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Hong Jisoo woke to an empty bed and only the phantom weight of Lee Seokmin’s limbs tangled around him like ivy.
The blanket was still warm where his husband had been, crumpled and half-pulled to the edge, as if Seokmin had made a dramatic escape sometime before dawn. The sunlight through the curtains cast soft patterns on the hardwood floor, and the room smelled faintly of warm cookie dough, laundry detergent, and his husband’s very particular brand of dissatisfaction with the world as of late.
He blinked slowly, already bracing himself. There were three things Seokmin did when he got irritated during pregnancy- pout until he got what he wanted, reorganize the spice rack alphabetically and then back again by color while complaining why they had so many spices and herbs, or escape into the wild and become a public menace.
Jisoo reached for his phone on the nightstand, knowing which option it was even before he saw the messages their friend had, Yoon Jeonghan, sent him.
Jeonghan: Can you collect your freak of a husband, please?
Jeonghan: He’s doing weird things again.
Jeonghan: One second he’s glaring at my new furniture, the next second he’s telling me to hide my damn knees.
Jisoo pressed the phone to his forehead, chuckling softly to himself.
Jisoo: Let my princess vent out his frustrations. The morning sickness is getting worse again.
Jeonghan: And why is that my problem? You got him pregnant, not me.
Jisoo: I’ll come over now. Please make me a cup of strong coffee and don’t make him start a fight with an elderly again.
He sat up, rubbing his face as he looked around their bedroom. The place that held their petty arguments, uncontrollable laughter, and the quiet hum of domesticity and love. One of Seokmin’s socks was half-stuck under the dresser, an open jar of shea butter sat forgotten on the nightstand, and the light on the other man’s vanity was still glowing faintly- Jisoo made a mental note to remind his husband that whatever he turned on, he needed to turn off.
Jisoo moved through the house in a sleepy daze after he had freshened up and changed clothes, collecting the pieces of his morning one step at a time. He passed the living room, where a stack of baby books sat beside a plate of an unfinished slice of pizza and an empty pint of mango ice cream- Seokmin’s craving the night before. Their ultrasound photo was magnetized to the fridge, black and white and wobbly, but so miraculous and precious. He brushed his fingers over it with the kind of awe usually reserved for celestial bodies, wondering if he should frame it instead.
He grabbed his jacket, smiling at the thought of Seokmin stomping around Jeonghan’s café, before whispering aloud, to no one in particular, “God, I’m so stupidly in love with him.”
Jeonghan’s café was a cozy place tucked between a florist and a bookstore, with little chalkboard signs out front that read things like, Today’s Brew: Strong Enough to Raise the Dead.
When Jisoo walked in, the scent of coffee hit him first, warm and nutty, followed by the milky and sweet scent of his husband. Boo Seungkwan stood near the counter, sipping from a paper cup and watching the disaster unfold before him- Jisoo joined him wordlessly, taking in the scene as the other man acknowledged him with a nod, inching a cup of coffee in his direction.
Seokmin stood in the middle of the café like a tiny, furious emperor. His hair was still a little messy from his sleep, his cheeks were flushed, and his belly, round and unmistakably pregnant, peeked out beneath a shirt that had clearly given up on its job somewhere around week fourteen. He was hunched slightly, hands twitching toward a basket of perfectly wound yarn, colorful and inviting, eyes narrowed like the yarn had personally insulted him.
Jeonghan was across from him, arms outstretched in a peacekeeping gesture, as though trying to placate a wild animal that could both bite and cry at any moment.
“Seokmin,” Jeonghan said, voice strained, careful. “Don’t make me spray you with water.”
“But they’re just begging to be unraveled,” Seokmin replied, sounding pitiful- it took all of Jisoo’s self-restraint not to push Jeonghan to the side, buy the whole damn basket of yarn, and let his husband play with them to his heart’s content. “Why put them there in the first place if people aren’t allowed to touch them?”
Seungkwan leaned closer to Jisoo, and muttered, “I don’t think he should be wearing that.”
