Work Text:
The arrival of Malee (Sol’s 13th month)
When Ming’s sister had arrived before the unfamiliar apartment, she had not expected to see her nephew in this condition. Her Jindapat blood had begun to boil. Malee had visited Ming for a week simply because she had missed her two favourite niece and nephew, but when Ming had told her that her nephew had moved out, Malee was adamant on meeting him.
Ming had given her the address to his home with quite a sour expression, Malee couldn’t understand why. Either way, standing before her nephew, she understands now. Pat stands before her, a red baby in the crook of his arms, wearing worn out shorts and T-shirt which had more than one stain of God knows what.
“.. Auntie Malee?” Pat had gasped with surprise, and proceeded to smile widely, opening the door for her to step inside.
Malee smiles, albeit confusingly, opening her arms to hug Pat still. “It’s been so long, Napat,” she coos. Again, to her shock, Pat stops her with an uncomfortable smile, turning to roll his eyes fondly at the baby.
“Sorry, Naa,” Pat answers. “I’m covered in baby spit, and God knows what else,”
Malee stares at the baby; “Your father never told me.. that you became one,”
Pat chuckles, “Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise for you,” he urges Malee to sit while he changes into new clothes. “Please, make yourself at home, I’ll change into cleaner clothes,”
She does make herself comfortable, which meant snooping around the house until her questions are answered. It’s easy at first, because from where she sits, Malee notices the numerous photo frames that hang around the television; One big frame right above the flat screen. Malee pulls out her glasses, examining the picture.
She recognises Pat first, then the red baby that didn’t look like an alien for once. It looked like they were at a bar, which, is a horrible place to bring a baby to. He’s wearing a black shirt, hair pushed back, looking handsome like she had always known the Jindapat bloodline as. Next to him is another man, forehead covered by curtain bangs, smiling widely with his arm slung around Pat, dimples against his cheeks and eyes small. The baby sits between them, grinning widely. Malee frowns.
She looks to the other smaller fames, standing up to take a closer look; there’s one of the dimpled boy and the baby, he’s kissing her chubby cheek while she throws her head back in a mid-laugh. There’s another photo of Pat, shirtless and fast asleep with that darn baby on his chest again. Another picture of the two of them, kissing. Malee expected that much.
“Meet Sol Siridechawat, Naa,”
Malee turns around to find Pat dressed in clean clothes, grinning up at her with the baby in his arms. She doesn’t know what to say even as the baby approaches her with its wide eyes and red cheeks. The first thing that comes to Malee’s head is; “Not Jindapat?”
Pat freezes, unsure of what his aunt was trying to say. And then it dawns on him, his fanatic of an aunt that only wants the Jindapat bloodline to thicken. Pat almost forgot. He smiles either way, pushing back the feelings of discomfort down to make his aunt happy. “She’s a Jindapat, Naa,” he pulls. “Sol Jindapat Siridechawat. We hyphenated,”
He could’ve sworn his aunt had mumbled something about Sol’s name being Siridechawat Jindapat. But Pat pays no heed to the lady. Malee continues looking at the pictures, hands clasped behind her back as she looks at the pictures again.
“This is.. your lover?”
Pat hums, patting the baby that had now begun to doze off on his shoulder gently. “Fiancé,” Pat corrects her. “His name is Parakul Siridechawat, Pran. Sol’s father,”
“And you’re the mother?” Malee points with wide eyes and parted lips.
Pat pushes down the annoyance in him again. It’s been so long since he has dealt with his ignorant and sexist aunt. He focuses on the picture of his happy family and exhales; “We’re both her fathers, Naa,”
“But what happened to that really nice girl you dated back in high school?” his aunt asks again. “Nan, is it?”
Pat huffs out a sarcastic laugh; “She dated me for gaming appliances,” he deadpans.
Malee zips her mouth shut after that, eyes focused on the sleeping baby. She motions to the child, eyes wide with curiosity any typical middle-aged auntie would have. “When did you have her? Was it with a previous lover? Is that why your father didn’t tell me?”
There goes his Naa again, dying for gossips.
Pat chuckles, absentmindedly stroking the short hair that had begun to grow by her shoulders. “We adopted her at 22, Naa. Pran and I,”
“But twenty-two is such a young age, Pat!” Malee exclaimed. Pat bites back a groan at hearing the same sentence for the umpteenth time. He turns around, motioning for his aunt to follow him to the kitchen and stay for dinner. Malee doesn’t have anything better to do either way, so she follows her nephew.
“We just.. felt like we needed her in our life, Naa,” he begins quietly, reaching into the drawers to grab some garlics to crush for his cooking. “Does age matter?”
Malee doesn’t hear his sentimental speech, disturbed by yet another revelation about her nephew that she had found out. Malee offers to peel the garlic for Pat, lips parted with surprise; “My nephew can cook? What happened to forcing your Mae or sister to cook and never doing your laundry?” she gapes.
