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Kim Seungmin is struggling, to say the least. She considers herself a fairly strong person; sure, it’s not like she’s begging to go try out the new gym that’s opened downtown for the weights, like Jisung is, but she’s not weak. The ten-kilogram bags of soil she’s trying to lug across the living room of their apartment beg to differ, though. She pushes one of them half a foot further, and promptly gets it stuck between two legs of one of their little side tables. Huffing with frustration, she gives up on the entire ordeal and flops down onto their worn-in sofa-bed.
She stretches her hand out to grab the jar of roasted salted cashews she knows is there on their coffee table - is always there on their table, because Jisung knows how much she adores it - and opens it. Or, well, tries to. It seems like her hands have simply given up on her today, because she can’t even get the lid of the jar to budge. She can practically hear the limp-wrist jokes that Jisung would have made right now. She shakes her head to clear the begrudging smile that has crept across her face at the thought, and tries to open the jar again. All she’s met with is failure and aching fingers. Maybe she should take a nap.
Just as she has the thought, the sound of loud, off-tune singing outside the door makes her shake her head fondly. Jisung . She rises to her feet, dusting off her flowy gardening shorts as she makes her way to the entrance of the apartment. Her wife stands outside in all of her sweaty glory, lightly panting but continuing to sing UN Village to her, somehow managing to sound even more toneless than before.
She rolls her eyes at Jisung’s singing, but they both know she loves it. Pressing a quick kiss to her lips, she gets her bag for her, wrinkling her nose exaggeratedly at the smell.
“You stink, gross girl. Get away from me.”
Jisung smiles, broad and infuriating - in the way that means she knows Seungmin’s full of shit.
“That’s not what you said that time I got home from the gym and you pressed me up agai-”
Seungmin yodels over the rest of her sentence, and she laughs mercilessly at her misery.
“You think I’m sexy, ” she taunts in a sing-song voice.
“We’ve been married for three years,” Seungmin deadpans.
Jisung shrugs her shoulders innocently and saunters away into the living room.
Three seconds later, predictably, Jisung calls out to her.
“Hey babe, why are there sacks of soil in the living room? I thought you wanted those on our balcony?”
Seungmin sighs, preparing to be laughed at.
“Yeah, about that…”
Jisung spends twenty minutes teasing Seungmin. Ten of those minutes are limp-wrist jokes. Seungmin, contrary to popular belief, does not regret any of her life decisions.
At the end of the day, it’s Jisung who’s doing the heavy lifting.
She contentedly watches her wife drag two bags at a time, arms flexing as she rambles on about her day, her voice fading in and out as she disappears into their balcony intermittently.
This is one of her favourite parts of the day; coming back home to her love. She is content to listen to Jisung rambling about her newest Literature assignment, and how she’s sure it’s going to be such a hit with the kids because she’s combined it with Chan’s Music Theory assignment to make it more fun for their students.
“... and I was telling unnie, hey Channie-unnie, aren’t you getting too old to be sneaking off with Binnie-unnie to make out in the staff bathroom? I mean, come on, the bathroom? What are they, sixteen? I’m not saying I wouldn’t with you, but that’s different, and- hey- hey baby, you alright?” Jisung waves her hand in front of her face, wide eyes turning rounder with concern.
Seungmin smiles, endeared, and so very in love. The sheer force of Jisung’s care for her has always blown her away; she could be wrapped up in her own world one second, and immediately by Seungmin’s side the next. She’s always attuned to her in a way that no one else has ever bothered to be; in the way that takes time to learn.
Her and Jisung are such different people on the surface, but they’ve grown to meld against each other, to understand. Not all of their jagged edges line up, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.
She nods her head lightly to indicate that she’s alright, and Jisung’s shoulders sag in relief as she leans forward to playfully rub their noses together.
“What’re you thinking about, puppy?”
“Oh, nothing,” she says innocently, “just how much I love you.”
It gets exactly the reaction out of Jisung that she’d expected. She flushes a lovely pink all over her face, ears and whatever of her chest Seungmin can see, hands coming to clutch at her sweater. It always sends a thrill through her to see just how much three simple words can affect her wife, even though they’ve been saying them for over eight years now. She adores knowing her wife just as well as she does.
“ Minnie, you can’t just say that, ” Jisung drops her head down onto her shoulder to whine into it.
“Can’t say what?” Seungmin is so smug right now. “I can’t say that I love my amazing, hardworking, funny, beautiful, gorgeous wife?”
