Work Text:
What would I do, uh
If I didn't love you, baby?
What would I do
If I didn't love you, baby?
What would I do (What would I do?)
If I didn't love you? (What would I—, what would I do?)
Love you, love you
Love you, love you
Jay was the last one to linger, a half-empty cup of juice in his hand as he leaned against the counter, eyes narrowing at Sunghoon.
“You look like shit,” he said bluntly, though there was the faintest curl of amusement on his lips. “But, annoyingly, you also look so fucking happy.”
Sunghoon didn’t even try to hide the smug tilt of his mouth.
He glanced across the room where Sunoo was sitting, surrounded by gift bags and balloons, exhaustion painting his face but still glowing in a way only Sunghoon seemed to notice.
“That’s because I am,” Sunghoon replied simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Jay rolled his eyes, muttering something about disgusting newlyweds under his breath before finally setting down his cup.
He clapped Sunghoon on the shoulder on his way out, voice softer now.
“Take care of him, yeah?”
“Always.”
The baby shower ended later than anyone expected. The living room and their backyard was still glowing faintly with fairy lights when Sunghoon closed the door on the last guest, the faint sound of their laughter trailing off into the hallway.
The apartment smelled like vanilla cake and citrusy flowers, remnants of all the bouquets his friends had brought.
Sunoo sat heavily on the couch, one hand braced against his swollen belly, the other already tugging at the hem of his soft dress.
His hair stuck damply to his temples; the whole night he’d been smiling, accepting gifts and congratulations, but Sunghoon could see how drained he was.
Sunghoon crouched down in front of him, hands gently wrapping around his ankles to help him out of his shoes.
“Do you want water, love?” he asked quietly.
Sunoo shook his head.
“I want silence. And for nobody to ever ask me if they can touch my stomach again.”
His voice was sharp but tired, the kind of irritation that came from exhaustion.
Sunghoon chuckled under his breath, carefully setting the shoes aside.
“You were very polite today.”
“I wanted to bite them.” Sunoo leaned back, head hitting the cushions with a soft thud.
“Every time someone touched me, the baby kicked. And then I felt like I was going to pee my pants in front of everyone.” He groaned, pressing a hand against his face.
Without missing a beat, Sunghoon leaned in and kissed his temple, the tip of his nose brushing Sunoo’s damp hair.
“Then you should bite them next time. I’ll say it’s doctor’s orders.”
That earned a soft laugh from Sunoo, muffled against his palm.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re beautiful.” Sunghoon said gently, brushing his thumb against Sunoo’s cheek.
“Now, come on. Time to rest.”
Sunghoon stood and offered his hands. Sunoo took them reluctantly, muttering under his breath about how even standing felt like climbing a mountain. Sunghoon steadied him, wrapping an arm around his waist and guiding him down the hallway.
Inside their bedroom, the curtains were drawn, leaving the space in warm lamplight.
Sunghoon helped Sunoo out of his dress with practiced ease, fingers careful with the zipper, movements unhurried. He folded the fabric and set it aside before guiding Sunoo to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Do you need the bathroom first?” Sunghoon asked softly, his voice low and unhurried, as if there were no one else in the world but the two of them.
Sunoo nodded, lips pouting slightly, his cheeks tinted pink.
“Always.”
Sunghoon’s smile was small but sure, the kind of smile that never failed to make Sunoo feel steadied.
He shifted, already kneeling down in front of his husband, his hands gentle and practiced as he eased Sunoo’s underwear down.
Sunoo flushed at the familiar intimacy, though it was no longer something he could resist or argue about.
There was nothing left to hide between them anymore, not after months of this quiet ritual. His pride had been stripped away sometime around his sixth month, when getting up on his own in the middle of the night had become nearly impossible.
Sunghoon had been there through every adjustment. And now, at eight months, with his belly full and heavy, his ankles aching, and his back a constant dull throb, Sunoo didn’t even think twice before letting Sunghoon help.
Sunghoon didn’t hurry. Every movement was filled with steady patience, as though he had all the time in the world to devote to this small, necessary moment.
He reached up, threading his fingers through Sunoo’s, giving his hand a squeeze before guiding him carefully to stand.
“Careful,” Sunghoon murmured as if Sunoo hadn’t been through this dozens of times already.
Sunoo sat down slowly with his husband’s help, the coolness of the toilet seat almost shocking against his warm skin.
Sunghoon stayed beside him, holding his hand with both of his, thumb brushing over his knuckles. He waited without a hint of discomfort, as if this were the most natural thing in the world, and to him, it was.
When Sunoo was done, Sunghoon helped him stand again, steadying his arm until he was upright.