Pat laughs, pulling out an awfully pink apron which blinds Malee’s eyes. “I’m a grown man with a family, Naa. Of course, I should learn how to cook,” he answers.
Malee shakes her head, eyes focused on peeling the knob of garlic. “That’s your wife’s work. Ladies will do the cooking, Napat. Your father still can’t fry an egg till this day,” his aunt snorts and speaks as if it was a proud thing to say.
Pat doesn’t look at his aunt as he speaks, biting back an insult. Things with his father is still rocky even after he had given his permission (which Pat didn’t even ask for) to get married with Pran. His sister only makes it worse.
“Well, I have a hardworking fiancé that deserves well-cooked food. So I can’t wait for a woman to do it for me, Naa,” Pat answers. “I cook for Pran when he’s out late from meetings and other tiring things,” And he would do the same for me.
“Wait,” his aunt has that condescending tone again. “Napat, did you become his housewife? Your father did tell me you’re no longer taking over his business. Did you quit your job?”
The questions always come like a gunshot to his healing wounds. Pat ignores her for a solid second to go into their room and tuck Sol into his side of the bed as gently as ever. He only answers his aunt after closing their room door and walking back to the kitchen. “I took today off, Sol wasn’t feeling well, Naa,”
“Well, why can’t he take the day off to take care of your daughter?” Malee asks. The ladies of the house are the ones that usually take care of their children. Fear instils in Malee. Was her nephew the feminine type in gay relationships?
“Pran has an important meeting today, he should be back soon. And he’s just learning how to properly take care of Sol’s medication,” Pat explains patiently. “Pran has been working in Singapore for two years. He finally came back a month ago, so it’s taking him some time to get used to fatherhood,”
“So, you’re the wife, then,” Malee opens her ignorant mouth again.
Pat slams the knife on his chopping board a little too loudly. “We’re both husbands, Naa,”
Malee is quick in noticing the shift in mood from her nephew and the last thing she would want is to anger him after so long of not meeting each other. So she easily switches the topic, complaining about her ride here and how hot it was back at Pattaya. Pat’s mood goes back to normal, smiling and laughing along with his aunt as he cooked dinner for them.
Almost an hour later, when dinner is almost finished prepared, the door to the apartment swings open and the boy Malee had seen in the pictures, appears inside. He toes off his shoes, placing them by the rack neatly and sets his bag on one of the stools. Malee watches with her wide eyes, as the boy does not even notice her when he enters the kitchen. She watches Pat turn from where he had been cooking at the stove to smile so brightly at his fiancé.
The dimpled boy comes to his side, their backs toward Malee, one arm slung around Pat’s waist before he presses a strong sniff his to his cheek. “Flowers for my honey,” she swore she had heard those sentences from the boy, followed by a simple bouquet of flowers. The normal kind, sold by the roadside stalls, wrapped with newspapers. Malee didn’t think it was such a big deal, what the bigger deal was her nephew, giggling and taking flowers like a little girl.
Malee grimaces. What on Earth happened to the Jindapat men? Where was her buff and strong nephew, that could easily lift up metal rods with one hand? Her nephew that would proudly show off the Valentines chocolates and lipstick smears on his shirt from the multiple girls that swooned over him? Her nephew that played rugby and never shed a tear and could easily punch a guy without breaking a sweat?
Who is this boy? This boy that accepts flowers from another man, giggling and accepting kisses from him, this boy that cooks for another man, the boy who takes care of their child while the other man works? Where on Earth did Napat Jindapat go?
“Babe,” she hears Pat nudge his fiancé, finally motioning behind them at the presence of Malee. It’s like they both are in their own world, Malee grimaces. “Naa Malee came to visit,” she hears him whisper.
The boy turns, respectfully wai-ing Malee and bowing with a smile. “Hello, Naa. How was the trip here? Pat tells me you live in Si Racha, it must be a tiring journey,”
Well. He wasn’t half as bad as Malee expected him to be. And those dimples did warm her cold heart a little. Malee melts, smiling at the boy and engaging in a conversation with him. After a while, Pran excuses himself to change out of his clothes. Malee turns to Pat who is occupied with plating the dishes. She exhales a little.
“He’s a.. nice boy,”
Pat smiles, chucking to himself. “Of course he is, I wouldn’t have openly fought Pa if I didn’t love him so much,”
Malee perks up at that, new gossip to her ears. “You fought with your Pa? Why? Because he’s a man?”
“Oh, far from that,” Pat chuckles. “He’s the son of Auntie Dissaya,”
It takes her old brain to crack open who this lady named Dissaya was, and when she did, Malee could not hide the shock on her face. “Dissaya? That- that neighbour your father fought with?”
Pat nods.
Malee perches a hand on her hip, following Pat as he plates the dishes. “How did he take it then? Didn’t he force you to compete with that boy every time?”
