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Yoongi speed-read through the proposals with a small smile. Looked like two more of the idol groups under his company were nearly ready for debut. Both girl groups (so he’d have to space their debuts very carefully) but so completely different from one-another. The first focused heavily on rapping (his favorite facet of idol groups, personally) and hypnotic dancing that could easily put you in a trance, while the second one was mostly lyric-driven, touching on topics the South Korean media usually avoided, their vocals powerful and their ballads stirring. During Wednesday’s board meeting, Yoongi would give their managers the OK to get them ready for debut. Then the real work began.
The clock read 2 in the morning when the blond finally closed his laptop and poured himself a glass of water. He quickly downed it, stripping out of his jeans and T-shirt before heading to his room.
He froze at the door when he heard Jimin softly sobbing from the other side. He was pretty sick, had been for nearly 24 hours, but it didn’t seem to be letting up. Yoongi had taken him to the doctor earlier today but he was only given antibiotics and told to make sure he continued to rest. But resting was hard when you were running a high fever. Being pretty much impervious to sickness, though, Yoongi didn’t have enough experience to do anything besides listen to the doctor.
“Jimin,” he said in his best soothing voice. Jimin only shivered. Yoongi put a hand on his forehead. “You’re still burning up.”
“Don’t touch m-me,” the younger practically batted Yoongi’s hand away. Yoongi drew back slightly, frowning.
“Jimin…” Yoongi went to hold his boyfriend but was weakly pushed away. He didn’t want to take it personally, but Jimin hadn’t rejected him for a hug since… Damn, he didn’t even know when.
Yoongi sighed, pulling at the blankets on Jimin’s lap. “Babe, you need to take these covers off or your fever won’t go down.”
Tears still pouring down his face, Jimin clutched at the blankets. “Hyung, I can’t.” His voice came out in a barely intelligible shaky little whimper. Yoongi really, really wanted to hug him until he saw a smile but he’d already been pushed away once so he settled for taking one of Jimin’s shaky hands and kissing it.
Jimin’s crying didn’t let up. It was obvious from the pure heat radiating from his hand that his fever was extremely high. Probably dangerously high. He regretted not buying a thermometer just because he himself never got sick. He tugged at the blankets, ignoring Jimin’s pitiful little sob in favor of getting him better as quickly as possible.
And then he froze. Because even in the near darkness of their room Yoongi caught the faint scent of something familiar, and even in the near darkness of their room Yoongi could see the dark area on Jimin’s pajama pants, soaked through and down into the bedsheets. He didn’t say anything at first. There had to be a way to handle this delicately. Jimin was sensitive after all, and judging by the way he reacted earlier, highly embarrassed. In reality, he had a ridiculously high temperature and Yoongi wouldn’t have been surprised if he was a little too delirious to be able to handle getting up to go to the bathroom. He pitifully covered his wet pants with his hands, face flaming red, bottom lip trembling.
“Jimin…” Yoongi was shit at conveying emotion when he spoke, his moods and quirks often shown best through his little hand gestures and facial expressions. The name came out flat. The younger let out another torrent of tears and Yoongi scooted close, not entirely sure what to say.
“I’m sorry,” Jimin whimpered into his hands. “This doesn’t usually-I’ve never-shoot, what’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing!” Yoongi all but shouted, causing Jimin’s head to snap up to look at him in utter shock. Yoongi cleared his throat. “You’re pretty sick. Sometimes unexpected things happen when we’re sick.” Like when Yoongi had that weird maid outfit dream, but that would always remain his deepest darkest secret. “You’re absolutely fine.”
“I’m gross…I got the bed all dirty,” the dancer sniffled, miserably. “God, I’m in my twenties, Hyung.”
“Ah…” Yoongi said with a small smirk, finally understanding what he could do to help. Tenderly, he pushed Jimin’s bangs out of his burning face. “But you’re still so little.”
