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“When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real.”
Their nights often end like this; Jeno draped over Mark’s chest, cheek smushed against his heartbeat and Jaemin a comforting presence at his side reading from one of the many books lining his shelves, his deep voice and the repetitive sound of pages turning lulling Jeno to sleep.
“... but once you are Real, you can’t become unreal again. It lasts for always.”
Jeno liked when Jaemin read The Velveteen Rabbit . Truly he liked when Jaemin read anything, but this was one of his favorites because:
“There was a person called Nana who ruled the nursery,”
Jeno giggles at that, sleepily lifting his head to meet Mark’s expectant yet amused gaze. “ He’s Nana.” Mark hums in agreement, glancing over to see Jaemin’s satisfied smile as he continues reading from the storybook. Jeno never failed to make that comment each time they read this story, and each time Jaemin’s heart soared.
Jeno was barely awake by the time Jaemin closed the book, head heavy with exhaustion and eyelids fluttering with each breath. Jaemin was the first to move, carefully slipping off of the mattress to return the book to its spot on the shelf. Mark gently began to shuffle Jeno’s sleep-limp body onto the bed, soothing his whines with gentle scratches to his scalp and slotting his stuffed cat into his arms when he reaches out for his caregiver in a last ditch effort to keep him there. “Goodnight, aegi ,” Mark whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. Jeno smiles sleepily as he murmurs his own goodnight and Mark steps back to let Jaemin take his place.
“Sweet dreams, Nono,” Jaemin knelt down to eye level, reaching out to trace his thumb along Jeno’s cheekbone. His eyes finally slip shut, hand blindly coming up to grasp onto Jaemin’s thumb.
“G’night Mama.”
-
Jaemin had always enjoyed stereotypically feminine things. His favorite color was pink, he forced the members to call him princess, and he was comfortable enough in his own gender identity that he wasn’t bothered by what people said about him. He had never thought twice about it. But hearing that name innocently slip from Jeno’s lips had stopped him dead in his tracks.
The trio has had numerous conversations about Jeno’s age regression and what it meant for their relationship, but somehow the topic of titles had never come up. Jaemin had always been Nana or Minnie or Jaem , Mark always Hyung or Mar’ or Markie . To his knowledge Jeno had never shown any interest in calling them anything else.
The bedroom door had just barely shut behind them before Mark was on him, eager fingers gripping tightly on Jaemin’s bicep. “Yo, is my hearing going bad or did Jeno just…”
Jaemin made a soft noise of confirmation, his gaze locked on some faraway spot beyond Mark.
“Damn… Maybe he said Nana? We could’ve misheard him. We were just reading that story too…” Mark trails off, not quite believing his own words. “But I swear I heard Mama.”
Jaemin turns his head to meet Mark’s insistent stare, trying to find an appropriate response in between the conflicting thoughts and feelings bouncing around inside his head. He didn’t dislike it, per se. It was just… new. And some innate part of him underneath all his confidence and bravado just felt confused. Security in himself aside, this was Jeno he was talking about. Someone who has known him for over half of their lives, who could finish his sentences and anticipate his every move. If big Jeno knew him inside and out, a regressed Jeno would know him even better; Jeno allowing Jaemin and Mark to be his caregivers and to know the little side of himself when he was so emotionally vulnerable meant they had come to know each other intimately, at their most hidden selves.
Maybe it was just an innocuous nickname, a slip of the tongue, but it was making Jaemin consider things he’d never even thought twice about. They all knew each other well, maybe even too well. Maybe Jeno knew something about himself that even he wasn’t aware of yet.
He would talk to Jeno about it tomorrow, he decides. No use having an internal crisis in the dorm hallway. Mark, sleepily oblivious to Jaemin’s internal turmoil, stifles a yawn into the boy’s shoulder and wraps his arms around his waist.
“‘S cute, huh?” Mark chuckles, nuzzling against Jaemin’s sleep shirt. “Him obviously, but you being Mama. It suits you.”
“Does it?” Jaemin responds, wincing when his attempted sarcasm fell flat, voice wavering a bit on the question. Mark seems to notice his hesitance and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “I mean, yeah. Out of the both of us you’re definitely the mom.”
“That’s kind of sexist, Mark.”
Mark pinches his hip. “Shut up. You know what I mean, right? Jen just kinda… bonds to you the way a kid would to his mom. Right? And he loves his mom, so it makes sense that he’d kinda equate you as a caregiver to that, like, motherly figure in his life. You feel me?”
Jaemin wasn’t really sure he did. He was still kind of questioning everything he thought he knew about himself, but he nodded anyway. “He knows you better than you do, dude. But he’ll stop if you really don’t like it, so don’t stress. ‘Kay?” Mark kisses the jut of Jaemin’s shoulder, trying to relieve the tension he could still feel through the younger’s figure. “Let’s go to sleep, Mama.”
“You definitely don’t get to call me that,” Jaemin raises an amused eyebrow, twisting out of Mark’s hold and smacking him on the ass as he walks past. “I think you’re just jealous he didn’t call you Daddy.”
Mark chokes and splutters denials the entire way to their bedroom, Jaemin smirking the whole way.