Then he crouched, pulling his underwear gently back into place, fingers careful not to tug too harshly against sensitive skin. Once everything was in order, Sunghoon pressed a small kiss against Sunoo’s temple, his eyes soft.
Sunoo exhaled, his embarrassment fading into something warmer, quieter. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was theirs.
“I want a bath,” Sunoo mumbled, almost shy despite himself.
Sunghoon didn’t even blink.
“Then let’s get you one.”
Sunoo’s pout deepened.
“I can’t get in on my own.”
“I know,” Sunghoon said simply, as though it was obvious. “That’s why I’m here.”
He kissed Sunoo’s temple again before slipping away to prepare the bath. Sunoo could hear him in the adjoining bathroom, turning on the tap, adjusting the temperature with practiced hands, the faint scent of lavender bath salts blooming into the air.
Sunghoon always made sure the water was warm but never too hot, safe for Sunoo’s body and the baby.
By the time Sunghoon came back, steam was curling faintly from the doorway.
“It’s ready,” he said, offering his hand. “Come on, love.”
The walk back was slow, Sunoo shuffling with the carefulness that his swollen belly demanded.
Sunghoon’s arm was always there, strong and steady, guiding him without rushing. In the bathroom, Sunghoon knelt again, peeling away Sunoo’s clothes layer by layer. Each motion was patient, almost reverent, as if he wasn’t just undressing his husband but caring for him in the most tender way he knew how.
Sunoo shivered when the last of the fabric slipped away.
The sight of his own body still startled him sometimes, stretched, heavy, marked in ways he had never seen before. He looked away, but Sunghoon’s hands were warm as they rested briefly on his hips, grounding him.
“You’re beautiful,” Sunghoon said, so quietly it was almost a breath. “Every part of you.”
Sunoo swallowed, not answering, but he leaned into the touch.
Getting into the tub took coordination.
Sunghoon held his hand as Sunoo lowered himself carefully, his other hand steadying his back. The water embraced him slowly, warmth easing the ache in his joints. Sunoo let out a sigh the moment he settled, closing his eyes as the tension in his body loosened.
Sunghoon sat on the small stool beside the tub, rolling his sleeves up.
“Too hot?”
“No,” Sunoo murmured, sinking deeper into the water. “It’s perfect.”
Sunghoon dipped a cup into the bath and poured it gently over Sunoo’s shoulders, letting the warm water cascade down his skin.
Sunoo tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut as the comfort seeped in. He felt the careful touch of Sunghoon’s hands, washing him slowly, as if each stroke was both necessity and devotion.
“You always do this,” Sunoo said softly, eyes still closed. “Every time.”
“Of course,” Sunghoon replied, his voice steady.
“You’re carrying our baby. The least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable.”
Sunoo opened one eye, lips twitching into a faint smile.
“You don’t have to act like I’m made of glass.”
“I know,” Sunghoon said, rinsing the suds from his arm. “I just like taking my time with you.”
The words landed heavy, sweet, and Sunoo felt his throat tighten.
He looked away, cheeks heating in the steam. Sunghoon didn’t push; he just continued, patient and quiet, like always.
Sunghoon reached for the bottle of shampoo, squeezing a small amount into his palms before working it into a gentle lather. He leaned forward, fingers sliding carefully into Sunoo’s damp hair.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured.
Sunoo obeyed, lips parting slightly as Sunghoon began to massage his scalp with slow, steady circles. A soft sound escaped him, something between a sigh and a hum.
“That feels good,” Sunoo whispered.
“I figured,” Sunghoon said, smiling faintly as he worked his thumbs along his husband’s temples, then back through his hairline. “You’re all tense up here.”
“Because people wouldn’t leave me alone today,” Sunoo muttered, though the words came out sluggish, as if he was already halfway to falling asleep.
Sunghoon chuckled, rinsing his hair with a careful pour of water.
“Don’t sleep in the tub, babe.”
“I’m not,” Sunoo protested weakly, his head tilting into Sunghoon’s touch as if to betray him.
“Just… resting my eyes.”
“Mhmm.”
Sunghoon ran his fingers through his hair one last time, making sure no bubbles remained, then pressed a quick kiss to his damp forehead.
“Five more minutes, then we’ll get you tucked into bed.”
The bath stretched on in calm silence, broken only by the soft splashes of water and Sunoo’s occasional sigh.
When the water had cooled enough, Sunghoon stood and held out a towel, wrapping it carefully around Sunoo the moment he rose. He lifted him from the tub with practiced steadiness, drying each part of him with deliberate care.
Back in their bedroom, Sunghoon helped him into fresh clothes, guiding his arms into the sleeves, tugging the fabric gently over his belly.
