seokjin was right when he said that jungkook would work off the sickness quickly. in the next three days his fever breaks and he’s able to keep food down instead of feeling nauseous. sure, jungkook still looks a little pale, but three days of rest has given him a lot of time to look like himself again. yoongi’s a little hesitant about just...leaving jungkook by himself, but other gives him a look sunday night that says there’s no discussion to be had.

“i’ve already missed three days of my job,” he sighs. “don’t miss yours either, okay?”

“we’re not hurting financially,” yoongi argues, because that’s what weighs in on both of their minds. “i can take a sick day.”

“except you’re not sick - i am.”

“i’m sick by correlation. let me take care of you.”

jungkook sighs. he’s running his fingers through hayoung’s hair, letting her babble endlessly while sitting in his lap. with quick fingers, jungkook ties up her bangs so they won’t get in her face. “i’m fine. go to work, okay? i need to do some stuff at home to catch up and i can’t do that if you’re going to be here, buzzing around like an overbearing mom.”

yoongi scowls. “what work do you need to do at home?”

jungkook bites his bottom lip. “just a bit of paperwork for the company. being a vocal coach means that i have to do evaluations.” the picture before him is yoongi’s ultimate weakness; hayoung playing happily with her blocks, possibly her favorite toy because they make so much noise when they’re thrown, and jungkook lovingly her hair. “go to work, yoongi. i’m fine.”

his nose is still a little stuffy and he’s snuffling for the most part, but yoongi concedes. if need be, jungkook would drag him out of bed by the legs, forcefully bathe, feed, and clothe him, and then send him off to work. yoongi doesn’t doubt that he’s able to for a second.

monday morning he gets up and refills the coffee pot, reading the news on his phone as he’s waiting for it to finish. breakfast is small and quick, one of the muffins hayoung likes and a banana. he’s rubbing at his eyes, he’s so tired, but eating breakfast by himself now is better than having jungkook wake up and make something in the morning, which is what he usually does. not that yoongi doesn’t like it when jungkook makes breakfast - hell, like he’d ever reject home-cooked food - but jungkook needs rest. he never knows when to just rest, a little.

arguably, the same thing can be said about yoongi, but he’s...he’s older. whatever.

he sets a reminder on his phone to buy food from that restaurant that jungkook’s fond of before coming home. no doubt, jungkook will probably try to cook something, so he texts seokjin and tells him to prevent jungkook from doing anything of the sort - maybe keep jungkook talking for a while on the phone, or something, around dinner time. seokjin will see the texts when he wakes up. yoongi rarely texts anyone if it’s not important (the exceptions being his husband, who always has important texts. screw what park jimin says - jungkook being indecisive over hayoung’s social welfare is he needs to take care of, okay. yoongi has priorities).

a couple of moments later he’s got his bag and his keys; he turns to look at the emptiness of the living room, knowing what he’s leaving behind. the door closes softly behind him.

/

yoongi comes home with take out and and expectations. he expects jungkook to be sleeping or lazing around or doing something that doesn’t take mean him working or doing anything too strenuous, so of course that’s what he comes home to see jungkook doing.

he’s showered and changed, obviously, and so has hayoung - they both look a little damp and shiny-faced from the water. jungkook’s put on some loud children’s song that’s popular with one of hayoung’s favorite shows, and he’s holding her by the hands and leading her in a little dance. yoongi can acutely pick up her shrieks of giddy laughter as jungkook sometimes swoops her up by her hands before settling her on the ground. when she reaches the floor, she begins bouncing on her two little feet for jungkook to do it again. they can’t hear him come in over the sound of the speakers and the bubbly music.

yoongi sets down the bags in the kitchen quietly, out of jungkook’s line of sight. for a long time, he simply does nothing, not bothering to reveal that he’s already come home with dinner. jungkook is whistling now, urging hayoung to use her own feet to dance instead of him. she’s steadily learned how to walk more and more ever since her first steps, and now she likes to go everywhere. thankfully she doesn’t seem to get the idea of running, or else there would be injuries abound. emotional and physical injuries.