Jimin blinked away his tears, tongue running over his bottom lip. “Hyung…”
Yoongi softly raked his fingers through Jimin’s sweaty hair, smiling at him. “It’s okay, Minnie. Even big boys have accidents. Please don’t cry.”
And there it was: that change that happened in Jimin’s expression, the way his eyes gradually became wide and unguarded, the way his clenched jaw went slack. Even his voice rose an octave higher when he mumbled, “Daddy.”
Yoongi’s soft smile didn’t fade. He was relieved that Jimin, with his many anxieties, was able to let himself relax in this way. “Take daddy’s hand, angel. Gotta stick you in the bath, get you sparkling clean.”
Shyly, Jimin slid out of bed, staring in anguish at the soaked bedspread behind them before Yoongi quickly grabbed his hand and gave it a little squeeze.
“I’ll clean the bedding and change out the memory foam and it’ll be good as new. No problem.”
Jimin smiled weakly at Yoongi, cheeks still flaming from the fever.
***
Watching Jimin’s teeth chatter as he sat in the tub full of cold water was heart-breaking, but ever the good boy, Jimin didn’t complain, not even when Yoongi rinsed the suds out of his hair with a freezing waterfall.
To help him break his fever, Yoongi stuck him in shorts—not any of his usual littlespace ones since they were all buried in a closet somewhere. Instead he wore regular basketball shorts, not complaining once.
In fact, he’d been pretty quiet lately. “Jiminnie? Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Daddy’s nose.”
“What?”
“I wanna beep it.”
Yoongi blinked.
“Like a button,” Jimin explained, eyes half-lidded, slightly glazed over. He didn’t seem to be all there right now.
“You’re a silly little kit, you know that?”
Jimin slowly extended an arm and touched the tip of Yoongi’s nose with a finger, uttering a soft “beep.”
Yoongi would have laughed at his cuteness if he wasn’t obviously delirious.
“Daddy… will you take me to the ball before the horse turns back into a mouse?”
***
One setback to caring for a sick little was that they generally were just about as good at taking medicine as actual kids were, only they needed twice as much. Even on an ordinary day, provided he was in a good mood, Yoongi was soft for the man he loved. But seeing him writhing restlessly on the couch, cheeks still flushed hot instilled a fiercely protective urge within him.
After the fourteenth time of Jimin turning his head away from the spoonful of grape medicine, Yoongi sighed and stepped into his boots.
“Dadd-,” he said softly, moving to get up but wobbling. Yoongi was instantly at his side, helping him get dressed into a t-shirt and some shoes.
“We’re going back to the doctor.”
“Don’t wanna.”
Yoongi smiled fondly and kissed him. “You gotta, sweetie pie.”
“It smells like plastic.”
Yoongi bit back the retort that their own place smelled like piss so it wasn’t any better but Jimin probably wouldn’t have appreciated it being brought up again, especially since Yoongi had insisted that it was okay. And it was.
“I want you to get all better. Don’t you want to feel better?”
Jimin didn’t answer, but cooperated when Yoongi helped him put on a fluffy scarf.
“We can check you into the ER and at least get some fluids in you.”
Jimin sniffled and when Yoongi turned toward him he realized Jimin was sobbing quietly.
“Baby, what’s the matter? Why’re you crying?”
Jimin didn’t answer, just continued to bawl even as Yoongi wrapped his arms around him. Still so hot, but shivering like crazy. With some effort, he picked the boy up bridal-style and carried him to the car.
Solemnly, he started the engine and sped off to the hospital.
“paci…” Jimin whispered.
“What?”
“Paci,” he repeated, equally as miserable as he was the first time.
“Honey, I didn’t bring it…”
Jimin nodded jerkily, his body shaking with sobs.
“Daddy’s sorry,” was all Yoongi could choke out.
Again, Jimin nodded.