Jisoo blinked, noticing that the patrons were staring at Seokmin- nothing bad, really, just mere curiosity and wonder. There were a couple of betas at the corner table, whispering behind their hands, their eyes, flicking to the sliver of skin Seokmin was showing beneath the hem of his shirt, a couple of steps away from him, another man had his head tilted to the side, looking at the love of Jisoo’s life.
“My husband,” he said calmly, like he was explaining something to a group of children, “can wear whatever he wants, because I can punch hard enough to break someone’s jaw.”
Seungkwan snorted, taking a sip of his coffee before nudging Jisoo’s shoulder. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”
“That, too,” he muttered honestly, his eyes softening as he watched Jeonghan’s composure begin to crumble, Seokmin’s lip trembling like he was either gearing up for another tirade or starting a crying session in public. The longer he looked, the more it hit him like a freight train- this was the person he chose to care for, love and cherish, the one he got to go home to, the one whose ridiculous, passionate soul made even the dullest morning feel like a romantic sitcom on fire. “I should go over there before he starts barking.”
“You’re going to let him chew on you again, aren’t you?” Seungkwan queried with amusement. “Stop letting him bite you! He’s not a dog and you’re not a chew toy.”
“He needs to vent out,” he replied with a shrug, downing his lukewarm coffee before sliding a bill on the counter. “Besides, I like that he chews on me like a No. 2 pencil. It’s comforting, and that means he’s still madly in love with me.”
He crossed the café in four long strides, unaware when and why Seokmin had started showing his affections through nipping, but Jisoo wasn’t about to complain. He liked the attention.
Seokmin looked up at the sound of his footsteps, eyes sharp, lips already parting. “I hate you,” he declared immediately, although his cheeks had grown red and his shoulders had relaxed. “I hate you more than I hate Jeonghan and his knees.”
“You don’t mean that,” he murmured, unaffected, before pressing a kiss to his husband’s forehead, their hands lacing automatically.
“I don’t,” Seokmin murmured, squeezing his hand, looking very soft and petulant. “Can you tell Jeonghan that just because he owns this café, it doesn’t mean he can show his knees to his patrons?”
There was a pause as Jisoo looked at Jeonghan who was rolling his eyes and was wearing shorts under his apron. It wasn’t a bad look, and it wasn’t like he was violating any food safety and health codes, but to appease Seokmin, Jisoo scrunched his nose and pretended to dry-heave.
“Exactly,” Seokmin exhaled, sounding very relieved that someone actually agreed with him. “Thank you, honey.”
Jeonghan could only blink- Jisoo knew the other man was dying to kick them out.
“I brought the car. Do you want to glare at pedestrians from the passenger seat?” He turned to his husband, fixing his hair for him, and just absolutely melting at the way the other man leaned on him.
Seokmin nodded once, decisively. “Yes. And I want pancakes, too.”
“You’ll have pancakes,” he promised, pulling the other man gently upright. “And vengeance. In that order.”
And just like that, Seokmin let himself be led away, leaving behind a frazzled Jeonghan, an amused Seungkwan, and a room full of people who didn’t know they’d just witnessed the most romantic conversation of the week. As they turned to leave the coffee shop, Seokmin made sure to bless the establishment with parting words that were, in theory, kinder than his usual remarks.
“Jeonghan, thank you for the watered-down latte and the emotional trauma,” Seokmin said with a saccharine smile, holding Jisoo’s arm like he was the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. “Also, your shirt looks like it hasn’t been washed in days.”
“You’re just jealous I can still fit into my clothes,” Jeonghan answered back, shaking his head with a chuckle, looking completely grateful that Jisoo had come down to get Seokmin.
“I am cultivating life!” Seokmin declared loudly as Jisoo yelled, “Hide your knees!”
Seungkwan wheezed into his coffee.
Jisoo led Seokmin out with one hand on his lower back, grinning like he’d just been handed a trophy for “Husband of the Year.” His husband was snuggled on his side as they walked, smelling good and feeling like a dream. The early morning chill nipped at their skin, the sky washed in pale blue and streaks of gold. Jisoo opened the car, reached into the backseat, and pulled out a thick, knitted cardigan.
It was soft and beige, oversized enough to wrap around Seokmin. He offered it up carefully, like he was presenting a peace offering to a god.
