Work Text:
i.
When Yoongi first sees Minjoon, the first thought he had was that he couldn’t believe how tiny he was. Everything about him was tiny. His face, his round little body swaddled in a blue blanket, his stubby fingers peeking out, his button nose—his whole being was tiny. Cradled in Jimin’s arms, Yoongi had never been more afraid of anything in his entire life.
So when Jimin nodded at him and gestured for him to take Minjoon, Yoongi almost shit himself.
Yoongi has held a baby exactly twice in the whole entirety of his life. The first time was when his aunt’s baby daughter had been born, and he was forced to carry her in his lanky, fifteen-year-old boy arms. The baby had immediately started crying, her tiny little face flushing red and crumpling from the effort, and Yoongi immediately handed her back to his mother.
The second time was when he was forced to baby-sit a friend’s son with Jimin. Needless to say, the whole experience had been traumatic, and still had him shuddering up ‘til that day.
So no one could really blame Yoongi if he hesitated for a moment or two, before fashioning his arms into a cradle for Jimin to put the baby in. Jimin gives him the most beautiful smile, and that would’ve made everything better except it didn’t because he was going to hold his son for the first time, holy shit, he’s going to drop Minjoon and Jimin is going to kill him—
—the static in his brain clears when Jimin fully gives him the baby. Jimin paused, smiling at the sight before dropping a light kiss on Minjoon’s forehead and stepping away, but Yoongi barely noticed, because all of his attention had been diverted to his son. He’s holding his son.
If someone told Yoongi a year or two ago that he would cry because of a baby, he would’ve laughed in their face—and made that person cry like a baby.
The notion was just so ridiculous to him. He never understood the stories of parents crying when they first saw their kid. He didn’t cry when he was seven and he broke his arm from a bike accident, he didn’t cry when his first girlfriend broke up with him, he didn’t cry when Jimin said yes, and he didn’t cry when Jimin slid the ring on his finger and they said their vows to one another (he refuses to admit that some tears were shed that day). Yoongi prides himself on not crying a lot. So he doesn’t really understand the tears forming at the corners of his eyes at the sight of his and Jimin’s newborn son in his arms. Was there something wrong with his eyes? Should he get them checked? He’s pretty sure he saw the optometrist section on his way to this nursery, he should—
Yoongi is nudged out of his thoughts by Minjoon. The little baby is yawning a bit, tiny arms stretching and almost hitting Yoongi in the face. His son opens his eyes, blinks twice, and fixes them on Yoongi. There were a few seconds where Yoongi held his breath, afraid that his son might cry but then—
—then he reached up, placed his tiny fist against Yoongi’s cheek, and closed his eyes again, a little smile on his lips.
Oh, God.
“Are you actually crying?” Jimin’s incredulous voice breaks through his haze.
Yoongi is quick to wipe his tears away. “What? No,” he mumbles, weakly defending himself. His voice breaks, somehow, and he clears his throat before he speaks again. “No, I wasn’t.”
At Jimin’s disbelieving stare, he backtracks. “So what if I am?”
A smile blooms on his husband’s face, and Yoongi knew then that he would never live this down. “That’s so adorable, Yoongi!” He coos, smiling so hard that his eyes disappeared into the tiny little crescents that Yoongi loved seeing. “I can’t wait to tell the guys about this,” Jimin says, whipping out his phone to—presumably—go on their group chat and tattle on him.
Yoongi rolled his eyes at his husband’s childishness, but his gaze was immediately drawn back to Minjoon.
So what, truly. Yoongi doesn’t care that his record with himself was broken. All that he cared about at that moment was the little bundle of joy in his arms. Just being able to hold his beautiful, beautiful son for the first time was enough for him—Minjoon with his small nose, small lips, small hands—that was more important than anything else.
Yoongi loves his son. So much. More than anything in the goddamn world.
What he doesn’t love, however, is the sight of his once-whole camera in pieces—his expensive camera.