Yoongi wet his chapped lips, eyes darting from the road to momentarily land on his boyfriend. Jimin was a mess, black hair already sweaty in spite of his bath. He was so pale he was almost a sickly green and the circles under his eyes were huge. The blond placed a hand on Jimin’s leg at the stoplight, but raised it after a moment of genius. He brought it up to wipe at the tears on his boyfriend’s wet face before nudging his thumb against Jimin’s soft mouth.
The little let out a sad whimper, opened his mouth and immediately popped the tip of Yoongi’s thumb between his lips. Yoongi sighed and returned to driving. Both Jimin’s hands came up to grasp Yoongi’s arm to hold him in place as he gently suckled at the tip.
“It’s no pacifier, but it’s a little better, right?”
Jimin mumbled around Yoongi’s thumb, and from the corner of his eye he caught Jimin’s head lolling to the side.
At the next stoplight Yoongi noticed Jimin’s eyes slowly falling shut.
“Daddy loves you a lot, Minnie.”
Jimin sighed, eyes closing fully and in minutes he was softly snoring. When Yoongi tried to pull away, however, Jimin gripped his arm and gave several unconscious sucks. He was still warm. So fucking warm that the skin-to-skin contact made Yoongi uncomfortable.
He only managed to pull away at the hospital parking lot and when he did, Jimin’s eyes popped open.
“Can you be a big boy at the hospital for daddy?” Yoongi ventured to ask. When Jimin went into little space, it was intentional and controllable about 80% of the time. Like a switch, Jimin could be little and adorable and playful one minute and mature and reserved the next. Only during times of high stress could he lose control. Judging by the utter lack of comprehension in Jimin’s eyes, this was one of those times.
A big problem was that Yoongi wasn’t exactly equipped to handle an extended little period, even if he had been the one to help trigger it.
Fuck, well that was that. Jimin needed physical treatment. His mental and emotional states of mind could be addressed later when he was feeling better. He opened Jimin’s door and the little began to climb out on unsteady legs, allowing Yoongi to get the door firmly shut before stumbling forward a few steps. Noticing the unusual gait, Yoongi stopped. Jimin wobbled forward, losing his balance and slamming his knees against the solid concrete. He cried as Yoongi gathered him up, kissing his face to help him forget about his bloody knees.
Luckily, after pulling some strings, Yoongi arranged for a private room with a personal nurse on-call at all times. Desperately, he tried to soothe the younger as he got an I.V., but the poor kid was just miserable.
“This’ll help the fever drop, this one is the antibiotic, and this one will hydrate him,” the nurse said to Yoongi, who ripped his eyes away from a softly crying Jimin to squint at the nurse’s face. He was…strangely familiar.
“The aquarium,” the nurse said awkwardly. “When you came out of the bathroom. Jeon Jungkook.”
Right, the bunny-teeth kid who Tae and Hobi had been so enamored with that day. “Min Yoongi,” he said, pushing Jimin’s sweaty bangs out of his face.
“CEO of Seoltang Entertainment, the company that took the Kpop industry by storm.”
Yoongi quirked an eyebrow. “You writing a biography or something?”
The dark-haired young man shook his head and shrugged sheepishly, getting the I.V. fully secured. “I’m kind of a big fan of a lot of your groups.”
Jimin’s breathing was beginning to even out, but his eyes were glassy as he stared straight ahead, giving no indication of hearing anything, though he slightly squeezed Yoongi’s hand back.
“That means a lot, kid,” Yoongi said, trying to seem genuine, but he couldn’t stop worriedly watching Jimin.
“He’ll be fine, sir. His fever is pretty bad so he may be feeling kinda strange, but the most we could do about that this minute is give him an ice bath and you said you already did that.”
Yoongi nodded absently. “It’s okay,” he told to a hardly responsive Jimin. “Dad—“ he hesitated. “Hyung’s got you.”
Jungkook shook his head. “It’s okay. I already know and I’m not telling.”
Yoongi blinked.
“Taehyung told me everything.”
