when hayoung’s crying wakes yoongi up again, he groans and flops over to the side. jungkook is there, curled up into the bedspread, pretending he can’t hear for . he looks cute, admittedly, in one of yoongi’s sweaters scrunching up against his shoulders, but oh god the crying -

“it’s your turn,” jungkook mutters, and yoongi thinks it must be really bad if it manages to wake his normally “i can sleep through an earthquake and resulting tsunami” husband. yoongi groans and presses his forehead against jungkook’s.

“she only goes to sleep when you sing for her,” he reminds jungkook. he can’t sing for their daughter, because she doesn’t seem to find yoongi’s gruff, sleep-laden voice soothing the way she finds jungkook’s breathy, lilting lullabies. go figure.

“oh my god,” jungkook says, up toward the ceiling. he’s blinking at it, trying to make sense of the world. “oh my god, i feel so tired from not feeling tired. from...no sleep, i mean what, what’s happening.”

“your daughter,” yoongi’s face is muffled in a pillow. he doesn’t want to live. he still has work tomorrow - today? - jesus christ.

there’s a shifting sound as jungkook gets up from bed to attend to their five month old. they adopted her when she was two months old, and yet they still don’t have much of a hold on how to help her sleeping patterns. jungkook does things during the day, yoongi knows, but he would like...a full night of sleep. 8 hours, maybe. please. it’s better than when they first started out, at least.

he doesn’t like to think about when they first adopted hayoung. yoongi shivers at the thought of those bleak nights.

a moment later, he hears jungkook’s voice crooning in the dark. yoongi lifts his head to see jungkook holding their baby in the crook of his elbow, a hand on her bottom, slowly rocking back and forth. they should really invest in a rocking chair; the kid loves being rocked. a warm feeling flushes through yoongi at the sight, even though it’s half hidden in darkness and he has to peer to make out the dark shapes of jungkook and hayoung. he’s singing a lullaby to her, over and over, tirelessly swaying back and forth.

how jungkook manages to do it, sometimes, yoongi has no idea. he’s sure by the fourth repeat of a song, yoongi’s voice would be completely out (if he tried to sing, that is). jungkook just sounds as lovely as ever, even sleep-deprived and desperate to put their daughter to sleep.

ten minutes later, when jungkook places her gently back in the crib, yoongi makes space for his husband to drop back into his delegated spot as yoongi’s body pillow. after two minutes, when there is still no body, he groans and rolls over again. jungkook is leaning over the crib.

with a sigh, yoongi ruffles his hair and throws off the cover. he’s swinging his legs over the side of the bed when jungkook says, “do you think she’s feeling too warm? being too warm can give babies sickness, i read.”

“check her forehead,” yoongi yawns. he walks up behind jungkook, a few cm between them, but still close enough for yoongi to put his chin on jungkook’s shoulder from behind. “thermometer? come to bed, i need to hug you.”

“hug a pillow,” jungkook doesn’t move. “i’m just...worried. i fed her a couple of hours ago...that’s why it was your turn, by the way.”

“she’s probably just feeling a little under the weather,” yoongi suggests. “c’mon, she’s resting now. if you really want, we’ll take her to the doctor in the afternoon. i just really want - “ a pause for a yawn, “ - to sleep with my husband right now. bed?”

jungkook looks slightly more appeased. “yeah, okay,” he acquiesces, letting himself be pulled back into the warmth.

/

hayoung is okay in the morning. she gurgles while yoongi is changing her diaper and putting her in a yellow onesie with ducks on the front. she’s a happy baby, flailing her arms in the air and kicking her socked feet while yoongi is trying to get ahold of her so she doesn’t piss on his shirt (again).

he most certainly doesn’t fist pump to himself when he succeeds another change without a mess. the score is now jungkook: 52, yoongi: 57. give it a week or so, and yoongi’ll forget the count again, probably.

jungkook’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom, one hand running through his hair as he gets ready for the day. when he spots yoongi and hayoung from the open door, he spits out toothpaste in a rush. “can you get her bottle ready?”

“did you boil them?” yoongi calls back. he’s bouncing the kid while she’s on his shoulder, reaching for his shirt collar. he hasn’t mastered the art of carrying hayoung on his hip while doing everything else with one hand like jungkook has. sometimes yoongi wonders the merits of marrying someone who’s good at everything.

and then he remembers that jungkook doesn’t mess up the laundry and likes to keep the place clean and he counts his blessings.

a sound of assent comes from the bathroom, so yoongi goes to the kitchen. it’s saturday, god bless, he’s going to feed his kid and watch ty television all day. he can’t wait.

