have a problem? Are you really gonna keep blaming me for that stick up your ass?"

"I think you've forgotten who you're talking to."

"I know exactly who I'm talking to. My god damn husband. And to answer your ridiculous question, Kim Seokjin, I haven't lost my mind. What I did was accept a few drinks from a colleague because, bless up, my Korean ass was trying to be courteous.”

Jin's hands were shaking. His neck hurt from how stiffly he was sitting in his seat, and the only thing keeping him from crawling over the table and throttling Namjoon himself was the paperwork that would come from it. This disastrous sort of event only happened once in a blue moon, and without fail, Namjoon and Jin both went to blows with all they had in them. It was better to argue it out here, all the way on the other side of the country from the kids, where the only ones immersed in the pile of shit were the two of them. 

“Courteous?" Jin asked quietly. He tilted his head back and tapped at his chin with his finger, "I'm sorry I must have misunderstood. Perhaps I didn't hear the part of the story where she invited the other four people on your project out to the bar and bought drinks for them, too. Silly Namjoon-ah, you should have told me that upfront!" Jin smirked mirthfully and then sucked his teeth, "Ohhhh, no, no. Wait a second. Wrong story. That's what happened to me and my colleagues.  Your colleague must have forgotten the other people on your research - maybe looking for a bit more one-on-one type of courtesy, no?"

“Oh, fuck off,” Namjoon spat, and the words were short and derisive. As he leaned back in his seat and looked back out the window, Jin could see his reddened, angry cheeks. "You know what I think, Jin."

"What?"

"I think you're fucking jealous, and it's making you mean."

"I'm not jeal-"

"And rude."

"That's not true."

"And unfair. You're acting like a bitch."

“Excuse me?” Jin crowed.

“We've done this before and you still refuse to admit it. For some odd reason, you think you’re above this petty behavior because you run off the park ahjummas who you think wouldn't have a chance with me. But an educated young lady spearheads one of the most important pieces of research in my post-doctorate career and invites me out to celebrate it, and you lose your balls. You feel threatened, and you get nasty, and you take it out on me," Namjoon said evenly. When he looked back at Jin, it was with the small shadow of a frown beneath his eyebrows. "This suit doesn't fit you, babe. I'd take it off.”

“She took you out, Namjoon," Jin said. "She took you out, and you came home at three in the morning, happier than I've seen you in months, out of your fucking mind, talking this and talking that and just..."

“You think I fucked her?"

“What? No, I-”

"You do."

"I don't," Jin pressed.

“Then what is this?” Namjoon asked, pointing between himself and Jin. "What are we doing right now? Why the fuck are you so upset? You think she even wanted to take me home?"

It wasn't that, Jin thought. It could never be that. Namjoon wouldn't cheat on him. Namjoon wouldn't do that. Of course, Namjoon wouldn't do that. He wouldn't leave. He had kids, and he had a husband. A smart, attractive, young husband who would wait on him hand and foot if that's what it took to keep him happy. He wouldn't leave. He couldn't leave. But Jin was too upset and his mouth was running amuck.

"What would you have said if she did?" Jin asked quietly. He almost couldn't believe he was asking it. Because it was clear that Namjoon wasn't a cheater. Most people wanted to take Namjoon home, and what did it matter what they wanted if they couldn't have it? Namjoon always said no. He always stood at the bar and got free drinks and got smashed and went home and cuddled up to Jin's side, smelling like that expensive cologne he liked to blow his money on.

Namjoon was right. Jin didn't fit a suit like this. He couldn't even clarify why he was so angry, and now he'd gone and riled Namjoon up so much that the man was shaking. His husband looked so awful right now. So hurt. So irritated. There wasn't a single good emotion hidden in any of the lines of his face, not the crows eyes or the shining teeth or the tinkling laugh that Namjoon always seemed to bless him with. Now it was just desperation and misery.

"I came back to you. I will always come back to you. And I'm -" Namjoon said quietly, voice cracking. He shook his head and looked down at his lap. "It breaks my heart to know that you don't trust me." 

"Of course I trust you, Namjoon."

Namjoon shook his head again. When he looked back up, his eyes had gone glassy. He glanced over at the bar and raised his hand, and the waitress tripped over to them so quickly that Jin didn't have a second to say anything. He wasn't sure what he would have said, anyway. It'd been so long since Namjoon had cried that Jin almost thought the tears gathering in the corners of Namjoon's eyes were the same fever dream as whatever sick and twisted nightmare Jin had forced them into. 

"We're ready to pay," Namjoon said, fumbling for his wallet and laying a golden credit card in the middle of the table. He stood up, chair scraping the floor as he reached for the coat that was hanging on the back of it. Without a second glance at Jin, he said, "Make sure you bring it back to the hotel when you're done." 

"Namjoon," Jin begged, suddenly desperate to say something before the man could leave. "Wait."

Namjoon fought his way into his coat and began to do his buttons. Jin couldn't string a thought together. His body was flushing with adrenaline each time a button wormed through one of the holes. He was floundering for something to say in the dead silence between them. As soon as the coat was done up, Namjoon reached into his pockets and pulled out the car keys. Then he sniffed and looked at Jin properly. "I love you so fucking much, do you know that? So fucking much. Please, please, please, don't ever forget that," then, before Jin could get a word in edgewise, he set the keys on the table and said, "Don't lose the card. I'll catch a cab."

It was hard to sit in the hotel room and wait for Namjoon to return. 

Because more than anything, Jin realized he was worried. The anxiety was a bit like a worm  - no, a parasite - and whether Jin wanted to admit it or not, from the day that Namjoon had slipped that golden band onto his finger, he'd been worried that someone would be the excuse that the man needed to take it back off of him. It was an anxiety that he hated to admit, but which was almost inevitable with a husband as smart, and as beautiful, and as perfect as Kim Namjoon. 

It took him less than an hour to get from the restaurant to the hotel, and the entire drive back he drafted what he should say in apology. None of it seemed fitting. In the end it didn't matter, though, because walking through the door to a dark and empty room was enough to make him forget everything that he'd wanted to say. As his stomach dropped to his feet, he glanced around, and not a thing was out of place.

Namjoon wasn't back yet.

Slowly, Jin turned on the lights and began to undress. He wormed his way out of his coat, toed off his shoes by the door, tried not to give in to the absolute dread that was crawling up his spine. If he called Namjoon now and asked him where he was, the whole situation would go from 'terrible' to 'disastrous' because it would hammer home what Namjoon already thought about his accusation: that Jin didn't trust him.

And that couldn't be true.

It wasn't right to keep a husband you didn't trust. 

So Jin went to the bedroom of their hotel alone. He undressed in the absolute silence and slipped into his loose pajama bottoms. After he'd brushed his teeth and his hair and wiped his face down, he went for the bed, fully expecting to crawl into it and wait for Namjoon there. But at the last moment, he went to the large windows instead - the floor to ceiling panels of glass that were hidden by the curtains, and he yanked the fabric aside to expose his room to the artificial lights of the city. It was the perfect part of the evening when everything was in a state of flux and the city wasn't too awake nor too asleep. The twinkling of the passing car lights, the occasional horns, the chatter of the people below his room if he listened hard enough, the soft pattering against his window as the rain started. No matter how quiet his room, it was nice to know that the world was still going on out there. Still turning. 

Namjoon was out there somewhere, too.

Jin looked at his hand on the curtain, watching the band of his wedding ring as it twinkled brightly on his finger.

"Fuck," He hissed. He bowed his head and scrunched his eyes shut against the sting of his oncoming tears. He'd really been such a tit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Jin cried quietly. He let himself have that. He was frustrated, alone, missing his kids, feeling like he'd overstepped his boundaries this time and actually damaged his relationship with his husband. His husband: the very same man he'd fallen in love with years ago over a linguistics textbook and a few ill-timed jokes. The man who had taken him out to a movie for the first time and kissed him silly through the scary scenes because he'd worried that Jin wouldn't like them. The man who had laid his head on Jin's lap and worried over the fact that he wouldn't be a good parent, but who had been nothing but the epitome of a father since the day that Yoongi had arrived on their porch. That husband. That man, Kim Namjoon. 

And when Namjoon finally did return, it was all Jin could do to not fall on his knees and thank god that the man had found a reason to come back. Jin had known he would, and yet it was such a relief to see him come through the door all the same.

Namjoon stumbled in back-first. He was closing his umbrella, fighting with the handle of it as it continuously sprung open and covered the wall with small droplets of water. The man himself wasn't unscathed from the elements. His hair was sticking to his face, his coat was soaked, darkened from the water that was on it, and when Namjoon turned around to hang the umbrella on the hook behind the door, the man's lips were glistening wet. Jin sniffed and rubbed at his face, and then he crossed the room in quick, athletic steps.

"Wh-babe, whoa," Namjoon yelped, falling back into the door from the weight of Jin launching himself into his arms. It slammed closed and one of them hissed, though Jin wasn't sure who.

"I'm sorry."

"Sure. Yeah. Okay, baby, I get it-"

"No, listen to me," Jin interrupted. His face was hidden in the warm crevice of Namjoon's shoulder, chin cradled on the man's wet coat. He wanted to - needed to - apologize, because if he couldn't swallow his pride and do that, then what kind of companion did that make him? He wanted to be good for Namjoon, and wanted to apologize properly for being a douche. With a quick sniffle, a disgustingly wet one from the clogged nose and the on-and-off tear fests, Jin said, "I had no right to say any of those things to you. It wasn't okay. It was... callous and uncouth and I - I should know better. You've been nothing but faithful to me and the kids, and I trust you. Really, really. I do."

"Then what's going on with you?" Namjoon asked. He finally, finally, wrapped his arms back around Jin and tugged him a bit closer, leaning down and kissing the top of the man's forehead. Jin wasn't usually much shorter than Namjoon but tucked into the man's body like this, with his nose nudging the man's throat and his arms looped neatly around his waist, the top of his forehead was the only place Namjoon could properly reach. "What happened?"

Fuck, Jin wished he knew. Anxiety happened.

"It's been building up for a few days."

"I gathered that much. What's been building up?"

"The thought that..." Jin trailed off. He took a deep breath and leaned back, wiping a few droplets of rain from Namjoon's jaw. They were dripping from his hair down to his chin, and as Jin watched them move along the tan line of skin, he smoothed them away with his fingers at the last second, saying, "I don't want you to leave me. Namjoon, I think I would actually lose my mind if you found someone out there that fit your life better than I could."

"And whose out there that fits my life better than you?" Namjoon asked. "We have kids, Jin. I have my babies with you."

"I know. Geeze. I know, I know, I know. Really. It's like one second I know you won't leave, and then the next you're coming in smelling like someone else and I - I can't help it, I just think, what if. What if one day I'm too much? Or you find out that I'm not all I'm chalked up to be? Or you find your soulmate out there, someone who knocks you off of your feet again-"

"Stop," Namjoon warned. He sounded so stern, but his eyes had gone much softer. "There is none of that out there for me. I chose you and I'm still choosing you every day of my life. I'm not giving that up. You have to trust me when I say that. I gave you that ring and I begged you to put a bit of faith in me, and I haven't let you down yet. So don't do this to me, okay? Don't make me think that I'm losing you."

Jin stared at Namjoon for a long time. He watched the way the emotions danced along the man's brows, the way Namjoon sighed and deflated against the door once he was done speaking, the way he looked at Jin's lips and then his eyes and then back to his lips again. Jin loved this man too much. And that sounded like a silly thing to admit when he'd known it for years and years. He'd spent days and weeks and months admiring the man's face in the early hours of the morning, just watching the shadows and the lines as their bedroom was illuminated, and each time he came to the same conclusion. Namjoon was made for him. He was molded out there in the stars and put right here for Jin to swallow up. Whether Namjoon truly felt that way too, Jin would never know. There would never be any way to know. His choices were only to be and to stay madly in love, and to take a leap of faith. To trust. 

Jin squeezed his eyes shut again and dropped his head right back onto Namjoon's shoulders, hiding his red eyes and his runny nose as he started to cry again.

Namjoon chuckled a bit. It was more dry than his usual laughs, but it wasn't fake, and neither was the familiar way that he gripped Jin's waist and squeezed him. They stood there together for a long while, until the night had truly rolled in and both of their feet were starting to go numb. Namjoon mumbled let's talk about this more in the morning, hmm? We need to call the kids against Jin's temple. Jin tilted his head up and pressed his lips to Namjoon's jaw, apologizing again and again and again, until Namjoon forced him to stop by pressing their lips together instead. The two of them stood in the doorway of the hotel together for a little bit longer, Namjoon soaked to the bone with rainwater and Kim Seokjin's love, and Jin steadily reminding himself that the man kissing him stupid was the very same man who would be doing so in thirty-plus years.

Trust.

What could Jin buy with a bottle of trust?

The same thing that Namjoon could buy with a bottle of patience. A damn good husband.

Chapter Text

When Namjoon asked Jin to renew their vows, the setting wasn’t particularly romantic.

Jin was standing at the kitchen sink filling a glass of water for Jungkook. The boy had both arms wrapped around Jin’s legs and was blowing raspberries into the cloth of his pants. The other kids were similarly hovering around with their distractions. Taehyung was chewing noisily on an orange, Hoseok was sitting across the kitchen table from Yoongi telling him jokes as the elder sibling read his book and hummed at appropriate intervals. Jimin was the only quiet one and it was because he was upstairs napping away a headache bought on by too much cotton candy. 

Namjoon leaned against the doorway and observed the ruckus with his mug of coffee in hand. At some point he said, “I want you to marry me.”

Jin looked at him curiously. His confusion was evident. “Did I miss the memo where we were no longer married? Or…”

“Again, I mean.”

“Again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon laughed. “Let's get married again. I wanna renew our vows.”

Jin and Namjoon’s wedding had been anything but traditional. They’d exchanged rings years back and then gone to court, signed some papers, and left with the same last names they'd had before marriage. There’d been no tuxedos or cakes, friends or drinks. Just the two of them spending the remainder of that evening eating takeout, watching movies, and working on their dissertations.

At the time, being with Namjoon was enough. The theatrics of a formal wedding weren't necessary. He only needed Namjoon's soft kisses to his eyelids, the man's chuffs of laughter against his neck when they decided to push the school work aside and work off some of that Chinese food. Not once had Jin considered doing it all over again now that they were older and wiser. With a quick glance to the fridge, Jin looked at the selfie of the two of them in tattered clothes, years younger but just as carefree. Their hands were raised and their wedding rings were glistening proudly in front of them. 

They could put another picture there. One with the kids in it. 

“Okay," Jin smiled. "Will we have a full wedding?”

“Do you want a full wedding? With the party and guests and everything?”

“...a bit, yeah,” Taehyung answered, munching on his orange.

“A party would be nice,” Yoongi contributed from the table. “With cupcakes.”

"Cupcakes and sparklers," Hoseok chanted.

“Wait a minute,” Jin laughed. “Why are you all so nosy? He’s not asking any of you.”

“Do you guys even know what vows are?” Namjoon asked.

“Kind of,” Taehyung said, obviously having no clue.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said a bit more confidently.

Hoseok and Jungkook didn't respond at all, Jungkook too busy gulping noisily on his water. When Jin smiled down at him, Jungkook's attention diverted and he breathed the water in, coughing and then breathing more in. Jin hissed and grabbed the cup, setting it on the counter and then crouching down to smack on the youngest ones back.

“You're just like your father. Can't multitask to save your life. Hands up," Jin said firmly. "Joonie, baby. Let’s talk about this later. We'll sit down and sketch it out.” 

“Let’s,” Taehyung concluded. “And while we wait, daddy, we can play Animal Crossing.”

“Excellent plan,” Namjoon said, the smile evident in his words.

Taehyung walked to him and offered his hand. When Namjoon looked down at it in confusion, Taehyung flexed his fingers impatiently and tilted his head. "Are you coming?"

"You want to hold my hand."

"Yes. Last time you said you'd play with me, you got lost on the way to the game room," Taehyung reminded him. "So I'll guide you."

Jin snorted and then hid his face quickly in Jungkook's shirt. The youngest impulsively wrapped his arms around Jin's neck and kissed his temple, then stuck his tongue out and slobbered all over it, still coughing like a little heathen. Leave it to Namjoon to forget that he'd abandoned his children's invitations more than once. Leave it to Jungkook to distract Jin from laughing about it. 

Namjoon took Taehyung's hand. They slinked from the kitchen together, and the last thing Jin could hear was Namjoon's soft warning, "Okay, but we're washing your hands first. If I find one more sticky controller, I'm gonna lose it."