“Ah.” Had he told him that day or were they staying in contact?
“I-I don’t think it’s weird, you know. I mean I’ve seen weird and—well, this…it’s actually pretty sweet.”
The elder frowned. He didn’t like the idea of this stranger knowing all this shit about him but he wasn’t about to complain. Not when the kid pretty much said he’d keep his mouth shut about all this. “He’s acting strange,” Yoongi said. “He goes little plenty but this…he isn’t really speaking, and he’s suddenly really clumsy. I had to carry him here from the car. He seems…littler.”
“A high fever tends to make you feel loopy, maybe this is a result of that. I mean, I’m not a professional in the psychological area but for now we can only really assume that his behavior is directly correlated with his condition.”
“Can’t you give him something to put him to sleep?”
“Sleep aids interact poorly with this type of antibiotic,” the nurse said apologetically. “I could give him something for the pain in the meantime.”
Yoongi nodded and as soon as the nurse excused himself from the room, sat on the edge of the bed, combing his baby’s hair back, watching worriedly as Jimin continued to silently shed tears. “Daddy’s here, baby boy. Everything’s okay, everything’s gonna be just fine, I promise.” When he removed his hand, Jimin whimpered until he brought it back.
“Still not feeling up to talking, pumpkin? That’s completely fine, but I’ll admit I do miss your beautiful voice.”
Jimin let out a little sob and Yoongi laid himself down beside him, wrapping one arm around his waist. Jimin continued to whimper—Yoongi was at a loss.
“Daddy wants to help his little boy,” Yoongi confessed, kissing his burning cheek. “But he doesn’t know how…”
Yoongi had practically had a heart attack as the nurse entered the room again, which was kind of pathetic considering he knocked twice to announce his arrival and then came in slowly so not to startle anyone. Yoongi sprang up, alarmed.
In his arms were two different stuffies—a Beanie-Baby bear and a sparkly orange and yellow fish with an adorable face. Yoongi gaped at Jungkook as the latter smiled reassuringly at Jimin, who looked almost through him rather than at him. “These guys came to help cheer you up.” Jungkook made the little bear wave its arm. “This is Berry. She likes to go swimming and eat honey. She also loves watching movies.” He set the bear beside Jimin, holding up the fish. “And this is Orangie. He’s a little goldfish who loves to throw wild parties and his favorite food is pineapple.”
Yoongi blinked as Jimin showed the first sign of response to external stimuli in what felt like ages. His still-somewhat distant eyes widened a little, mouth hanging open.
“He can be kind of naughty and he gets into trouble sometimes,” the brown-haired man continued, “but his friends and family are always by his side to let him know that they love him the way he is.”
Jimin’s hands came up and gathered Berry into his arms, reaching weakly for Orangie, too, who Jungkook gladly gave to him.
He placed the tiniest of kisses on each of their soft heads and sighed.
“Jungkook,” Yoongi breathed out, in unabashed awe.
“Kookie,” the little beside him mumbled, and Yoongi suddenly couldn’t stop smiling.
“I could kiss you right now, Jeon Jungkook.”
The nurse blanched, “Ahhahaha, please don’t. It’s all part of the job, right?”
“Still, that was pretty incredible. Look, he’s finally stopped crying. I just wish he’d fall asleep.”
“Oh!” Jungkook said, standing again. “I’ll be right back. I have an idea.”
By the time he returned, the fever reducer I.V. bag had emptied itself into Jimin’s body. Yoongi was glad to feel that although he was still sweating profusely, he was cooling substantially. The nurse wordlessly handed Yoongi a baby’s bottle, full of warm milk.
Yoongi crinkled his nose at first, averse to the idea that Jimin would be using a bottle, but the nurse was quick to jump in. “Y-you had said he was acting littler. So maybe this could help?”