Pat nods. “He took it badly. It’s a long and bitter story we don’t talk about, Naa. Things with Pa.. has been rough lately,” he sighs, then musters a smile. “But all is good, we talked to both our parents, and they’ve agreed to our relationship,”
“So you would’ve left your Pa all alone if he hadn’t agreed?”
Pat stiffens at that, unable to look at his aunt, his own father’s sister in the eye. “Yes. I wasn’t going to pay for the mistakes he made,” he answers softly.
Malee thinks about the time her father had blatantly rejected the boy she had fallen in love with, and how she listened because it was her father after all. She looks at Pat, and the audacity he had to go against her brother. Ming had spoiled him too much, to the point where Pat would go against his father’s words. But then again, the Jindapat blood ran in him, no wonder a man like Pat would clap back.
“I’m glad that you spoke your truth,” Malee says. “A good man should know how to speak up for himself,”
Anyone should. Not necessarily a man, Pat bites that thought back.
“Look who’s awake,” Pran comes out of their bedroom just in time for dinner, Sol in his arms, eyes wide and face still flushed with cheeks. At the sight of his daughter, his discomfort flies away, and his heart fills with love. Sol fits snugly in the crook of Pran’s arms, as if she was made to be there and Pat’s heart is unable to resist the flutter.
Pat sets the plates and scoops the rice for his aunt while Pran makes some baby food for Sol to eat. It wouldn’t be fair to their daughter to just watch them eat anyway. “How is her fever?” Pat asks.
Pran hums checking her body with a palm against her cheek and neck. “It’s better now,”
Malee watches, the way they easily move around, fitting each other’s needs, like a perfect puzzle piece. Even as she’s happy that her nephew has found a perfect man, a little part of Malee sighs with disappointment, wondering why Pat had become the feminine one in the relationship. Wondering where that manly nephew of hers went.
Dinner goes surprisingly smooth, with Pran’s perfect communication skills and how easily he dodges the sensitive questions. Malee genuinely liked the boy, he was perfect for her nephew. Yet.
Yet.
Pat offers to drive her back home that night, telling Malee that he needed to grab some things from there anyway. Malee had refused at first, half-minded on whether her nephew even knew how to drive, given his spineless behaviour around Pran. Pat’s fiancé, though, had urged Pat to send his aunt back while he cleans and brings their baby to bed. Malee is surprised yet again; no men in the Jindapat household has ever offered to clean after their wives cooked. Malee is confused.
When Pat sends her back, she watches the boy greet his father as if on autopilot, but rushing into his mother’s arms and peppering his sister with kisses. He goes into the kitchen to talk his mother, while Malee sits with Ming who watches the current rugby match with a half-heart. She nudges her brother.
“What happened to him?” Malee hisses. “When did he become such a girl?”
Ming frowns. “What is that supposed to mean?” he snaps, eyebrows furrowed with annoyance, both from his sister and his son that still could not speak properly with him.
“Hia,” Malee shuffles closer, eyes wide and lips parted with shock. “He cooks, he takes care of their child, and she doesn’t have his surname! The baby isn’t a Jindapat! He gets flowers and blushes like a bride, that boy- Pran. He calls Pat pretty. Pretty! What nonsense is this?”
“Malee,” Ming sighs, “Things are not the same as it was when you were a child. The world has changed, that doesn’t make Pat any less of a man,” he doesn’t look at his sister as he speaks, eyes trained on the game presented on the screen.
“He’s embarrassing the Jindapat bloodline. What man wears pink aprons and cooks for his husband who works late? He sounds exactly like a housewife, hia. You have to do something,” Malee hisses again.
“What could I possibly do?” Ming relents. “Let him be, it’s his future,”
---
When Pat arrives home, he is delighted to find his fiancé, leaning against the pillows, singing quietly to Sol who is fast asleep against his chest. Pat doesn’t waste time in rushing to the bathroom to wash his hands, feet and face, before tucking himself on Pran’s other side. He hears his fiancé chuckle, slotting his warm fingers between Pat’s hair and stroking his head absentmindedly. Sol is out like the dead, drooling on his T-shirt, one of her baby fists curled around the gold chain Pat had gifted him.
“Theerak,” Pat whispers, turning to look up at Pran, chin digging on the soft flesh of his chest. Pran stops singing, cranking one eye open to look at his fiancé. “I’m worried,”
“I noticed,” Pran snorts, pressing a finger into the crease that forms between his brows every time Pat’s mind becomes occupied with something. Pran doesn’t dare to move, knowing how sensitive Sol is to sudden movements, so he merely traces his fingers up and down the length of Pat’s spine to ease the tension off his mind.
“It’s about Naa,” Pat begins. “She’s a little..”
