Work Text:
The apartment was too quiet. Rumi had left thirty minutes ago, waving Jinu goodbye so quick he barely had time to blink before the door closed. She, Mira, and Zoey had an important participation in a TV program that afternoon, and Hana, Ji-ho's nanny, had fallen ill. Jinu volunteered to look after the baby; after all, he was also his, and he felt it was time for Ji-ho to have some father-son time.
“Call me if anything explodes.” Rumi said, before the door closed behind her.
It seemed like an exaggeration on the part of the baby's mother. Jinu had laughed. He wasn’t laughing anymore. As soon as he found himself completely alone—because, yes, Derpy and Sussie had chosen this particular day to wander between the real and spiritual worlds, and far from home—he realized he would have to remember and do everything on his own, without any help. Ji-ho sat on the floor in front of him, two plushies -his blue tiger and a spotted dog- held under each arm like tiny hostages. He stared up at Jinu with the wide-eyed suspicion of a child who has just realized the adult in charge has no idea what they’re doing. And given the little boy's ability to read the energy of the people around him, he was absolutely right.
“…Hi,” Jinu tried to interact, forgetting that his son could barely speak two-syllable words.
Ji-ho blinked slowly.
“Mama?” He mumbled as he looked around and couldn't find his mother. Then he pouted in discontent.
“No, no. Today is Appa. I’m Appa.” Jinu tried the smile Mira had taught him: soft eyes, eyebrows relaxed, tiny head tilt. He looked ridiculous. “Remember? We practiced.”
Ji-ho frowned, then toddled closer, pressing a small hand to Jinu’s cheek. He studied him with the seriousness of a judge evaluating evidence. It wasn't the mom he wanted so badly yet. But this guy in front of him would have to do. Jinu scooped the baby up instantly. The little one smacked his cheek lightly, as if scolding a slow learner. And laughed. Jinu laughed too. There was a warm weight in his chest he wasn’t used to. Something new, domestic… Terrifying.
And then he smelled it. It was too easy to be true.
“Oh no.” A look of panic formed on the ex-demon's face instantly. Ji-ho stared at him and smiled. “NO. Rumi said you already went. How-how could you do this to me so fast?” Jinu groaned.
The baby cackled as if it had been planned from the moment he knew his father was going to take care of him.
The diaper was a battlefield. Jinu laid Ji-ho on the bed, grabbed the supplies Rumi organized in a drawer labeled Emergency Assets, and made the mistake of looking away for one second. The little one rolled.
“HEY! NO NO NO!” Jinu dove like he was tackling a demon general.
Ji-ho screeched in delight, clapping his hands and smiling with the half-dozen little teeth he had. Somehow it got worse. First, Jinu realized he’d brought the wrong wipes, because, of course, there isn't just one type of wipes. He’d put the diaper on backwards, then, he’d forgotten the cream. Ji-ho kicked him in the chest twice. At one point he was holding both little ankles like they were unstable explosives. This is what happens when you mix an energetic toddler with demon and hunter genes, all in one place.
“Why is this so hard?” Jinu gasped. “I died fighting Gwi-Ma and THIS is what gets me.” When he finally got the diaper on, he collapsed dramatically beside his son, and whispered to the ceiling, “Tell no one about this.” Ji-ho put his plush tiger on his dad’s face. Jinu laughed as the baby blew raspberries, trying to imitate a tiger sound, which he probably learned from Derpy. Not even five minutes had passed before the little one began to grumble impatiently. It was time for him to eat. The man then realized his minute of free time was over, stood up, carried the baby in his arms to the kitchen, and sat him down in the high chair.
Snack time wasn’t much better. Jinu tried banana slices and Ji-ho smushed them. He tried yogurt and the baby wore it like war paint on his face and tray. He offered a rice cracker and his son shook his head as if being personally insulted. Mira and Zoey had said the day before that he adored them. But today he decided he hated it. Amidst all the mess, the little one finally ate. What he had mashed in his hand, from the highchair tray, and, impressively, even what Jinu had given him with a spoon.
Once Jinu had cleaned the kitchen and made it minimally decent, it was time for the baby to take a nap. But Rumi had warned him:
“If Ji-ho is not ready to nap and fights sleep, surrender. No bravado. No heroics. You will lose.”
Jinu didn’t listen. A big mistake. He tried rocking, singing, and Ji-ho just slapped his shoulder. He tried lying down next to him. But Ji-ho climbed on his chest and shouted directly into his face.
“Why?” Jinu grumbled, as if his son could give him an answer as to why he had decided not to cooperate with his own father.
“Baba!” Ji-ho babbled, without remorse.
“Ji-ho… please.” The ex-demon begged, already feeling defeated, as if he had failed in a mission that should have been easy for him, until it happened:
“A-ppa.” Ji-ho just said, touching his father's face.
It hit Jinu so hard his vision blurred. Every emotion he’d been trying to hold in since coming back. A mix of panic, joy and hope, crashed into him in a single, fragile word. Ever since he met Ji-ho, all he's done is stay close and help as much as he can, so that they can get to know each other and make up for the time he lost and will never get back. But at the end of the day, as he lies down to sleep, he always wondered how long he would remain a stranger to his own son.
“You know me?” Jinu whispered.
“Appa!” The baby repeated louder this time and giggled.
Jinu laughed, more from sheer relief than amusement, and pressed a kiss to Ji-ho’s forehead. “You’re right. I’m appa.”
Eventually, exhausted from chaos, Ji-ho curled up on Jinu’s stomach like a small, warm animal and passed out. Jinu couldn’t move. Not because of weight, because Ji-ho was light. But because the baby’s fingers were curled in his shirt like he was afraid Jinu would disappear if he let go. The man’s breath hitched as he placed a hand on Ji-ho’s back, barely touching, terrified and reverent at once.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered. “Not again.”
Later, Rumi opened the door quietly, peeking inside the living room. She froze. Jinu was sprawled on the couch, hair a mess, shirt stained with yogurt, holding Ji-ho like he was the most precious thing on earth. The baby slept deeply, cheek pressed to Jinu’s chest. The hunter covered her mouth.
Jinu looked up, whispering:
“He finally slept.”
Her heart melted and a tiny smirk formed as she approached her boys, with silent steps.
“You look like you fought a legion of demons.” Rumi whispered playfully, taking a closer look at the deplorable state the baby's father was in after a few hours of babysitting;
“Worse.” Jinu breathed. “Just one toddler.”
She leaned down, kissed Ji-ho’s head, then kissed Jinu’s forehead. Jinu’s whole face flushed with the display of affection from the woman he loves. The first touch of that kind she gave him since he returned.
“I’m proud of you.” Rumi said with a tender smile, before excusing herself and walking down the hall to her room to change into more comfortable clothes.
“Did you hear that, Ji-ho?” Jinu murmured. “Eomma said she’s proud.”
Ji-ho didn’t wake, but his grip tightened, and he sighed in that way, like when it feels completely safe.
And so, after a chaotic day, the first of many in which Jinu intended to play this role, as he did today, he felt that perhaps he wasn't so lost after all. He was simply learning how to be a father.