despite whoever’s house they’re in, jungkook will always be jungkook.

the first night they're there both of them were so exhausted - by the drive, and by hayoung, who had an upset stomach and threw up in the car, forcing yoongi to stop on the side of the road so jungkook could sit in the back to clean up their daughter’s ruined clothes and calm her crying - that they forgoed dinner and went straight to jimin’s guest room, conking out after getting hayoung into her makeshift cot and changing clothes.

the next morning, however, starts with jungkook scowling at whatever’s in the fridge and then scolding jimin lightly for living off of ramen packets and take out when he’s a grown man already.

“i’m too lazy to make food, jungkookie,” jimin whines. yoongi’s still not completely awake, but he knows he has to get to work - second to last last day for the week - but he can’t seem to get out of his funk. jimin has a coffee maker but it’s different from the one in their house. it looks like it’s never been used.

“do you even live in this place, hyung?” jungkook sighs, and jimin scratches the back of his neck. “i’m usually really busy with the set, so...” he trails off. “but feel free to use anything here, okay? you too, yoongi-hyung!”

jungkook scowls first and foremost at the pile of laundry jimin has in his room, on the floor, and on the bed. yoongi’s just brushing his teeth and feeding his daughter her pre-made foods (she’s yelling “ta! ta!” for sweet potatoes, those are her favorite) when he spots jungkook gathering up jimin’s clothes and putting them in one pile. he looks utterly disgusted.

“even i didn’t live like this in college,” jungkook makes a noise of pure disatisfaction. “and in college, i used to put my lights and darks together constantly.”

yoongi snorts. “no wonder you kept buying new white t-shirts.”

“right?” he toes aside a crumpled blue shirt. “i’m going to have a field day in here. i hope they fix that goddamn pipe by the end of the day.”

jungkook cursing means he’s frustrated. yoongi covers hayoung’s ears and she looks at him curiously, wondering if it’s a game. “i’ll call and check up on them later at work. she’s almost done, so i’ll be going afterward. you need anything?”

“a new apartment,” jungkook says, leaning his head on yoongi’s shoulder and slumping into his side. he does that thing that makes yoongi want to never let go of him; even though he’s taller, he curves himself down so that yoongi’s chin can rest on the crown of his head. he wraps his arms around yoongi’s waist and sighs, voice muffled by yoongi’s clothes. “mmph, you smell good.”

“it’s literally just fabric softener.”

“i know, i bought that fabric softener,” jungkook gives a happy little sigh. “but you always smell nice. i think your cologne is permanently embedded into your skin now, it makes me happy.”

“apparently this cologne will always get me laid,” yoongi says out loud, smirking when jungkook mutters, “it probably will.”

“i’m not wearing it now though,” yoongi cards his fingers through jungkook’s hair, the way he likes jungkook to do to him sometimes. his hair is dark and thick, and smells like the shampoo that yoongi uses.

jungkook yawns. yoongi can feel it like a pattern on his skin. “yeah, i know, but i’m getting like - phantom scents, i think. you should wear it again. i’ll buy it for you on your birthday; it’ll be a present for me.”

yoongi lets out a tiny laugh.

jimin drops in a moment later, looking professional in his pant suit and white button up. neither jungkook nor yoongi have to be so professional at their own workplaces, and seeing jimin like that - like an adult - makes jungkook’s mouth twitch.

“stop making fun of me,” jimin gives them both The Eye, warning them both from saying anything. “yoongi-hyung, you promised to drop me off on set!”

“yeah, yeah,” yoongi sighs, disentangling the jungkook-octopus on him and taking away hayoung’s spoon from her hands. she makes an angry little sound and jungkook swiftly uses his finger to plop her breakfast in .

“jungkook, why,” jimin is flabbergasted.

“wait until you become a parent, hyung,” jungkook says, looking entirely unaffected. just like with the constant spit, vomiting, and diaper changes, jungkook has become immune to most of the dirtiness that comes with a baby, even if he may not like it. “this stuff won’t even bother you after a while.”

“let’s get going,” yoongi pushes, kissing hayoung on the forehead and ruffling jungkook’s hair as he leaves.

he shouldn’t have expected anything different; it's nearly six o'clock after he’s picked up jimin, taehyung, and seokjin from their respective workplaces and drove to jimin’s apartment, and he door opens to see a place that’s around five times cleaner than it first was.

jimin is staring at his place in awe while taehyung is patting the wall. “the original color is beige?? i thought it was cream!”