“Traditional?” Pran finishes with a pained smile, because if anything, Pat wasn’t the only one that noticed it. The way Malee frowns when Pat does ‘feminine’ things, or shaking her head with disappointment when she finds out that Sol’s surname is his and not Pat’s. It was both of theirs, but Malee wouldn’t understand either way. Pran wonders if this was the competitive blood that ran in the Jindapats, or if Pat’s aunt was just ignorant.
Pat nods, rubbing his nose over the thin skirt, kissing Pran’s chest over his shirt. “She kept attacking me with this questions.. about how I act like your wife, cooking and cleaning and taking care of Sol. It irks me, but I know we can’t do much because that’s just who Naa is; A typical and traditional woman,”
“Does it bother you?” Pran asks softly, cupping the golden cheek and moving Pat to face him so that he could read Pat’s eyes. “Does it bother you when your aunt keeps insulting your masculinity?”
Pat is quick to frown, shaking his head as if mad at Pran for even thinking about it. “Never; Taking care of my family doesn’t make me any less of a man. In fact, it makes me a better man, knowing that I’m useful in keeping my family happy. Something Pa wouldn’t understand because he’s exactly like her. That’s what I’m worried about,”
Pran frowns with confusion; “I know how strict your father is about how a man should act and be.. but I’ve never seen him interfere with our relationship before, baby. What difference does it make now?”
Pat shakes his head, closing his eyes and exhaling at the mere thought of it. “He has this horrible ego. You should know; It why we even became rivals in the first place,” he begins. “And Naa, is very good in provoking that ego of his, nagging at him and looking down on his wrongdoings until he finds a way to prove it to her. When I joined the play back in university, you knew how much Pa hated it. Mostly because Naa had nagged about it, telling Pa how unmanly it is and how I should continue playing rugby.
“He would be okay at first, and then comes the sudden change. Where I would face the consequences. I could handle it all these years. But now, I’m no longer a single man. I’m worried that she would say mean things about you or Sol and my father would act irrationally again, Pran,”
“Pat.. your father is a changed man. He openly gave us blessings to our wedding, why would he change his mind about your behaviours now?” Pran comforts his fiancé with a soft kiss to his forehead, stroking the heated skin of his back. “Don’t stress so much about it, baby. Even if he does say anything, I have you, and our daughter by my side. Why should I care about what he says?”
The smile threatens to form on Pat’s face, feeling warm all over at Pran’s words. He pushes himself up with one arm to reach his fiancé’s lips, locking them in a soft kiss. Pran’s surprised hum is only brief, knowing that Sol hates sudden sounds. He holds Pat by the head with one hand and deepens their kiss as quietly as possible.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Pat whispers when things get heated and Pran’s hand begins to slip inside his shorts.
Pran pulls back, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows. He motions to their sound asleep daughter; “What, and get interrupted in the middle of fucking again?”
Pat whines, annoyed at Pran’s reluctance even when he rubs his ass so teasingly. “She’s older now, Sol wouldn’t notice,” Pat shuffles closer sneakily rubbing the growing arousal at Pran’s groin; “It’s been a while, babe,” he whispers against Pran’s ear, biting the lobe just how he likes it.
It has been a while, Pran contemplates, eyes latched on his beautiful husband. So he motions for Pat to get off as quietly as possible and turn around to place Sol on Pran’s pillow, unclasping his gold chain that she grips and replacing his own body with Nong Nao’s. They take exactly three steps towards the living room before Sol wails loudly.
“Well,” Pat bites back a groan, getting back into bed to comfort their daughter. “It was worth a try, anyway,”
---
The next day, Pat is still on his day off, with Sol’s fever getting a little better. He’s still unsure on how to properly take care and choose the foods for her, so he had called his mother. Prim was quick to call Pat home so she could take care of her granddaughter properly. Much to Pat’s annoyance, he’s greeted by his father’s frown of disapproval.
“You didn’t go to work again?” Ming asks.
Pat bites back a snap, and focuses on swaying his crying Sol in his arms to calm her down. “Sol is still not feeling well,” he answers. “I have to take care of her,”
Ming grumbles just in time for his mother to rush out of the kitchen and take the weeping baby into her arms, checking her body temperature and tsking with displease. “I made her some chicken porridge,” she tells Pat. “Porridge always helps strengthen your immune system. What medication did you give her?”
Watching Pat have more topics to share with his mother than with his father only makes Ming tense with anger. He speaks about cooking and taking care of a child, like what every other conversation only ladies would have. Ming doesn’t remember the last time he had spoken to Pat about topics men would speak; sports, politics, the business. Pat had barely spoken about things like that before. His son has changed, much to his disappointment. Pat before, would always converse with him about the business and sports. Pat now, barely ever speaks to him.
“Mae, I gave her a warm bath yesterday,” he hears Pat speak with worry in his tone, eyes wide. “That wouldn’t have been the cause, right?”