The softness of the cotton felt clean, soothing against his skin. Sunghoon brushed out Sunoo’s damp hair with slow, careful strokes, not rushing even when the strands tangled.
By the time Sunoo was tucked into bed, pillows propped behind his back and blanket drawn to his chest, he felt lighter.
His body still ached, but less so; his mind, too, had softened from the comfort of Sunghoon’s quiet attentiveness.
Sunghoon settled beside him, one arm draped carefully over Sunoo’s waist, his hand splayed across the curve of his belly. He kissed Sunoo’s temple, murmuring, “I love you.”
Sunoo made a small noise in response, too tired to muster words, but his lips twitched faintly as though he wanted to smile.
For a while, they lay like that. The hum of the city outside was faint through the window, the kind of background noise they’d both grown used to. The bedside lamp washed the room in a warm, steady glow.
When Sunoo shifted, stretching his legs under the blanket, Sunghoon felt the slight tremor in his muscles. He pulled back a little to look at him.
“Your legs?” Sunghoon asked quietly.
“They hurt,” Sunoo admitted, his tone flat with exhaustion.
He pushed the blanket down with a huff, baring his legs.
“Feels like my calves are made of bricks. My thighs too. Even my toes.”
Sunghoon sat up, adjusting the pillows behind Sunoo so he was propped comfortably.
“Alright. Give them here.”
Sunoo gave him a wary look. Sunghoon just winked and smirked.
That earned him the smallest laugh, soft and real. Sunoo shifted, stretching his legs across Sunghoon’s lap.
Sunghoon started at his ankles, his hands wrapping around them with practiced ease. His thumbs pressed gentle circles into the swollen skin, careful to avoid putting too much pressure. He worked slowly, moving up along his calves, pausing every so often when he felt a knot of tension.
Sunoo groaned, dropping his head back against the pillow.
“Oh, that’s unfair. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until now.”
“I know,” Sunghoon said simply. His focus stayed on the task, kneading warmth into tired muscles.
“You’ve been on your feet all day. Of course they’re sore.”
Sunoo muttered something that sounded like agreement, though it was muffled by the pillow he’d pulled closer to his face.
Sunghoon kept going, moving higher up his shins, then to his thighs.
He adjusted the blanket when it slipped, tucking it neatly around Sunoo’s waist so he wouldn’t get cold. His touch remained steady, practical but tender, like someone who’d done this countless times before.
When Sunghoon pressed his thumbs into the side of his thigh, Sunoo gasped, his leg twitching.
“Ah—there, right there. Don’t stop.”
Sunghoon chuckled under his breath.
“Bossy.”
“Effective,” Sunoo shot back, eyes still closed.
They fell into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the sound of Sunoo’s occasional sighs. His body gradually loosened beneath Sunghoon’s hands, the tension unwinding little by little.
“You’re going to spoil me,” Sunoo said eventually, his voice quieter now, almost slurred with drowsiness.
“That’s the idea.”
Sunghoon brushed his knuckles along his shin before moving down to his feet. He took one carefully into his hands, pressing along the arch with gentle precision.
Sunoo twitched again, but this time he laughed, muffled and breathless.
“That tickles.”
“You’re sensitive tonight.”
“I’m always sensitive,” Sunoo argued, peeking one eye open to glare at him. “Especially when you’re digging into my feet.”
Sunghoon only smiled and kept going, steady and unbothered. He smoothed his palms along the length of Sunoo’s foot, then worked his way back up his calf again, patient as ever.
After a while, Sunoo gave up trying to talk. His breathing slowed, his hands resting limp on the blanket. His head had tilted slightly toward Sunghoon, eyes barely open, his entire body loose from the massage.
Sunghoon shifted, sliding his hands back to Sunoo’s thighs for one last pass before easing his legs down onto the mattress. He adjusted the blanket again, tucking it around him the way Sunoo liked, before leaning forward to press a kiss to his knee.
“There,” he said quietly. “Better?”
Sunoo hummed, barely awake. “Mm. Don’t stop.”
Sunghoon laughed softly, smoothing a hand along his leg one last time.
“I’ll keep going tomorrow. Right now, you need to sleep.”
There was a pause, just long enough for Sunoo’s eyes to soften. He reached out, fingertips brushing over Sunghoon’s hair.
“Sometimes I don’t know how you put up with me.”
Sunghoon glanced up, catching his gaze.
“That’s easy,” he said with quiet conviction. “I love you.”
The words hung in the room, familiar yet always enough to make Sunoo’s chest ache.
He looked away quickly, embarrassed, tugging the blanket higher over his stomach.
“Stop saying things like that when I look like a balloon.”