Namjoon had caught Jin on a chilly morning a week after the proposal and asked him a series of questions. What colors was Jin partial to these days? What sweets would he want to eat if he were a thirty-year-old pregnant woman? How did he feel about line dances being featured at a party with more than thirty people? The questions painted a picture, but the actual plan was elusive. Namjoon had left that day with a notepad full of scribbled answers, and for two weeks, Jin hadn’t heard another peep from him.

The morning it happened, Jin woke to an alarm he didn't set. It was the worst feeling in the world, the momentary confusion as he gasped and startled upright, smacking around for the blaring noise on his bedside table. For a terrifying moment, he thought that he was late for work or that he’d missed some appointment. Then he recalled that it was a Saturday and that there shouldn’t have been an alarm at all. Seokjin's alarms were on a schedule, and so if there was a new and unexpected one, it was intentionally done.

When Seokjin grabbed his phone, he noticed the letter taped to the back of it. He peeled it off and curiously unfolded it.

There was a list of instructions inside, all in Namjoon’s familiar scrawl.

hyung

love of my life

Seokjinnie, 

 

I’m sorry for going through your phone to set your alarm without permission. Please forgive me.

I’ve left you an outfit, a train ticket, a printed address and a way to get to me and your little monsters. They’re all in the closet. We hope they make sense and you don't end up in a ditch somewhere.

You have about eight hours. I’ll be waiting. (>-<)v

 

love,

your baby daddy. 

Oh. This was one for the scrapbook. Jin smiled and carefully, carefully refolded the letter. Then he tucked it beneath the lamp on the table. 

All of the promised items were in the closet. There was both a four-hour train ride ticket from Seoul to Sokcho and a printed page of coordinates and instructions from google maps taped to the breast pocket of a new tuxedo. Jin’s stomach fluttered as he reached for the suit, running his fingertips over the satin. It wasn’t a black and white tux, but instead had colorful, baroque patterns on the jacket. Just swirling colors and different shapes. Jin was startled by how playful it looked. He could see himself wearing this, standing beside Namjoon while the two of them spoke nonsense to a chorus of their cheering friends, kids lined up like little flower boys beneath the pew. It felt right. Namjoon was a fucking wizard. 

Jin pulled the outfit from the closet and laid it out on the bed. Patting the wrinkles out of it with finality, Jin bit his lip and then giggled, turning sharply to go and get ready. 

Wearing the suit to the station an hour later was a strong risk. Jin considered packing it in his bag before he realized it would mess up the fabric. Then he thought about carrying it in his arms but worried that it'd be ruined by the travel. When he wound up at the station, he was decked out in a too-formal, pressed and fitted suit. His hair was coiffed back. The backpack slung over his shoulders didn't match in the slightest, a patchy leather thing that he'd had since his early college years. He'd grown used to the fit of it, though, and how it carried the same emergency list of belongings as usual. A phone and charger. A water bottle. The ticket and map and then a few snacks for his babies when he saw them just in case they didn't like the food that Namjoon had ordered.

There were the odd stares. Hopping on board, an older woman stopped him to ask him if he was lost. But after a fumbled beginning into the right compartment, he went unbothered. He found his seat, pulled out his handkerchief to cover it before flopping down and situating himself.

“Alright,” he sighed. "We're off."

For the most part, the train ride was uneventful. Jin chanced a message to Namjoon an hour in to kill time. He asked about the kids. It was just a quick inquiry. Did you feed them? How are they behaving? They're missing me already, right? The message was seen within minutes but went woefully unanswered. After that, Jin realized that Namjoon wouldn't answer. Jin would see him in a few hours, anyway. He could be patient. 

The landscape passed beyond the window and Jin focused on that. Two hours felt more like minutes once he was focusing on something else. The train flew between full cities and barren fields, the tall buildings morphing to grassy plains. The view of it calmed Jin's nerves and he wondered if Namjoon had done this intentionally. Jin missed this type of peace and quiet. The unrushed feeling that came with leaving a schedule in someone else's hands. Jin could remember that once, back when they'd been young and in college, stressed about exams and failure and all manner of bills they couldn't afford to pay, Namjoon had bought him a handful of tickets to Jeju. It was the longest route possible, and Jin had kept his mouth shut thinking that Namjoon couldn't afford to get him an airplane ticket or a quicker train, happy that his boyfriend was thinking about him. But then the travel had commenced and he'd realized just how precious those little moments alone were. The ones where you were staring out the window and watching the world rush by, not a thought in your head.

When the train pulled to a stop at the right station, Jin unearthed his print out map and slipped back into his backpack. He wormed his way off of the train and into the crowd of people who obviously didn't understand that he was going to renew his vows. A few whispered aggressively, a few people cleared their throats, a few teenagers said something that Jin didn't give two fucks about. Jin went out onto the first main street and then consulted his map. There were two busses he needed to take and he would be at the park front. He caught them as easily as he'd caught the train, ignorant of the people who were absolutely stumped by his getup. 

Alongside the butterflies and the uncertainty, Jin was feeling a bit giggly wondering what people would tell their families and friends about him when they got home. 

The pin on the map was in the middle of a national park and there were coordinates, but the expanse of green over the map was impossible to navigate. There were no landmarks to go by. When Jin stepped off of the bus and saw the large sign for the park, he smiled in victory, sucking his teeth and tilting his head. Time to move onto the other directions, then, it seemed. The handwritten ones that looked more like a chicken had been tickled, had his claws dipped in ink, and then had been let loose all over the paper. Truthfully, Namjoon's writing was atrocious when he was excited. Outside of that, it was perfectly fine.

The steps were marked one through fifteen and were quite detailed. Jin opened an app on his phone to track the direction and the miles. Then he read through them. 

"Alright. Go past the visitor center to Yakdom falls trail entrance," he read. "And 1.32 miles. Pause. Stop to smell flowers."

When the fuck did Namjoon have time to get this together? Jin was floored by the amount of detail in the steps. This couldn't have been done alone; Namjoon was an intelligent man and he knew how to gather resources, but this was too much. The thought was at the forefront of Seokjin's mind as he started his trek, and it didn't stop until he was already a mile in the trail, pausing every now and then to pick shrubs and greenery that looked funky. There was a chill in the air still. Spring had only just arrived. While the day was mild, there was a drop in temperature beneath the blanket of trees and Jin moved briskly to warm up his body. His backpack jostled against his suit.  

It took half an hour for Jin to follow the first four instructions, and then only fifteen minutes for Jin to follow the next ten. When he got to step fifteen, he had filled his backpack with too many things. Trinkets and what amounted to grass with flair.

"Okay," Jin sighed. There were small beads of sweat on his forehead. He wiped them off before looking at the last step. 

Are you at a fork in the road?  I know you are. You're great at following the details. So take a right. Go up the stairs (carefully. They're steep but some uneven). At the top, pick up the blindfold from the rock to the left. Once it's on, you're finished. Just scream Kim Jimin. If he's not being goofy, you'll be collected quickly. If he is, please be patient and give him approximately two minutes before taking off the blindfold in panic.

“Aish, really,” Jin choked. “This is…”

Folding the paper neatly, Jin neatened up his backpack. Onto the last step, it was. He followed the right and was confronted with the tall, wooden steps that took him to a higher level of the terrain. He could see why he needed to be careful. A few of the steps jutted out unsafely and so Jin took his time going up. There were rocks flanking either side of him and as promised, there were two large boulders waiting for him at the top. Pressed into the sharp, jagged edges of the rock to his left, there was a black, silk scarf. Jin gently pulled it free and turned it over in his hand.

"Please don't make a fool of me, Kim Namjoon," Jin grumbled. He put his map between his lips and then covered his eyes with the blindfold, tying it off at the back of his head and double-knotting for security. When he was sure it wouldn't slip, he took the paper from his mouth and took a deep breath. "MY SON, KIM JIMIN! DAD IS HERE!" 

Not shockingly, the response was immediate. There was a rustling from around him that was too loud to be trees but too soft to be anything sinister. A moment later, someone was calling back, "Dad! Yes! I'm here!"

"Are you? I can't see you..."

Their voices echoed into the cavernous space around them. Jin let out a breathy laugh. Jimin's feet were scuttling along the rocks and Jin crouched instinctively, arms open. This was all on auto-pilot. He knew that Jimin would run to them, and was glad to find them filled with the familiar bulk of his son in the minutes that followed. Jimin squeezed his shoulders and said, "Wow! I missed you. It's been forever."

"I saw you last night," Jin reminded him. "Did daddy not distract you enough?"

"No. He was too busy setting up with Uncle Mark. Also, he told me I can't tell you anything, so I have to stop talking." There was a soft tugging on Jin's backpack and he flinched. "Can I have this?"

"Of course," Jin said. "Are there cameras up there?"

"A whole buncha them," Jimin said airily.

"Oh, yeesh," Jin hissed before apologizing. He removed his backpack, shoving the paper inside one of the pockets before handing it over. He patted his head trying to fix the strays. "Do I look okay? I look like an idiot, don't I? Jiminie, please tell dad if his hair looks ridiculous."

"I think you look really, really great," Jimin said. Then Jimin took his hand. Jin let the boy's warm grip tether him back to earth. He shook his head and realized that his hair was probably going to look a bit fucked up and mushroom-like for the first set of pictures. Whatever. These wouldn't be the ones hanging on the fridge. Jimin continued, "I'll walk slowly. Please don't trip because you're big and you'll probably squash me."

"My, my Kim Jimin. A regular poet, aren't you?"

Wherever his son was guiding him, it didn't take long to get there. The minute was filled with their feet crunching against the rocks and Jimin's occasional humming. Soon, there was the additional chorus of chatter and music, just a soft violin tuning itself. Jin's stomach dropped. He wouldn't know when people began to notice his arrival. He couldn't see anything. All he had to go on was the grip of Jimin's palm and then the soft shriek of Jungkook as the boy screamed, "DAD!"

"Jungook!" Taehyung hissed.

Jungkook's next scream was muffled. 

That's my Jungkookie, Jin thought. He wanted to see him. He wanted to see all of them. Were they in suits, too? Had Namjoon done their hair after tugging them out of bed at some indecent hour of the morning to catch a train? Or maybe he'd driven them here and let them sleep in the car on the way. So many curiosities, so little time to consider them.

Jimin released Jin's hand and Jin grimaced, wiping them on his pants legs before he remembered that this suit looked and smelled expensive and that his bodily fluids shouldn't get anywhere near it lest it was rented. No sooner had he cleared the sweat from his hand than someone grabbed it again. Jin huffed and said, "Now who is this?"

"Your favorite son. Obviously."

"Oh. He didn't trust Jiminie to walk me down, then?"

The space around them was quieting. It was obvious that Jin was being walked right into a nest of people. His hand started to shake, the soft trails of adrenaline leaking into his system. Yoongi squeezed his hand softly in understanding and said, "I don't wanna scare you, dad, but there are a lot of people here. If you trip, they're gonna see, so walk well."

"Ya, Kim Yoongi, you -" Jin started.

"You can't yell at me. Everyone's watching," Yoongi laughed. "Also daddy's eyes are getting big. We gotta go." 

With every step that Jin took, Yoongi's body was there to guide him. The boy was smaller by quite a bit but his confidence was enough.

It was strange to hear the noise reduced down to nothing but the soft melody of the violin. Jin had never felt so exposed. Was everyone staring at him now? He must've been walking down an aisle. He could hear shuffling on either side of him. Was Namjoon standing at the end waiting for him, and if so, was he smiling? Or anxious? Or exhausted? These were things that Jin wanted to know. Instead of panicking over the blank variables, he tried to focus on what he did know, and what he did know was that the birds overhead were tweeting and that the wind rustling between the leaves complimented the music and that while it was cold, the scent of spring was filling him with an odd sense of exhilaration.

Jin bent a bit and whispered, "Does it look pretty here?"

Yoongi whispered back, "Well... imagine a park, then add more flowers. That's about it."

Jin couldn't wait to take the blindfold off. 

The walk to Namjoon was slower than the rest of the trip had been. Every minute was like traveling through tar, each step so heavy with anticipation he was finding it hard to move at all. When Yoongi's hand disappeared, Jin slowed and stopped completely. Something had happened. Yoongi was gone and Jin was anxious. He was about to reach for the blindfold and remove it when there was a pair of sturdy hands on his forearms, tugging him in gently. Jin went without a moment of hesitation. He just followed the traces of Namjoon's cologne, trusting the man to place him wherever he should be.

"Oh my god, Joon," Jin said, nervous laughter bubbling out of his throat. "I don't know who's watching me, so I won't say any bad words, but that... was a trip."

"Thought it reflected our relationship well," he said. "Bit of panic, bit of excitement, lots of movement. It wasn't too hard on you, right?"

"I quite enjoyed the train ride," Jin admitted. "Can I see you?"

"Well, I don't know. Are you ready for it?"

Could the other people hear this? Where the hell were they? Jin licked his lips. Namjoon had run his hands down Jin's arms so that they were hand in hand. Jin took a deep breath and said, "I don't know if I'll ever be ready for you, but I'll take the chance." 

Namjoon held onto Jin for just a moment more. Then, with shaking fingers, he reached up to untie Jin's blindfold.

Jin wasn't sure what he expected to see. He'd been building an image in his head from the moment he started the trail. In his mind, it was more like a pizza party with pizzazz and some off-brand Gucci suits. Not... this. Jin looked around himself with his mouth falling open. There was an arch high overhead with flowers interwoven through the wood, all colors, petals falling onto him that he hadn't felt until now. Out around him, There were rows of white seats that were adorned with pastel bows and filled with old and new friends, each smiling up at him. Then there was the gorgeous runner that went the length of the aisle and stopped at his and Namjoon's feet. It was sheer and looked almost luminescent. If none of that had done it, the scenery would have knocked Jin on his ass. They were at a higher point of the park, and so there was an endless expanse of blue sky above, trees surrounding them, and a railed overhang that showed off the land down below. Jin took a deep breath and turned back to Namjoon, eyes zeroing in on him.

"Kim Namjoon."

"We couldn't bring too much here. It's a national park." 

"Kim Namjoon," Jin hissed.

"You said you wanted to visit here, right? Jackson knows one of the rangers and Mark's friends with the crew at the visitor's office," Namjoon explained. Then, as if remembering there was a crowd watching them, Namjoon grit his teeth and he looked back at their guests sheepishly. He bowed politely in apology.

Jin couldn't take his eyes off the man, stupefied and so god damn in love. Jin knew his friends were here to see both of them. Jin knew his kids were standing somewhere watching him. Jin knew that he'd made a list of questions that could be answered right now if he were to stop looking at Namjoon and focus on his surroundings. All he wanted to do was lean in and kiss the soul out of the man standing in front of him in the (equally fitted and equally colorful) suit. Would he get in trouble for doing that? Jin doubted that there were any rules at all. From the lack of officiator, he assumed that he and Namjoon would truly be "renewing vows" by just speaking them here in front of witnesses. It was a shame that Jin couldn't budge on the compulsion to lean in and steal the next words from Namjoon's lips. He decided midway through Namjoon's apology to stop fighting it.

"We want to thank everyone for-"

"I just-" Jin choked, forcibly grabbing Namjoon's chin and turning his face back. Namjoon had two seconds to make sense of what was happening before Jin was leaning in and kissing him soundly, head tilted and eyes squeezed shut.

The crowd beyond tittered and hollered. It was all background noise. Namjoon's hand went to Jin's waist, the man's breath huffing against his lip as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, the soft sound of euphoria that slipped from both of them at the same time was so much louder than anything else. Jin had gotten lost in this sensation a thousand times before and it was still as fresh and exciting as the first time.

"I love you too much," Jin said between one kiss and the next. "I don't need to say that, right? I don't need to remind you."

"No," Namjoon laughed. "But we'd get some good pictures out of the process."

"Okay," Jin said. He kissed Namjoon again and again, pausing only when Jungkook's anxious, high-pitched complaints sounded from the sea of people in front of them.

Renewing vows was all good and well and Jin loved that Namjoon had made the suggestion, but he realized now that it wasn't necessary. Jin didn't need anything to reconfirm the decision he'd made years ago. A kiss was enough. Every part of his body was alight from the way Namjoon's hands steadied him, and the way the man seemed to chase his lips when they parted. 

Jin cleared his throat and stepped back. In the distance, there was the click of a shutter as a picture was taken.

Maybe that could be one for the fridge?