“ No! ” Jisung punches her chest weakly. Then, “Why are your boobs so nice, S’ng’mn-ah,” she grumbles, muffled by Seungmin’s shoulder. “It’s horrible.”
Seungmin lets out a bark of laughter, shoulders shaking at her wife’s ridiculousness.
“You think my boobs are horrible?”
“Yeah, ” Jisung sounds even whinier now. Seungmin bites back a smile, still giddy with delight at seeing her like this after all these years.
“They’re so nice, and I can’t even squish them like I’ve been wanting to all day!”
She sounds so pouty that Seungmin can’t help but lift her head off of her shoulders and squish her cheeks.
“Been thinking about my boobs a lot, have you, Jisung-ah?”
Jisung nods, pout deepening. “They’re so soft, and they’re there. Wanna squish!”
Seungmin wants to eat her up. Oh, she’s just the sweetest little thing, isn’t she? She pats Jisung’s round cheeks lovingly. They’ve retained their softness and pullability over the years, and she is just as obsessed.
“Squish boobs after dinner, okay? I wanna check in on the babies.”
Jisung nods excitedly and skips away to set their table, her messy bun in the process of coming undone. She always makes a whole ritual of it, agonising over which of their five identical dinner plates to use. Seungmin’s taken videos of it for blackmail purposes, but mostly just because she thinks that she’s cute.
While the pre-dinner rituals go on, she heads out to the balcony to give their plants a goodnight spritz and talk. She always makes sure to talk and sing to them, having read several articles about how it helps them grow better. Even if they weren’t true though, she’d still do it. It’s a part of her daily routine that she’s come to cherish greatly. The night’s pleasantly cool breeze plays with her hair as she squats down to tell each plant to have a nice night and encourage them to grow well. As she’s in the midst of singing them a lullaby, she hears Jisung call out to her.
“Nice ass, babe.”
She turns around to glare at her.
“The babies are going to sleep, Sungie,” she hisses at her.
Jisung gasps, hands on her hips, the picture of outrage.
(Seungmin loves her so, so very much. Has she mentioned that yet?)
“I can’t believe you’d say that to your loving wife, whose ass you’ve smacked thousands of times, might I remind y-”
“Okay, goodnight now my babies! Joonie, grow well please, I bought you new fertilizer just last week. I’m going to get back to my insufferable wife now,” she waves them goodnight, and lifts herself off the ground.
Jisung greets her at their dinner table with an easy grin, one that will always take her breath away.
“Hi baby. Dinner?”
Seungmin nods weakly, willing the blush off her cheeks.
“Dinner.”
Jisung yells her approval of the stir fry that Seungmin has managed to perfect since her college days, and kisses her with a resounding smack. Seungmin sticks out her tongue at her and pretends like they both don’t know that she’s melting inside. They clear up the table together while Jisung explains her ideas for the unit she’s currently doing with her students. Seungmin listens intently, fascinated. She will never not be in awe of her insanely creative mind.
Jisung mentions Chan again while they’re washing the dishes that have been piling up in their sink, and she uses the opportunity to slip in a joke about how she’s turning half-fifty-two next year. Soap suds fly onto her face with how hard Jisung is laughing, but she can’t bring herself to mind. The way her wife’s eyes crinkle with joy makes it all worth it.
They sing their way through the rest of the dishes, dueting Apex Predator from the Mean Girls musical, their voices blending together in a perfect mix of high and low. Their hips bump together as they maneuver around each other, and Seungmin feels the day’s weight settle into her bones, satisfyingly heavy.
All of a sudden, she can’t wait to go to bed.
They stack the wet dishes into their dishwasher to let them dry, and Jisung throws an arm around her tiredly. A look of silent agreement passes between them. Bedtime.
Seungmin cannot be less bothered to go through her skincare routine today, but she still does the basics with Jisung, if only to see the way her fluffy hairband makes her bangs stick out from behind it. They help each other change, warm hands slowly working to button up cotton pyjamas and slip on soft nightdresses. Her eyes feel even heavier than before as they stumble into bed together, hands reaching out to hold each other close. All she wants is to slip into dreamland with her arms around her wife.
Just as her consciousness begins to fade away, Jisung pokes her hard in her rib. She grunts irritably, annoyed at the interruption. Jisung’s hand finds her chest, and then squeezes.
“Squish. Boob,” she mumbles into her pillow.
Seungmin smiles sleepily, too tired to let out a laugh, and kisses her forehead softly.
“G’night, Jisung-ah.”
“G’night, love.”