/

jimin visits in the middle of the day with namjoon, both of them carrying tote bags in their hands. jimin has a camera in his, already open. he’s talking like an mc on his first show. jungkook and yoongi have just started to eat breakfast, because hayoung took a while to burp - and when she did, she did it on yoongi, so now the count is jungkook: 53, yoongi: 57; leaving yoongi to change his shirt in the bedroom - and then she didn’t want to stay in her playpen, so jungkook rolled out a mat for her and set her down there on her back. she’s just kicking now, making gurgling sounds, a plush elephant in her hands.

yoongi’s watching her lazily while jungkook is basically sleeping in his rice bowl. two times so far yoongi has to remind him to eat.

namjoon shoves the tote bag in his face, grunting out, “seokjin made food again. it’s for you.” while jimin crows his hellos loudly and immediately goes straight for the baby.

“oh my god, look at you!” he coos. “my cute little niece! did she grow bigger?! ohmygod hyung she just smiled at me!”

“it’s too early,” jungkook says, voice muffled into his sleeve.

meanwhile, the elder looks in the presented tote bag. he pulls back. “why in the world would seokjin send us kimchi,” yoongi’s bewildered. then again, he’s always bewildered when seokjin sends food. “jungkook already makes kimchi. couldn’t he send beef, or something?”

“beef is expensive,” jungkook agrees, participating in the conversation instead of be the time. “jimin-hyung, don’t poke her like that, she’s not a doll.”

“i think this is a different kind of kimchi, and he wanted you guys to try it out or something.” namjoon shrugs like, don’t ing ask me.

“she’s as cute as one,” jimin gushes. “you’re the cutest thing, aren’t you? aren’t you? i’m getting all of this on tape, this is going to go on my vlog and then in my home videos collection and be a general part of my life.”

“she’s not even your kid,” namjoon snorts wryly, but makes funny faces when hayoung looks his way.

those two only come to their house for the baby, yoongi thinks. while jungkook resumes eating after putting away the experimental kimchi in the fridge, they share looks. under his breath, yoongi leans toward his jungkook and says, “think we could slip away and have a day all to ourselves?”

jungkook gives him a pleasant smile that speaks of violent actions. “i know you’re not suggesting to leave our not-even-a-year-old daughter with the guy you call the god of destruction for an entire day, are you? because yoongi, you’re not that dumb, right?”

yoongi leans back and puts more rice in his mouth. “i was referring to jimin,” he lies through his teeth. he’s seriously that desperate, though - okay, maybe not that desperate, because he really loves spending time with his daughter...but sometimes, a man wants to sleep through the night and maybe have some coffee with his husband. sometimes.

they both know that jimin would be a great babysitter. he adores kids (being one himself) and he wouldn’t ever let the baby out of his sight, like he’s doing now; rotating his camera around hayoung while babbling happily away at her. the sound of his voice makes her smile, too, a toothless smile that’s entirely too charming.

“it’s not fair that you guys have such a cute baby,” jimin whines. “i want one. hyung, get me a baby.”

“i’m not going to comment on that at all,” namjoon says instead, keeping himself four feet away from the baby and leaning over to gently run a finger down her downy-soft head. they’re always so...enthralled whenever they come over, enchanted by how small hayoung is and how she needs everyone around her for the simplest of things.

yoongi felt that way too, when he and jungkook first took hayoung home from the orphanage. he felt scared to touch her, afraid he’d do something wrong and she’d break. jungkook was braver that he, picking up the baby and rocking her to sleep the first night in their apartment, but it took a while before yoongi was able to hold her without feeling frightened; such a small thing in his arms, yet such a big responsibility.

putting his dishes in the sink next to jungkook’s, he turns to the two new additions in the room. “did seokjin-hyung just send you guys to give us food, or?”

“that’s pretty much it,” namjoon confirms. “i was going to come by myself first, but then jimin was sleeping over and he wanted to come along. probably to record hayoung.”

“listen, if you’re going to include my daughter in your videos, you better be paying her for her time,” yoongi calls out jokingly, fixing the waist of his sweatpants and patting jungkook’s as he leaves the kitchen area. jungkook still doesn’t look completely awake.

suddenly, jimin pans the camera up at yoongi’s face. he grins wide and says, “and this, everyone, is one of hayoungie’s parents! i know, i know, how can such a cute baby come from a grump like him? but it’s true! this is hayoung’s papa. thankfully her other dad is pretty cute, so that’s probably where she gets it from.”

“listen here, jungkook likes my grumpiness,” yoongi scowls.

jimin swerves the camera to jungkook, who notices it a second too late. he smiles and agrees, “i do!” in a tone that says he’s indulging all of them right now.

“look at him, he’s so cute,” jimin grins. “jungkookie, smile! or else everyone will think yoongi-hyung’s crabbiness rubbed off on you!”

jungkook just gives him a flat look and moves to put all the dishes in the dishwasher. he hates messes with a burning passion, his nose wrinkling as he looks at the mess yoongi’s left behind. yoongi picks up hayoung while jimin redirects his attention to jungkook in a split second and namjoon accidentally knocks over their lamp while he’s trying to move away from the baby.

he revises his earlier statement - no kid of his is going to be watched over by any of their friends.