"Alright," Namjoon said quietly, clearing his throat too and then smiling properly. "Let's do this."

Chapter Text

Meeting Yoongi was the highlight of Jin’s parenthood.

It wouldn’t be right to say that Jin had a favorite -- he loved every single one of his children to death, and there was no order of operations to that -- but Kim Yoongi would always be the child who sat in the most vulnerable part of Jin’s soul. Of all the children, Yoongi’s effect had been more life-affirming than the degree propped on his fireplace, the ring sitting on his finger, even the house that he’d signed off on years ago as a newlywed.

Jin could remember when Yoongi was the littlest. It was bittersweet to see him now as the eldest amongst a group of cute little hooligans, but those first days with the boy were so fondly recalled. Yoongi had been brought to Jin and Namjoon in a car seat, buckled safely and covered with blankets. The most fragile delivery. Jin’s entire body had gone taut as the caseworker approached the steps of the porch with their son’s carrier in her grip.

“Mr. Kim,”  she’d said sweetly. “I’ve got your baby.”

His baby. Seokjin’s baby. 

From the moment Jin had gently removed Yoongi from his seat, he’d known that this was it for him. That while the love between himself and Namjoon had been carefully chosen and fostered through years of practice, this love between him and the little bundle in his arms was unequivocal, unconditional, and absolute. Kim Namjoon had met Kim Seokjin as a fully realized adult with dreams and aspirations. Kim Yoongi had met Kim Seokjin as a broken and inexperienced father, with so much to learn and so little time to get it right.

Over the years, Jin suspected that Namjoon and Yoongi had never bonded in the same way that he and Yoongi had. The first few nights with the baby, Jin had dragged Yoongi’s cot from the nursery to their bedroom and slept with his cheek pressed against the frame. His eyes and ears, his late nights and early mornings, they were all for Yoongi. He flinched if the baby so much as hiccoughed in his sleep. 

Those nights, Namjoon had reached for Jin many times. Had rubbed the small of his back or kissed his temple or held him and asked him what was going on in his mind. Seokjin wondered how he could ask the question when it was so obvious that every passing thought was the baby. It’d taken two years and illness for Namjoon to feel it too. Just a few tiny sniffles and soft coughs and then Namjoon was there, sitting beside the toddler’s mattress with his hand rubbing the boy's chest, totally void of any emotion that wasn’t fear and concern over his son.

Jin never faulted Namjoon for the adjustment period. He never thought of Namjoon as lesser or a worse parent for needing more time. Namjoon had always been the more hesitant partner between the two of them, and with Yoongi, it was a life change that was a gorgeous, but a heavy burden. It was an expected reluctance.

Then Hoseok arrived.

Namjoon was enamored. He was a seasoned parent by that point, warmed up to the fact that he could be both a father and a husband without compromising either. Namjoon showered Hoseok with so much affection that most days, Jin couldn't prise them apart. It didn’t mean that the man didn’t love Yoongi, too. In fact, it seemed that through loving Hoseok so unabashedly, he only learned to love Yoongi more. Whenever Jin caught the two of them alone together, Namjoon reading a book or explaining the news to his eldest, the toddler quietly clung to his chest and stared up at him, watching his father’s mouth move with a rapt fascination. 

Yoongi wasn’t like other toddlers. When it came to learning, Yoongi did so quietly. Over the years, that never seemed to change. It only made Jin more vulnerable to an emotion so raw, it was impossible to fully digest.

The family grew quickly. Each sibling came with a new set of baggage. Taehyung was an individualist who hated rules. Jimin was anxious and often talked down on himself. Jungkook was a blank slate that seemed to soak up whatever he could digest, and through it all, Yoongi was the constant. Jin cried often, just releasing built-up stress while sitting on the edge of the bathtub, and it was Yoongi who snuck in, dabbing at Jin’s eyes to help clean up the mess. He didn't talk much even then, but he knew tears, and he knew that the sleeves of his shirt could help clean them up. Intuitive. Intelligent. That was Seokjin’s baby.

So no, Seokjin didn’t play favorites. There was no way to do so when each of his kids was a thread in the fabric of his motivation and his purpose. But the universe had come alive the moment that Kim Yoongi was delivered to Seokjin. 

And so it stood to reason that on Yoongi’s tenth birthday, Jin had a bit of a breakdown. 

The morning started so quietly. Nobody stirred when Jin crawled out of bed with a giant weight in his stomach. Namjoon was dead to the world, none the wiser that his husband had awoken with the thorn of fear stabbed into his side. It was better that way. Subconsciously, Jin knew that he could wake the man and ask for comfort. He couldn’t find the morale to do it, though. So he rolled out of bed and then slipped into his robe and made his way to the kitchen alone.

Nobody wanted to become this kind of parent. The kind that counted each birthday as another shackle around his ankle. But what was the point of denying the loss he endured with each passing year? The last nine years had come and gone in the snap of a finger and the next ten would certainly fly by much the same. Soon it wouldn’t just be Yoongi past his first decade, it would be Hoseok, and Jimin, and Taehyung, and even his little one, Kim Jungkook.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jin entered the kitchen with a budding migraine. He had to stop. It was too early to be this wound up.

He made himself a mug of tea quickly and shuffled his way to the porch.

Jin liked early mornings. The world was still peeling itself from the clutches of nightfall. It was March, barely spring, and so the frost and the dew made the air feel slightly frigid. It was a simple fix for Jin to wrap his robe more tightly around his body and then curl up on the swing. Between the swinging and the cup of tea, he had hopes his mind would clear and the day could go on as usual.

It must have been an hour that Jin was alone.

In that frame of time, the neighbor’s houses flickered to life, lights shining from beyond the open windows. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. The birds called loudly and ruffled the leaves on the branches as they took flight and went from tree to tree. Inch by inch, the dull blue of the night disappeared in favor of the familiar orange glow. 

And then the screen door squeaked on its hinges. Jin turned to look at the front door.

“Morning, baby,” Jin said automatically.

Yoongi didn’t respond. He merely closed the door gently and dragged himself across the porch with his own thick robe on. Like a baby sloth learning to use their bodies in those formative years, he moved without his regular confidence, still too fresh from his sleep to know which foot went where. The boy reached the swing and then collapsed into the neighboring seat. Jin set his mug on the ground and raised his arms so that Yoongi could tilt to the side and lay his head in his father’s lap.

“Happy birthday, my little bean sprout,” Jin cooed. He rubbed the boy’s hair from his forehead and leaned down to give him a proper kiss good morning. Yoongi tilted up into it and let his eyes close. He was tired. There were small bags under his eyes. “You’re up early.” 

“Daddy’s alarm went off,” Yoongi groaned.

“I’m sorry. I told him to turn it down a bit, but it seems the walls are still too thin.” 

Yoongi wasn’t complaining. No child enjoyed waking up early, but Yoongi seldom complained unless he was at his wits end. In a way, Jin suspected the boy liked waking up with his daddy’s alarm. He’d found Yoongi sitting in the kitchen with a mug of orange juice at the table, staring at Namjoon as the man read him the newspaper more than once. 

“It’s okay. If it keeps bothering me, I’ll talk to him.”

“Oh. Look at you, Kim Yoongi. Almost a grown up already. Nothing to say about turning ten years old, huh?”

“Not really,” Yoongi said honestly. His voice was so small. Jin continued to run his fingers along Yoongi’s scalp. He clung to every word the boy said. “I think I should feel different but it’s the same as every other birthday. I wake up. I have to go to school. That sort of thing.” 

“True… but also not true. It’s your tenth birthday. That’s a super special one.” 

“Really?”

Jin’s mouth dropped open in bewilderment. “Oh yes it is . Do you know what you can do at ten? It’s a huge step up from nine.” 

Yoongi frowned but his lips were twitching. Whether he was buying the dream that Jin was selling had yet to be determined. Jin decided to roll with it anyway, encouraged by the twinkle of curiosity in Yoongi’s eyes. 

“Let’s see,” Jin continued. “Now that you’re ten you can stay up an hour later. You can steal coffee from your dad’s cup and blame it on me. You can even allocate tasks to your younger siblings. Maybe teach Hoseokie how to clean the litter box and then hide every time daddy says, Oi - why is this box so damn stinky! ”

“Well that’s a good one...”

“Yeah?” Jin laughed. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I do. Toulouse is a stinky cat.” 

“Ooooh, a stinky cat for five very stinky kids.”

“We’re not stinky,” Yoongi giggled. “You’re stinky.”

“Aish - you... Okay. Another thing about being ten. You’re too old to call someone stinky.”

“But you-”

“I’m not human. I’m dad. That means the rules don’t apply to me.”

Much like Jimin, whenever Yoongi laughed he did it with his whole body. His eyes squinted, his cheeks puffed up, and he curled in on himself, holding his stomach while the gorgeous tinkling sound of his voice burst from his lips. It was one of Jin’s favorite noises. The early morning laughter of their happy, carefree children.

Jin would miss it. He shouldn’t have been mourning it when it was still his, but he would miss it so much. How could he stop thinking about it? Maybe today was just one of those days.

Yoongi’s giggles trailed off and he said, “Dad? You okay?”

“Hm?”

“Your eyes,” Yoongi said. “I don't wanna say it, because every time I tell Taehyungie it makes things worse, but you're crying.” 

Yoongi shifted in Jin’s lap so that he was looking up directly. The boy covered his wrist with his robe and reached for Jin’s cheek to pat it dry. The movement was so simple, but it was overwhelming. Yoongi was overwhelming. And he was ten. And Jin’s face crumpled because he didn’t want for moments like this to stop. Yoongi patted tenderly, catching the corners of Jin’s eyes where the tears were pooling the most. Jin had no right to act this way but Yoongi took it in stride.

“Dad’s a bit sad, Yoongichi,” Jin croaked. “It’s so selfish of me. I just don’t want you to get older.”

“I don’t want you to get older, either.”

“I won’t,” Jin cried. When Yoongi huffed, Jin paused, thoughts stuttering. “Are you nervous about that, too?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Yoongi said. “I talked to daddy about it because I watched something on TV. The old people got sick and died, so I don’t want that to happen to you. He told me we’re all getting older together, so even if we don’t like it, at least we’re in good company.”

“Oh.”

“And that’s not bad, right? If we’re together.”

Oh, fuck Namjoon and his philosophy. But also, praise Namjoon and his ability to advise even when he wasn't present.

Jin nodded. The tears that had escaped Yoongi’s attention rolled down his cheeks and joined his slightly dampened skin. Kissing Yoongi’s head was a sort of medicine. Just something that Jin did when he was anxious, or when he needed a reminder that he was still loved and not as alone as the early mornings might suggest. He did it twice, just once too many times for a growing boy. Yoongi didn't complain this time.

“You’re right,” Jin mumbled. He sat back up and let the porch swing go, Yoongi getting back into a more comfortable position in his lap. The sun was just kissing the horizon, hidden by the buildings in front of them but peeking up through the cracks. Jin focused on that light. He focused on the feeling of Yoongi in his lap, squeezing his knee and watching the sunrise, too, as Jin kicked his legs back and forth. Later, once Yoongi had gone to school and Namjoon had called off with Jin so that they could redecorate the house for their son's return, he'd speak to his husband about his worries. Unpack the baggage of the future and leave it elsewhere until it was truly time to pick it up. As always, Yoongi was right and there was a good point to be made. They were all growing older, but you know, “It’s not so bad if we’re together.” 

Chapter Text

Namjoon’s baby was calling for him.

Not the simple call of an inconvenienced child, nor the frustrated call of an argumentative child. It was much more the defeated cry of a child who truly needed their father. The sound was terrifying.

Namjoon immediately dropped his mug of coffee, droplets of liquid spilling over the side and onto the counter, and booked it for the stairs.

Taehyung never called him like this. Ever.

Namjoon tripped his way up the stairs two at a time, caught in a vicious cycle of imagining every terrible thing that might have happened to his son. It was so much harder to keep his footing when the adrenaline was making him jerky and unsteady, but he managed to move from one step to the other until he hit the landing half on his knees, arm against the wall for support. It only took him a second to stand, and then another second to bolt for Taehyung’s bedroom door, gripping the handle and throwing it open as he screamed, “ Taehyung -!”

It was strange that time could be so inconsistent. One moment everything was going too fast, and the next, time wasn’t moving at all. The moment looked - eyes bouncing from the scattered papers on the floor to the upturned chair beside the bed, to his son sitting on the edge of his mattress with his thigh stained a dark red from a gash that had torn through his skin - Namjoon’s heart seemed to stop. Taehyung was wheezing and choking on hiccoughs as his shaking hands hovered over a deep wound. His pants were laying in a crumpled mess on the floor, the denim speckled with blood. There was no air in Namjoon’s lungs when he stumbled against the door frame, abject terror seizing every one of his sensibilities.

Taehyung was hurt. Taehyung was bleeding badly. Namjoon was a fraction of a second from losing his mind.

“Oh my god ,” Namjoon said quietly. “Oh my god, Tae. What - what …?”

Taehyung sobbed, “Daddy, I’m sorry! I fell!” 

The child ran one palm carelessly over the mess of blood on his thigh, stickying his palm with the viscous fluid in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Namjoon jolted forward to stop him, falling to his knees in the process of gripping the boy's wrist. He could feel himself dissociating. His mind was working so hard to separate his panic from the very real obligation he had as a father. Taehyung needed help, and if Namjoon couldn’t do that for him, then what exactly was his role here? He needed to focus and take care of the issue, and then he could panic.

“It’s okay, baby. Don’t touch it. Don’t touch it. Daddy’s gonna take care of it, okay?” 

From the doorway, another voice squeaked, “What happened?”

And Namjoon breathed a short sigh of relief. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. Even if the voice was smaller and so much younger than the one he really needed to hear right now, it was a tether that he could grip. Some semblance of normalcy that could bring him back down a little bit. Namjoon turned to Jimin, the boy shifting from foot to foot in the doorway as he tried to see the scene properly from around his father’s body

“Chim, I need you to grab some tissue and the big stretchy bandage from under the bathroom sink. You know the one your dad used when you sprained your ankle?”

“The white one?”

“Yeah. Grab that for me, would you?” 

Jimin zoomed off to the bathroom. When he returned, he had three different bandages and a roll of toilet paper in his hands. He held them out to Namjoon and let his father choose what he needed before dropping the rest carelessly on the floor and hovering back over Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Thank you. Could you go get me a towel, too?”

“But what ha-”

“Now, Jimin. ” Namjoon interrupted. “I can answer your questions later, but I need to take care of this first, alright?” 

Jimin made a garbled, irritated noise in the back of his throat. Still, he turned and ran to the bathroom a second time to steal a towel.

Namjoon gripped Taehyung’s knee. He could feel the leg shaking beneath his grip. Taehyung’s terror had gotten the best of him and he suddenly looked like a newborn foul staring into the eyes of a predator. He froze when Namjoon unrolled the toilet paper, flinching when Namjoon began to pat tenderly at the inflamed skin around the abrasion. With the compression bandage, it was a bit different. The moment Namjoon discarded the toilet paper and started to wrap Taehyung’s leg, the boy jerked away, crying out in pain at the sudden movement.

“I know baby. I’m sorry. Once I’ve wrapped it, we can go.” 

“You’ll hurt me!” Taehyung cried as he covered his face, his chest shuddering with each breath inward.

Namjoon’s resolve collapsed like a stack of cards. 

It had been a long time since Namjoon had truly felt helpless. He’d wanted to be so much stronger of a father. But he didn’t know what to do or what to say to make Taehyung feel alright. The boy’s leg was probably stinging and yet Namjoon had no choice. He had to bandage it. He carried on wrapping Taehyung’s leg despite how painful it was to see the boy cover his face and cry through it, tears slipping through his fingers and down his cheeks. Namjoon felt compelled to comfort him, but what could he say? It hurt, and Namjoon couldn't take that away.

“I’m sorry, Taehyungie. Daddy will be quick,” Namjoon promised, voice wobbling dangerously.

Namjoon sealed the compression bandage as carefully as he could. His eyes were stinging and his nose was clogging. When he was finished, Namjoon took a deep breath.

“Okay. We're done. Now, let’s get you to the doctor.”

“But I-I-” Taehyung heaved. “I-”

“Breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay. It's just a ten minute drive.”

“I’m not okay!” Taehyung screamed. “I did something bad and now my leg is cut!”