“one of the lights busted and i never fixed it,” jimin mumbles in response. seokjin, meanwhile, is looking around the place with a satisfied little stare.

“good, it’s not sanitary to live in a dirty, disorganized place. is this jungkook’s doing? ah, he always was my favorite dongsaeng. going to his apartment is just, like, a pleasure. seriously.”

“isn’t yoongi-hyung really messy, though?” taehyung asks, still fondling the wallpaper.

“i’ve gotten better,” yoongi grumbles. the shock lasted for a second, but he should have known jungkook would do something like this. the only time jungkook can stand to live in something disorganized or dirty is when he’s extremely tired, or he wants to relive his first college days, where - still relatively clean - he threw clothes on his bed and didn’t care due to being late for class.

jungkook himself is watching tv, a music show, and looks up when the door opens. when he sees a bunch of people he backtracks. “seokjin-hyung!”

“my favorite dongsaeng,” seokjin responds in barely veiled glee, rushing over to jungkook and giving him a hug. jungkook gives him a small smile and then promptly puts hayoung in his hands.

“i’m going to go take a nap,” he says. now that yoongi looks closer, he can see the tiredness in jungkook’s eyes, how he’s hunching over a little. “take care of my daughter or else i’ll gut you like a fish.” with a beatific smile, he leaves. seokjin blinks at the sudden acquisition of a baby.

and although jimin just stares after jungkook after his little violent wording, yoongi sighs faux-dreamily. “isn’t he so attractive?”

“i’d fear for my life sleeping next to him. come to think of it, i kind of did back in college,” jimin ponders. yoongi doesn’t say anything; personally, he thinks jungkook sleeps like a rock. he’s the one that curls over and uses him like a body pillow. jungkook just drools on his shoulder and sleepily snuffles his nose on yoongi’s collar from time to time.

seokjin bounces the baby in his arms, making a fishy face at her. she blinks at seokjin and then looks around urgently, finally landing her eyes on yoongi and leaning toward him even though he’s a good few meters away. jimin goes to put the dinner they brought in the kitchen and hayoung’s eyes start tearing up.

when yoongi rushes over to take her, seokjin sighs in obvious disappointment. “one day, i’ll get her to like me.”

“she likes you, hyung,” yoongi assures, wincing when hayoung knocks her head against his chin. she sniffles in his neck, rubbing against him. yoongi’s sure he’s making a face like he’s dying, how the hell is she so cute when she’s crying? “she just...needs some time.”

“don’t try to make me feel better, yoongi-ah,” seokjin grumbles. “she goes to everyone but me.”

“and namjoon,” yoongi adds.

“namjoon is scared of his own shadow around her; i think he’d rather cut off his own hand before touching a baby.”

yoongi shrugs, bouncing on one foot to the other. “i mean, if i could do it, i’m sure he could.”

seokjin’s mouth twitches. “you’re a natural, yoongi. it's obvious that she loves you two so much; you and jungkook both are natural parents. who would have thought, huh?”

yoongi stares, a little shell-shocked at seokjin’s easy assessment. it makes him flush a little bit with pride.

he clears his throat. “i’ll feed her later, but i think jungkook is skipping dinner for now. want to go eat?”

seokjin tickles hayoung underneath her chin briefly, and she bites her finger in and blinks at him with big eyes. seokjin thinks that hayoung doesn’t like him, but yoongi thinks that she may just find seokjin intimidatingly good-looking.

jimin is already eating when they go to the kitchen, and seokjin smacks him on the back of the head for not waiting.

/

it’s quiet when yoongi’s finally gotten hayoung to sleep - she must have been really tired out, because she rarely falls asleep in yoongi’s arms - and jimin has already receded to his room. seokjin’s passed out on the couch, having deemed it too dark earlier to drive, and jungkook is lying still on the guest mattress.

setting his daughter down quietly on her makeshift cot, yoongi slips off his jeans and changes into boxers. jungkook is still in his home clothes, curled up with yoongi’s pillow and facing the wall. when yoongi leans over to look at him, he sees the evidence of work on his face. he’s got a slack, pretty mouth, and there are circles underneath his eyes. he’s sleeping quietly, unlike how jimin or namjoon sleeps. yoongi watches the steadily rise and fall of his chest for a while.

slowly, he puts his hands on jungkook’s back, feeling the muscles underneath them. he presses, briefly, and resists the urge to let out a little whistle at how tense he seems, even in sleep. yoongi puts his thumb on jungkook’s shoulder blades and then adds pressure. after a moment, jungkook lets out a moan that gets yoongi a little hot under the collar.

he wakes up after that, blearily blinking his eyes and then groaning. “don’t stop that, it feels good.”

yoongi huffs out a laugh. “i’m nowhere near as good as you are.”