Yoongi didn’t even need to think about it. Jungkook was right. He positioned himself and Jimin so that the former was cradling the latter’s head in his arm, above his lap. Self-conscious because of the pseudo-stranger’s presence, but infinitely grateful for his help, he pressed the rubber of the bottle into Jimin’s open mouth, the younger latching weakly onto it.
“Good job, honey. Daddy’s so proud of you.”
“Da…” he mumbled around it, his eyes finally regarding him. A wave of overwhelming relief swept over Yoongi as Jimin watched him with damp eyes. Careful of his i.v., Yoongi gathered the black-haired boy into his arms.
“Minnie, I love you so much, my good boy.”
Jimin’s half-closed eyes rolled back as he struggled to keep them open, face completely flushed. Yoongi was just relieved he was actually responding. Without thinking much, he brought his hand over to Jimin’s uncharacteristically flat tummy, running up to feel his ribs. Even a few days of being sick really took a toll on Jimin. Gently, he ran the flat of his palm over Jimin’s belly, rubbing in soft, slow circles, smiling briefly at the tiny whimper.
His own cheeks a soft pink and with a heart that felt three sizes too big, Yoongi could only smile at his baby, bringing a hand to rest on his sunken cheek. Jimin hummed contentedly, eyes finally fluttering closed.
After Yoongi was sure Jimin was asleep, he glanced over at Jungkook, who was busy replacing another bag of fluids. “Seriously, kid. What you did…Jimin is…This means everything to me.”
Jungkook’s eyes shone when he grinned with his adorable teeth, opening his mouth to say something, only to ultimately decide against it. Yoongi could feel the nurse’s eyes on him as he cooed at his sleeping partner, kissing his cheeks and forehead before he, himself slipped into a deep slumber.
***
When the doctor had determined that it was okay for him to leave, Jimin, who had come out of littlespace as soon as he woke up the next morning, stood before a tired-looking nurse, holding out a stuffed fish and a beanbag bear.
“Keep them,” Jungkook said.
Yoongi grinned at the sight Of Jimin up and about, even if his face was beet red and he looked like he wanted to curl up in a dark corner. “That’d be selfish. Actual kids could use these. They need these.”
Jungkook chuckled. “We’ve got about a million. They’re takeaways. Besides, you already got your germs all over them. Might as well keep them.”
The shorter boy frowned, deep in thought before finally muttering, “I guess so. Thanks again, Jungkook.”
Jungkook smirked slightly. “Call me Kookie.”
“OK LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT—“ Jimin turned to Yoongi, looking shocked and…a little amused.
Jungkook didn’t look particularly threatened.
“Hyung?” Jimin said.
Yoongi lowered his voice but scrambled over to Jimin and grabbed his hand, dragging him out of the room without so much as a glance back at the nurse. “We’re outta here.”
Jimin chuckled, plushies still in his arm. “Hyung, slow down, you’re gonna to tear my arm off, jeez.”
Yoongi tossed his head back to grin at his fiancée, waiting before they were finally in the parking garage to push him up against the wall and press their mouths together. He could feel his own lips trembling against Jimin’s. It was the younger who, after several more minutes of sweet kisses, finally pulled away, holding Yoongi’s burning cheeks in his hands.
“I love you,” Jimin said.
Yoongi swallowed, tongue darting along his bottom lip. “What’s this all the sudden?”
Jimin kissed him dizzyingly hard, making Yoongi’s head swim, knees threatening to buckle, and thank god he was propped between a wall and Jimin.
“You’re gentle, Yoongi, gentle with my body, gentle with my heart, and you always worry. It must be a burden to deal with all of this, all my shit, but you’re always doing your best to accept me, even when you don’t understand.”
“Never a burden. But…you went really little this time,” Yoongi said, chuckling shakily. “I’m no good with babies. I froze up. If it weren’t for Jungkook, I’d have been lost…Sorry.”
“I think you did great, hyung. It was just what I needed.”
“You needed fluids and drugs. That’s what you needed.”