“Taehyung.” Namjoon gently prised Taehyung’s fingers from his face. From the swollen cheeks to the wobbling lower lip, there wasn’t a part of this picture that made Namjoon feel okay, but he had to say something. “You made a mistake. Some mistakes are worse than others, but you’re growing and learning, and this was just… one of the rougher lessons. Everything is fixable. I’m gonna help you fix this right now.”

“How can you? It won’t stop hurting.”

“It will once we get to the doctor. They have medicine for that. It’s like magic.” 

While Taehyung was mulling over it, Namjoon stood up and cautiously swooped Taehyung into his arms along the way. Taehyung cried out in discomfort, hiding his face into Namjoon’s shirt and wrapping his arms around his father’s neck as he sobbed again.

Jimin, who had been waiting quietly in the hallway with the towels in his hand, turned quickly and galloped his way to the stairs, feet thudding heavily as he moved. Namjoon took care of Taehyung, carrying him down to the foyer where Jimin had already opened the front door for him. 

“I need keys, phone, wallet…” Namjoon said.

“They’re in the kitchen?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah. On the counter.”

Jimin moved along. When he returned, the three of them moved quickly to the car together.

It was only while Namjoon was putting Taehyung in the car that he noticed Jimin’s choice of towel. A fluffy, expensive, cyan thing that Jin had bought when he’d redone the bathroom. Jin had made them all promise not to sully the things, and for one gut-wrenching second the man’s voice was parroting around in Namjoon’s head. But then Taehyung released Namjoon’s neck and fumbled his way into the seat, hissing as he sat up on his thigh to avoid putting more pressure on his cut, and he forgot all about the towel rules they’d made up.

As Namjoon buckled Taehyung in, the boy asked, “Are they gonna have to cut my leg off?” 

The buckle clicked, Namjoon kissed Taehyung on the forehead, then he straightened up and said, “Nobody’s cutting anyone’s leg off. You'll still have it when we leave the hospital today.”

“I’ll make sure they don’t do that,” Jimin assured. “I’ll speak with the doctor myself if I have to.”

“You’re not that old. The doctor won’t listen to you.” 

“I’ve watched a lot of shows about policemen. I know the law.”

“In the car, Jimin,” Namjoon interrupted, pressing the button to close the door and then holding out his hand. Jimin plopped his keys, phone, and wallet into them and then ran around the car to the other side, letting himself in and getting situated. Namjoon climbed into the driver’s seat.

It turned out that driving was almost worse on Namjoon’s psyche than sitting in the bedroom nursing Taehyung's leg. Without the distraction of wiping the blood or wrapping the wound or figuring out what to say to calm Taehyung’s nerves, he was stuck with big thoughts and even bigger anxieties like what Jin would say when he saw that Taehyung had ripped his leg. How the boy could have hurt himself so badly when Namjoon was in the house. How little control Namjoon actually had over his kids' protection.  

His considerations were briefly interrupted by Jimin, who giggled the moment they turned into the hospital’s parking lot. Namjoon looked up into the mirror to see Jimin tilting his head cutely at his younger brother.

“You know,” he mumbled, eyebrows raised, “If they won’t take the plea deal and they cut off your leg, you can always get a peg.”

While Namjoon’s body flushed cold at even the reminder of amputation, Taehyung snorted loudly.

“That’d be kind of cool, I guess. I’d be like a pirate.”

“Yeah.”

“First in the Kim family.”

“That you know of,” Jimin challenged.

“Taevy Jones.”

“Chyeeeahhh,” Jimin crowed loudly, slapping his thigh and laughing loudly.

Namjoon shook his head. His stomach was still knotted with anxiety, but hearing Taehyung and Jimin chortling was a good sign that Taehyung would rebound. That for a moment, however short, Taehyung was alright enough to make that gorgeous, happy sound with his chest.

Trust Jimin to know exactly what Taehyung needed right now.

It took ten stitches and a lot of painkillers  for Taehyung to be okay.

Though Taehyung and Jimin easily went back to their regularly scheduled programming post-hospital visit, running into the living room and settling down with their imaginations, Namjoon couldn’t. Instead, he sat at the table with his shaking hands around a steaming cup of tea and stared at the wall until the restlessness finally forced him back onto his feet. Then he started cleaning. He mopped, wiped down counters, sanitized furniture, and reorganized all cabinet and cupboard spaces he could get his hands on.

It was somewhere around replacing the crockery in the cupboard that someone cleared their throat loudly from the kitchen table and said, “Joon.” 

Namjoon yelped, a casserole dish slipping from his fingers and cracking against the kitchen floor. It splintered into smaller shards that glittered dangerously against the tile.

“Fuck!”

Jin gaped, staring open-mouthed at the mess between them. There was an awkward, mortified moment of silence. Then Namjoon took a deep breath and fell back against the first surface he could reach, deflating immediately. "Geeze. Sorry."

Namjoon couldn’t even watch Jin cross the room. His eyes were caught by the broken mess of dinnerware at his feet.

The problem was that he'd expected for Jin to come home. Namjoon’s text to Jin had been a subtle but effective rundown of the situation. Taehyung was hurt. Not dying, needed stitches, would be home soon. Meet there with the other kids then they could talk. Thanks. Love you. See you soon. 

It just seemed that with the cleaning, he'd lost track of time. Now he looked like an idiot. And now Jin's favorite baking dish was also in pieces on the floor.

“Not sure you would have noticed me if I hadn't done that. I'm sorry if I startled you,” Jin said quietly. He crunched over glass to step in front of Namjoon. The gesture of Jin reaching for his face and cupping his jaw was so familiar that Namjoon opened up to it, tiling his face towards the man's touch. Gently, Jin guided Namjoon's eyes away from the mess so that they could look at each other. Jin's gaze was softer than usual. “It's okay. You're okay.”

Why did they always say that? Taehyung didn't believe it when Namjoon told him as much, and Namjoon didn't believe it now. He didn't feel okay, and it was clear that Jin was only trying to help, but he was lying. Namjoon sighed loudly and closed his eyes for a long minute. Jin's thumb was stroking across his cheek so smoothly. It was a bit like Namjoon's cleaning, monotonous enough to focus on it without it feeling like his head might explode. “He’s gonna be okay, Namjoon.”

“I know."

“Mm." Jin guided Namjoon's head down to his shoulder so that he could hug him properly. Jin's cologne was a lot like a benzo, just a dose of calm to offset all of the anxiety. "So what do you need from me? How can I help you?”

“It's just - I don't know. I need to decompress. I feel jittery. I can’t believe he was… bleeding that much. It was everywhere.”

"I get it. Remember when Kook was on the roof and my heart fell out of my ass?"

Namjoon snorted so loudly he sprained his throat. God, how could he forget that? The moments of terror, Jin bruising his arm up in the interim between him processing the situation and finding his voice. Jungkook just sitting casually over the gutter and kicking his legs as if he hadn't just sent both of his parents into a crisis. That time, Namjoon's brain had solved the issue quickly. Get to the child and pull him to safety. He'd felt an obligation then to take control of it all. Jin's head was reeling, the man's sensibilities nowhere to be found, and that meant the task fell on Namjoon's shoulder. There only needed to be one parent with the plan. One parent holding it together if the other was spiraling, and Namjoon can remember all the times it was him.

But Namjoon couldn't be that parent this time. 

Jin said, "I think you need to go in the living room and cuddle with him. I think holding him will do you well."

"I don't know if I can do that when he's hurting like that." 

"He's not hurting, Joonie. He's on drugs." 

Namjoon leaned up and pushed on Jin's chest, a stupidly inappropriate smile on his face. "You know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean," Jin laughed. Then, after a beat, "but he's asking about you. He wants to see you."

"Taehyung?"

"Yeah. He wants you there with him. I didn't think you could hear him over all the pots and pans so I came to grab you. He loves you, Namjoon. No matter how often he gets himself in trouble, you're always there to patch him up, right? So go and love on him a little bit. Seems you both need to heal from this." 

It was true that Namjoon had been making a ruckus, but he wondered how he'd missed the return of Jin, three kids, and the supposed calling of his wounded little monster. Actually, it was embarrassing how much had gone by since he'd come back from the hospital. There was a small thread of anxiety that warned him he could have missed another injury, or been too late to save his kids from another disastrous mistake. Jin would never judge him for this behavior, but that didn't mean that Namjoon couldn't judge himself. He needed to learn how to cope with the aftermath better, and if Jin's suggestion was to go and cuddle with his kids, then what did he have to lose? It sounded like a damn good idea.

Jin always knew better when it came to things like this, anyway.

As it turned out, cuddling was exactly what Namjoon needed.

Never mind that the living room was a pigsty by the time night rolled around. The whole family was puddled together on a mound of blankets in the middle of the room. Jin had fallen asleep hours ago, and the kids had crawled all over him like a bunch of baby possums. It was only Taehyung who had draped himself over Namjoon's chest and settled in, rubbing his cheek against the soft cotton of Namjoon's bed shirt as he chatted animatedly.

Mostly, the boy talked about Toulouse. How the cat was learning to fetch. How the cat had snuck outside last week when Namjoon and Jin weren't watching. How Taehyung would put youtube on the television for Toulouse to watch when nobody else was in the living room. But between stories of him and his cat's adventures, Namjoon interrupted quietly with a thought he just couldn't shake. There was something he needed Taehyung to hear, and with the soft snoring of their family around them, and Toulouse snoozing in the small, warm gap between Namjoon's thighs, it felt like the perfect time. So he didn't wait. He said, "Whenever you're hurt, Taehyung, you can call daddy. You know that, right?"

And without skipping a beat, Taehyung said, "I know."

Namjoon's chest blossomed with warmth. He wrapped an arm around Taehyung's body and held him a bit closer. "I'll do whatever it takes to fix you. You know that too, right?"

"I know," Taehyung repeated. He looked up at the underside of Namjoon's chin, shifting so that he could poke him in the cheek. "I'm all fixed up. You didn't really do it, but the doctor did, and you took me to the doctor, so basically you did fix me." When Namjoon laughed and playfully bit at Taehyung's finger, the boy giggled and removed his hand from Namjoon's reach altogether. Then he continued, "I won't climb on anymore furniture. Dad told me off earlier because I scared you." 

"It's not just that, Tae. We don't want you to get hurt. We're trying to teach you before you get older and have to live out there on your own. We want you to be safe," Namjoon said. "Daddy's heart broke a bit earlier. I don't like seeing you cry, so I'm gonna need a solid pinky promise from you that we're gonna keep you out of trouble for now, okay?"

"I can do that," Taehyung responded, offering his pinky to his father and latching on. "I pinky promise."

It was a small conversation, just a droplet of reassurance in an ocean of troubles and anxieties. Namjoon knew the falls and grievances would be endless. That in the future, he'd find himself in this situation again with another child, at another age, with another set of scars on the horizon. But there was hope that so long as his kids knew to call him when they were hurt, they need not worry about the broken pieces and splinters that came of it. They only needed to know that they could call daddy, and that daddy would come to them and fix them in whatever way he could. And he would lose feeling in his chest. His heart would crackle like firewood under the burn of another hardship. Every emotion in his body might be reduced to a raw and frayed end, but he'd always, always do whatever he could to fix them. 

Because fixing it was Jin and Namjoon's job. 

And as Jin always used to tell him, everything was fixable. 

Chapter Text

When Seokjin was seventeen years old, he went on his first date. 

It was a terribly windy evening. The windows were shuddering in their wooden frames and the wet chill in the air promised rain. Jin bundled up in a scarf too thick and a coat too big. The butterflies were running amok in his belly and he remembered well how the nerves were doing more to keep him warm than his actual clothing choices. Still, he was ready to go. 

As he pried open the front door slowly, hands shaking in anticipation, his mother’s voice sounded from far behind him.

“Bye, sweetie! Go get your person! And come back in one piece, please!”

Jin paused. His fingers were still wrapped around the cool steel of the doorknob. His body felt so heavy, each limb stiff as concrete when he imagined himself stepping out onto the porch towards the guy that was waiting for him in the car. His person? Is this who that was? For a moment, it seemed possible. To avoid getting too distracted, Jin sighed and shook his head. He called back loudly over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in a few hours, ma!” and then promptly stepped out into the blinding headlights of the waiting Volkswagen.

Jin can’t remember how long it took him to realize that his date wasn’t his person. Maybe the third time the guy released his hand because a stranger had glanced strangely at them. Or maybe twenty minutes after the movie had finished when Jin was waiting outside for the car to pull up, only to realize that the message he’d neglected to check on his phone was from his date, warning him to find another way home because he'd already left.

No, that guy hadn’t been his person.

But from that day on, Jin thought about his person. What they would look like. What they would talk like. How they’d treat Jin when they were out at a terribly boring movie on a far too windy day.

Seokjin didn’t believe in fate, but was comforted by the concept of someone existing out there who complimented him perfectly, no matter what part of life he was at. You know. Who could be his person. 

Whatever that meant.

In the end, it was the weather that delivered Kim Namjoon to Kim Seokjin on a silver platter. 

Seokjin would always remember it. Years later, the first day of his sophomore year of college. The temperature wasn’t quite as cold as his first date had been, but it was storming and the damp humidity was similar enough. The classroom was a mess and the students who had arrived early were bustling in their sodden clothes, trying to find free seats while waddling around in shoes that sounded like rubber ducks. A handful of them were bemoaning their soaked backpacks and their dripping electronics. Only Jin stayed quietly in the doorway wrestling with his umbrella like an idiot. The wind had bent the metal ribs and warped the stupid thing.

Someone brushed past Jin with a soft hand to his hip, guiding him gently out of the doorway. It wasn’t until a deep voice asked, “Hey. You good?” that Jin even thought anything of it. He immediately stopped fiddling with his umbrella and glanced up. 

“Sorry, I - Oh.”

The man in front of him was perhaps the most handsome man Jin had ever seen. Startlingly beautiful, in fact. A tall man with obvious musculature beneath his coat that suggested a boring businessman by day and a frisky farmhand by night.  The stranger was... decently dressed (a bomber jacket, plain blue jeans, a pair of oxfords), but the confident demeanor made up for the slightly strange fashion choices, and Jin wasn't sure what to focus on. Jin would have laughed himself silly over how stiffly they were both standing if he weren't busy wrestling with how gorgeous the man was.

With his body still titled in Jin’s direction, guarding him from the students slipping into the room, the stranger looked down at him curiously. 

“Wow. I guess I’m in the way then, huh?” Jin whispered.

“Not anymore.” The stranger smiled sweetly at him and Jin’s heart thumped unevenly in his chest. “Anything I can help with?”

Jin blinked stupidly before saying, “Your name would be nice.”

It was a joke. Not really a joke. Jin was horny and confused. When a student jumbled by and bumped into the man’s back, a soft whiff of cologne wafted up between the two of them and Jin was so embarrassed by the way he tilted his nose toward it. Certainly, he lost his footing just a bit, gravitating closer to the wide shouldered prince to get a whiff of his cologne like a creep. Jin blinked hard when he caught himself, rolling his eyes skyward and praying to the beige paint on the ceiling that the man hadn't noticed his behavior. What the fuck was going on here? He'd never been so immediately attracted to anyone in his life. 

“I’m Namjoon,” the man said eventually.

“Ah. Namjoon,” Jin parroted quietly, eyes still trained on the ceiling. The name sounded so pretty in Jin’s mouth, such a sonorous series of syllables. He hated that he wanted to say it again and again and again. 

The man quirked a brow. “You?”

Jin paused and counted to three before responding, afraid of seeming too overzealous. He wanted the man to know his name, too. “I’m Seokjin. Kim Seokjin.”

Namjoon snorted and then smiled so widely that his cheeks were set to burst. Jin’s own cheeks felt traitorously warm. He knew he was blushing and yet couldn’t do a damn thing about it. 

Namjoon slowly raised his hand in offering and Jin immediately dropped his broken umbrella to accommodate. When they shook hands, their warm palms touched for a second. It was unreal that Jin felt his entire body tingling in response, but Namjoon was looking at him with a similar set of sparkles in his eyes. Namjoon’s hands were just a tad bigger, just a bit more capable of closing around Jin’s long fingers as they greeted one another.

Jin wanted him. 

Luckily, there seemed to be some mutual understanding of that between the two of them. Whether divine intervention or something much less magical, the air around them was crackling with possibilities, and Jin wanted to reach out and touch the electricity. What was so enamoring about someone so normal? For a moment, it was almost absurd that Jin was already two feet in the hole over a handshake.

Then Namjoon said, “Well how convenient is that? You’ve already got my last name.” 