“that’s ‘cause j’min used to m’ke me do this all the time,” jungkook slurs. “oh, god, my body hurts.”

yoongi’s concerned when jungkook lets out a little whimper. he settles himself next to jungkook and lets jungkook flop over him for once; his husband wraps his right arm around yoongi’s waist and then tucks himself cutely into yoongi’s shoulder and circles both his legs around yoongi’s thigh.

“you’re an octopus,” he pinches jungkook’s cheek. “why are you so tired, babe?”

“dunno,” he yawns. “hayoung has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

“i got in touch with the landlady; she says we can go back tomorrow night.”

“god bless,” jungkook presses a closed mouth kiss against yoongi’s jaw. “go to sleep, now.”

/

yoongi wakes up late in the morning. he’s still holding jungkook in his arms when he does so, it’s ten am, and hayoung is napping and he has a moment of panic because - holy  where is he this is not his house?!? - before he remembers the leak and the moving. then yoongi is cursing and tearing jungkook’s octopus-like limbs away from his body (the one time jungkook initiates cuddling yoongi is late for work and has to cut the cuddling session short) before hopping on a pair of pants and a new shirt, rinsing his mouth with mouthwash before rushing to the kitchen.

jimin and seokjin are there, sleepy-eyed and sharing a cup of coffee, and yoongi steals one of their pastries. jimin blinks at him, taking note of his harried state - “hyung! where are you going?”

“i’m ing late,” he yells back, half muffled, shutting the door behind him.

it’s only when he gets to the company building does he realize that he forgot his phone, his wallet, and his glasses. he didn’t put in his contacts so he’s squinting at things far away and blessing god that jimin’s place is close enough to his workplace that he can get there by bus, which is what he did today. what a disaster it would have been if he drove - plus, jungkook needs the car today anyway.

he clocks in and groans, feeling his stomach growl and his mind work sluggishly. a couple of coworkers bypass him, unwilling to get in his way, and yoongi has barely half an hour to himself before jaesung - the dance instructor - is tapping him on the shoulder.

“i texted you, but it looks like you’re a little out of it,” he says, holding back a smile. “the kids are yours now, i have to go and get to the trainees.”

“which kids?”

“the 5EVER ones. ilhoon and woohyun, the rappers, are waiting for you - the others are at vocal training. they’re in studio five.”

“i’ll be there in a second,” yoongi sighs. “you don’t happen to have coffee, would you?”

jaesung is one of those body-conscious people (he’s a dancer, what did yoongi ing expect, honestly) and he immediately starts berating yoongi on drinking so much caffeine and how it’s horrible for the body and so on and so forth. yoongi groans, wishing he can just have his phone so at thevery least, he can stare at jungkook’s picture and feel better - no, he doesn't mean that, he means...so he can use his online bank to buy some goddamn breakfast. that’s what he means.

ilhoon and woohyun are waiting in studio five, just as jaesung had said. ilhoon is sporting hair that looks like it’s going through the process of bleaching, and woohyun has a haircut that makes him look older, more mature, emphasizing the sharpness of his cheekbones. they certainly don’t look like college and high school kids, and yoongi waves them off as they bow to greet him.

“hyung, you look so tired,” ilhoon says, patting him a little on the shoulder and offering him a bottle of water. yoongi takes it but stares, wishing it was coffee. “did you not sleep last night, or something?”

“i slept too much,” yoongi sighs. “i don’t think my head is working. i can’t - “ his stomach grumbles. “oh my god,” he says faintly.

woohyun looks like he’s hiding a smile. ilhoon bites his lip, looking more concerned. “ah, i wish i had food to give you, hyung, but we’re on a diet...”