“That might have been,” his mother replies. “Don’t bathe babies when they’re sick, Pat,”
“Oh no,” Pat looks to his daughter, stroking her head and biting his lip with worry. His mother rubs him on the back, reassuring him that the effects were not so severe and that Sol would be fine after a bowl of porridge and a long nap.
Ming doesn’t stop himself when the words slip out of his mouth willingly; “Might as well call yourself his housewife,” he had muttered in annoyance.
“Pa,” Prim snaps immediately, glaring at her husband from where she stands cradling her granddaughter. Ming ignores her to focus on reading his morning newspaper.
“It’s okay, Mae,” Pat musters up the courage to speak, even as his heart drops at the words his father had used. He was a fool to think Ming would have changed. “If caring about my daughter and wanting to see her healthy, something he cannot relate to, makes me a housewife, then yes, I am a housewife,” he finally snaps.
Ming looks up, ready to pick a fight with his son, but surprised to find him walking away with his mother, into the kitchen. The paper in his hands crumple from the force of his anger. Pat doesn’t pay attentions to the words his father threw, his mind is more focused on seeing his daughter healthy and happy.
Together with his mother, Pat coaxes Sol into eating the porridge while his mother feeds her tiny parted lips. Pat’s mind wanders to the wellbeing of his daughter again. “Mae,” he begins. “Can you teach me the recipe for this? And the other soups you used to make for us when we were sick?”
His mother smiles, ready to nod and list down the recipes for her son, but they’re interrupted by his aunt Malee, who had just came down for breakfast. “Why do you need to learn the recipes? Your Mae will cook it for you, Pat,” she speaks.
Pat and Prim share a look, before plastering a smile and greeting his aunt. Sol in on his lap, lips parted and tongue darting out to lick at the residual porridge around her face. “I don’t want to trouble Mae all the time, Naa. I’m a grown man,”
“Grown men don’t have to cook,” Malee retorts.
Prim is quick in interjecting, a fake smile across her lips; “It’s good that Pat knows how to cook. It’s a basic necessity,”
His aunt snorts rudely; “For ladies. Since when did men need to cook?” she replies to her sister-in-law. “You’re spoiling him. He’s a man, Prim. He doesn’t need to act like a housewife,”
Pat stiffens at that, shoulders tensing, the words of his father ringing at the back of his head. He looks at his aunt who has a permanent look of disapproval on her face, as if the mere thought of a man taking care of his child, is repulsive to her. “Naa, you have to stop speaking like this,” he begins softly.
“I am a man who loves his daughter, and wishes to take care of her myself. I don’t need to be a woman to do that. If it embarrasses you that a Jindapat man is being a housewife, then you don’t have to worry because Sol will never take my surname. I don’t want my daughter to have anything to do with this godforsaken name,”
Malee gasps at that, eyes wide with horror. Anger boils in her at the disrespectful attitude her nephew shows towards her. “Napat-
“The world is changing, Naa,” Pat cuts her off, hugging his daughter to himself and scowling at her. “There’s not specific roles a man or a woman should fulfil. You would know that if you weren’t so ignorant,”
“Pat,” a new voice enters the kitchen. “That’s not the way you should speak to your aunt,” Ming snaps, a permanent scowl on his face, matching that of Pat’s. He stands next to Malee, before his son.
Pat ignores him, a bitter laugh escaping his lips; “You think it’s a proud thing that your brother can’t cook for the life of him, Naa? That he can’t do a single chore because all he ever does is order my mother and sister around? He’s a horrible father,” Pat snaps. “The only good thing he has ever done is work to put food on the table. Food that my mother cooked all by herself,”
Malee sputters at that; “That’s because your mother is a housewife, that’s her job. She-
“She quit her job for him,” Pat raises his voice, pointing at his father; “Because a woman with kids, shouldn’t work. That’s what you all said to her. I never forgot. So don’t go blaming my mother for your brother’s horrible attitude,”
“Pat,” Prim begins, tugging on the back of his shirt.
“I am not like my father and that’s something I’m proud of,” he turns to his father, holding Sol close to him. “I’m not going to follow the toxic standards of a man that your family obsesses over. I am going to do whatever I want, be it cooking or cleaning or quitting my job for Pran, and you have no right to say anything. It’s my life, it’s my decision and I am still a better man than you would be, Pa. And when I finally marry Pran, I will take his last name because, again, I want nothing to do with this stupid name,”
Ming is seething when Pat finishes speaking. It wasn’t new for them to bare their fangs and fight. They’ve done it multiple times, enough to know that Pat would come back to speak to his father like nothing happened. That’s just how their relationship is. What’s new, however, is the fact that Pat is blatantly insulting him before his sister and revealing his plans to not inherit the Jindapat name.
His anger boils, as usual, stepping closer to Pat who remains firm, chest puffed and shoulders broad. Jaw clenched and face flushed. He covers Sol in the warmth of his arms, eyes fierce and glaring at his father. “You are a disgrace for a man,” they leave his lips unwillingly, with anger, at the heat of the moment.