“okay, now daddy is going to stand here,” jungkook points to a spot at the edge of the carpet they have in their living room space. “right here, okay? and then you’re going to find the ball for daddy.”

“ball?” she queries, looking around her as if it’ll pop up.

“yeah, ball,” jungkook moves back slowly and sits. yoongi can see him breathing a little harshly, as if something so simple knocked the wind right out of him. it reminds him that jungkook is still sick. he texted yoongi earlier saying that his coughing was gone for good, but yoongi’s still a little iffy about that. “where is the ball, hana? where is it? can you find it for me?”

“ball,” hayoung says intensely, looking around for it. she wobbles over to the couch and then searches under the table, behind the chair, and next to the tv before she spots it in her walker. with a happy cry, she sprints toward it. “ball, ball, ooh!” she picks up the green ball with both hands - neon green, it honestly hurts yoongi’s eyes - and dumps it in jungkook’s lap, beaming like she’s done the most amazing thing ever. jungkook responds like it is, gasping and falling over. “oh my god, hana found the ball for daddy! i’m so happy, hana-ya, thank you so much!”

“dada,” she repeats, pleased.

jungkook pats his own cheek once, and then hayoung reaches over and kisses him, just like that.

yoongi wishes he had his phone out right now.

his husband only laughs, sprawled out on the floor, hayoung crawling on top of him. “i wonder where your papa is,” he muses out loud, and yoongi freezes by instinct. jungkook sounds soft, fond. “he’s not really a late guy, at least not anymore. think he got held up?”

hayoung burbles something like, “pajadao.”

“i feel you,” jungkook sighs. “how would you like to become a noona or an unnie, hayoungie?”

“noona,” she repeats dutifully.

“noona,” jungkook runs his fingers over her stomach. “hayoung noona. do you like that? or would you like being called unnie? do you want a little brother or sister?”

hayoung blows a spit bubble and giggles when it pops. yoongi doesn’t have to look at him to know that jungkook’s nose is crinkling in disgust. hayoung leans forward so that she’s sitting on jungkook’s stomach, bouncing up and down and causing him to groan in pain from time to time.

“i think i want another baby,” says jungkook, pushing aside her wispy bangs. “you’re getting so old already...i’m nostalgic, i guess. even though you’re still a baby yourself, right?”

“bab, ha,” she agrees.

“alright, let’s wait until you’re a little bit older,” jungkook compromises, as if hayoung is actually putting up an argument. “now you can be our little girl only, okay? ah, hana, don’t jump on daddy’s stomach - “

“buh,” she says indignantly, before rolling off of jungkook. yoongi doesn’t know he’s been spotted until she walks shakily over to him in the kitchen, making high pitched sounds. jungkook startles and gets up, looking around with wide eyes.

yoongi reaches to press a wet kiss on hayoung’s cheek. “how are you, baby girl?”

“buh da,” she tells him, pushing her hand against his nose.

jungkook slithers over quietly, fixing his bangs in a quirky little attempt to show that he’s not nervous. he looks better than before, a healthy flush on his face. he clears his throat. “so, how much of that did you hear?”

“i kind of want a son,” yoongi tells him candidly, enjoying the way jungkook turns red.

“we’re waiting,” he grumbles, but heads over to yoongi’s side and wraps arms around him. he leans his head against yoongi’s, skin a little too hot still, and makes a silly face at hayoung. she laughs and wipes her hand on jungkook’s face.

“i want three kids,” yoongi continues on, plainly. “no, four. five, actually. no - seven.”

jungkook pinches him. “stop it.”

yoongi raises an eyebrow. “i’m serious. this whole place is gonna be filled, i’m telling you. we’re gonna sleep in a pile of kids every night.”

“yoongi.”

“it’s gonna be great, all that crying, and the late nights. and the diapers. ooh, the stained shirts. are you cringing yet?”