/

yoongi makes sandwiches for himself while jungkook is at work. he goes to work for three days while yoongi goes to work for four - it’s just that yoongi has to work nearly all the days of the week, while jungkook works more on the weekend and for less hours. the job of a vocal instructor is surprisingly flexible, while the work of a songwriter never ends, it seems. they make good money together, and they make even better musictogether. yoongi snorts; that sounds so cheesy in his head, he can’t believe he actually thought it.

hayoung is napping in her crib, so yoongi moves to the room next door - his personal study and studio, a room that he’ll probably clear out for hayoung when she’s old enough to have her own space - and turns the baby monitor on to the loudest setting. he gets to songwriting and working on his laptop while she’s sleeping.

jungkook texts him in the haze of lyrics and beats, reminding him that seokjin-hyung made them lunch and it’s in the fridge, and to check if hayoung is sleeping on her back instead of her side. he also tells yoongi that he needs to boil another batch of her bottles.

yoongi just calls jungkook, stretching until his back pops. when he answers, yoongi sighs, “anything else i need to do?”

“i would ask you to buy groceries, but i still don’t trust you to get the good brands,” jungkook replies. there’s background noise from his side of the conversation. “no, i think that’s it. do you think it’s worth buying an automatic sterilizer?”

yoongi laughs, amused. “don’t go near baby catalogues, please.”

“i can’t help it - the bright colors draw me in, and then i start fantasizing about fresh, shiny bottles with no germs and no effort. buy me one for my birthday, okay?”

“yeah, yeah. how’s your kids?”

“they’re okay,” jungkook says. “i think they still miss their old vocal instructor, even though they’re getting better. the oldest in the group - remember the one i told you about - he’s still a little awkward because i’m a little bit younger than him and he doesn’t know if he should be formal or informal with me, but everyone else is quite friendly by now. they want to buy me lunch and see pictures of hayoung. ”

“you shouldn’t have had a kid so early, then,” yoongi snickers.

“wow, maybe i shouldn’t have married early either. next time, i’ll leave you standing with your proposal and then tell you, ‘hmm, try again next year’. “ they both know he’s being sarcastic, so yoongi just hums in response. jungkook is twenty five, considered a little young to be married and with a kid. but jungkook has always played ahead of everyone else in every aspect of life, and this is no different.

“that would break my heart,” yoongi feigns, holding at his chest even though jungkook’s not there to see it. “your daughter would cry, asking where the heck her daddy is. how could you do that to her?”

“go and check on her,” jungkook grumbles. yoongi likes to imagine he’s smiling while rolling his eyes. “i gotta go. bye!”

“bye,” yoongi presses ‘end’ on the call, staring down at the picture image of jungkook on his phone. it’s a cute one, with his eyes all wide and smile radiant. yoongi wonders if it’s too cheesy to make his phone background a picture of them together.

the baby monitor crackles, and yoongi promptly closes his phone and rushes to the bedroom.

/

yoongi watches as jungkook sets hayoung down for her nap, leaning over her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. it’s sunday and it’s a little chilly outside, so they closed the windows and covered hayoung in a nice little blanket. she’s wearing socks with bear paw patterns. yoongi took in coffee that morning like it was water and hoped it would jerk him awake a little, to no avail. he stayed up yesterday night and now he’s paying for it.

jungkook says as much. “you’re not a strapping young man like me anymore, yoongi,” he hums. “you’re almost thirty. gotta slow down a little bit, give those old bones a rest.”

“i’ll show you old, you little ,” yoongi grumbles, tackling jungkook to their bed with a scoff.

/

they’re outside at a restaurant. yoongi is grilling meat while jungkook is trying to strap their child down in the children’s seat. jimin, hoseok, and taehyung are sitting with them; they’re waiting on namjoon and seokjin, who are just a little bit late. it doesn’t matter much - yoongi’s already started and the smell of food is overwhelming.

when jungkook finally gets the strappy contraption of hell fixed, he leans back and groans. he and yoongi look less put together than usual - jungkook’s wearing an old sweatshirt and jeans, and yoongi is in a t-shirt and sweatpants. at least their daughter looks cute, jungkook thinks mildly, looking at the dress she’s wearing - a light green slip with ruffles on the cuffs that she’s fascinated with - bought by his mother for her first granddaughter.

she’s happy, unaware of jungkook’s struggle, slapping her hands against the attached table the booster seat gives. she’s giggling, playing with tissues, and swaying once in awhile. she’s just started to sit up for long periods of time now.