Yoongi screams very, very quietly into his hands, which apparently wasn’t quiet enough, as Jimin’s voice floats through the still air not a second later. “Yoongi?”
“Yeah, babe?” Yoongi calls out, albeit in a strained voice. He couldn’t take his eyes off the pieces scattered on the floor. Minjoon stared innocently up at him with wide eyes from his place on the carpeted floor, a confused smile on his face.
“You alright?” Jimin’s voice breaks through his thoughts, and Yoongi feels a headache coming on.
“Yeah,” Yoongi replies instead, “I’m fine.”
He is fine. He is fine.
He was not fine, really. Which is why after a minute or so of pained contemplation, with his son hugging his leg—Minjoon had crawled over in the minute Yoongi wasn’t paying attention—he calls out for Jimin.
Jimin comes padding out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. “What is it?”
Yoongi just closes his eyes and points at the floor. Looking at it any longer might just make him cry.
“Oh.” Jimin’s voice is soft, and it annoys Yoongi a bit, really.
“Yes, oh, Jimin. Didn’t I ask you to put the camera in its proper place?” Yoongi says, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers to tamp down the wave of anger that washed over him suddenly.
“Are you blaming me?”
The annoyance in Jimin’s voice was too evident, and Yoongi’s eyes fly open. He can hear imaginary alarm bells ringing, but he’s too annoyed to take notice of it.
“I never said that, Jimin,” Yoongi begins, trying to level his voice.
“It certainly sounded like it, Min Yoongi,” Jimin says, crossing his arms over his chest.
Oh, shit, Yoongi’s brain helpfully supplies. Jimin was pulling out the full-name card. Yoongi was in big trouble, and despite his initial annoyance, he was still calm enough to try and fix the damage he was doing.
“I’m sorry, baby, but you know—”
“I know what?” Jimin interjects. “You should’ve known that you can’t leave your things in places where Minjoon could reach them. Don’t fucking blame me, Yoongi.”
“I’m not blaming you!” Yoongi replies, voice rising. “Don’t twist my words, Jimin!”
“But you were, Yoongi, don’t lie—”
“I wasn’t, just fucking listen—”
“I told you to keep your camera—”
“That’s why I asked you—”
A piercing cry breaks off their argument, their voices abruptly stilling. It was Minjoon, still clinging to Yoongi’s leg, but now he’s crying.
The frown on Jimin’s face immediately slides off, replaced by the “concerned dad” look he had perfected in the year they had Minjoon. Jimin walks over to where their son is sitting and picked him up, trying to calm Minjoon down with whispers of affection and kisses all over his face, his right hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. Yoongi could do nothing but stare guiltily.
After a few minutes, Minjoon finally stopped crying, with only a few audible sniffles here and there. Another few minutes later, and soft snores could be heard.
Yoongi is the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry, Jimin.”
Jimin doesn’t look at him, body turned away from Yoongi and still rocking Minjoon in his arms. Ah, Yoongi really fucked up if Jimin was giving him the cold shoulder.
“Jimin?” Yoongi tries again, stepping closer.
Still no reply. Yoongi heaves a sigh.
“Baby, come on, you know I didn’t mean it,” he tries.
“You know I don’t like fighting when Minjoon is near, Yoongi,” Jimin says quietly, “and over something as small as this?”
“I know,” the older man says, “I know, and I’m sorry.” He walks closer to Jimin, enclosing him in a hug, and breathing in his husband’s scent, along with his son’s. “I’m really sorry, babe.”
“…me too,” Jimin finally murmurs after a moment, huddling closer to Yoongi. He makes sure Minjoon was sandwiched between them both, but with enough space so that the one-year old wouldn’t suffocate. “We made him cry, Yoongi. Let’s not fight, okay?”
“Okay,” Yoongi agrees easily. He kisses Minjoon’s head, the tufts of black hair tickling him as he did so, and pulls Jimin closer to kiss his forehead. “Okay.”
iii.
The morning of Minjoon’s first day at school, to put it simply, was hectic.