“oh my god,” jungkook rolls his eyes. “well, it’s almost like we have two kids anyway, with how you’ve practically adopted eunbyul.”

“what,” yoongi splutters, the tables suddenly turned. “i did not - i did not. he just comes back on his own, okay, like a leech. you’re the one that keeps inviting him back for dinner anyway! who told you to do that! who said you should pack him food!”

“he’s so lonely by himself and he can barely cook!”

“that’s what takeout is for,” yoongi says stoically.

“and weren’t you the one to buy him ramen and tell him that if he needed to talk, he could come to you? what was that, huh?”

damn it, the little must’ve told. yoongi’s going to ing sew up his bleeding heart. “listen, that was your fault.”

jungkook looks so affronted it’s funny. “my fault? my fault? i wasn’t even there!”

“if you weren’t such a ball of sunshine, i wouldn’t have been compelled to be a nice person,” yoongi scowls. “obviously, this is your fault. who said you could come into my life and make me fall in love with you, huh? i’m ruined forever.”

hayoung tugs at yoongi’s hair and jungkook still looks affronted. he pulls away from yoongi. “who said you could steal my songbook and then play stupid games to give it back to me? you didn’t have to take me out on a date, oh my god. i cannot believe you.”

“that was lunch - “

“- it was a ninja date, alright, i only realized after but it completely was - “

“- how in the goddamn world do you find energy to argue with me, every single day, even when you’re sick? is this magic? is this - ow!”

“stop cursing,” jungkook gives him a warning glare. “like i was saying, you were the one to adopt the kid next door. you, not me. you brought him over and then he started talking about his sad life and his troubles and i had to like him, alright? i take no responsibility.”

“take no responsibility? take responsibility for making me like you, - ow, !”

“you’re holding hana in your hands, stop cursing!”

“it’s not like she repeats it,” yoongi grumbles, wincing at the spot where jungkook smacked his shoulder. rearing children has made jungkook stronger too, despite the fact that he doesn’t actively exercise anymore.

jungkook pokes hayoung’s squishy cheek. “she’s almost thirteen months old, she’s going to be repeating a lot of things and picking up a lot of stuff from us, so wash your mouth with soap before i do it for you.”

“yeah, yeah,” yoongi sighs. he shuffles hayoung in his hands until he can hold her one handed. the yellow plastic bags that hold their dinner are still fresh and steaming, filling the house with a warm, tempting smell.

jungkook catches sight of it and lights up. rushing forward to take out the boxes, he sighs happily. “i didn’t get to make anything today because i was tired, and seokjin-hyung called; we ended up talking for like, three hours, so i got distracted... is this galbitang?”

“good, i would have gotten upset if you did anything. you should be recovering.”

jungkook takes out the boxed containers. he makes a little face with a scrunched up nose. “pfft, i’m already all better. thank god, too, or else you might have got it in your head to make something by yourself.”

“jungkook.”

“if you cooked, yoongi,” jungkook opens one of the boxes, “i’m pretty sure our apartment would burn down, so please refrain - spend your money on outside food, thanks. and get the chopsticks and the spoons, what are you still doing standing there? hana-ya, we’re going to eat galbitangtoday!”

hayoung makes appropriate noises of excitement, even though she doesn’t know what they’re doing. yoongi sighs and goes to get the chopsticks and the spoons.

/

it’s friday afternoon; jungkook’s gotten better, lots better, so he’s gone off to work. yoongi himself has just come off a conference call, his daughter bouncing on his lap as he talked about certain things with his boss and coworker, both of them melting at the sight of hayoung even though it was a tad bit unprofessional. (whatever - one of them came in their pajamas, and the other bickered with his wife for a good ten minutes before turning back to them. professionalism is something none of them have with each other anymore.)

yoongi leans back and stretches, feeling the satisfying pop of his back. hayoung is playing with one of the stress balls yoongi keeps on his desk for when the people he’s talking to are too stupid for him to deal with. she’s having fun squishing it and making noises when it molds to the shape of her hands.

the one thing that’s giving him a headache is the fact that hayoung needs a babysitter than both he and jungkook trusts to do a good job to leave her with for the night. it’s not like they’re going to be long - just a couple of hours, at the most - but jungkook doesn’t trust a lot of people to the extent of taking care of his child. yoongi’s a little better, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have similar reservations.

so yoongi phones up the only person he can think of that would be a good babysitter for at least a couple of hours.