And all at once Jin knew. This wasn’t someone so normal. This was someone so much better than that.

This was his person.

Years followed and, in a lot of ways, Seokjin and Namjoon were imperfect. 

They were both highly motivated and independent thinkers. It was natural to want isolation when your short term goals required them. Date nights turned into study sessions, anniversaries to conferences, birthdays to Skype calls with department heads. Sometimes, Jin wondered what life would have been like if he’d chosen anyone else. If he’d been anyone else. 

But then he remembered that they weren’t totally flawed, and that they were made for one another. They were managing just fine.

Their nights ran late. Sometimes they would find themselves curled up on Jin’s too small couch with Jin’s feet in Namjoon’s lap, both of their noses in their books. Jin could specifically remember one night starting with Namjoon snorting over something he was reading. The vibration tickled Jin’s toes. Jin wiggled his feet in response and peeked over the top of his own book with a smile on his face.

“Find anything good?” Jin asked. 

“The author’s arguing with himself again. Nothing new.”

“Oh, god. That’s the worst.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon sighed wistfully, snapping his book closed and tossing it onto the coffee table beside him. “But you know what’s not the worst?”

Jin wiggled his eyebrows. When Namjoon gripped his ankle and rubbed it tenderly, Jin smiled wider. “Yeah?”

Namjoon did that smile. The wide, toothy smile that made Jin tingly between the thighs, and said, “Fuck yeah.”

Jin snapped his book shut quickly and shoved it down the cracks of the couch. Namjoon removed Jin’s feet from his lap and stood up. Though Jin imagined Namjoon offering him a hand to help him up off of the couch, it never came. Instead, the man bent down and looped an arm beneath Jin’s knees, the other around the small of his back so that he could hoist him up. Jin choked and fumbled to wrap his arms around Namjoon's neck as the man lifted his weight so easily.

“Oh-!” 

“It's okay. I've got you,” Namjoon laughed.

"You don't have to carry me!" Jin hissed frantically. 

"I'm trying to prematurely thank you for taking my dick."

"Woooow. And who said I was gonna do something like that?"

Namjoon feigned dropping him and Jin gasped, holding on more tightly and burrowing his face into the crook of Namjoon's neck. He shamelessly breathed in, stealing the opportunity to pick up the scent of his favorite cologne mixed with Namjoon's natural aroma. When Namjoon laughed, Jin playfully whispered, "Fuck you" against the column of the man's throat, and then kissed him in reparation. Namjoon merely tightened his grip and started the trek towards Jin's room.

It was all so effortless. The moment Jin's back hit the mattress, Namjoon was crowding him against the comforter and kissing him sweetly. Too soft and slow for the desperation that both of them were obviously feeling, but just right for the hopeless romantic in Jin who had thought (all those years ago) that the best he'd get was a date who abandoned him at a movie. Jin's lips parted easily for his person, legs spreading just wide enough for Namjoon to crawl between them and burrow in close.

Nights like these, Jin reckons Namjoon truly was made for him. They danced around each other for weeks at a time, only the odd word here or a few muttered phrases there. College was a disaster and they both wanted to crawl out of the wreckage intact. They were very much in love. In love with their dynamic. The short stints of radio silence. The muted company. The occasional kisses against the kitchen counter after a cup of coffee. The separate schedules that never quite aligned with one another's. Every now and then, extra in love with the moments when the monotony of studying was broken by a deep-rooted need to reconnect and the time to actually do it.

Jin knew that it wouldn't be this way forever. Once he and Namjoon had graduated and established themselves individually, maybe they could talk about marriage, or kids, or one of the million other things Jin had always dreamed he would have. But that was all a conversation for later. For now, Jin was perfectly content with what he had in his arms.

Perfectly content that he'd found his person.

Chapter Text

Taehyung was everything that Jin would have wanted in an older brother. 

He was intelligent, he was kind, and he was patient. At least, as patient as could be expected from someone his age in a house full of rowdy boys. 

Taehyung had visibly changed from the day that Jungkook had arrived. He'd adopted hyung status as a badge of honor and done his absolute best to be a good older brother. From digging deeply in the toy chest to find a doll worthy of Jungkook’s imagination, to reading stories despite his struggle with words. There was never a question that Taehyung was doing his best to make sure that Jungkook was comfortable, safe, and loved. 

But Taehyung was still his own person. Much like Yoongi, he liked his own space. Before Jungkook, he’d spent a decent amount of time in his father’s office, hiding in the nook by the window so that he could scribble down imaginative ideas on printer paper without being bothered by anyone else. Though becoming a first-time older brother had changed that habit quite a bit, there were times when Taehyung was predictably short tempered because he couldn't get away. 

Jin could sense when his baby was on edge. It happened over the course of a full day, often starting with Taehyung clinging to his side in the kitchen before every sibling (that wasn’t Yoongi) could wake up. Taehyung would be antsy, bemoaning how he didn’t want to do anything for the day, and asking if he could sneak into daddy’s office to play. 

Usually, Jin would rub his back and tell him, “Of course. Just make sure you check with daddy first, okay?”

But there were weekends like this, when Namjoon had important meetings to attend and couldn’t risk having a child in the office, opening and closing the door, humming or scritch-scratching on their paper while he talked business. These weekends, Taehyung was trapped in spaces that his siblings could access. It wore him down, not having a place to escape to. Taehyung didn’t need quiet everyday, and was more than happy to be fired up for his siblings when the situation required it, but there had to be an occasional recharging period otherwise they ended up in a spot like this. With Taehyung bolting back to the kitchen mid-day with that look on his face. Dejected. Irritated.

Not a minute later, there were heavy, uneven steps following the same route. Jungkook zoomed around the corner with his arms outstretched, giggling as he chased after his older brother. Jin marked his spot in his book and peered over the top of it to watch. 

“Hyung!” Jungkook shrieked.

“No! Kook! Stop following me - I told you I was hungry.”

“Okay, me too ~” Jungkook sang. 

Taehyung sighed and rolled his eyes, tromping his way to the fridge and throwing the door open. “No you’re not. You’re just saying that because I’m saying that.” 

“Nu-uh!” 

Jin cleared his throat. In an effort to staunch the incoming argument, he softly interrupted, “Can I get my babies something to eat? Taehyung-ah, there's not much in the fridge. Dad can make something for you. ”

“No, it’s okay,” Taehyung said shortly.

“And our Jungkookie?” Jin tried.

“No, it’s okay,” Jungkook parroted. 

Taehyung looked over his shoulder incredulously. First, he eyed Jin. Then, his eyes flitted over to Jungkook, narrowing angrily. “Don’t copy me.”

 “Don’t copy me!” Jungkook giggled, his excited little voice as high-pitched as an alarm. 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung warned. “Stop copying me. You're getting on my nerves. I told you to leave me alone already!”

Jin took a deep breath and closed his book, setting it on the kitchen table. His temple was twitching, a headache waiting to happen. He should have anticipated this from the moment that Taehyung joined him in the kitchen for his morning cup of coffee. It was an oversight that he hadn't addressed it then. But days often got like this when Namjoon and Jin were overwhelmed with school work and meetings, and when the kids were left to their own devices. It only took a moment for things to spiral.

Jungkook stomped his feet, blowing out his cheeks so that they were flushed red before yelling, “I told you to leave me alone!”

"You're so annoying. Do you know that, Jungkook? You get on my nerves sometimes."

"You're not very nice... you're evil..." Jungkook mumbled.

Taehyung went pink in the cheeks for a moment before he bellowed, “GOD! JUST GO AWAY!!!" 

Jin was assaulted with the harrowing image of Namjoon pausing mid-meeting from the other room. If the man heard noises and Jin didn't intervene, he'd leave his office to see what was happening. Jin sucked his teeth and pushed away from the table, chair legs scratching loudly against the kitchen tiles as he moved. Immediately, Jungkook and Taehyung snapped their mouths closed and looked at him. With his voice low and his eyes creased in irritation, Jin said, “I want for both of you to stop. Immediately. Taehyung, raising your voice like that is unacceptable. You find a better way to communicate your frustration with your brother. Jungkook, when someone asks you to stop copying them, you stop. You don't carry on.”

Jungkook’s eyes went wide and his bottom lip quivered. He shuffled over to Jin contritely and wound his arms around Jin’s legs, burying his face in the man’s pants in embarrassment.

“Taehyung, I want you to apologize for yelling at your brother like that.”

Taehyung choked, affronted. He slammed the fridge door closed and the glass bottles within clanked loudly as the entire unit shuddered. Certainly Namjoon had heard that one. His office was on the opposite side of the wall. “It’s not my fault he’s following me and copying me! He won’t leave me alone.” 

Jin slowly removed his reading glasses. He slid one of the arms into the neck of his shirt and hooked it, then said clearly, “You're gonna close that fridge door correctly.”

“But it’s already closed!” 

“Then open it, Taehyung. I understand you’re frustrated, but you know better than to act like this. Open it, then close it the right way. Now.”

Taehyung’s brows furrowed. His eyes slowly glassed over and he took a deep, shuddering breath. Still, he tugged the fridge door open and then gently closed it. This time, there was no sound from beyond the doors. Taehyung released the handle and adjusted his shirt, tucking his hair behind his ear before walking swiftly from the kitchen. Jin’s instinct was to call him back so that they could talk, but he knew that Taehyung needed a bit of space. That's what had caused all of this in the first place and, hell, Jin needed a bit of space. The frustration of his kids' short tempers while he was playing catch up on professional development made him more bothered than usual. Jin wanted to lead by example. There was nothing wrong with taking a moment to collect himself.

Jin would go and find Taehyung once he'd taken care of the little one still pawing at his legs.

Looking down at his youngest, Jin asked, “Jungkookie, why are you copying Taehyung?”

“Because I want to.”

"And why do you want to?"

Jungkook shrugged and refused to clarify.

Jin sighed, running his fingers through Jungkook’s hair. It was getting longer, still thick and beautiful. “Hmm. Maybe because he’s cool? Because he’s smart? Because our Taehyungie has so many good ideas, right? But Jungkookie is all of those things too. And when Jungkook talks, Dad wants to hear Jungkook's thoughts. I'm so excited to hear about what all of you think, so we're gonna let Taehyung give us Taehyung's ideas, and Jungkook's gonna give us Jungkook's ideas. Let’s not copy him anymore.” 

Jungkook groaned, flopping around dramatically against Jin’s legs. Jin reached down and held Jungkook's shoulders to still him, wincing when Jungkook bounced on one of his feet. 

"Settle down." 

“Tae-hyung won't play go fish with me!” 

“Kook, my love, sometimes Taehyung wants time to himself. That's okay. When Taehyung doesn't want to play, you’ve got three other happy and healthy siblings who can fill in for him. What's wrong with playing with Hobi? Or Jiminie? Or Yoongi?”

“They're all old,” Jungkook grumbled.

“Oh, god. Old. That's a new one,” Jin chuckled. He rubbed Jungkook's back and then leaned over to kiss his forehead. “I want you to go find those senior citizens and spend some time with them. No more bothering Taehyung today, okay?” 

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders and slipped off of Jin's foot with an easy "okay", dancing his way toward the exit before Jin could give him any more instructions.

Jin laughed softly to himself, rubbing his temples to try and remove the throbbing. So much chaos in such a little body. 

In the absence of Namjoon’s office nook, Taehyung tended to go to the only other (reasonably) quiet place in the house: the upstairs bathroom. Not as cozy as the nook by any stretch of the imagination, but  not nearly as easy to reach as the downstairs bathroom, and still a suitable alternative when Taehyung’s safe space wasn’t available. 

Jin would have known where to find him even if the boys' slippers hadn't been left outside of the door. Jin gently rapped his knuckles on the closed bathroom door and held his ear to the wood. After a moment, Taehyung grumbled at him. 

Jin called, “I'd like to talk to you. Can I come in?"

A pause, and then Taehyung's muffled voice responded, "Yeah. I guess." 

Jin entered the bathroom cautiously. Usually, his kids were spread out in rather inconvenient ways, and he'd bumped more than his fair share of heads throwing the door open in a room that the children inhabited. But rather than laying on the floor, Taehyung was stretched out in the bathtub and staring blankly up at the ceiling. His fingers were thread together on his belly, chest rising and falling slowly as he relaxed into the ceramic. Jin tried not to laugh. There wasn't much funny about a stressed child. It was just that Taehyung looked so severe and so serious, surrounded by shampoos and bath bombs. This was Taehyung managing his temper and working through his issues, and Jin was so proud of him. They still needed to talk, but Taehyung had always been especially good at managing his grievances in the aftermath.

Jin closed the bathroom door behind himself. The snick of the latch was loud in the otherwise silent room.

“Taehyung-ah,” Jin whispered. “You up for talking?”

Taehyung blinked a few times and then gestured absently to the empty toilet seat across from the tub. Jin took a seat gingerly. In this position, he felt a bit like a scolded child. He folded one leg over the other and leaned forward, trying not to think too hard about how Taehyung was refusing to look at him. 

“I know you’ve had a rough day, baby,” Jin started. “I'll start there. You’re not wrong for being frustrated, Taehyung. You’ll never be wrong for having emotions, do you understand?” 

“I know,” Taehyung said.

“Okay. Then that being said, I want you to think about how you talked to Jungkook today. Outbursts are natural, but we can't scream at him. Jungkookie is young. It takes a lot of patience to teach a person. There are things he’s learning, things he doesn’t understand yet, and we have to teach him as he goes along. I know you love him, Taehyung. If you need a break, you have to tell me. Come to dad and he’ll find you somewhere else to hide.” 

Taehyung sighed and sat up, scooching back and drawing his knees up to his chest. 

“Sometimes I don’t want to play with him.”

“I know,” Jin said.

“And he won’t listen to me. He just follows me and copies me even if I tell him to stop. I don’t want that all the time!”

“I know,” Jin repeated. “I don’t blame you. We all need time to ourselves. We just have to have patience while Jungkookie learns that. No screaming at him, and no slamming doors. Talk to him. If you can't talk to him, come and find me. I'll talk to him.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to respond, but paused when there was another soft knock at the door. Both Taehyung and Jin froze, turning toward the sound.

"Who is it?" Jin called.

“It’s me,” Namjoon called back.

Taehyung’s eyes went wide, sparkling with glee as he hissed, “It’s daddy.”

“It’s daddy,” Jin whispered back, an equally large smile on his face. “Come in!”

The door opened slowly and Namjoon’s head peered around the corner. Jin couldn't see his mouth, but the smile was in his eyes, crinkled as he looked at Taehyung in the bathtub. The man was probably equally fond of his sons dramatism. The image of Taehyung sulking in the bathtub wasn't particularly new, but it always made Namjoon exceptionally fond.

"Hey, Tae," Namjoon said. "What're you doing in the bathtub?"

"Hiding," Taehyung admitted. 

As if on some timer for comedic effect, there was the sound of ruckus echoing down the hall. Not only had Jungkook gravitated to the second floor without Jin knowing, from the sound of things, he'd found his more excitable old hyungs. There was nothing more recognizable to Jin than the sound of Jimin's excited screeching. Fortunately, that meant that Jin had a handful of minutes to sort Taehyung out before going to check that they weren't doing anything terribly dangerous. 

“Well, I came to check that my little love was okay,” Namjoon said.

“Is your meeting finished?” Taehyung asked hopefully. “Can I come with you?” 

"It's done. I've got the nook all gussied up for you." 

Taehyung vibrated, climbing up out of the bathtub. Namjoon slipped into the bathroom and wheedled his way toward Taehyung, bending over and picking him up easily. Which was funny, because Taehyung was just the right side of ‘too large’ for Jin to carry him properly. He'd hit a recent growth spurt and even Jin's height couldn't handle it anymore. Namjoon was much broader, had a bit more muscle to manage his kids with, and he never looked awkward picking them up. He adjusted, and Taehyung laughed and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck as Namjoon carried him back to the door like a little monkey on a tree. Jin smiled at both of them. 

"Daddy to the rescue,” Jin sang. “Hide him well, Namjoon." 

Namjoon attacked Taehyung with kisses, little pecks on Taehyung's cheeks and forehead until Taehyung was laughing and swatting at him. Jin stood up from the toilet and gravitated closer so that he could leave his mark too. Taehyung accepted Jin's kisses much more readily than he had Namjoon's, but still gagged obnoxiously when Jin leaned over him to kiss Namjoon for good measure.

"You guys go to your office, then," Jin sighed. "I'm gonna go decompress with the monsters."