Seokmin narrowed his eyes on the garment, hands on his hips, the blissful expression he wore slipping. “Is this you telling me that my fashion sense is atrocious?”
Jisoo didn’t even blink, the comment didn’t even surprise him. “No, darling. This is me telling you it’s getting cold and our baby needs to be warm.”
Seokmin looked scandalized for a second, then completely turned a hundred and eighty degrees. “Oh, that’s right. Our baby!” He cooed, immediately rubbing his belly as he ducked his head, his tone sweet and warm. “Daddy didn’t forget about you, little duckie. He was just making sure you’re getting air. Were you cold? Daddy is sorry for not paying more attention.”
The other man took the cardigan from Jisoo, and wrapped himself snugly, looking so adorable that Jisoo nearly passed away on the spot. His heart did a couple of ridiculous flips, thinking about how Seokmin looked like a cozy cinnamon roll with the attitude of a war general- it was like looking at a human version of Pompompurin hiding a knife behind its back.
He couldn’t deal.
“Are you just going to stand there and not help your pregnant husband in the car?” Seokmin snapped suddenly, making Jisoo jump, rushing over to guide his husband inside. He buckled him in, made sure that his seat was reclined the right way, then pressed another kiss on his cheek.
The drive was filled with a comforting silence, occasionally disrupted with petty judgment as Seokmin glared at pedestrians from the passenger seat. “Who told that woman that it’s okay to skip and smile like that so early in the morning?” He muttered, arms crossed. “There are people literally having the worst time in their lives right now.”
Jisoo hummed in agreement, hand resting on Seokmin’s thigh, thumb moving in slow, soothing circles. The way he touched him, absentminded but deliberate, like it was second nature, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands except touch his husband.
“God shouldn’t have put so many major arteries in such erotic places,” Seokmin grumbled when he was finished hating humanity, leaning his head on his seat, facing Jisoo with a pout. “Maybe then we wouldn’t be doing it so much.”
Jisoo didn’t respond, only huffing out a breath of laughter. He knew Seokmin loved their baby more than anything and anyone, but the pregnancy hadn’t exactly been a cake walk- it had been cravings at two in the morning, hormonal tidal waves, aching joints, fear and anxiety, and swollen feet. But Seokmin was still trying, every day, to be soft when he could’ve snapped. And that effort alone made Jisoo love him even more.
When they arrived at the diner, Jisoo parked with precision, just the way Seokmin liked it, and immediately stepped out to open his husband’s door, offering his arm like the gentleman that he was.
The inside of the restaurant buzzed with college kids reeking of vodka and regret, and Jisoo wasted no time requesting a booth tucked away from the crowd, somewhere quiet, somewhere safe, somewhere Seokmin could sit and think and breathe.
He ordered for them both without blinking, knowing exactly how Seokmin liked his pancakes. “Buttermilk, soft and not crispy, please,” his butter, “Not salted, he’s kind of sensitive with salt these days. Whipped, please, and his syrup, “Do you have an organic, grade A, maple syrup?”
He even ordered an extra stack, because he knew one stack wouldn’t be enough, and slid a generous tip to the server with a smile and a gentle, “Please prioritize this for my husband. He’s growing a human inside him. I’m sure the college kids would understand.”
The server took one look at Seokmin’s glare from across the room and nodded like their life depended on it.
While they waited, Seokmin grew quiet, eyes trained on the placemat in front of him. His fingers twitched against the table, slightly swollen from the weather and the weight of everything he carried. Jisoo reached across and took both of his hands into his own, massaging them carefully. “You’re so warm,” he said softly, like it was a secret, and talked about how things had been at work after his promotion.
Seokmin listened , looking very relaxed now. But then, the food arrived, and with it, chaos.
Seokmin squinted at the plates. Without missing a beat, he aimed a swift kick at Jisoo’s shin under the table.
“Ow!” He yelped.
“Is this you assuming that I can eat all of these?” Seokmin said, eyes brimming, nose already red. “Are you calling me… are you calling me-”
“No, no, no!” He was already sliding into the booth beside Seokmin, pulling him close. He gently pressed his nose into Seokmin’s neck, scenting him until he felt his husband’s breathing slow. “This is me assuming that our baby is hungry, too. Nothing else, I swear.”