Hurt flashes across Pat’s eyes instantly. His mother is furious, coming between her son and husband, glaring at both the useless siblings. “You apologize to him, right now,” Prim snaps. “Pat did nothing wrong,”
“Why should Ming apologize?” Malee frowns at her sister-in-law. “He’s the one that spoke so rudely to my brother,”
“Pat is a grown adult, which the both of you have forgotten. You keep dictating his life and insulting his family right in front of his face, why wouldn’t my son be rude?” Prim retorts. “He wasn’t lying either,” she turns to her husband, ignoring the look of hurt in his eyes. “My son is a good man. A good father. Something Ming should learn from,”
---
Pat comes back home later in the afternoon, when his mother had successfully shut both his aunt and father up. Prim follows, still sour about those two siblings and wanting to get away from them for a bit. Pat is happy to oblige. His mood returns quickly. Pat was never the one to hold grudges. They spend the day together, taking care of Sol and gossiping about Malee and the not-so-surprised news of her still being unmarried even after reaching 50.
As the day grows older, Pat begins to feel lethargic, head throbbing and body aching. He tells his mother, and it’s no surprise. Pat has most probably caught the fever Sol has. Prim forces him into bed, nagging at Pat for overstressing and worrying about the nonsense fight he had with his father. She promises Pat that Sol would be in good hands, telling him to rest while she goes back home to pack some porridge for him.
Back home, Prim ignores her husband and walks straight to the kitchen to reheat the chicken porridge she had cooked earlier. She ignores Malee too, who had taken a seat by the kitchen counter, hands clasped together with discomfort. “Is Pat not feeling well?”
Prim hums, not bothered to turn around. “Yes,” she answers. “I would be too, if my father and aunt picked ridiculous fights about my ‘unmanly’ behaviour,” Prim laments, scooping the porridge into the airtight container while entertaining her granddaughter.
Silence ensues between them for a brief minute. Only the sound of Sol’s soft garbling is heard, until Malee speaks up again; “I.. can I follow?”
---
When Prim knocks on the door, she’s surprised to find Pran there, a spatula in hand, still in his work clothes. Pran’s lips part with surprise; “Mae, Naa Malee, what brings you here?” he asks.
“Pat is sick, so I brought him some of my porridge,” Prim answers, showing the container of piping hot porridge. “Pat told me you would be late because you had another meeting,”
Pran ushers them inside. “I cancelled it. He called me and sounded so sick,” Pran shakes his head with a sigh. “He never tells me these things,”
Prim enters the kitchen, and her nose is filled with the sweet-smelling aromatics instantly. There is a pot of bubbling porridge by the stove too, Prim whistles; “You’re making him porridge already?”
Pran rubs the back of his neck at that. “Sorry, Mae. I didn’t know you were coming,” he answers. “He needed to eat something before taking the pills,”
Prim waves him off, smiling and helping Pran to finish off the porridge. Malee sits by the counter awkwardly, wanting to speak with Pat. Pran senses it and turns to Pat’s aunt; “It’s nice having you here, Naa,” he finally says, oblivious to the reason of Malee being here.
Pran urges them to stay for dinner as he pours a bowl of porridge for Pat. Malee watches, as the boy pushes his shirtsleeves up and walks inside their bedroom. The door is wide open and both Prim and Malee are able to get a full view of Pat fast asleep.
“Theerak,” they hear Pran whisper, setting the bowl on the bedstand to swipe a hand against Pat’s forehead. Pat squirms under the sheets, finally opening his eyes with surprise.
“I thought you had a meeting?” Pat croaks, allowing Pran to sit him up and feed him some porridge.
“Doesn’t matter, why didn’t you tell you weren’t feeling well?”
“It’s just a headache Pran,” Pat smiles, opening his mouth to accept a spoonful of porridge from Pran again. He moans, linking their fingers together and complimenting his fiancé on the taste.
Prim busies herself by cleaning the kitchen with Sol attached to her hips as they wait for Pran to finish feeding Pat. Malee remains frozen, unsure of what to do, heart at unease as she watches Pran take care of her nephew so well.
“Your Mae and Naa are here,” she hears Pran speak, pushing another spoonful of porridge into his mouth.
Malee could hear the frown in his voice when Pat speaks with his mouth full; “Naa? Why is she here?” he retorts. “Did she say anything bad to you?”
Despite being hurt, Malee pretends to not listen to their conversation. Pran tsks, wiping the porridge stain against Pat’s lips and licking his thumb. He stirs the porridge, trying to get some chicken bits for Pat before speaking; “Why would she say anything? Is this about last night, baby?”
