Work Text:
The first question Hamin asked wasn't, "Have you eaten?"
It wasn't, "How was work?"
And it certainly wasn't, "What time are you coming home?"
It was—
"Are you free on Saturday?"
Bamby looked up from his laptop in their shared office at home, blinking over the rim of his glasses. "Saturday...?"
"My mom texted."
"Oh?"
Hamin unlocked his phone and turned it around.
Mom ❤️
Family lunch this Saturday. Everyone's coming.
Bring Bamby.
Bamby's lips curved before he even realized it.
"They still say 'bring Bamby,'" he laughed.
"They've been saying that since before we got married."
"They're never going to stop."
"I hope not."
Hamin reached across the desk, finding Bamby's hand without looking.
"My mom specifically asked if you were coming."
Bamby squeezed his fingers.
"I'll ask my parents."
Five minutes later—
Bamby groaned dramatically.
Hamin looked over.
"...What?"
"My parents also have a family gathering."
"...Saturday?"
"...Saturday."
Silence.
"...Lunch?"
"...Lunch."
"...Same time?"
"...Same time."
They stared at one another.
Then both burst into laughter.
"What are the odds?" Bamby asked.
"Our families share one brain cell."
After laughing, Hamin scooted his chair closer until their knees bumped.
"So."
"So."
"We split?"
"We split."
"My family's first?"
"Your family's first."
"And yours after?"
"My family doesn't start until one."
Hamin thought.
"...Actually."
"What?"
"We could each go to our own family lunch."
Bamby nodded slowly.
"And after?"
"We switch."
"...Switch?"
"I go to yours."
"You come to mine."
"So everyone still gets to see both of us."
Bamby's eyes softened.
"You always think of that."
Hamin shrugged.
"You're part of my family."
"And you're part of mine."
"So..."
"It wouldn't feel complete if we didn't at least stop by."
This had quietly become their tradition.
Whenever either side planned a gathering, no invitation ever came addressed to just one of them.
It was always—
"Bring Hamin."
"Tell Bamby to come too."
"Is my son-in-law coming?"
"Where's our other son?"
No one questioned it anymore.
Marriage had simply expanded both families.
🌱🌸
Saturday arrived.
The morning was a blur of getting dressed together.
Bamby stood in front of the mirror adjusting his shirt.
"Does this look good?"
Hamin looked up from tying his shoes.
"...You're asking me?"
"Yes."
"You've looked the prettiest every day since I met you."
"...That wasn't the question."
"It answers the question."
Bamby rolled his eyes.
"Hopeless."
"You married me."
"I did."
"Willingly."
"I definitely need my vision checked."
Hamin laughed before wrapping both arms around Bamby's waist from behind.
Their reflections smiled together.
"...Have fun."
"You too."
"Eat well."
"You too."
"Don't let your cousins challenge you to games."
"They're absolutely going to."
"They cheat."
"They're twelve."
"They still cheat."
They kissed before leaving.
Just one.
Soft.
Quick.
Like breathing.
🌱🌸
Hamin's family home was already loud before he opened the front door.
"There he is!"
"Hamin!"
Someone gasped dramatically.
"...Where's Bamby?"
Hamin laughed.
"Hello to you too."
His mother walked over immediately.
"You came alone?"
"Bamby's family has their own gathering."
"Aww."
"But he's coming later."
"Oh good."
She visibly relaxed.
"Set another plate."
Hamin chuckled.
"Mom."
"What?"
"He's coming after lunch."
"So?"
"He'll probably still eat."
"...You're right."
Meanwhile—
Bamby had barely stepped into his parents' house.
"Where's Hamin?"
"...Hi, Mom."
"I asked where Hamin is."
"He has lunch with his family."
"Oh."
"...He's coming later."
His father looked relieved.
"Good."
"We made too much food."
"You always make too much."
"Exactly."
By late afternoon—
Both gatherings were winding down.
Hamin checked the time.
Perfect.
He sent a message.
Hamin🐈⬛
Leaving now 🖤
Almost instantly—
Bamby🐿️
Me too 💗
They met halfway.
Not intentionally.
Just by coincidence.
Outside a small convenience store.
Hamin had gotten out of his car to buy iced coffee.
Bamby was walking out with two ice creams.
They stared.
"..."
"..."
Then smiled so brightly that an elderly woman passing by laughed.
"You two look like you haven't seen each other in years."
"It feels like it," Hamin admitted.
"It's been six hours," Bamby teased.
"Too long."
"It really was."
Without hesitation, they met in the middle of the sidewalk.
Neither cared who was watching.
Hamin wrapped Bamby in a hug.
A long one.
One that said,
I missed you.
Bamby rested his chin on Hamin's shoulder.
"...Hi."
"Hi."
"You ate already?"
"I did."
"You?"
"Mhm."
"My mom packed leftovers."
"So did mine."
"...Our fridge is doomed."
"You bought ice cream?"
"For you."
"...You already knew I'd want one?"
"You always want one."
"..."
"..."
"You know me too well."
"I married you."
When they arrived at Bamby's parents' house together—
The front door opened before they even knocked.
"There you are!"
"Hamin!"
"You finally came!"
His mother immediately pulled Hamin inside.
"My son!"
Hamin laughed.
"...I'm your son?"
"You married my Bamby."
"So?"
"You're mine now too."
He smiled.
"...Thank you, Mom."
She froze.
"...He called me Mom."
Everyone collectively melted.
🌱🌸
Later that evening—
They drove to Hamin's parents' house to drop off leftovers.
His father opened the door.
"Bamby!"
"There he is."
"Come in."
"We already ate—"
"Eat again."
"Dad."
"Sit."
"...Yes, sir."
The funniest part wasn't even the food.
It was watching their parents compete.
"Take some fruit."
"No, ours is sweeter."
"Try this soup."
"Take kimchi home."
"No, take ours."
"Here's dessert."
"We packed snacks."
By the time they finally got home—
Their trunk was full.
Their back seat was full.
Their arms were full.
"So..." Bamby sighed.
"...How many days do you think we can survive without grocery shopping?"
Hamin opened one container.
Another.
Another.
Another.
"...Eight?"
"I was thinking ten."
At nearly midnight—
The apartment was finally quiet.
Containers neatly stacked.
Laundry running.
The dishwasher humming softly.
Bamby changed into one of Hamin's oversized shirts before collapsing onto the couch.
"I'm exhausted."
"Mhm."
"But..."
"What?"
"I had fun."
Hamin sat beside him, immediately pulling Bamby against his chest.
"Me too."
"I like that our families miss us when we're not together."
"They don't ask where I am anymore."
"They ask where we are."
Bamby smiled into Hamin's shoulder.
"I think that's my favorite part of being married."
"What?"
"Knowing I never have to choose."
Hamin looked down.
"My family."
He intertwined their fingers.
"Or yours."
Bamby looked at the wedding band resting against Hamin's.
"They've become the same family."
"They really have."
Outside, the city had finally settl
ed into silence.
Inside, wrapped together beneath a blanket with leftovers filling their refrigerator and two families waiting to see them again next weekend, Hamin pressed a kiss to Bamby's forehead.
"So..."
"Hm?"
"My aunt invited us next Sunday."
Bamby laughed.
"My cousin invited us too."
"...Same day?"
"...Same day."
They looked at each other for a beat.
Then burst into helpless laughter.
Some traditions, they supposed, would never change—and neither would their promise to always find their way back to each other, no matter which family gathering they started from.
— End.