“thank god for meat,” hoseok says, looking blissfully down at the grill. “i’ve been sore and weak all week from dancing crew starting up again. i think i’m feeling phantom pains.”

“phantom pains that can be cured with meat?” jimin snorts when hoseok nods energetically.

taehyung, on the other hand, has migrated to hayoung’s side. he’s peering over the edge of her seat, blinking at her and making silly faces. when she giggles at his ministrations, he looks like he won the ing olympics.

he tries tickling her nose with the tissues, too, which makes hayoung interested in whatever the hell his hands are doing, but jungkook glares. “hyung, don’t do that. those could be dirty.”

“the tissues aren’t dirty, jungkookie,” taehyung says. “and she likes it, see?”

“there’s no use arguing with either one of you,” yoongi adds in, seeing that there is no way to win against jungkook’s slightly obsessive care of their daughter’s health or against taehyung’s pursuit of fun. instead, he makes a ssam and shoves it front of jungkook’s face unceremoniously. “you just eat, babe.”

/

jungkook whimpers. yoongi closes his eyes for a second and wills the sound to go away.

hayoung’s been doing really good at sleeping through the night, she really has. but with every blessing comes a hellish price. right now is one of those times. they’re trying to get her into a routine of sleeping in the night and waking during the day, so her circadian rhythm or whatever won’t be ed up, but it seems like it’s too late. she wakes up before the crack of dawn sometimes and sometimes she sleeps as late as yoongi does.

when she wakes up and notices that jungkook or yoongi isn’t there to soothe her, she starts screeching.

it’s 6am. yoongi isn’t just tired, his entire body is ing exhausted.

“it’s your turn,” he murmurs, groaning into jungkook’s warm shoulder. he doesn’t want him to leave, , but he himself doesn’t want to get up either.

“i swear to god, min yoongi,” jungkook hisses at him suddenly, clutching at his shirt, looking half wild, “if i have to get up one more time, i’m going to cut your balls off. it’s your turn.”

yoongi gets up. he doesn’t know how to react, exactly, when jungkook gets like this, because he finds it - not scary, per say, just a little worrying(intimidating) and half...well, half arousing. jungkook’s cute when he’s mad. he’s bad for yoongi’s health. yoongi needs a new health plan because of jungkook. he doesn’t think it’s healthy to find everything jungkook does endearing. he could stab someone in the eye and yoongi would stillthink he’s cute.

he shakes his head to get rid of that train of thought.

he leans over the crib and despite all of his annoyance and exhaustion, the sight of his daughter’s face - screwed up, her nose scrunching and he mouth open wide in a cry, her fists clenched - makes him smile. yoongi feels a pressure lighten at the back of his neck, and he lightly picks her up, startling her out of her tears.

“hey there, baby girl,” he murmurs, bringing her close to his chest. “hey, hey. what’re you crying for?”

she blinks big, dark eyes at him. even though they adopted, yoongi swears to the higher powers above that she looks just like jungkook sometimes. they both have those doe eyes and smooth cheeks and the ability to make yoongi defenseless in three seconds.

her face is red and she’s hitting him in the chest with her little fists, as if berating him for not being in her line of vision when she woke up. she stares up at him, blinking tearfully, and yoongi just - cracks.

he probably shouldn’t do this, but to hell with it. she’s tiny and fits perfectly in between him and jungkook, as if there’s a premade space for her already in their bed. jungkook stares up at him, wondering what the hell he’s doing, but doesn’t complain. hayoung is making small noises, “ah”s falling out of as yoongi sets her pillow down in between and setting her close to jungkook’s warm body.

hayoung seems to realize this, smart baby she is, because she attempts to roll over to where jungkook is. jungkook just sighs and presses a gentle hand to her chest, and she calms all movement. yoongi pulls up the blankets up to their waist, just where hayoung’s tiny feet touch the edge of the blankets.

she’s still moving around, but she’s much more agreeable now. the world outside is beginning to brighten, so yoongi closes the blinds. jungkook exhales, breathing in and out.

“sing something, babe,” yoongi encourages, reaching over to brush hair out of jungkook’s eyes. he doesn’t like it when his bangs get in the way while he’s sleeping.

slowly, softly, jungkook starts up familiar childhood lullabies, patting hayoung lightly to the tune. her movements turn sluggish and she starts turning her head this way and that, fussing before getting comfortable.

yoongi looks at his family, the family he built with his hands, his sweat, his blood, and feels emotion swell in his ribs like air. hayoung settles in between her parents, comforted by their scent and their presence. yoongi can’t believe that someone as small, as reliant as her exists. jungkook’s hair is plastered across his face and he’s got bags underneath his eyes and he looks paler than normal and he’s half-murmuring the words now, drifting off into sleep, but he’s never been so beautiful.

his family sleeps as the sun rises. it feels like contentment.