“You don’t know what happened today,” Pat murmurs. He pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling his head throb even more. “Got into a fight with Pa again, because of her,”
Pran panics for a second, knowing well that Malee could hear them. So he hushes Pat and places a soft kiss against his forehead; “Okay, theerak, we’ll talk later. When you’re feeling better, hm?”
---
The next morning, thankfully, Pat feels so much better, mostly because of the fact that it was the weekend. He wakes up nestled in Pran’s arms, Sol in his own, feeling so much more better. Sol is in her deep sleep, never waking up even as Pat removes his arms from under her. Sol gets her own side of the bed, as Pat gently shuffles to Pran’s pillow, squeezing them together and tangling their legs under the sheets.
Pran wakes up instantly, yawning right before Pat’s face, rubbing his eyes to register the beauty before him. His eyes blink rapidly around the still dark room. On a first instinct, Pran swipes a hand against Pat’s forehead, sighing in relief when the temperature has reduced. The hand trails up to run through his hair and Pat’s eyes grow heavy with sleep again.
“How are you feeling?” Pran asks, voice low and throaty from sleep; Pat’s favourite. He snuggles into the column of Pran’s neck, kissing the fold under his chin. Pat doesn’t answer, only busies himself by kissing every line and fold of skin he finds on Pran.
Pran chuckles, stroking his back while Pat kissed him, leaning over to check on their daughter. “Ah,” Pran chuckles against his head. “No wonder,”
Pat pulls back, smiling ear to ear in those rare quiet mornings that they shared; “Should we try?” he whispers, a silent challenge to make their way to the bathroom without waking Sol up, to share an intimate shower they rarely have together.
Needless to say, this time, had been a success, with Pat kneeling before Pran to suck him off and then getting railed under the rapidly cooling water. It was messy, rushed and slippery, but they were parents, it was the bare minimum. Either way, both Pat and Pran were satisfied. Because when they come out of the shower, Sol was still sleeping.
Together, they get dressed and sneak out to the kitchen to share a light breakfast together. Pat is usually in charge of breakfast, and Pran lunch. So he stays plastered behind Pat who cracks four eggs into the pan and relishes in the way they sizzle. Pran hugs Pat tightly, kissing the small dip over his shoulder, where a mole lies. Pat exhales, missing the feel of Pran’s kisses, leaning against his fiancé.
As the eggs sizzle, and the coffee maker whirs, Pran plays with the engagement ring on Pat’s finger. “So I heard about what happened yesterday,” Pran murmurs in the curve of Pat’s neck. “Breaking the toxic masculinity stereotypes, very sexy of you. Fiancé approves,” he rewards Pat with a soft kiss against his neck, feeling the man shiver with delight.
“Of course,” Pat taps the warm hands that caress his stomach. “I learned from the best,” he turns his head to the side, enough to plant a kiss against Pran’s cheek, heart at ease after hearing the cute chuckle.
“I was thinking..” Pran whispers after a while, shuffling impossibly closer to Pat and hooking his chin over Pat’s shoulder.
Pat hums in acknowledgement as he scoops their eggs on the plate and grabs some toast. Pran continues hugging him, distracted by the warmth Pat radiates even after a cold shower. He fingers absentmindedly slip inside Pat’s shirt to stroke the heated skin.
“We should go to the beach,” Pran whispers into his ear. “You know, to check up on the wedding preparations,”
Pat almost groans in bliss at the idea; A nice escape from reality, mostly his asshole of a father. Still, just to be cheeky, Pat huffs. “I thought Uncle Tong said he’ll take care of it?”
“But still..” Pran speaks in a low tone, sending shivers down Pat’s spine. “It would be nice to check for ourselves. We can send Sol to stay with her grandma for two days,”
Excitement bubbles inside of Pat at the mere thought of being able to spend two days with Pran all to himself, not having to think about places to hide as they fucked. Pat is unable to hold back a smile, turning around in the bracket of Pran’s arms to sling his own over his fiancé’s shoulders. “You had this all planned out, didn’t you?” Pat murmurs, stroking the short hair by his nape.
Pran hums, eyes squinting, as if pondering on Pat’s question. “Maybe I have,” Pran answers honestly. “Maybe I wanted to go on a romantic getaway with my fiancé. It’s been so long,”
“It has been so long,” Pat agrees, leaning close to give a soft kiss to Pran’s irresistible lips. The kiss against the kitchen counter, with the toast almost burning behind Pat had it not been for Pran who easily turns off the stove while keeping up with the pace of their kiss. “I don’t think we ever went on a trip without Sol,”
Pran nods. “So let me call Mae,” he whispers against Pat’s parted lips, smirking in that ridiculously handsome way that Pran knew would make Pat fold. “And start packing right after breakfast,”
Pat hums, hugging Pran closer, a playful smirk on his face; “And what do we plan on doing at the beach, Khun Pran?”
