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Yoongi has a headache.
Yoongi has a headache and Jimin isn’t here. And he misses him.
Which sounds absurd because they saw each other two hours ago when Jimin dropped the twins off before heading out to happy hour with Taehyung. Which he deserves, he deserves an evening with his best friend. A break from being a parent. A chance to relax.
But Yoongi is about ready to pull his hair out left alone with two four-year-olds to entertain while also trying to close a bakery. God, they have so much energy - how did they get like this? he wonders. I miss when they would sleep all the time.
He set them up in a corner with a pile of legos, hoping they would provide adequate distraction. Instead, they’ve ended up all over the floor and the boys are just arguing over who needs the door piece more.
“Yours is an airplane!” Jake whines. “Planes don’t have doors!”
“You need a door to get in,” Jay calmly replies, shoving the piece farther into the slot. “It’s very important for the plane’s safety.”
“No, but Jaaaaay,” Jake blubbers, voice pitching higher by the second, “You always get the door. You had it last time and now it’s my turn.”
“Jay.” Yoongi chides. “Share with your brother or no one gets a door.”
He makes a mental note to get more door pieces from the Lego store.
The boys grow quieter for a moment and Yoongi uses the calm to quicken his pace. He’s already locked the front door, now he just needs to box the leftovers for the homeless shelter. They’re always grateful for whatever Yoongi can give them and secretly, he’s been making extra, knowing they won’t sell them, so they have more to give. He tries to take the boys with him as often as they can to instill some sense of generosity in their developing brains.
“Heyyyy I was using that!” Jay suddenly shouts. Yoongi’s not sure how well that plan is working.
“Alright, pack it up.” Yoongi orders sternly, “You know the rules. If you can’t play nicely you can’t play with it anymore.”
Newly somber, Jay and Jake do as they are told. Sometimes Yoongi’s tough exterior has benefits. Jimin is more of the disciplinarian in their relationship — he set most of the rules — and Yoongi is more of the quiet supporter. He's a pushover on most days. Except, apparently, when left alone this close to dinner time.
Already feeling guilty, Yoongi lets out a sigh and goes to help them. Their tiny hands can only pick up two or three pieces at a time. It's faster if he helps, anyway, he reasons.
“Abeoji,” Jay tentatively squeaks, “do me and Jakey still get a treat?”
Ah, right,Yoongi silently recalls, it’s Friday. The boys always get to share a baked good on Fridays. He lets out a hearty sigh and pretends to contemplate saying no.
“I suppose if you can be a good helper for me, a treat is still on the table,” he concedes. After dumping the last of the pieces in their Ziploc of legos, he stores them behind the counter with the other activities they keep here for the boys and withdraws a roll of stickers. He brings both the stickers and a stack of cup sleeves to his sons’ table. “Do you think you can put stickers on these sleeves for me?”
The boys immediately sit up straighter, ready to go, because what four-year-old doesn’t love stickers? “Yes!” Jake assures his father, confident.
“One sticker per sleeve, please,” Yoongi kindly reminds them. They nod in sync, already reaching for the supplies. “Do you remember what part is the top?”
“The cat ears!” Jay confidently answers. Yoongi ruffles his hair in response.
“Thank you, boys.” He leaves the two of them to their mission and returns to his spot behind the counter. At some point, he drowns out their chatter without realizing it, but he snaps back into when he hears Jake’s giggle. Suspicious, he leans over for a better look and sees Jay with a sticker on his nose making funny faces at his brother. “Jay,” Yoongi warns. The child rips the sticker off his nose and goes back to what he’s doing.
In the newfound peace, it does not take Yoongi long to complete all his tasks. The boys have managed to put stickers on at least fifty cupholders, too, which is not bad for a set of preschoolers. “Alright, sunshines,” he announces, “It’s time to go. Do you want to pick out a treat?”
Abandoning the materials with impressive haste, the boys run to their father, easily ducking under the counter. They both stop to stare between their father and the small collection of baked goods with wide, hopeful eyes. Yoongi always leaves a limited, proportioned selection for them before packing up the final box. Briefly, he points to each item and explains what they are.
“This is a Linzer tart. It has raspberry in the middle. This is a matcha macaron. And this is a cheese danish. Which one do you want?”