“you absolutely got it, hyung,” jimin says cheerfully over the phone. “hayoungie loves me! i’m her favorite uncle! i’ll take care of her well!”

“you better, park jimin,” yoongi warns. “either way, i’ll see you this friday at seven. don’t be late.”

“gotcha!”

yoongi sighs when he hangs up and looks down at his daughter’s face, round and bright as the moon.

it’s not that jimin is bad with kids - it’s the complete opposites. he loves kids. he absolutely dotes on them, all of them of all ages. if they’re younger than jimin, they’re a kid and jimin will expend as much as his affection will allow him. but that also makes him a little suspect to being less than serious sometimes, and being too silly and making things end up in disaster to get a little smile out of a toddler. yoongi knows; he’s seen it happen.

but jimin is the best out of all their friends at the moment; he would have asked taehyung to come by and join jimin on the babysitting, but taehyung’s in daegu at the moment for work purposes (something about opening another branch of his store, maybe, which - good on him), seokjin is out for obvious reasons (hayoung being too shy around him) and namjoon is - no, and hoseok can’t make it that late at night when he has work on saturday as well.

yoongi sighs and leans back. he never expected having kids would have to make for so many exceptions, but he supposes that it’s just a part of life. as he brushes aside hayoung’s bangs and she bites on the stress ball, he lets a soft smile graze his face. he doesn’t regret a moment of it, at all. hayoung leans into his touch, making little content noises and burying her nose in yoongi’s chest.

yoongi leans back and hugs his daughter close, taking in the comforting scent of her baby wash and shampoo. she hates bathtime, and will make an absolute mess of it whenever she can. she loves it when jungkook sings to her - actively begs for it, actually, whenever she can get away with it - and she likes sleeping on yoongi’s chest (she got it from jungkook, yoongi has his suspicions). she’s fond of anything that makes noise, is colorful, has apples on it, and paint. she likes picking her own clothes in the morning by picking in between two outfits and she puts out her feet obediently for yoongi whenever he’s trying to put on her socks.

his baby girl is a person - a living, breathing person, growing with emotions swelling in her every second, staring out at the world as if it’s something precious and new every time she exits their door. she doesn’t have words yet but she tries so hard to follow her parent’s speech patterns and she runs like a ing champ and yoongi doesn’t know how all this happened, how he went from a depressed bum to a man with a family and a future.

hayoung gets drool on yoongi’s shirt, but god, he doesn’t care. he’ll suffer through a thousand shirts if it means being able to hold her just a minute more.

/

the first thing that yoongi does when it’s their anniversary is close the alarm and flop over, pressing sleepy kisses against jungkook’s nape and neck. jungkook sleeps on, oblivious like always, and yoongi half grins, half smirks in his hair. they’ve always remembered important dates for themselves and for each other - jungkook knows the birthdays of everyone in yoongi’s immediate family, as well as his parents’ and his hyung’s marriage anniversaries. yoongi, in turn, knows when the jeons’ anniversary is and when their first date was and what day junghyun ended up in the army and what day he got discharged.

despite knowing the dates, they’ve never made a big deal out of it. yoongi, for all his forwardness, is a private person when it comes down to it. he likes to keep intimate, private moments just that - intimate and private. revisiting the day they agreed to get married, have children, the moments in between them during rainy days and on their numerous, countless dates - those are memories yoongi prefers to keep to himself. somewhere along their second or third year of dating, yoongi gave up keeping count of how many dates they went on. it wasn’t worth it anymore; every day was like a date, almost, because every day with jungkook seemed to make him wonder about a life without jungkook, which is exactly how he learned that he couldn’t stand the thought.

