Work Text:
Seungmin stirs when Jisung stumbles hurriedly and clumsily from bed, rocking the entire mattress. He’s annoyed at first, cracking his eyes open only to be blinded by the bright light from the bathroom.
He rolls over and determinedly wills himself back to sleep, but with the stupid bathroom light entering the room, he can't seem to manage it. It's okay, Jisung probably just had to pee and will be back in a matter of minutes. Seungmin can chide him for turning the bathroom light on without shutting the door and wrap around his warm skin.
But the minutes stretch by and he hears a pitiful huff from the bathroom.
“Sung?” he mumbles, propping up on his elbows, resigned to the fact that he's awake. “Jisung?”
There's no response—Seungmin thinks it's best to go after him, to make sure that he hadn't fallen asleep in there or drowned or something. He staggers to his feet, lamenting the fact that he's been saddled with a type B boyfriend.
He leans heavily against the door frame and lets his eyes adjust to the light. Han Jisung is lying facedown on the cool bathroom tile, and Seungmin thinks he's asleep at first.
He pokes his toes into the back of his thighs irritably. “Jisung,” he says. “Get up.”
“Seungminnie,” he groans. “‘m so nauseous.”
Oh, god, he's sick? What if he gets Seungmin sick? He recoils at first before realizing that it's his duty to take care of his ill boyfriend—he just curses the fact that he decided to get sick at 3 in the goddamn morning.
He crouches behind the lump that is Jisung and runs a hand up the back of his shirt to soothe him. His skin is hot and sweaty, and Jisung moans at the comparative coolness of Seungmin’s hand.
“Just nauseous?” Seungmin asks. “You feel like you might have a fever.”
Jisung twists in the fetal position to crane his face up to Seungmin. “Do you think you got me pregnant?”
He blinks down at Jisung, unamused.
Jisung continues anyway, undeterred. “That's probably what this is, oh my god. Seungmin, I’m not ready for fatherhood. Giving birth is scary and the baby is already making me feel bad—”
“Han Jisung,” Seungmin says impassively. “You are not pregnant.”
His eyes go wide and his lower lip goes wobbly. “But remember last month we were at the beach and you took the condom off—”
“Jisung,” Seungmin says. “We are both men. You don't even have a uterus.”
“How would you know?” he mutters, pressing his cheek to the floor. “Have you checked?”
He's delirious with fever or something, Seungmin thinks. Or else this is some weird sexual roleplay that Seungmin is unaware of.
He just seems so sincere about it, so serious, that Seungmin can't understand what he's getting at. And he's learned from experience that the best thing to do when Jisung is being stupid is to be stupid straight back.
He sits on the floor and draws Jisung’s head into his lap, stroking soothingly through his hair. “We’ll probably have to turn the spare bedroom into a nursery,” he muses, and Jisung blinks up at him with wide eyes. “What color do you think, for the walls?”
Jisung hums and nuzzles his face against Seungmin’s stomach, seeking comfort. “Something pastel. We can decide when we figure out if it's a boy or a girl. I hope it's a boy.”
“I want a girl,” Seungmin disagrees, just to be contrarian.
“Seungmin, I don't know how to take care of a baby. I’m too young.”
“If I recall, you were the one who begged for the condom to come off,” Seungmin says. “Basically ripped it off of me.”
Jisung whimpers. “You have to be nice to me, I’m pregnant with your child.”
Sometimes Jisung is too good at matching stupidity. “Jisung, what are you doing?” Seungmin asks. “What's with the random pregnancy talk? It’s weird.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Just—random nausea. Was trying to figure out why. Remembered the condom thing and thought it was funny.”
“You’re hilarious,” Seungmin deadpans, and Jisung whines into his stomach. “I think it's something you ate, probably.”
“Nope,” he disagrees. “I’m pregnant. You impregnated me. This is your fault.”
Jisung is being weird, but Seungmin doesn't hate the idea of it, however impossible, biologically speaking. “Is that what you want?” Seungmin asks, stroking his hair. “Like the idea of it?”
Jisung whines harder, like he wants to avoid having to answer. His arms lock around Seungmin’s middle.
He hadn't been trying to tease, and he probably still shouldn't, with Jisung feeling bad. But he does make a mental note to bring this topic back up, possibly when he has Jisung beneath him, when Seungmin is rocking deep inside of him. He’s more likely to be forthcoming with what he wants then.
“Lay here if it feels good, okay?” Seungmin says. “I’ll run to the convenience store for some anti-nausea pills to see if that helps.”
He’s gentle in sliding Jisung’s head off of his lap, making sure he doesn't crack his skull on the tile. Who knows how much more deranged that would make him.
Jisung whines, a pathetic heap on the bathroom floor, and stretches to tangle his fingers with Seungmin’s. “You're so nice, Seungminnie,” he says, like Seungmin isn't his boyfriend and it isn't his job to be nice to him. “You’ll be a good dad.”
Seungmin snorts in amusement. “Okay, Sung. Lay here and try not to puke—or do, if it'll make you feel better. I’ll just be ten minutes.”
“Love you,” Jisung mumbles, dragging himself across the tile to curl in the corner, to press his cheek against the bathtub.
“Love you,” Seungmin returns as he returns to the bedroom to grab his jacket. And, mumbled so Jisung can't hear: “Even though you're fucking ridiculous sometimes.”