Around seven in the morning, Yoongi was shaken awake by his frantic husband. Thinking there was a fire, or something equally as horrid as that, Yoongi shot up. Upon hearing Jimin’s panicked whisper of “it’s Minjoon’s first day, what do we do,” Yoongi let out a groan and flopped back into the loving embrace of their bed.
“He doesn’t have to be at school until nine, baby.” Yoongi mumbles as he throws one arm over his eyes. “It’s seven. We have two hours.”
Jimin leans over his husband’s prostrate form, and peels his arm from his face carefully. Yoongi opens one eye, and finds Jimin too close to him that he has to open both eyes to see him properly. The sight is too adorable to bear, especially at six in the morning, so before Yoongi could control himself, he leans up and kisses Jimin’s pout away. Jimin lets out a little squeak, kissing back for a few seconds before he pushes Yoongi’s face away, muttering something about, “morning breath, ew, Yoongi”.
“We’ve been together for five years, Jimin, and you’re still bothered by morning breath?” Yoongi asks incredulously.
Jimin huffs and frowns, but honestly, it’s a frown that wouldn’t even scare an ant. Yoongi chuckles. It’s been five years, but he’ll never get over how adorable Jimin could be. “No—but you need to stop distracting me, Yoongi. This is important.”
Yoongi relents, raising up his arms in surrender. He never really learned how to say no to Jimin, figures it’s an impossible feat. “Okay, fine. It’s just his first day though, stop worrying, Jimin.”
Jimin pretends not to hear, and sits up quickly. He starts rattling off instructions instead, counting on his fingers. “So I’ll cook breakfast, and you prepare his things, okay? His stuff is inside his closet—you won’t miss it—and I want you to put them in the backpack hanging on the back of his door. Also, take out his uniform, please, and the new shoes I bought last week. Oh! And I want you to wake him up at seven-thirty—I think breakfast would be done by then—and then he should be taking a shower by eight so that we could leave by eight-thirty.”
“Wow,” Yoongi breathes out, raising his eyebrows at his husband. “You really thought this out, didn’t you?”
“What kind of parent would I be if I didn’t?” Jimin shoots back.
“One I wouldn’t want as my husband,” Yoongi says fondly. He leans in again for another kiss, but is stopped by Jimin’s palm on his forehead. Yoongi groans, letting his face fall on Jimin’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist.
“Really, babe? We’re doing this?”
“Really. No kisses until you do what you’re supposed to.” Jimin says patronizingly. He pats Yoongi’s head twice. “But.”
“But what,” Yoongi mumbles into Jimin’s skin.
“If you do everything properly, you might get a little something later.” Jimin continues. “Something that involves me, you, and a tie.”
Yoongi has never run out of a room so fast, Jimin’s laughter tinkling behind him.
“Appa! How do I look?” Minjoon yells excitedly, jumping on the balls of his feet as soon as he and Yoongi went down the stairs. Yoongi grins at the gummy smile so alike to his own. He likes seeing his son so excited.
“You look dashing, honey,” Jimin tells him, dropping to his knees to take a closer look.
“Look! Daddy told me this is going to be my uniform for school! It’s so cool! I look so cool, appa!”
“Yes you do, baby!” Jimin brings him into a hug and looks up at Yoongi. “Have you got everything done?”
Yoongi rolls his eyes good-naturedly at the concern in Jimin’s voice. “Yes, sir.”
Jimin nods once in satisfaction. “Good.” He looks back at Minjoon, and couldn’t help but let excitement seep into his voice too. Minjoon’s grin was contagious. “Are you ready to go, Minjoon?”
“Yes!” Their child replies.
“Wait, before we go, Minjoon, what did daddy tell you?” Yoongi butts in, also crouching down to Minjoon’s level.
“Um,” a tiny frown mars Minjoon’s smooth face as he tries to remember. “Always greet the teachers, be polite to my classmates, and always say please!”
Yoongi chuckles and ruffles his son’s hair. “Very good, Minjoon.”