When Jin stepped away, Taehyung reached out and gripped his shirt, holding him for a moment.

"I'm sorry, dad," he said, leaning forward. Jin leaned in and let Taehyung hug him, Namjoon holding the boy's weight so that he wouldn't topple aside. This was how it went, right? The prospect of free time, of feeling better, it always cleared the mind. And Taehyung was ready to compromise now that he had an opportunity to get away. Now that the present was quiet and the future was bright. Jin understood it all too well. He hugged Taehyung back, kissing the side of his son's jaw one last time for good measure before letting him go. 

"Nothing to apologize to me for. But you'll talk to Kook later, right?" 

Taehyung nodded. Of course he would. This was Jin's Taehyungie - loving, sharp, and occasionally in need of a bit of space. 

"Okay, dad. I will." 

Chapter Text

Namjoon moved through each day of the week on a schedule. It was like clockwork. 

This fact was observed especially on Sunday, the most laid back day of the week. Namjoon’s priority was always to accomplish a list of low-energy, spiritually replenishing tasks. Only then could he be prepared for the ruckus of an upcoming work week. 

Namjoon’s first order of business was always to get up at 9:00 in the morning. He would roll over in bed, gently waking Jin with a series of small kisses and nibbles to the man’s neck, always laughing when Jin would grumble half-heartedly but still spread his legs anyway. Sex wasn’t really worth it if the consequence was his four children waking up hours too early and tromping around in irritation for the rest of the day, and ever since what Namjoon now referred to as the "Kookie Incident", they couldn't afford to misstep and get caught again. But if there was one thing Namjoon and Jin had mastered over the last few years, it was lazy, Sunday morning sex. The kind where they moved together slowly, bodies rocking in a way that suggested they had nowhere to be, and were on nobody else's time but their own.

Following that, Namjoon dragged Jin to the Sunday Shower. 

The Sunday Shower was non-optional. It was an easy way to decompress from the emotional weight of the previous activities. It was also one of the rare times when the acoustics of the environment truly did Jin’s squeaking laugh justice. Standing beneath the warm water with his hands running shamelessly over Jin’s broad shoulders, and his smooth back, and his toned thighs, and more than once, to the warm space between Jin’s legs, each chuckle, each hum, and each gasp surrounded them, amplified by their small, ceramic cocoon. Namjoon couldn't afford to miss the Sunday Shower. He wouldn't last a full Monday without it. 

Some Sundays, the shower was where they parted. Jin might crawl back into bed, still needing a good lay in. Namjoon might go downstairs and fuck up breakfast, burning everything and eventually setting out bowls of cereal and plopping a large gallon of milk in the middle of the table. But some Sundays, when Namjoon was extra lucky, Jin stayed with him. He followed Namjoon down the stairs with plans of guiding his clumsy little husband through the process of cooking a neat (and safe) breakfast. By the time the kids had awoken and stumbled down the stairs, rubbing their tired eyes, more than ready to eat the spread that Jin had prepared, Jin was just as clumsily moving around the kitchen, red-cheeked and astutely ignoring Yoongi’s questions about why there was pancake batter on the ass of his robe.

So Namjoon had a process. He woke up Sunday with a schedule. The final step of this schedule was to sleep and read. On and off. All day. No errands to run, no grading periods, no meetings. Just pure revitalization in the form of some serious shut-eye.

It was his true opportunity to take the day off and melt into nothingness.

Or… as much nothingness as being a parent afforded.

“HELLO, DADDY. WELL, HELLOOOOO DADDY!"

Namjoon, who had been sleeping on the couch with an open book flattened against his face to shield him from the sun, violently flinched himself to wakefulness. There was a burst of adrenaline shooting through him as he ripped the book from his face and glared in the direction of the door, blood pounding loudly in his ears.

Kim Jimin, recent Broadway aficionado, stood with his arms reached above him while he smiled mischievously.

“Oh, god, Jimin. Scared the hell out of me,” Namjoon groaned, closing his eyes and dropping the book on his chest.

“IT'S SO NICE TO BE BACK HOME!!! WHERE I BELONG!!! ”

“No, no, no,” Namjoon tried.

"HELLOOOO, DADDY, YES HE-"

“Jimin, please,” Namjoon begged, tossing the book to the floor and opening his arms. “Hush up and come here, you noisy child.” 

Jimin danced his way to the couch, arms swinging as he moved. He flopped easily down onto Namjoon’s chest. As Jimin was draping himself over his father's body, Namjoon shifted to accommodate the new weight. 

“Dad’s getting Jungkook dressed and then we have to garden,” Jimin groused. “I don’t want to garden.”

“What? But I thought you loved gardening.”

“No. I love dad. I don’t really care about the flowers.”

Namjoon cooed and took a deep breath. “Honestly, I feel that.”

"I guess someone has to take care of the garden. Dad's good at taking care of those things like flowers, but Jungkook's gonna step on them. He's been watching a lot of monster movies lately, and the monsters always step on things."

Namjoon wondered if that's why all of Jungkook's toys looked like they'd been underfoot, most of the plastic figurines in the toy chest bent at unnatural angles. The room fell quiet as he thought about it. Above them, Namjoon could hear Jungkook’s little footsteps vibrating through the ceiling. The boy was running down the hallway. A second later, Jin’s much heavier footsteps followed and Namjoon heard, “Kim Jungkook! No more foolishness! Come here and put these socks on!”  

“Yoongi bought Toulouse a leash,” Jimin said suddenly, smiling up at Namjoon. “The cat can garden with us.” 

"Min, I don't think that's a good idea," Namjoon told him honestly. "It's a cat."

Jimin made a displeased face but didn't argue. He didn't need to. If they already owned the leash and an adult had bought it for them, the cat would end up outside one way or another.

On Jimin’s pudgy little cheeks, Namjoon noticed the smudged remains of marker designs. Namjoon reached up and stuck his thumb in his mouth, wetting it before rubbing insistently at Jimin’s cheek. Jimin’s nose scrunched up and he leaned back dramatically, only to be held in place when Namjoon made him. Namjoon knew that Jimin hated getting the spit rub, but the moment the boy's cheek was clean he was released and Namjoon appreciated that he was still allowed to help in ways like this. Jimin was getting older. Surely he wouldn't allow Namjoon to do this forever.

Or maybe he would. Namjoon imagined Jimin at thirty, one step from walking down the aisle and still having his dad emergency-rub errant markings from his skin with a wet thumb.

“How about instead of gardening, we go get ice cream?” Jimin tried.

“What? You want me to drive you around the city on my day off like a common chauffeur?”

“I don’t have a license, you see,” Jimin clarified. 

Namjoon raised his eyebrows and laughed. “I mean, I… understand that much, yeah.” 

“So you’ll have to come along.”

Namjoon tilted Jimin’s chin this way and that, looking at him curiously. When Jimin smiled beatifically at him, he kissed the boy's forehead and then hugged the boy against his chest tightly, rocking him a little. “I see. So it’s not me, it’s the license.”

“No,” Jimin said. “I love you more than the license. When I get my license, I’ll drive you to get ice cream, too.” 

Namjoon hummed, arms going a bit tighter around Jimin’s little body. 

“Promise?”

“Oh yeah, daddy. You'll see! I'll get to take you guys everywhere like you took me everywhere,” Jimin assured him. "It's just a few years away!"

Namjoon huffed, hooking his chin onto the top of Jimin’s head and breathing deep.

Quietly, he repeated, “Yeah. Just a few years away.” 

Namjoon and Jimin spent hours out. They went to the park with their ice-cream and watched the ducks together, occasionally throwing them crumbs from the ice cream cones. As it turns out, Jimin’s guilt wouldn’t allow him to return to the house empty-handed, and so after his and Namjoon’s spectacular Sunday treat (which Jimin had humorously paid for with his own allowance), he’d fished another wad of cash out of his pocket and begged Namjoon to take him back so that he could order ice cream for the rest of the house, too. Naturally, Namjoon couldn't say no.

Even if that meant driving home at a Faster Than Technically Safe speed so that he could deliver the goods before they melted. 

The moment they were through the door, Jimin yelled 'Ice-cream!'. Like a swarm of vultures, the other kids ran through the house to get to him. 

Taehyung was first. He tromped down the stairs in an oversized shirt that absolutely belonged to Jin. His hair was curly and still dripping from what Namjoon assumed was a recent shower. He recalled what Jimin had told him about Jin taking them to the garden, and wasn’t as surprised when Jungkook also came down the stairs (much more slowly) with his hair soaked, eyes still red and water-logged, holding a few of the floaty toys he often dragged into the bath with him. The youngest reached the bottom of the stairs and discarded his toys so that he could grab the milkshake that Jimin was offering him. The resulting screech of excitement tingled in Namjoon's ears, and Taehyung hissed, taking his drink quickly and zooming back through the hallway in the direction of the living room with Jungkook right behind him.

Yoongi and Hobi approached much more calmly. They emerged from the kitchen, faces pressed together over Yoongi’s ipad screen.

"Hey, guys," Jimin chirped.

"Hey Minnie," Hobi mumbled. He didn't look up until he'd reached Jimin, at which point he helped steady the cup holder as Jimin wiggled his drink free. "What'd you get me?"

“Banana shake,” Jimin said. “Yoongi, yours is Strawberry.”

“I appreciate it,” Yoongi said sincerely. Hobi held onto his drink with one hand and steadied the cupholder again with the other as Jimin also tugged Yoongi's drink free so that he could hand it off. Yoongi took it and said, “Do you wanna come and watch this with us?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a conspiracy theory about a unicorn toy,” Yoongi said. “Really interesting.”

“No conspiracy theories,” Namjoon tried.

“It’s too late. We’re already conspiracied. Sorry,” Hobi shrugged. He turned on his heel and trotted his way back to the kitchen. Yoongi jerked his head over his shoulder in invitation and when he followed Hobi, Jimin was right on his heels. That left Namjoon alone at the door, Jin's cold milkshake in his hand. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

“And who is this handsome man waiting in my doorway?” Jin called. He came from upstairs, slowly making his way to the first floor while wearing a shirt that was doused in bathwater. His hair was pushed back behind his ear, a little longer these days than either of them was used to. Namjoon opened his arms and Jin walked into them, wrapping his arms fully around his husband's waist. He dug his nose into Namjoon's neck and breathed. He smelled like Jungkook's bath soap. “So all I needed to do to get you out of the house on Sundays was promise you ice cream?”

“It wasn't planned," Namjoon laughed. "I was outnumbered."

"By Jimin?"

"And his ten Broadway personalities, yes." 

Jin snorted. He tilted his head to kiss the side of Namjoon's mouth before slinking back and taking his drink from Namjoon's hand.  "Well thank god Jimin's intuitive. I need this after Jungkook's bath. The boy has been a menace all day, Namjoon.”

“Oh, I believe it. That's our Kookie.”

“He tore up my flower beds in some… some Godzilla-inspired rampage and then proceeded to start a dirt war. There's soil all over the side of the house right now.”

Jin took Namjoon's hand and lead him to the living room. Jungkook and Taehyung were spread out on the floor, slurping noisily from their straws and downing their milkshakes at a (frankly) alarming speed. Jin went straight for the couch, plopping down onto one side of it and drawing his legs up onto the cushions. Then he politely patted the spot beside him as if Namjoon shouldn't have already been there, still sleeping with a book over his face.

Before Namjoon could sit properly, Jungkook screamed and stood up. He held his milkshake unsteadily as he ran to the couch and jumped into the neighboring spot, right by Jin's legs. Jin gasped. Namjoon made a choked off sound of disbelief.

“Kim Jungkook. That spot’s for me,” Namjoon said clearly.

Jungkook shrugged and then patted the one remaining spot on the couch beside him.

“You can sit here, daddy.” 

"Jungkookie," Jin breathed, reaching out to run his fingers tenderly through Jungkook’s still-wet hair. Whether Jin had meant to chide him or not, Namjoon wouldn't have known. The man sounded as fond as ever as he pushed the errant strands of hair from Jungkook's forehead with one hand, drink held firmly in the other. Namjoon smiled and dropped down onto the only open couch cushion, tugging Jungkook easily into his lap the moment he could. Jungkook screamed again, much more playfully this time, and clung to his milkshake as Namjoon arranged him comfortably in his lap.

“And you can sit here, Jungkookie,” Namjoon said gently, kissing the boy’s temple.

Jungkook slumped down against his chest and settled in. Jin searched out the remote and put on a movie while Taehyung was lost in thought on the floor, humming as he gulped down his sugary drink. If Namjoon strained his ears, he could hear the soft laughter and chatter of his three other kids in the kitchen, watching their unicorn conspiracy theories. 

This wasn’t usual for Namjoon. Namjoon liked his schedules.

But rather than the predictable Sunday afternoon he'd been expecting when he woke up that morning, Namjoon had gone and done something new. It was nice to curl up on the couch with his family and eat ice cream as the day passed along slowly. It was nice not to be alone. It was nice to see the sun slink down below the skyline, and hear the children's banter as the evening rolled in. Even though he generally avoided it, he even appreciated the kid's attempts to woo their parents into letting them out of school the next day.

It wasn't until Namjoon was climbing into bed at the end of the day that he actually allowed himself to think about it. He felt good. Just as revitalized as usual, if not more. And it was strange, because Namjoon and Jin were different. Jin loved the kids' spirited, high-energy Sunday moods. He lived for them, whereas Namjoon needed the peace and quiet. The isolation. The snoozing. As Jin turned off the lights and rolled over onto him, snuggling in so that he could fall asleep, Namjoon's eyes fluttered closed. Within minutes, he could feel the familiar weight of sleep descending upon him, same as it always did at the end of a Sunday. 

Funnily enough, it seemed that there were some things which weren't meant to be scheduled.

Maybe Sundays were at the top of the list.

Chapter Text

“Yoongi likes a girl .”

The moment Hoseok said it, Jin knew there’d be an issue. Firstly, because it was in a child’s nature to deny a crush, and Yoongi was at an age where he was vehemently against anything even vaguely romantic. Secondly, because in an otherwise quiet room full of family members, putting Yoongi on the spot was a huge no-no. Jin knew his babies. Yoongi wasn’t a target and he wouldn’t allow himself to be made one, by his siblings or otherwise. One honest taunt from Hoseok was usually all it took for the tension to erupt. And that was where they were at now, with both children circling each other like animals in the living room, ready to blow.

“Just shut up, Hobi," Yoongi spat. "You know, this is probably the most frustrating thing about you. You don't know when to stop.”

Hoseok had gravitated closer to the television set to put space between himself and his brother. It was the only reason he felt confident enough to kick his hip out and flutter his eyelashes playfully. 

“Just admit that you'd like to hug her. Probably kiss her.”

“You need to quit it. Now. After this I'm done asking,” Yoongi warned. 

Jin was curled up on the couch with Jungkook bundled comfortably against his chest. The youngest was sleeping soundly, which was an excellent upgrade from the usual high-energy arguing he did with his hyungs. To be honest, it felt like all the kids did these days was argue. The couch-nest of blankets had originated as an attempt to separate Jungkook and Taehyung just earlier that morning. It had concluded in a nap that had nearly put both of them to sleep, though Taehyung had disappeared an hour back and left Jungkook swaddled against Jin's chest, breathing evenly as he counted sheep. If only Jin's arms weren't full. Perhaps he could persuade his oldest to cool down, too, with a quick catnap. 

Though the living room wasn’t large, Hoseok was doing an excellent job of keeping himself at arm’s length from Yoongi. He trawled his way around the limited space until there was a footrest between them.

“You always start this when you get bored,” Yoongi snarled.

Hoseok stuck his tongue out. At this rate, Hoseok was asking for a beating. Yoongi looked a hair's width from giving it to him.

“Daddy Kim,” Jin called quietly. He glanced anxiously over at his husband who was perched in the recliner across the room, completely engrossed in his book. Namjoon was often blissfully unaware of how close his kids were to knocking each other’s heads off. He was more often responsible for the aftermath, when one of them was sporting an emotional upset or, occasionally, a bloody nose. When Namjoon didn’t answer, Jin called a bit more sternly. “Namjoon!” 

“Mmm,” Namjoon responded. 

Jin looked back at Yoongi just in time to see the boy hop over the footstool and grab Hoseok by the collar. Jin sucked his teeth and hissed, "Stop it! Both of you!” A fraction of a second later Hoseok was being bodily pushed in the direction of their extremely expensive television set. Jin screamed, “Yoongi! Don't!" 