Sunghoon laughed, leaning forward to press another kiss to his temple.
“The most beautiful balloon I’ve ever seen.”
Sunoo groaned, but he didn’t push him away. Instead, he curled into the pillows, eyelids already heavy. Sunghoon adjusted the blanket over him, smoothing the fabric around his shoulders.
When Sunoo reached blindly for his hand, Sunghoon gave it willingly, letting their fingers tangle together on the mattress.
Sunoo mumbled something unintelligible, already drifting.
His husband lay back down beside him, looping an arm carefully around his waist again, pulling him close without disturbing the careful arrangement of pillows and blankets.
He rested his chin lightly against Sunoo’s hair, listening to his breathing even out.
The faint hum of the city outside filled the silence, but in their room, everything was soft and still. Sunghoon traced the back of Sunoo’s hand with his thumb, watching his husband drift toward sleep.
He thought of the baby, of the weeks ahead, of all the exhaustion still to come. But more than that, he thought of this: the warmth of Sunoo’s hand in his, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the quiet trust in his presence.
Sunghoon leaned down once more, whispering against his hair.
“Sleep. I’ll take care of everything.”
And Sunoo, without opening his eyes, squeezed his hand in reply.
Sunghoon lingered for a moment, watching the way his husband’s breathing evened out, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Carefully, he slid his hand free and stood, his body reluctant to leave the warmth of their bed.
The living room was still carrying the faint chaos of the baby shower, half-empty glasses on the coffee table, tissue paper spilling out of opened gift bags, confetti stuck stubbornly in the carpet fibers.
The fairy lights along the wall glowed softly, giving the space a dreamy haze that made Sunghoon hesitate before turning them off.
He moved quietly, gathering plates, stacking them in the sink, wiping down the counters until the citrusy scent of cleaner replaced the lingering sweetness of cake.
He bent to pick up stray ribbons and folded the extra blankets their friends had tossed aside when the laughter got too loud. Each small task pulled a little more weight off his chest; it mattered to him that Sunoo woke to a home that felt calm, not cluttered.
When he stepped out onto the balcony, the night air was cooler than he expected. The backyard carried the faint perfume of flowers brought by their guests, the petals scattered here and there on the wooden deck.
He swept the floor, collected empty cups, and rearranged the chairs they’d dragged outside hours earlier. For a moment, he stood still, staring up at the soft glow of the moon, letting the silence wash over him.
By the time he made it back inside, exhaustion clung to his shoulders.
He stripped off his shirt as he went to the bathroom, running the water just warm enough to soothe his tired muscles. The shower was quick, he didn’t linger, didn’t waste time. His body craved the bed, craved the warmth of Sunoo more than anything else.
He toweled off, pulled on a loose shirt, and padded back into their room.
Sunoo hadn’t moved, still curled on his side with the blankets drawn up to his chin. Sunghoon eased under the covers, careful not to jostle him too much, but the moment he pressed close and wrapped his arm around Sunoo’s middle, his whole body loosened.
He buried his face against the crook of Sunoo’s neck, inhaling that familiar softness that always seemed to silence the world. Within minutes, his eyes fluttered shut, sleep claiming him quickly.
It was still dark when Sunoo stirred.
He blinked at the ceiling, groggy but unable to ignore the rhythmic kicks pressing insistently from inside his belly.
His lips curved, half amused and half exhausted.
“You’re going to be a football player at this rate,” he whispered into the quiet, rubbing small circles against the spot where the kicks landed.
Beside him, Sunghoon didn’t move.
He was sprawled on his side, face turned toward Sunoo, mouth slightly parted in the kind of unguarded sleep he rarely allowed himself.
The sight made Sunoo’s chest ache in a way words couldn’t hold. There were faint shadows under Sunghoon’s eyes, dark circles forming from nights of worry and endless care. He looked so young like this, so human, stripped of the constant vigilance he carried in the day.
Sunoo reached out, brushing his fingers gently along his husband’s jaw.
He traced the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the softness of his lips. He thought of everything Sunghoon had done the night before, helping him to the bathroom, drawing his bath, cleaning the house when he himself should have collapsed into bed. Sunoo’s throat tightened.
“I love you,” he mouthed into the quiet, though the words never left his lips.
Instead, he leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss against Sunghoon’s brow, letting it linger there for a moment before pulling back.
Their baby kicked again, and Sunoo chuckled under his breath.
“He loves you too.”
Sunghoon shifted slightly but didn’t wake, only burrowed deeper into the pillow.
Sunoo watched him for a long while, memorizing the details, the way his hair fell messily across his forehead. He wished he could bottle this moment: the stillness, the safety, the overwhelming tenderness that wrapped itself around his heart.