Minjoon giggles, obviously pleased that he did well.
“Okay!” Jimin says, glancing at the clock mounted on their wall. “We need to get you to the bus stop, or else you’ll miss your first day.”
Minjoon gasps, and then pulls on both his fathers’ hands, “Appa, we have to hurry!”
Jimin smiles gently at his son, then stands up. “Okay, let’s go!”
“Hurry, daddy!” Minjoon says as Yoongi puts on his shoes. “Hurry!”
“Fine, fine, let’s go.”
“Bye, baby!” Jimin calls to his son as he climbs up the stairs to the bus.
“See you later, kid!” Yoongi says.
“Bye daddy! Bye appa!” Minjoon says before the bus doors close. “Love you!”
“Love you too!” Jimin replies.
After a few seconds of watching Minjoon (or at least, the top of his head) through the windows as he looked for a seat, the bus starts again, and finally moves forward. Jimin and Yoongi stare after it until it takes a left and is no longer in their sight.
Yoongi sighs. “He grew up fast, didn’t he?”
Jimin doesn’t answer back, only wrapping both of his arms around Yoongi’s waist. Yoongi automatically brings his arm over Jimin’s shoulder.
“Sunshine? Come on, let’s go home.”
“Is it too early for me to feel empty nest syndrome?” Jimin inquires in a quiet voice.
“He’ll be back in a few hours, Jiminie,” Yoongi reminds him gently. “He’s not leaving for college, or anything. That comes a few years later, I think.”
“I know,” Jimin sighs. “But it’ll be just a series of milestones from here on out, yeah? And then before we know it, he’ll be leaving us for university.”
Yoongi brings Jimin closer and drops a kiss on his temple. “Let’s worry about that in thirteen years, Jimin.”
“Okay,” Jimin exhales. He nods and disentangles himself from Yoongi, opting instead to intertwine their fingers together. “Let’s go home.” Jimin grins up at him. “I have a promise to fulfill, don’t I?”
Yoongi swears he didn’t run. He speed-walked.
iv.
As soon as Yoongi opened his eyes and tried to move, he knows he won't be going anywhere today.
God, his hips. His thighs. His everything hurt.
Fucking Park Jimin.
He groans as he rolls over, blindly hitting the warm body next to him. He slaps at Jimin's shoulder twice to wake him up. Jimin, ever the light sleeper, grumbles at the sudden impact.
"What?" Jimin mumbles, obviously fighting to hold on to the last tendrils of sleep still in his system.
"Wake up, asshole," Yoongi says, hitting him lightly once more. "I'm hungry."
"Get your food yourself, babe, you have legs," Jimin replies sleepily, rolling over and turning his back to Yoongi.
Yoongi narrows his eyes, even if he knew Jimin won't see. "I'd use them if someone thought ahead last night. You knew I had to work today, you asshole. You could've been gentler!"
Jimin rolls over again, but this time there's a mischievous smile decorating his lips. With his full lips quirked up to one side, and his hair all mussed up (because of Yoongi), Jimin is a vision. "You liked it last night, baby."
The older man rolls his eyes, ignoring the heat that rushed to his cheeks as he remembers the events of the previous night. "Don't get too full of yourself."
"Well last night you were full of m—” Jimin doesn't get to finish his statement, which would've probably—definitely—earned him another slap to the shoulder, as there was a knock on their door.
“Appa? Daddy?” A small voice says.
Yoongi freezes, as does Jimin. Shit. Shiiiit. Jimin immediately gets off the bed, looking for their discarded clothes from the night before. When he finds his shirt and his shorts, he dresses at lightning speed before flinging Yoongi’s clothes at him. His shirt hits him in the face, but before he could flip Jimin off, the other is already at the door, gesturing at him to, “wear your goddamn shirt and underwear, Yoongi”.
As soon as Yoongi gets his legs through his shorts, Jimin opens the door to see Minjoon standing underneath the door frame, his favorite stuffed toy clenched tightly in his tiny fists. He looked really, really sad, for some reason still unbeknownst to the couple.