Jungkook startled awake. He peered wildly around the room before bursting into tears. Only then did Namjoon shoot up out of his seat, tossing his book on the recliner and crossing the small distance between himself and his argumentative children in a handful of stern, easy strides.

“This stops now,” Namjoon said clearly. 

“But-” Yoongi tried.

“No . Don’t speak. I want you to listen to me very closely.” 

Jin ran his fingers through Jungkook's hair, trying to calm him with soft, repetitive movements while Namjoon towered over their children and set them straight.

“Hoseok, the teasing stops now. Nothing good has ever come of it, and you know that. You're doing this to piss your brother off. It's not nice. Whatever topic has got Yoongi this upset, you'll move on from it and not talk about it again."

“Daddy, I’m not teasing! I’m just telling the truth!” 

"About what, exactly?"

"About that he likes someone!"

"Hoseok, that's not your business until he tells you it's your business. When he says he doesn't like someone, take him at his word and leave it alone. What you're doing right now is aggravating him to try and get his attention. He's asked you to stop multiple times, so you'll respect that." 

“But -”

“This is not up for debate. I need to hear that you understand what I’m asking you to do,” Namjoon said clearly, enunciating each word and crouching down so that he was eye level with both of his children. “What am I asking you to do?”

Hoseok grumbled, “Stop teasing Yoongi.” 

“And why is that?”

“...because it makes him mad and it’s not nice.” 

“Right. Okay. And Yoongi?”

Yoongi blanched. “I don’t understand why I’m getting in trouble…”

“Because there were plenty of ways to resolve this situation without trying to push your brother into a television set.” 

Yoongi shot Hoseok a dirty look before admitting, “...I mean, I guess.” 

“So what am I asking you to do?”

“Not… push Hobi into a television set.”

“And why?”

“Because it would hurt the television set.”

Hoseok snorted. Yoongi shrugged his shoulders. Namjoon squinted his eyes in irritation.

Yoongi growled, “Ugh. Fine! Because we don’t talk with our hands.”

Satisfied, Namjoon stood back to his full height and sauntered back to his chair. He picked up his book before plopping down into the seat, and then he fixed both of his kids with an even look. “Now I want you both to go and cool down a little bit. Find a place apart from each other so that you can decompress. Talk about it later when you're ready to use your words. If you don't think you can use your words, drop it.” 

No sooner had Namjoon finished his sentence than was Yoongi skittering from the room like a mad lad. Hoseok remained. Jin watched the boy shuffle from foot to foot for a handful of minutes. Hoseok hated getting in trouble. Jin knew that. Usually, Jin spent a bit of cuddle time post-discipline, but Namjoon didn’t intervene enough to have child-specific habits like this. If Hoseok wanted reassurance that the situation had ended, Jin would have to intervene. 

“Baby, you can go sit with your dad,” Jin said gently. “He won’t bite.”

“I don’t think so…” Hoseok whispered.

Namjoon looked up from his book. “You absolutely can. I’m not mad at you, Hobi, but I’m not happy with the things you and Yoongi were doing.”

“I know.” 

“Then come here. You're more than welcome to sit with me while I read the rest of this chapter. If I needed space, I'd let you know.” 

Hoseok crossed the room as if his father might rescind the offer. He launched himself onto Namjoon’s lap. He’d gotten so tall that it took a bit of maneuvering to get them both comfortable, but eventually Hoseok was folded up neatly in his father’s lap with the book open in front of both of them.

Jungkook had fallen back asleep against Jin’s chest. 

Quietly, Jin said, “Good god, Joon. All they do is fight these days.”

Namjoon grunted but didn't speak on it. 

"I think we need a vacation."  

That got Namjoon's attention. The man snorted and said, "I hear that." 

Jin looked down at Jungkook and nudged a stray piece of hair from the boy’s forehead, tucking it neatly behind his ear. It had been so long since they’d had a break. Not just a day or two off, but a full week of nothing. No work. No obligations. Existing in a new place together and removing some of the monotony from their daily routines. Fortunately, Namjoon and Jin had the same vacation days working at the university together. It was a travesty that they never took advantage of it. 

“Where would you wanna go?” Namjoon asked.

“A theme park sounds fun,” Hoseok offered.

Jin laughed. “We need somewhere nice and quiet, Hoseokie. I've got enough wild and screaming children of my own. I don't need to add the rest of the world's little monsters on top of that. How about a little peaceful isolation so that we can all reconnect with one another, you know? Something like that.” 

Namjoon froze in his chair. Jin frowned, curious and a little confused. 

“You know what?" Namjoon said, smile slowly spreading. "Let me make a quick call. I think I’ve got just the place.”

If Jin had known that Namjoon’s mother owned a house in Japan, they’d have regularly been in it.

It took two weeks of planning, but on a sunny Friday afternoon, Jin and family were on the road in search of some long-overdue, emotional TLC. It was only after a quick flight and then a three hour long drive littered with a multitude of stops, and increasingly desperate attempts to keep Jungkook’s juice cup upright, that they pulled into the driveway of a mountainside mansion made of glass. Jin never thought he'd use that phrase outside of idioms and figurative speech, but the moment Namjoon pulled up to their vacation home, it was quite literally a glass house. It was so unexpected that Jin, who had been turned awkwardly in his seat to wrestle Jungkook’s drink from his grip, turned forward to peer at the lodgings in front of them and promptly dropped Jungkook’s bottle into his lap. 

“Ackh! Dad!” Hoseok screamed.

Namjoon instinctively stomped on the brakes. Jin jostled in his seat and gasped, whipping back around in time to see dark liquid pooling on the denim creases of Jungkook’s blue jeans. Jimin made a startled noise from the back of the van and Taehyung cackled loudly, sound echoing around them in the congested vehicle. Jin righted the bottle. Then he straightened himself out in his seat, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“We can’t start the vacation this way,” Jin said plainly. "Kook, baby, dad is so sorry." 

Namjoon reached across Jin’s body and tugged on the glove compartment door, yanking out a thick handful of napkins. He turned and set them on Jungkook’s lap.

“Kook, can you wipe that up for your dad?”

“Yup!”

“Good boy. Hobi, Tae, Yoongi, Min, settle down for a minute.” The car went quiet. Namjoon turned to look at Jin softly, smiling in apology as he reached out and squeezed the man’s thigh. “It's been a long day. Why don’t you take our stuff inside? I’ll handle the minions.” 

“I’m sorry,” Jin whispered. 

“Jin.” Namjoon leaned over the console, pulling his husband in by the back of his neck and kissing him loudly on the forehead. “We can’t start the vacation this way. Now go. Take our bags and go check it out. I think you're gonna love it.” 

Jin already loved it. He didn’t have the words to express it. Every one of his racing thoughts was dedicated to the absurdly clean and streamlined look of the architecture, and as he climbed out of the passenger’s seat with his bags already held firmly in his grip, his eyes caught on the ceiling to floor glass windows, the steel beams holding it all together, the dark oak of the wooden flooring, the small gardens interwoven around the shapes of the building to bring in color, the gorgeous beams that made up the awning. It was a masterpiece. A delicate, isolated, expensive masterpiece. And to think that Namjoon's mother had been hiding this in her purse of impulse buys.

“My god,” Jin said. 

Jin was almost nervous to approach. It felt like one wrong move might topple the thing over. He stood stiffly by the car door until Namjoon slammed on the horn like the asshole that he was. Jin flinched and dropped his bags.

"Go inside!"

"Why are you like this?" Jin hissed, reaching down to pluck his bags from the ground. Namjoon cackled and Jin shook his head and closed the car door, complying with his husband's request.

Despite being so glass-heavy, the house was clearly traditional. The furniture and decor was a charming collection of blacks, whites, or browns. From low tables to seating, to consoles, it was all streamlined in a way that felt neat and relaxing. Organized. Jin's favorite form of relaxation came in the form of knowing that things were where they should be.

Jin set his bags down in the entryway and gently toed off his shoes. Then he let himself properly into the main room. 

Everything was separated by either shoji screens or half walls. Jin walked carefully through the sitting area to get to the sliding screens at the back, cataloguing all of the little decorations as he moved. The nice, breakable pots on the shelves, the small bonsai trees on the table, the black and white abstract pillows on the couches and chairs. There were no bedrooms in here. This was the common space; just a kitchen, a living room, and a door that Jin assumed was a bathroom. His suspicions turned out to be correct when he slid the screens at the back of the room open and exposed a massive courtyard with winding rock paths that lead to several smaller houses. The mountainous backdrop dwarfed the entire estate, fog rolling high off of the mountains around them. The sun was almost set, the crickets were chirping, the water was running from the fountains in the courtyard, and Jin was honest to god in love. 

The house felt so at peace. Jin felt so at peace. 

At least until Namjoon tripped through the doorway with his arms full of bags, the kids close on his heels. Jin turned and slipped back into the house, sliding the door shut behind him to keep out the bugs.

“Joon, this place is absolutely massive." 

“You know, Mom mentioned it would be perfect for you and Yoongi,” Namjoon huffed, releasing his grip on his bags and deflating like a punctured balloon. "It's private out here. Great for a little solitude." 

“It's gorgeous. Seriously, really, really outstanding." 

Fuck. Namjoon had set the vacation bar entirely too high. The kids were never gonna wanna go home. Jin was already looking for weaknesses in the walls where he could dig his fingers in and cling when the day to leave caught up with him. If he refused to move, would they truly have to catch a flight back home? Obviously Toulouse was waiting for them, but they could find a way to get a cat out here with them. 

Yoongi was the first child to come through the home. He walked slowly with his backpack bouncing with his movements. He toed off his shoes with his eyes wide and his mouth open. Speechless. Hoseok similarly refused to talk, kicking his shoes off wildly as he gravitated to a particularly massive painting hanging in the entryway. Jimin was the only child who had the patience to sit himself down on the floor and untie his shoes properly. Taehyung and Jungkook weren't even trying to walk inside. They were hovering on the porch instead, messing with the branches of a particularly colorful potted plant.

"Tae! Kook! Come in here, please," Namjoon called.

Jin watched through the large glass window as Taehyung plucked a flower from the bush. Then he took Jungkook’s hand and gently guided him inside the house, closing the door behind himself.

"Can we, like, live here forever?” Taehyung asked. He had the bud held delicately between his fingers, and after removing his shoes, crossed the room to offer it to Jin. Jin took it wordlessly but crouched down to kiss Taehyung’s cheek in thanks. Taehyung shuffled around Jin and reached for the sliding doors, prising them apart just enough to peek out into the courtyard beyond. When he giggled out loud, the other kids slowly sauntered in his direction. 

“Not forever. Nana's letting us use it for a week." 

“Only one week?!” Jimin screeched.

“How many days is that?!” Jungkook screamed.

“Seven days,” Yoongi answered. 

“Who knows," Jin offered, "A week is certainly long enough to turn us into bonafide mountain goblins. Maybe when it's time to leave, we can just carry our bags higher up the mountain and find a nice cave to live in.”

Jungkook looked at Namjoon hopefully. “Can we really do that, daddy?”

"I think it's a bit too late for us to adopt that lifestyle," Namjoon admitted sheepishly. "How about we turn the guest house into a cave instead? It's the next best thing."

"Oh, a blanket cave!" Hoseok supplied. 

Yoongi was already removing his socks so that he could run out into the courtyard.

"Yoongi, dear, Nana's set some clogs out for us already. Why don't you wear some of those?"

"I don't need them," Yoongi responded, running out onto the deck and then releasing himself to the smooth stone pathways of the courtyard barefoot. Naturally, Hoseok followed, ignoring the clogs that were hanging in a neat little cubby beside the door. It stood to reason that once two of the five siblings had decided on something, the others would follow. Jimin and Taehyung skipped out barefoot after them. Jungkook bent over to remove his socks, but his backpack flopped over his head and toppled him. Namjoon went to him quickly and lifted him up with one arm, bending over to remove his socks one-handed for him. The moment the boy's feet were on the wooden floor again, Jungkook took off like a rocket and barreled his way outside to be with his brothers. Jin watched him dance his way along the rocks, stopping every third step to inspect something, or otherwise stick his fingers into the running water of one of the fountains, or otherwise otherwise try to launch himself on Taehyung.  

“Joon, I don’t even know what to say,” Jin admitted once they were alone. "This is so much more than I imagined. Why didn't you... how didn't I..."

“I forgot about it. Mom told me she'd bought something a while back for vacations. I thought maybe it was a subscription." 

Jin turned around and smiled. "Well thank you for bringing us here. It's absurd, but it's definitely a place of my dreams."

Namjoon was collecting the vital bags from the doorway, leaving all groceries and secondary items on the floor with their shoes. Once he had his and Jin's overnight bags, he made his way to Jin's side and handed off the smallest one. Jin took it gratefully, leaning in for a kiss. Namjoon met him halfway, smiling as the two of them lingered, warm lips pressed together. Jin breathed out and pulled back, looking down between them suspiciously. 

"Maybe tonight we can break this fancy house in a little bit," Jin mumbled.

"Yeah?"

"What do you say? You and me, guesthouse number three."

"Figured we'd eventually be crossing 'rugged mountain sex' off of your list, just had no idea we'd be doing it the first day."

"Second day," Jin corrected. "Also, rugged where? You came into the house in loafers."

Namjoon dipped his head and laughed. Jin shuffled his bag to his free hand and then reached for a pair of clogs in one of the cubicles. He tossed them on the ground and slipped his feet into them easily, waiting for Namjoon to do the same. As soon as they were ready, he reached for Namjoon's hand and interlaced their fingers so that they could walk together. Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jimin were across the courtyard fiddling with the doors and trying to break into the bathhouse. Jungkook and Taehyung were sticking their arms into the fountain likely looking for coins.

Jin and Namjoon took their time following the rock paths to their babies. There was no rush.

They were on vacation, after all. 

Jin should have known better. 

His kids were not sleeping at a reasonable time on their first night out of town. 

After cooking a warm dinner of soft tofu stew, Jin had gathered them all in the living room for a movie. The longest movie that Disney had to offer. They’d spread out on the couches and over the course of the hour, chattered themselves into a doze. Jin and Namjoon had foolishly breathed a massive sigh of relief once the credits started rolling and each of their kids was snoring to some capacity. The reality of their situation only became startlingly clear the moment Jin shifted to get up off of the couch. Jungkook sprung awake with the energy of a million suns, smiling up at his father before rolling off of the couch and beelining to the back doors, screeching like a siren. 

Predictably, the other kids sprung awake too and were right on his tail. 

It took another hour for Namjoon and Jin to coerce the kids into some semblance of a bedtime routine. The kids had brushed their teeth and slipped into their comfy jim jams, but apparently there were limits to predictability when it came to vacation time, and being dressed for bed was it. The kids had zero interest in actually going to sleep. The remainder of the evening had been nothing more than a disastrous attempt to actually get them to stay in bed . 

Which eventually amounted to a family of seven stacked tight onto the master bed in guest house three. 

“You guys have gotta be getting tired,” Namjoon groaned after Hoseok tried arguing his way into a third game of I Spy.

"There's no sleeping here. It's in the vacation rules," Jimin laughed, laying on his belly at the end of the bed with a small puzzle that he'd picked up from god knows where. Taehyung was flattened against his back, watching him put the puzzle together precariously on the bunched up blankets from over his shoulder.

“Not sleeping is not an option,” Jin said. “Who wrote the vacation rules anyway?”

"You did!" Yoongi said.

"When did I?" 

"When we were on the plane." 

"Oh," Jin said. "Dad was on some really good medicine at that time. Anything I said is no longer valid."

"Daddy, can you just tell us a story?" Jungkook asked suddenly. He was laying between Jin and Namjoon with Yoongi, feet on Hoseok's belly.

Taehyung perked up, glancing across the bed at his father and tacking on, "A scary one!" 

"How about a fairytale?" Namjoon offered. "Have you ever heard the story of the emperor's new clothes?"

Jin wiggled down deeper against the mattress, tugging on the blanket to cover himself, Yoongi, and Jungkook a bit better. Then he threw his arm over both of them and settled in properly.

"Tae, Minnie, Hobi, get comfortable, please," he said.

"We're not ready to sleep, though," Hoseok grumbled.

"Don't sleep then. Just listen."

Taehyung rolled off of Jimin and crawled into the gap between Jungkook and Namjoon, pushing both of his parents to the absolute edge. Hoseok and Jimin opted to stay at the end of the bed. Once Jimin had nudged the puzzle onto the floor, he curled himself closer to Hoseok and wrapped the two of them up in the throw blanket. For as much fuss as the five of them had been throwing the last few hours, they sure did fall into place startlingly quick. Jin glanced around at the new puzzle piece on the bed, just limbs and bodies pressed together in a practiced way that worked.