“I’m sorry for being such a pain in the ass lately. It’s just so hard, and I’m trying to stay nice and kind but I literally have a human inside of me and everything is so uncomfortable and everything aches . Please don’t leave me.” Seokmin sniffled against his chest, the sounds he was making wrecking Jisoo’s little, fragile heart.
“I don’t think there’s a universe where I would leave you. I mean it,” he assured, cradling Seokmin close, running his fingers through the other man’s hair, voice low and tender. He paused, pulling back just enough to meet his husband’s wet eyes. “It’s no big deal, but I think I was made for you. Like- I like you a lot, and I love you so much. I like the way you look and sound and feel. I like how you sleep, how you steal the blankets, how you snore just a little. I like you when you’re sweet, and I like you when you’re biting Jeonghan’s head off.”
“Stop being such a sap,” Seokmin groaned, blushing to his roots, and Jisoo was so in love.
“I can’t help it. I’m sorry.” He smiled, helpless and just a little bit pathetic, thumbing his husband’s tears away, feeling like a complete lunatic with how full his heart was. “I like your brilliance and your big, golden heart. I like that you love me so much. And like that I really, really love you back.”
“Mom was right about you, you really are the best,” Seokmin gushed, placing a quick kiss on Jisoo’s lips before melting completely inside his arms, snuggling into him with a wobbly smile as he rubbed his belly. “You hear that, baby? Aren’t we lucky to be loved by someone like Jisoo?” Then, without a preamble, Seokmin looked up. “Can I gnaw on you now?”
Jisoo laughed, kissing the top of his head. “After you’re done eating, alright?”
“Fine.” Seokmin sniffed dramatically and reached for his fork, surprising Jisoo for not throwing a fit.
Ten minutes later, all the food was demolished.
Jisoo paid the bill, helped Seokmin into the car again, and rubbed gentle circles into his thigh the whole ride home as Seokmin listed every single thing in the world that had personally offended him that day, including, but not limited to, Jeonghan’s knees, the diner’s lighting, the smell of the car freshener Jisoo picked out last month, and the way their neighbor dared to look like she was having the best time of her life as they passed by.
Back home, Jisoo fussed over Seokmin, who let himself be pampered. He slipped into one of Jisoo’s shirts, took his vitamins and drank the water Jisoo insisted he drink, said hello to their baby’s sonogram before curling into Jisoo’s lap like a smug cat- warm, full and satisfied.
“You're so nice,” Seokmin muttered, leaning in, voice muffled against Jisoo’s skin. “You should stop being so nice to me.”
“I know I said I will do everything that you want me to do, but I don’t think I can do that one,” he said, arms wound around Seokmin’s waist, chin resting lightly atop his head. “You deserve everything , you hear? Hell, I can even be nicer than this. I’ll make sure I’m nicer tomorrow.”
“Stop being so sweet, or I’ll bite you,” Seokmin whined, lifting his head.
“Is that a threat or a promise?” He asked, squeezing his husband’s hips. And even before he could continue teasing, Seokmin leaned in and nibbled on the curve of his neck, not hard enough to leave a mark, but definitely enough to make him short-circuit a little.
“You’re lucky I’m full,” Seokmin said, smiling against his skin.
Jisoo let out a laugh that rumbled in his chest. His hand moved slowly up and down Seokmin’s back, calming and quiet. The soft weight of Seokmin in his lap, the warmth of their home, the rhythmic thrum of tiny, perfect moments, it was enough to make him forget how exhausting the world could be.
Tomorrow, he knew he would be dealing with another temperamental Seokmin, another avalanche of mood swings and cravings and passive-aggressive remarks about their car’s air freshener. And Jisoo would do it all again and again with no complaints, every damn second of it.
He looked down at his husband, who was still nipping at his skin, mumbling something about pickles and sour cream chips in between bites.
Yeah, he thought, he was the happiest man on Earth.
“I want that basket of yarn in Jeonghan’s café,” Seokmin murmured, and really , he was carrying Jisoo’s child, so what else was there to say but, “Yes, darling.”