-
Their mornings often start like this; at some point during the night Jeno had tiptoed his way out of his own bedroom and had wiggled his way between Mark and Jaemin in theirs. Jaemin was always the first to wake, cursed by an internal clock that refuses to let him sleep in; he couldn’t be too upset though, not with the chance to spend a few minutes watching his two boys sleep a little longer. Mark sleeps on his back with his head tilted infinitesimally towards Jeno, mouth agape and arm outstretched across the pillow towards Jaemin, fingers barely brushing against his hair. Jeno sprawls on his stomach between them, nose tucked against Mark’s side and thumb between his lips. Underneath the blanket all of their legs are a tangled mess of limbs, no telling where one ends and the other begins.
Jeno stirs awake not too long after Jaemin, stretching his arms out above his head before turning his head to the side. Jaemin just watches fondly as Jeno slowly wakes, blinking away sleep until his eyes adjust and he finally notices Jaemin. His thumb slips from his mouth and he whines, reaching out his opposite hand. “Nana…”
“Morning, aegi ,” Jaemin grumbles in response, voice rough with disuse. He catches Jeno’s outstretched hand, bringing it to his face and pressing kisses to his fingertips. “Still feeling small this morning?
Jeno giggles, shuffling closer to Jaemin in an attempt to not disturb the still sleeping Mark on his other side. “Mm…Yes…”
Jaemin is quiet for a few moments, wondering if - and how - he should bring up Jeno’s newfound nickname for him. “How old are you feeling, Nono?”
“Um…” Jeno lifts his free hand, the other still intertwined with Jaemin’s. He lifts up five fingers at first, then quickly folds his thumb. “Four!”
“Oh, so you’re a big boy today,” Jaemin coos, kissing Jeno’s knuckles once more. Jeno giggles at the contact and snuggles even closer until he is practically on top of Jaemin, laying his head against his sternum. Jeno was still feeling small but he was regressed older than he had been last night, and Jaemin wasn’t sure he could wait any longer to ask about the night before. He needs confirmation, some kind of reassurance to the internal dilemma in his head. A quick glance to the side saw Mark still asleep next to them so Jaemin took his chance to ask, regressed or not. “Nono… do you remember what happened at bedtime last night?”
“Eh?” Jeno made a questioning noise, head tilting to the side. “At bedtime…?”
“Mhm,” Jaemin nods, carding a hand through Jeno’s bedhead. “After your story, when we were saying goodnight.”
Jaemin can practically see the gears turning in Jeno’s head and he feels a bit guilty asking this when Jeno was still feeling small. “Um… I fell ‘sleep?”
Jaemin laughs softly. “Well, yes, aegi , but…” He trails off for a moment. “I think you called me Mama. Do you remember that?”
Jeno’s soft smile falters. Jaemin watches patiently as Jeno begins to remember the events of the previous night, his cheeks flushing a dark red. “O-Oh.” He shrinks into himself, starting to pull himself out of Jaemin’s arms. “I’m sorry, Nana, didn’t mean t-”
“Hey,” Jaemin interrupts him, tightening his hold and dragging the boy back into his arms. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not mad.”
Jeno glances up at him, eyes watery with unshed tears and bottom lip stuck between his teeth. Jaemin feels a wave of guilt wash over him. He hadn’t meant to seem like Jeno was in trouble. “N-Not mad?”
Jaemin coos and peppers kisses over Jeno’s cheeks, soothing him enough for him to relax back into his arms. “Of course not, my sweet boy. I didn’t mean to scare you.” They lapse into silence as Jaemin comforts him with a steady hand on his back, the only sound being the occasional sniffle from Jeno and Mark’s soft breaths on the opposite side of the bed.
Once Jeno seems to have relaxed, Jaemin decides to breach the subject once more, albeit a bit lighter. “You’ve never said anything before. Do you want to call me Mama?”
Jeno freezes at the question, having momentarily forgotten their conversation. His fingers, previously tracing aimless shapes across Jaemin’s chest, stutter and clench anxiously into the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t have to…” Jeno murmurs, carefully skirting around the question. “I didn’t mean to. Just been thinking ‘bout it sometimes, an’ I was really sleepy so… I didn’t mean to.”
“That’s not what I asked, puppy.”
Jeno swallows thickly around the lump in his throat, “... Yes. I do.”
Jaemin’s arms circle even tighter around Jeno’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest. He lays his cheek on the top of Jeno’s head. “Okay. I’d love to be your Mama.”
“Really?” Jeno whispers, body slowly untensing and relaxing in Jaemin’s hold the longer they hug.
Jaemin’s uncertainty about being called Mama all but dissipates as he holds Jeno in his arms. Jeno has always been honest with him and understands him in a way that always takes Jaemin by surprise. Hearing the boy call him Mama last night had been shocking but deep down he knew that he was okay with it - hell, he even finds himself liking the name the more he thinks about hearing it from Jeno’s lips - but it hadn’t consciously sunk in until now. “Really,” Jaemin repeats. “Mama loves you, puppy.”
“ Aigoo …” Jaemin’s gaze snapped up at the interruption, meeting Mark’s coy smile over Jeno’s head. He must have woken during their conversation, eyes still half lidded and bleary with sleep. “My babies... so cuteeee!” Mark shuffles forward and wraps an arm around the two of them, squeezing them tightly and making Jeno burst into giggles.
“Ugh. How long have you been awake?” Jaemin grumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment.
“Long enough,” Mark smirks, kissing the top of Jeno’s head. The boy preens at the attention and wiggles closer to Mark, content to be squished between both of his caregivers. “Does this mean I can call you Mama too?”
“Watch it, Mark.”