Chapter Text
"Easy, baby. I know," Seokjin murmured softly, trying to rock Jungkook back to sleep. "I know. Daddy's so sorry to wake you up this late."
This late being two in the morning on a Friday as the residents of their apartment building stood on the lawn in pajamas and slippers. Namjoon sat on the curb at the sidewalk with his head propped on his knees, struggling to stay awake. He'd just pulled two all-nighters in the studio and had reached prime zombie levels of exhaustion for the week.
Seokjin pressed his nose against the little dinosaur beanie he slipped over his son’s head when they reached the lawn and grimaced at the smell of smoke clinging to the yarn. Jungkook usually slept so well, but when he's awoken abruptly it took quite a while to calm him down again. He was still sniffling and whining quietly into the crook of Seokjin’s neck, his little wet face tucked close.
He stared up at the smoke issuing from the eighth-floor window and turned his body to shield Jungkook from the flashing red lights of the firetrucks. The fire started in their apartment. Seokjin wasn’t sure he had ever been so terrified in his life than when that fire alarm started shrieking and Jungkook had burst into tears in the next room. He hadn't bothered to check the kitchen on the way out, just grabbed his baby and Namjoon when he'd stumbled into the hallway, half-asleep and incoherent, and got them the hell out of the apartment.
A few of their neighbors wandered over to see if they were all right. Seokjin answered in the softest voice he could manage to keep from disturbing his son’s slow fall back into sleep. Most wanted to know if this is another infamous Namjoon-meets-kitchen incident, which had said destruction magnet whining indignantly. Seokjin admitted he wasn’t sure what had happened. He didn't wait to find out.
Kyungsoo and Chanyeol hung around until the firefighters slowly made their way out of the building.
"Apartment Eight - F, please raise your hand," one of the them shouted over the crowd. Seokjin had his hands full with his son. Kyungsoo raised his own arm for him.
"Apartment Eight - F?" The firefighter clarified when he reached them, the smell of smoke clinging to his uniform. He had windswept hair the color of orange sherbet ice cream, flushed cheeks, and a smile that could melt sugar. Seokjin felt distinctly unattractive by comparison in his old sweater and worn basketball shorts, tennis shoes shoved onto his bare feet. He had no idea what his hair was doing, only that it probably looked like he slept between two static-charged balloons.
"That's us," Seokjin replied, smiling wanly. The man sized him up for a second before glancing at Namjoon on the sidewalk, his chin propped on his knee as he peered up from around Seokjin’s hip.
"Come have dinner with us tomorrow, hyung," said Kyungsoo quietly. Seokjin nodded gratefully and murmured his thanks as Kyungsoo and Chanyeol joined the flood of grumpy, tired people heading back inside.
"Hi,” the firefighter said with a smile.
Seokjin returned it awkwardly. “Hey. Sorry about this.”
"The fire was pretty small, and we were able to keep it contained in the kitchen. We suspect it was a blown fuse, as I doubt you were cooking at two in the morning" He glanced down at the little boy dozing on Seokjin’s chest, and his eyes softened. "Your apartment is safe to enter, but your kitchen will have several things that need to be replaced and remodeled. We'll send you an official inspection report in the mail for your insurance."
"Thank you," Seokjin sighed relieved. He'd been worried that they might have to stay somewhere else for several days, that their other belongings had been damaged too. His photo albums. Birth certificates. Jungkook's adoption papers. Replacing the kitchen was nothing compared to recovering those things. Lord knows how many times they'd already replaced the coffee maker and the toaster. Namjoon made enough money that he could replace their kitchen several times over if necessary, though he'd probably cry while he did it.
"That being said, the smell of smoke is pretty thick." The firefighter glanced at Jungkook again with an apologetic smile. "You and your husband--"
"Namjoon’s not my husband."
The firefighter paused at the interruption before continuing, "Okay. Your boyfriend then--"
"He's not my boyfriend," Seokjin interrupted him again.
The man stared at him, seemingly at a loss for what to say.
Seokjin sighed. "We're two best friends, both gay and single, living in the same apartment with my son. Yes, I know it's the perfect pitch for a modern gay sitcom, but it's also just the truth."
"Right. Um." He licked his lips and processed that for a second. "Again, it's safe to go inside the apartment, but the smoke might be irritating, especially to little lungs. You should stay with someone else and air out the apartment for tonight."