“I needed to cuddle in my daddy’s lap while he fed me a bottle and rubbed my tummy,” Jimin said bluntly, but when Yoongi mustered up the courage to look at him, his head was ducked, pretty face hidden completely.
“Jungkook’s idea. Anyone could have done it and you’d have been content.”
Jimin shook his head adamantly and stepped further into Yoongi’s personal space, peppering his jaw with kisses. “It had to be you.”
Yoongi grabbed him by the waist, smiling lazily at the feeling of Jimin’s hips against his own, at the pleasant kiss against his neck. “Love you, Minnie.”
“I love you too, my Yoongi-hyung.”
Yoongi shivered at the sensation of Jimin’s tongue leaving a wet streak up his throat, half-lidded eyes glancing around the dark parking garage, which was empty—they were completely alone. Yoongi’s arms wrapped around the younger’s back, pulling him closer. Jimin murmured something sweet into his skin with pretty lips but when he suddenly froze, Yoongi found himself scowling, “What? What’s the matter?”
Jimin buried his face in Yoongi’s shoulder with a mortified groan. “Oh my god, I just remembered I pissed the bed.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi deadpanned after some thought. “You really did. You weren’t even in littlespace either.”
Jimin broke away from him with an indignant huff, marching back to the car, chin tilted upward. Yoongi bit his lip and took a minute to admire Jimin’s back and shoulder muscles before nonchalantly striding up to him. “Jiminnie, don’t be mad.”
Jimin crossed his arms—his cute face scrunched up into a frown was just about the least threatening thing the CEO had ever seen in his life. “Why are you always picking on me?”
“Oh, you’re being melodramatic. Now get in the car, you big baby.”
Jimin rolled his eyes with a scoff but Yoongi winked at him and his grumpy expression disappeared, replaced entirely by a tender smile.
“You’re a jerk,” Jimin said softly, slipping into the car. Yoongi joined him, unable to get the dumb love-struck look off his face. “I can’t believe I’m with such a bully.”
“You knew what this was.”
They made their way home, washed the blankets and had the bedsheets and ordered new memory foam padding online. The next few days they slept on the couch, a tangled mess of blankets and limbs. Yoongi made sure to kiss him well and often to make up for his slight bullying tendencies.
Yoongi called the hospital to arrange a meeting with the boss to discuss a certain nurse who had been particularly helpful, and who, in Jimin’s earlier words, totally deserved a raise.
Less than a week later, during an ice-cream date Jimin insisted he pay for, Yoongi sneezed. Right into Jimin’s double-scoop chocolate with sprinkles. The black-haired man gave him a scandalized look before dragging him home and putting him to bed.
“This is pointless,” Yoongi said. “I don’t get sick.”
Yoongi did get sick. Almost as sick as Jimin, with a fever that was higher than average. Luckily, Jimin cooked him an array of hot soups to keep him warm, along with forcing him to drink lots of water. He rubbed Yoongi’s back when he felt particularly bad, and never refused a sick Yoongi kiss, not even once. Yoongi thought about what Jimin had said the other day, about getting better because Yoongi had been the one to take care of him, even if everything had been the nurse’s idea. In his own way, Yoongi could understand. The same terrible porridge cooked by another, the same medicines from a different hand, the same murmured words of affection, they didn’t mean the same thing when it wasn’t Jimin. Never did. For Yoongi it had to be Jimin, just like for Jimin it had to be Yoongi.
“Hyung, I made rice porridge. I’ll bring you some so hurry and eat all of it, ok?”
Yoongi tried to hide his smile when Jimin came in with a tray of food for him. It may have been because of the fever that he let the next string of words slip out of his mouth.
“If I bought you a maid uniform would you wear it?”
Jimin’s lips curved into a slow smile. “You’re a real pervert, you know.”
“That doesn’t sound like a no.”
“Shut up and eat.”
Yoongi grinned into his spoonful and suddenly the porridge didn’t taste so bad.