"Let's start at the top. Once, in Bakery Land, there was a prince named Kookie..."

"Ohohoho, that's me!" Jungkook squealed.

"Who ran into two high-energy, sneaky little pranksters named Tae and Chim..."

The story flowed easily from Namjoon's mouth. He'd always been quite the storyteller. It was one of the man's many charming attributes. Jin watched him openly, staring at the smooth movements of his lips around each and syllable. At the way he looked between his children each time he used their name, eyebrows raised or mouth open in shock. At the way he eventually cradled Taehyung against his chest. It was just an old folktale, a story that Jin had heard and told a bajillion times before, but it had never been quite this lovely.

The night carried on gently. From minute to minute, the kids fell further into the story until the shifting stopped completely, and eyes began to close, and one by one they dropped off to sleep. 

There was a moment when Jin felt the need to say something. The story had ended and Namjoon had moved onto another fable, but the children were out like lights. 

It just... felt wrong to do that. 

And honestly, he didn't want Namjoon's story to stop. 

So instead of interrupting, he let his head loll heavily onto Yoongi's. He let his eyes flutter closed. And balancing on the edge of some absurdly expensive monstrosity of a bed, he allowed his husband's gravelly voice to guide him into the most peaceful sleep of his entire life.

Chapter Text

“Hyung”

“Come away from the water, Jungkook.” 

Yoongi’s warning was soft. He also made sure that there was an underlying firmness to it that allowed no argument. Jungkook couldn’t swim and their dads had been quite clear that they were to avoid any water because of it. Even an inch of water can drown someone, Yoongi, dad had said. And while I'm sure you can handle some puddles, no streams, and nothing that goes past your calves, got it? So Yoongi, being the responsible older brother that he was, had committed to a few safety rules for their outing. No touching plants they didn’t recognize. No walking more than five minutes from the house, and most importantly, no playing in water that was deeper than their calves. 

This was all good and well because Jungkook had been hopelessly fixated on the same mudpuddle for the last twenty minutes. The issue was that Jungkook's playing pushed a significant amount of muddy water onto the banks, which then dribbled into a stream, and realizing that his puddle would soon be deficient, Jungkook was making his way over to the larger body of water to recuperate losses.

When Yoongi called out to him again, Jungkook looked over his shoulder with a smile on his face.

"Jungkook, please come back here."

Jungkook was a trouble-maker sometimes. Only sometimes, though. He just wanted to know how things worked. 

“Okay, Yoongi hyung,” Jungkook mumbled, trudging his way back to Yoongi's side with a large stick in his hand. His rain boots were squelching against the wet ground as he moved. It was only drizzling now, but it had rained earlier and Jungkook's little yellow raincoat was glistening with the residual water.

Jungkook took Yoongi's hand and said, “Does that mean no more digging for treasure?”  

“No. It just means we have to find some better places that aren’t by the water,” Yoongi said. 

“All the best treasure places are by the water,” Jungkook warned. “because pirates live on the water, so they hide them there.”

“That makes sense. But daddy said no, so we'll have to find out if they have any other hiding spots.” 

“...Okay. But why did daddy said no?”

“Because you can’t swim yet.”

Jungkook started his skip, swinging his and Yoongi's hands between them as they made their way slowly back toward the house. There was a clearly worn down path for them to follow. Yoongi couldn't possibly get lost, something that his daddy had reminded him of as he'd sent them gently out the door. Yoongi had never been good at directions, but seeing a clear route between themselves and the house built up a confidence in him. Jungkook trusting him made that confidence even more concrete. Jungkook leapt from old footprint to old footprint, upsetting the water that had collected in the divots as they'd played around outside. Mud splashed up on Yoongi's pants. 

“Can you teach me how to swim?" Jungkook asked suddenly. "Then I can find a good treasure.”

“Once we go home, I can. Not here. There's no pool here and I'm not good at swimming in a lot of water."

There was pressure against Yoongi’s arm as Jungkook tugged them to a stop. His eyes were latched onto a massive puddle a few feet away from them.

Dutifully, Yoongi released Jungkook's hand and crouched to grab the nearest stick, handing it off and watching Jungkook take off like a rocket. 

“Wow, there’s gonna be lots of treasure in this one,” Jungkook screamed. He wasted no time shoving the stick into the puddle. “TaeTae should have come here, too!”

“It would've been fun. But Taetae didn't want to come.”

“He's playing pirates back at the mountain house.”

“Yeah.”

“He doesn't want to play with us.”

“Probably not that. More like he knew you were an expert treasure finder and didn't need his help.”

“I am!” Jungkook said, cheesing. "I'm happy my biggest, oldest hyung is here so that I don't drowned."

“That’s right,” Yoongi said. He approached Jungkook slowly and crouched down beside him, looking closely at the reflection of the two of them in the puddle. Jungkook looked like a small, happy banana. Yoongi loved the rain suit. "You won't drown if I'm with you. We can find pirate treasure in other places."

The truth is, Yoongi really liked when Jungkook called him the biggest, oldest hyung. He liked it when Jungkook trusted him. He liked when his younger siblings asked him questions they didn't know the answers to, and when his dads trusted him to take them on walks, and when he got to stay up later and watch the television while all the other kids were sleeping soundly in their beds. Yoongi liked being an older brother because it meant he had a job to do, and it gave him an opportunity to make the people around him proud. 

“How about I be the hyung when I grow up?” Jungkook propositioned.

Yoongi cackled. The sound echoed in the woods around them. “No, Kook. We can’t switch."

"Why?"

"Because being a hyung is a tough job. You have to interview for it, and then there's years of training. Really boring training. You wouldn't like it."

“I want to tell you what to do,” Jungkook admitted.

"If you want me to do something, you can always ask me," Yoongi suggested. "But also, I don't tell you what to do."

"Yes you do!"

"Well you never listen, so I might as well not be telling you what to do."

"Sometimes I don't want to listen to you." 

Yoongi shook his head. This conversation was exhausting. Even when Jungkook was being difficult, Yoongi still loved him. 

Jungkook stood up. His stick was lost to the puddle and his hands were free. Yoongi followed suit and latched onto Jungkook automatically, taking his hand and starting toward the house a second time.

"Hyung, my tummy hurts."

"We're going to get some food right now," Yoongi promised. "Then it'll stop hurting."

"Okay." 

Slow as sludge, they made their way back to the house together.

“Pirate Parade”

“There is no pirate who can approach me! Especially not the Dreadful Cap'n Hobi!”

The rain had picked up a bit since earlier. As Hoseok hopped gallantly from one glistening stone to another, he brandished his large 'sword' carefully. The stick had been sharpened at the end and was a bit pointy, but nothing dangerous. Hoseok's eye was covered by an eyepatch that his daddy had made him out of an old t-shirt. He wasn't a spooky pirate. Him and his weapon didn't look threatening. But Hoseok was agile, and he was approaching Jimin on the back porch with the stealth of a ninja. If he could make it to the porch, he could make it to the loot, and he could take off like a bandit with all the riches of the seven seas... or so they'd all agreed. 

In Hoseok's silence, Jimin continued, “Oh, but I have so many treasures. Like, so many! And it's the good stuff. Good thing I'm well protected! If anyone should come into my home, they'll be walking the plank -- right into a shark's mouth.”

Hoseok continued to leapfrog silently across the courtyard, dipping and weaving between the statues, bushes, and water fountains. He was so focused on keeping his footing, cobblestones so wet and slippery beneath his feet, that he missed the movement out of the corner of his eye.

All at once, Taehyung screamed and jumped, latching onto Hoseok's shoulder and growling in his ear, "You were never sly enough to get past the royal pirate guards." 

"Augh!" Hobi shouted. 

Taehyung's pirate voice was so funny. He croaked liked he'd swallowed a frog! But Hoseok couldn't laugh while he was losing his balance, and with no way to find his footing on the wet stones, he toppled backwards into a giant puddle with the Fearless Taevy Jones still latched to his back. Taehyung hit the ground and grunted with Hoseok's weight on him, but then laughed so hard his voice cracked. Hoseok laughed too as he rolled off of Taehyung and pushed himself to his feet. Behind them, Jimin was already running anxiously from the porch to join them.

"Yeesh, Tae. What am I, a trampoline?" Hoseok asked. 

"Yeah. The funnest trampoline ever. But seriously, I think you broke my ribs." 

By this point, the two of them were soaked to the bone. Hoseok's clothes had soaked up so much water in their tumble. Taehyung had landed directly into a divot filled with a good inch of water.

Jimin groaned as he approached his siblings, wringing his hands together as he said, "Dad's gonna kill us if you guys walk into the house that wet! The floors are wood." 

"Well we have no intention of dying, so we're more than happy to stay out here forever."

"Speak for yourself," Hoseok said. "What are we gonna eat if we do that? Bugs? I'm not exchanging that for dad's cooking."

Jimin continued, "You guys are dripping. You can't be dry in time. And your shoes are totally soaked. Taehyung! When I said protect the ship, I didn't mean like this! And I hope you don't tell daddy that this-" he circled his fingers widely around the picture Hoseok and Taehyung made, "was my idea. Because it wasn't."

"Yeah, yeah. You talk a lot when you're nervous. So get unnervous quickly. Help me up, would you?" Taehyung responded, stretching his arms out in Jimin's direction.

Jimin sucked his teeth in aggravation and reached for Taehyung. Hoseok could see the suspicious twinkle in Taehyung's eye the moment before the tug happened. Rather than going with Jimin's pull and getting gracefully to his feet, Taehyung yanked Jimin toward himself, effectively pulling his brother to the ground. Jimin did a short dance on the way down to avoid the puddle, but while his hands escaped water pooled around Taehyung's lap, his knees and calves weren't so lucky. By the time his brain had processed that he, too, was on the ground, his pants were already water-logged. Jimin, a known perfectionist and slightly anxious reincarnation of Hermione Granger, immediately screamed. 

"TAEHYUNG! YOU --!! GOD... YOU ARE SO..." 

Taehyung splashed water up into Jimin's face. Jimin turned away and sputtered. Oh, no. 

There was a moment of silence before Jimin said calmly, "I'm gonna choke you."

The noise Taehyung made in response was nothing short of 'having the time of his life'. The boy finally found the strength to get up on his own and take off across the courtyard. Jimin was in full pursuit, lifting himself up off of the ground with smooth movements and rapidly giving chase.  

Hoseok swiped his hands down his pants to knock off any sediment that remained, and then took off after them. 

Units

“Kiss me.”

Namjoon frowned down at his uneven potatoes and hummed. 

“Mr. Kim Namjoon. I want a kiss.”

Namjoon smiled and turned to look at Jin sweetly. “And what do we say if we want a kiss?”

“...daddy?”

Namjoon snorted and turned to his husband.

Jin’s lips were so familiar. The pressure of them was grounding. Within seconds, all of the tension that had gathered in Namjoon’s shoulders was leaking out of him as if he were a punctured balloon. When Jin pulled away, it was with a gentle, “your fries look beautiful.” 

“They really don’t. But thank you.” 

Cooking dinner together had been a whim. With the kids tucked happily away into different corners of the house together, Jin had wandered to the kitchen to cook a snack. Namjoon had boldly followed. It was a mistake, and he’d known it the moment Jin handed him a knife with that subtly concerned gaze, but Namjoon had never been one to back down from a challenge. So here he was, hovering over a plate full of pitifully botched fries. At least he still had all of his fingers. 

Jin plucked a few perfectly cut fries from his own board and exchanged them for some of Namjoon's more mauled fries. When both cutting boards had a healthy mix of even and uneven fries, Jin smiled.

“There,” he said happily. “Now we match!” 

“That we do. Thank you, baby,” Namjoon laughed.

“So we’ll pat them dry again and get them in the oven.”

“No salt?”

Jin turned around to search for a baking tray. “After they come out. The kids don’t need a whole lot. They’re going to drown the poor things in ketchup anyway, so we’d better try and keep it as healthy as possible on our end. The salt won’t stick unless the fries are hot.” 

“Sounds good, chef.” 

It took a moment for Jin to find a tray big enough to hold fries for all seven of them. By the time he returned, Namjoon had worked himself up for another kiss. The moment Jin was within reach, Namjoon grabbed the tray and tugged it to his chest, pulling Jin in along with it. He leaned forward so that their lips connected roughly, and Jin went easily, releasing a giddy puff of air as they collided. Jin's lips were like magnets, and it took a little longer for Namjoon to find the strength to stop kissing him. The moment he did, Jin had something to say about it.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought there was something we had to say when we wanted a kiss?”

“Daddy, if I remember correctly,” Namjoon responded, taking the tray from Jin and setting it on the counter beside them.  

“That’s right. Daddy.”

Namjoon grabbed Jin and pulled the man flush against his chest. Jin made a soft noise of surprise but went with it, arms looped around Namjoon's broad shoulders. Namjoon wasn’t actually much bigger than Jin, but he felt bigger when they were in positions like this.

“If I'd known fries did it for you, I’d have kept a stash of potatoes in our bedroom closet.”

Namjoon nipped at Jin's bottom lip. Jin giggled and tilted his head, closing the gap between them.

Kissing Jin was such a creature comfort. Namjoon had found a home in Jin's body. In each warm press of his lips, and each short breath, inhaled into the same chest that housed such a massive, massive heart. Namjoon couldn't separate from the man. Each time he tried to pull away, he gravitated forward again, kissing Jin over and over until they were both struggling to breath evenly, panting into each other's mouths as their hands started to wander.

Namjoon had always flourished under Jin’s attention. They'd been married for years and the need to be loved on had yet to fade. When their third date happened and Namjoon started to imagine a future with Jin, it’d looked  just like this -- stolen kisses on lazy days with a counter full of neglected food in the background. No, the kids hadn’t been a part of the plan, but they’d become a part of the plan, and now Namjoon couldn't imagine a day without them. 

The two of them kissed in the silence of the kitchen for what felt like forever, until the thudding of tiny little kid-feet interrupted. It was so quick that they'd barely had a chance to unlatch from one another before a high-pitched voice screeched, “Daddy? EW!"

Jin took a deep breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before clearing his throat. 

"I'm not sure when kisses became so 'ew' considering you get them all the time, Mr. Taehyung," Jin reminded their son, pulling away from Namjoon and sheepishly moving back towards their fries.

"Not those nasty dad and daddy kisses," Taehyung said clearly. "They're extra long and extra gross."

Namjoon raised his eyebrows and looked away, caught out. Jin snorted.

"Yeah. You're right. Daddy actually does have special kisses tucked away just for me. We'll try to keep them out of your line of sight if you promise to wear a bell around your ankle so that we know you're coming. Also, while you're in here, why don't you help us cook? We could use a hand constructing some grilled ham and cheese sandwiches."

"No, thank you. I'm just coming to see how long, because Yoongi wants to make a fort so we can watch a movie. Actually we're gonna watch Spiderman because Jungkook threw a tantrum and said that we can't watch anything else. Anyway, Yoongi said to come and see when the food would be finished and also... I have to ask if we possibly eat it in the fort."

Taehyung took a deep breath. Namjoon smiled.

"Well, it's all finger food. Don't think we could do that much damage with those, do you?"

"Well, daddy, you must not know our family. One time we ate grilled cheese for dinner and three of our sandwiches ended up stuck to the ceiling," Taehyung admitted triumphantly. 

"I'm confused. Are you arguing for or against eating in the living room right now?" Jin interrupted. 

"When did that happen?" Namjoon asked.

"Well anyway. You already said yes." Taehyung turned around and quickly saw his way back down the hallway. His feet were just as loud in departure as they were in arrival.

Once again, Namjoon and Jin were alone.

Life had actually gone this way ever since their oldest could walk. Short hellos and quick goodbyes. Unexpected conversations and expected conversations with unexpected outcomes. Interruptions. But Namjoon loved it. And despite all of the interruptions, they still found time for each other. Maybe later on that night, they could find a little more time. Or maybe they'd fall asleep in the fort, piled on top of each and surrounded by plates with crumbs on them, the blank screen of a finished movie playing for a sleeping family of seven. Could be either scenario. Having kids was exciting that way. 

"Ready to make some Sandwiches, Mr. Kim?" Jin asked as he popped the fries in the oven and set the timer.

"Absolutely, Mr. Kim," Namjoon responded.