Jay contemplates the selection intently, small eyebrows scrunching in concentration. Jake’s eyes, however, wander from the selection in front of him. Instead, they trail to a cake platter at Yoongi’s side. Specifically, the ooey-gooey chocolate cookies sharing the plate with half a cheesecake. Now, he knows by now that if it’s not presliced and sitting in front of him, it’s not an option. No one can certifiably guess what possesses him to do it but before Yoongi can stop him, Jake exclaims, “I want a chocolate explosion cookie!” And reaches across the counter, shoving his hand directly into the pile of cookies.
Right next to the knife Yoongi had left leaning on the plate earlier that day.
With lightning reflexes, Yoongi grabs Jake’s wrist and pulls it away from the plate. He had narrowly missed the sharp edge of the knife. Horrific visions pass through Yoongi’s brain — a lost finger, a severed vein in his wrist, his son’s blood all over him, and the panic and the fear and the worry. The shock is so great that for a moment, all Yoongi can do is stare at his kid, dumbfounded. When he does talk, he loses all coherent parenting sensibilities. Instead finds himself reeling, and the only words he can form are, “Jake, what the fuck?”
Yoongi’s lying facedown in his pillow when Jimin enters the bedroom. Even with his lithe footsteps, he has a hard time sneaking up on the elder. Not for a lack of effort, mind you, but they’ve always joked that Yoongi has feline hearing abilities. Yoongi doesn’t move until Jimin sits on the bed and gently runs a hand through his long black hair, slightly scratching his scalp, then he lets out a deep sigh and leans into the touch. “Are they traumatized?” The pillow muffles his voice but Jimin must get the gist because he chuckles.
“No, baby, they’re not traumatized. Jake mostly just feels very sorry he scared his Abeoji.”
The elder cranes his neck so his face is no longer buried in cotton. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t mean to say it. I just — “ Yoongi sighs again. Jimin recently pointed out that Yoongi did not sigh so often before they became parents. Yoongi reaches out and gingerly closes his hand around Jimin’s wrist. “I had this flash in my brain of Jake’s little wrist sliced open and blood gushing everyone… and he’s so smart he’s usually so careful so I was just so surprised — “
Jimin shushes him with a kiss on the knuckles. “Yeobo, it’s okay,” Jimin tuts. “I understand. I see your logic exactly.”
A moment of anxious silence passes before Yoongi asks again, “They’re not mad at me?”
Laughing, Jimin dives towards Yoongi without any warning and nuzzles his face into the back of Yoongi’s neck. “Of course not, darling, they think you’re mad at them. They feel terrible.”
“No,” Yoongi groans, “I’m the one that should feel terrible.”
Jimin is still smiling as he snorts, “I see where they get their guilty conscious from.” He once again massages Yoongi’s scalp, adding feather-light kisses to his temple. “I leave for one evening and this is what happens?”
Yoongi wiggles until his arms are free and he can wrap them around Jimin. They lie nose to nose. Up close, Jimin’s beauty manages to distract Yoongi from the sinking feeling in his gut. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, “I didn’t even ask you about your night. Did you have fun?”
“I did,” Jimin admits. He glides a finger down Yoongi’s cheekbone and pokes his nose, giggling at the face the elder makes in response. “He and hyung started the paperwork to find an egg donor.”
Yoongi hums. He’s interested in the topic — they’re his best friends, after all — but he’s more interested in Jimin’s plump lips and cute hands skimming across his back. Centimeters away from kissing, Yoongi whispers, “Do they want one of ours?”
Jimin shoves Yoongi away quickly and the elder finally allows himself to laugh. Jimin tries not to contain his laughter, too, as he pulls an angry face. “Hyung!” He exclaims, scandalized. Yoongi reaches back out for him, iron grip locking Jimin close despite his playful swats.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he assures. He manages to leave a kiss on Jimin’s shoulder. The action placates the younger — he slouches happily back into Yoongi’s arms.
“They can take you instead,” Jimin teases.
“You wouldn’t like being a single parent, Min,” Yoongi points out. “Especially to those two. They’re all trouble.”
“Yeah, well, so are you.”
Yoongi chuckles again. Apparently forgiven, Jimin kisses Yoongi’s cheek. They sit like that for several minutes, enjoying the peace and quiet and the comfort of the other’s presence.
Yoongi interrupts their individual contemplation. “Yeobo.”
“Yes?” Jimin asks, voice sweet and smooth as silk.
“Please don’t tell hyung about this.”
In the end, Jimin gets the last laugh. He squeezes Yoongi tight around the waist as he admits, “I think it’s too late for that, babe. I already told Taehyung.”
Letting out a deep guttural groan, Yoongi flops face-first back into the pillow.