Jimin slips into dad mode. “Good morning, sweetheart, is there something wrong?” He asks, opening his arms and letting Minjoon hug him. Minjoon doesn’t answer, and breaks free from Jimin. He walks over to Yoongi and climbs on the bed. Yoongi shoots Jimin a confused look, but Jimin just shrugs and closes the door.
Minjoon slips his short arms over Yoongi’s neck, and hugs him close. Yoongi, always open to affection from his son, rubs at his back before he asks, “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Daddy,” Minjoon starts, looking at him with wide eyes. “Are you having nightmares?”
Jimin, now seated on the edge of the bed next to them both, tilts his head in confusion. Yoongi, equally confused, only brushes Minjoon’s hair back from his forehead and says, “I haven’t, no, but why do you ask?”
Minjoon bites his lip before answering, bringing the plushie closer to him and offering it to Yoongi. Yoongi takes it and kisses his son’s forehead as thanks. “Because last night…”
“Last night what?” Yoongi prompts.
“Last night you were screaming appa’s name loudly, so I thought you were afraid of the nightmares, daddy. So I brought Gommie to you. He could protect you from nightmares, daddy! You told me before that my stuffies were there to protect me from everything! And I have many stuffies, so it’s okay for me to give Gommie to you! I told him that he should protect you!”
Oh God. Oh God.
With every word that came out of Minjoon’s mouth, Yoongi was torn between wanting to die and shrivel up, or throwing a pillow at Jimin who was silently dying over what Minjoon said. In the end, he settles for kicking at Jimin’s shin without Minjoon noticing, and cups his son’s face in his hands.
“Daddy’s fine, baby,” Yoongi soothes. “Appa,” he shoots a glare over Minjoon’s shoulder, but Jimin wouldn’t stop laughing, that asshole, “is here to protect me from nightmares, so you can keep Gommie, okay? Tell him I appreciate it, though.”
“Okay, daddy!” Minjoon says brightly, worries now erased. “But if you ever have nightmares again, tell me, okay, daddy? So I can tell Gommie to chase the nightmares away!”
“Okay, baby,” Yoongi grins. “Now why don’t you go brush your teeth? And then we can eat pancakes for breakfast, with chocolate chips, your favorite!”
Minjoon cheers, and soon enough he’s scrambling off the bed and toddling to his room to do what his daddy told him to do.
As soon as the door closes behind him, Yoongi throws a pillow at Jimin with all the force he could muster.
Jimin just continues to laugh.
Yoongi narrows his eyes. Guess who isn’t getting any for a week? Park Jimin, that’s who.
v.
“Hello, is this Park Minjoon’s parent, Min Yoongi? Yes, your son got caught in a fist fight with another young man, and we think it would be best if you come and pick him up, sir.”
“What in the world were you thinking, Minjoon?!” Jimin very nearly yells, pacing back and forth. Yoongi follows him with his eyes. Minjoon is sitting next to him, a black eye and a bruised lip decorating his face.
“Jimin…” Yoongi begins, but Jimin isn’t listening, hell-bent on wearing out the linoleum of their floor.
“No, Yoongi! You can’t excuse his actions! He got into a fight, Yoongi—a fist fight, for God’s sake.” Jimin emphasizes, as if Yoongi didn’t know.
“Sunshine, I know, but why don’t you calm down for a while and let Minjoon explain himself?” Yoongi reaches for Jimin’s wrist to stop him. “Please?”
Jimin takes a deep breath, and slowly lets it out. “Okay. Okay.”
“Just so you know,” Minjoon starts to say, “I’m not apologizing to that jerk, dad, appa.”
Yoongi never thought he would be the one to prompt Minjoon for answers. That was usually Jimin’s job, with his soothing words and kind eyes, but Jimin was too worked up to do that, so the task automatically fell to Yoongi.
“And why is that, Minjoon?”