"I'll call Hoseok," Namjoon said and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked as exhausted as Seokjin felt.
"Can we go up to grab a few things?" Seokjin asked, swaying from side to side and rubbing his son’s back. Soft, even puffs of air brushed his neck. Jungkook had finally fallen asleep again. "I'll need a change of clothes for myself and Jungkook. His baby bag too."
"Yes, that's fine."
Seokjin nodded and pressed a kiss to the little beanie again. He could feel a wet spot forming on his shirt from Jungkook's drooling. Namjoon stood a few feet away on the phone, murmuring apologies and promises of barbecue dinners and free beer.
Seokjin turned back to the firefighter. "Thank you so much."
"No problem," he replied. A familiar echo of accent in his pronunciation caught Seokjin’s attention.
"You're from Busan?"
"Ah--yeah," he admitted sheepishly, switching the bulky yellow helmet from his right hand to the left. "I try to keep with the Seoul dialect, but it slips in every now and then."
"I like it." Seokjin paused and thought about what he'd just said. "Uh, just--I actually adopted Jungkook when I was working in Busan. It's a special place for us. The accent kind of sounds like home." He held his son just a bit more preciously in his arms and felt love swell in his chest when a tiny hand fisted his shirt.
"Oh."
Seokjin flushed. He tended to overshare with strangers when he got nervous. He stared at the ground for an awkward minute, bouncing gently on his feet, when Namjoon shuffled through the grass toward them, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Hoseok's getting the spare bedroom and the couch ready for us. He's expecting a nice breakfast tomorrow."
Seokjin snorted before wincing, but thankfully Jungkook continued to sleep soundly, a warm sleepy weight on his chest. "As if I’m not always the one cooking breakfast when we stay over. They could probably use a decent meal anyway."
Namjoon looked up at the apartment before asking the firefighter, "Is there anything else we need to know?"
“Just that we will send a copy of the report to you and the police as well for insurance purposes. It's safe to go up, but you should have an electrician come as soon as possible to check the wiring, make sure you know what’s safe to use, and draw up a plan for remediation before using the appliances or the lights. Anything that needs electricity."
"Thanks, man," sighed Namjoon and shook his hand with a rueful smile.
"Glad to help." The firefighter glanced between them, licked his lips, before smiling. "I'd better get back to the truck. We're still on call for the rest of the night."
"Oh. Well, we'll let you go then. Thanks again."
"Thank you," Seokjin offered quietly.
"Have a good night!"
They watched the firefighter jog back to the small army of firetrucks on the curb before turning back to the building. "Diapers and underwear?" Namjoon checked.
Seokjin nodded. "Diapers and underwear. And Shookie." They might have to abandon the apartment for the night, but they couldn’t leave behind Jungkook's beloved friend.
Taehyung looked up from the radio when Jimin finally pulled himself up into the back of the truck, tugging his jacket open as he dropped heavily onto the bench. His gaze kept trailing back to the couple on the lawn, and Tae recognized the look in his eyes immediately. "Oh no."
Jimin turned, frowning. "What?"
Jackson leaned around the front seat and peered at them through the gap. "What’s up?"
"Jimin, their house just caught fire," Taehyung said, the judgement in his voice clear and amused from atop his perch on the sixty-foot spare hose. "They have a kid."
"Just the kitchen," Jimin shot back, but the blush was already rising in his cheeks. "And they're not together."
Yoongi snorted from the driver's seat and raised a skeptical brow in the rearview mirror.
"They're not?"
They all turned at Jackson's cheerful question. He stared back, unashamed. "The one with dimples is kind of my type."
"Overworked, lanky, and clumsy?" drawled Yoongi, snickering.
Jackson rolled his eyes before vanishing around the front seat. He glanced through the window again, but the couple have already made their way back into the apartment.
"You know, they mentioned a friend named Hoseok," Jimin added as he sprawled across from Taehyung, who grinned into the collar of his coat. "Any chance they were talking about Hobi hyung?"
"That'd be a pretty big coincidence," Yoongi answered dubiously but glanced at his phone on the dashboard.
"Why? Looking for your way in, Jiminie?" Taehyung nudged him with a boot, his eyes shining.
"Shut up, Tae," he grumbled.