yoongi has a hand thrown around jungkook’s waist, so he rubs a soothing finger over his knuckles as he sleeps. jungkook’s been sleeping better, recently. yoongi is glad. their bed is warm and comfortable with their body heat.

for a while, all he does is bask in the warmth; nothing, to him, is better than the mornings when they’re in bed, when the world is still sleeping. he can be here forever without a care.

the mornings are the same as usual; jungkook gets up a few moments later, his internal alarm clock preventing him from sleeping in. he raises an eyebrow sleepily at yoongi when he notices the other man awake before he is (a rare instance when yoongi doesn’t have to go for work) and then covers his yawn.

“mmph,” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. he’s sitting up in bed when yoongi’s already dressed, having brushed his teeth beforehand. “why’re you so...up.”

“just woke up early, i guess,” yoongi shrugs. his sleeping schedule is always oscillating in between sleeping through thirty six hours or sleeping for four hours. most of the time it’s thirty six, though. or at least, he tries. it’s kind of hard to do so when one has to go to the evil that is a job. “let you sleep a little.”

“no, i take so long to get ready,” jungkook groans. “i’m gonna be late.”

“you’re overreacting. c’mon, get up.” he pats jungkook’s shoulder and offers him a quick kiss while reaching for his phone. jungkook takes long in the mornings because he’s always trying to get the sleepiness out of his eyes; using sluggish movements to get everything. usually, though, he’s up before yoongi, so yoongi rarely gets to see him struggling with a bottle of toothpaste. once he’s done brushing, though, he’s wide awake.

hayoung still isn’t awake, and it’s pretty early, so they leave her to sleep. yoongi starts up the coffee maker; jungkook pulls out leftovers from last night’s dinner for breakfast, warming them up in the microwave.

“make sure you’re home by six, alright,” yoongi says, tapping his fingers on the counter. “don’t take overtime today, at the very least.”

“why?” jungkook asks, distracted. he removes yoongi’s plate from the microwave and then warms his own.

“because i want you to,” yoongi mumbles, leaning forward to lean his head against jungkook’s shoulder. when is the goddamn coffee going to be done?

he sees jungkook’s mouth pull up into a smile. “happy anniversary to you too.”

“we’ve made it through two years,” yoongi says. “bless us.”

“hey, we’ve been through more,” jungkook states objectively. “i think we’ll be just fine.”

yoongi hums his agreement. then he yawns, blinking as soon as he’s done. “yeah, we’ll be just fine. you still like bibimbap, don’t you?”

jungkook slows. then, he laughs. “you didn’t.”

“that place has gotten really popular,” yoongi admits, “so i reserved a table for us both. want to go out with me? maybe we can have dinner.”

“ridiculous,” jungkook says, but he’s smiling wide. yoongi can spy his two front teeth digging into his bottom lip. “you’re so cheesy, finding the place of our first date.”

“first time we got food together,” yoongi corrects. “the first date was the concert in the park.”

jungkook sets down the plates on the counter. “listen here, min yoongi - “

“we’re not having this discussion again.”

“- that’s because i’m right and you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

“you’re the stubborn one,” yoongi quirks a brow, his breath ghosting across jungkook’s ear. “but i like arguing with you. is that weird?”

“it keeps the marriage alive,” jungkook states dryly.

“are you saying that we’re stale otherwise?”

“oh, i’m not talking about me,” the younger says, eyes wide in faux innocence, and yoongi - yoongi can’t help but snort and laugh.

“i can’t believe i love you,” he says in between his laughter, low and easy. jungkook smiles like he’s holding a secret and turns off the coffee maker, which has just made a new cup. they settle their food on the table, hayoung’s baby monitor nearby, and start their breakfast slow and easy. they chat aimlessly about work and home and family. it’s everything yoongi has ever wanted.