Pran’s smirk widens, and he places a flat palm right above Pat’s groin, a silent warning that he might just go lower and they wouldn’t be eating breakfast. “Whatever you want, Khun Pat. What do you want, hm?”
“I want a lot of things,” Pat replies, crooking a finger against Pran’s sleeveless tank top, biting his lips to hide the gleeful smile. “I guess you’re going to have to find out yourself; What I want,”
Pran opens his mouth to speak, (or most probably lift Pat onto the counter to make out with him) but the happy couple is interrupted with three loud knocks on their apartment door. Pat and Pran freeze, eyes wide with panic. The wails come instantly and Pat groans, pressing his head against Pran’s shoulder.
“I swear to god you should put a DO NOT KNOCK sign there,” Pat grumbles.
Pran merely smiles, reaching up to readjust Pat’s fluffy hair, still damp from the shower, and kiss his head. “I’ll get Sol,” he whispers.
Pat nods, pushing back the annoyance in him to answer the door. Much to his surprise, Malee stands before him, eyes wide as doe’s, the famous Jindapat trait. She holds a plastic bag full of food, strong enough that Pat could smell the Kafir lime leaves and aromatics wafting into their apartment.
“Naa,” Pat greets, lips curved in a small smile. “Come inside, that must be heavy,” Pat instantly moves to help his aunt carry the bag of food inside their home.
“Oh, I-it’s okay, Napat,” Malee stands by the door. “I’m leaving actually. I came to drop you some food,” and say sorry.
Pat understands the double meaning immediately, eyes trained on the containers of his favourite dishes, a small endeared laugh escaping him. He walks back to where Malee stands by the threshold, wrapping her into a warm hug. His little aunt gasps, but returns the hug, patting his back gently and relaxing into Pat’s warm arms. “Join us for breakfast, Naa,”
Pran comes out of the room just in time, with Sol in his arms, face flushed and hair messy. Pat ushers his aunt inside without listening to her reluctant pleas. “Oho, my baby,” Pat coos, opening his arms to accept Sol and pepper her face with kisses. “Good morning, my Sol. Did you sleep well?”
Sol looks up at her father, eyes wide as if answering his question. Her chubby hands come to punch Pat lightly against his chest, then grip the white cloth of his tank top. Pat chuckles, kissing her soft hair and bringing her to their dining table, where Pran is already setting up the plates while deep in conversation with Malee. He sneaks a glance at his aunt, almost laughing at the discomfort and obvious guilt on her face.
Pat shuffles closer to Malee, Sol in his lap. “Would you like to hold her?” he whispers. Malee’s eyes are wide, shaking her head at first, mumbling something about not knowing how to handle babies. But Sol goes willingly, raising her chubby arms to Malee, urging his aunt to carry the baby. They eat breakfast like that, Sol in Malee’s lap, being fed breakfast by his aunt as they share the packed food.
Slowly, Malee begins to warm up, laughing along and complimenting Pat on his cooking before. Pat smiles genuinely, happy that his aunt was finally changing for the greater good. “Honestly,” Malee speaks after swallowing a mouthful of food. “I was surprised he could cook. And the food had been good,” she gasps.
Pran laughs heartily, dimples on full display as he places a hand on Pat’s warm thigh under the table. “Oh, Naa. He was a horrible cook last time. And then, thanks to my training, Pat became a competitor in my own kitchen,”
“As if we don’t compete over every other thing,” Pat retorts. At the sight of Malee’s confused face, they launch into a story again. Their story.
The happy family soon spend half a day together, just laughing and talking about their lives. Pat relaxes instantly, happy about the turn of events. Malee soon stands, albeit reluctantly, telling the boys that she has a bus to catch to head home. Pat and Pran exchange a look.
“We.. were actually about to go to the beach,” Pran begins. “Why don’t we drop you off, Naa?”
Malee is quick in shaking her head, horrified at the thought of troubling the happy family again; “No, Pran, really I-
“Please,” Pat smiles. “It’s no good for you to sit so long in the bus, Naa. Pran and I will drop you off,”
They didn’t take no for an answer, much to Malee’s disappointment. And she could do nothing but let the boys take care of her. While Pran packs their clothes and Pat cleans the kitchen, Malee finally gains the courage to voice her feelings out. She presses a hand on Pat’s back, halting him from packing the leftovers.
“I’m sorry, Napat,” Malee smiles, “There’s definitely a lot I should learn about before speaking like that. The last thing I want is to see my nephew sad. Will you forgive your Naa?”
Pat chuckles, pulling her into a side hug; “I will forgive my Naa if she visits me a week before the wedding and spoils me with all her good food,” he replies. “Deal?”
Malee chuckles, hugging Pat tightly and reaching up to kiss his chubby cheeks. “This is why you’re my favourite nephew,” she coos, pinching his cheeks after. “I’ll be there with enough food to feed you, your husband, and the whole neighbourhood,”
“That’s all I need,” Pat smiles.