Minjoon falls silent. His eyebrows are scrunched, and his hands are formed into fists.
“Minjoon?”
He doesn’t reply, and the silence got on Jimin’s nerves, and before Yoongi could calm him down, he shouts at Minjoon (for the first time ever, maybe). “Answer your father, Minjoon!”
“He called you sick, appa!” The teenager blurts out, and not a second after he speaks, his eyes widen and he looks down.
“What?” Jimin whispers, clearly taken aback from an answer he didn’t expect—heck, not even Yoongi expected it.
“He—he said that having two dads was sick, and unnatural, appa. He said that it was wrong, and that I was supposed to have one mom and one dad, not two. And he called you a disgrace to society, appa.” Minjoon looks up at them with tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t let him say all that stuff about you, so I punched him.” Minjoon looks down at his hands again. “I’m sorry, appa, dad, but I saw red and I just couldn’t let him go on.”
“Oh, baby,” Jimin breathes out. He quickly rushes over to where Minjoon is seated and gathers him into his arms. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”
Yoongi knew that even if South Korea was becoming more accepting of people like him and Jimin, there were still a stubborn few who refused to accept that they were human, too. That they were normal, and the only difference was that Yoongi loves a person of the same gender. He could take all the names thrown at him, and he’d smile while doing it, but what he can’t accept is the fact that people are coming for Minjoon. Never his son.
So he did what any father would do. He clapped Minjoon on the back, and told him, “So, did he get out worse than you?”
He ignores Jimin’s scandalized “Yoongi!”
Minjoon grins, sniffling a bit—he looked proud, really. “I think I broke his nose.”
Yoongi smiles proudly and holds out his hand for a high-five, and Minjoon slaps his palm against Yoongi’s.
“Good,” Yoongi says, smugly. And then he gathers his son into a hug. “That’s good, kid.”
Usually, being a teenager, Minjoon shies away from any physical contact from both his parents. But now, he melts into the embrace, much like he did when he was younger. Yoongi could feel tears in his eyes begin to form. He missed this. He looks at Jimin who’s gazing at them with a small smile, and beckons him to join. Jimin kneels and hugs them both.
A few minutes after, Minjoon says, “uh, dads?”
“Yeah?” Jimin says, sniffling a little bit.
“You’re kinda… uh, crushing me.”
“Oh!” Jimin immediately lets them go, and he sits back on his heels. He smiles fondly at his son, though, running his fingers through Minjoon’s hair. “Sorry.”
Minjoon just smiles.
“But you are sorely mistaken if you think you aren’t grounded, young man. No video games for a week.”
“Appa!”
Yoongi chuckles lightly and ruffles Minjoon’s hair. He knows Jimin won’t follow through, but a little threatening never hurt.
+1
(“Minjoon!”
“What?” shouts a voice from the second floor of their house.
“There’s a pretty girl here to see you!” Yoongi calls. “Says her name is Taehee?”
A crash can be heard and a series of muffled curses. A few seconds later, Minjoon is running down the stairs, almost tripping over his own two feet in his haste.
“Wait,” Yoongi frowns, “are you going on a date?”
Minjoon stops short, freezing in their hallway and glancing back and forth once between Yoongi and the girl—Taehee. “Yes?”
“Ah,” Yoongi nods. An idea forms in his head. He takes out his wallet and flips it open, making a show of inserting his thumb and forefinger into one of the pockets. “I’ve been there before, and you always have to be prepared, Minjoon.”
The teenager, realizing what direction his dad is going, widens his eyes, scrambles out of the house, grabs the girl’s hand, and almost runs away. “Bye, dad!”
“Just remember to stay safe, Minjoon!” Yoongi shouts after him, cackling.
“Good bye, dad!”
Ah, young love.
Jimin pokes his head out from the living room. “Are you done terrorizing our son yet? Because if you are, get your butt over here, I’m starting to get cold.”
Almost 20 years later, and Yoongi still can’t resist Jimin’s pout.
Love, indeed.)