“it’s okay, kiddo,” yoongi sighs. “let’s just get to work, huh?”

honestly, yoongi feels a little unnerved without his phone. it has a bunch of his tracks on there and apps he uses for secondary beats and sounds. when the kids are taking breaks he scrolls through his phone and answers stupid texts from namjoon (like what would happen if he mixed half soju and half beer, to which yoongi answered you’d be fully dead). he also answers jimin’s spam-like texts (filled with stickers), hoseok’s texts (filled with obnoxious stickers) and taehyung’s texts (which are just strings of korean letters, most of the time). if he texts jungkook, he’ll never stop. without his phone here, yoongi feels a little twitchy. he hides it by fiddling with his shirt cuffs and making the kids focus on their work more diligently.

it’s around twelve pm that they finally get interrupted for real, not by other workers who got the wrong room, but by someone familiar. ilhoon is practicing one part of his rap that he can’t seem to pronounce right, edges of his busan accent shining through, when there’s a knock on the door.

since they're practicing dry so that yoongi can hear the pronunciation mistake, all he does is tell ilhoon to cut it and then yells, “come in!”

it’s almost like a daydream; jungkook opens the door, peering in quickly. he sees yoongi and waves. shooting out of his chair, yoongi can’t help the sound of surprise that comes out of his mouth. woohyun, who is sitting outside of the recording room with him, blinks curiously at the newcomer.

“jungkook,” he breathes, taking in the sight of him. then the connotation of him being here sets in, and yoongi frowns, furrowing his brow. “what are you doing here? are you okay? is it hayoung?”

“i’m fine,” jungkook smiles. he looks radiant; a good night of sleep has done wonders for him. “she’s right over here - “ he opens the door a bit more to show hayoung’s stroller, the baby in question with her elephant plushie in her hands, “ - we just thought we’d make a pit stop.”

yoongi wipes his hands on his thighs. “ah, yeah? come in, then.” jungkook pushes hayoung in and closes the door behind them. woohyun is still quiet, but then his eyes go straight toward the baby. ilhoon has come out of the recording room. yoongi looks behind at them both and notices ilhoon staring wide eyed at jungkook, and yoongi figures he must recognize him from his phone background.

“you forgot your phone, your glasses, and your wallet back at hyung’s place,” jungkook says blithely. “i went out a little bit early to drop by and give you this. hana wanted to see her papa, too. she could use the little pep talk before we go for her check up.”

it’s in good knowledge that yoongi is the only one, barring even jungkook, that can get hayoung through a doctor’s visit. when she sees jungkook leaving the room she always starts crying, and when she’s getting shots or getting checked out by the doctor, she clings to jungkook and refuses to do anything but that. nothing will distract her from her hold on jungkook’s throat. if yoongi’s around, she’ll play with his hair and chew on his glasses for some time, and the doctor can do all that he pleases.

jungkook looks like a man that’s going off to war. he’s packed hayoung’s bag with all her favorite toys, a little mp3 player, a pop-up book, and blocks along with her usual necessities. under his calm facade, he knows he’s willingly going in for two hours of suffering.

from the basket beneath hayoung’s pram, a useful thing that mrs. jeon had bought for them, jungkook brings up two plastic bags and gives a toothy smile. “seokjin-hyung made you lunch because he said you missed breakfast. i think he made enough for you to share, too,” jungkook aims this at the two kids sitting side by side, watching the interaction with wide eyes. yoongi thinks they look like puppies.

“o-oh, thank you,” woohyun says first, standing up and bowing low at ninety degrees. “i’m song woohyun! please take care of me!”

when it’s obviously ilhoon’s turn to introduce himself, he stays quiet. there’s a moment of silence before woohyun elbows ilhoon in the ribs.

that seems to snap him out of it. “i’m kwon ilhoon,” he sputters out. “i - uh, i’m a rapper and dancer in this group. n-nice to meet you.” he also bows, but it’s much choppier and he ends up banging his shin on the bench behind him.

yoongi wants to facepalm. he has a dawning realization of what’s happening.

when he looks at jungkook, his husband is just giving them a friendly smile in return. yoongi privately dubs that his ‘work’ smile, the one he uses with his own students. “nice to meet you two - i’m jeon jungkook, yoongi’s husband. this is our daughter, song hayoung.” he pats hayoung on the head. “she’s almost a year old now, a month and a half to go! hana, say hi to the new oppas.”

it must sound close enough, because she leans out of her stroller and glances up at yoongi. “papa!”

woohyun makes a little noise. “oh my god, that’s so cute.”

“mhm,” jungkook hands over yoongi’s phone, his glasses, his wallet - oh god, how much stuff did he leave behind - and the smell of something wonderful and appetizing wafts out from the plastic bags, which jungkook sets on the counter. “i gotta go though, i parked the car a bit ways away.”

“yeah, yeah,” yoongi breathes, quickly pressing his fingers to hayoung’s cheek so she can grab them. “i’ll walk you out.”

“no, no, it’s alright, you stay,” jungkook replies. “eat something. i’ll see you later. bye!” he aims the last part at yoongi’s trainees, bowing low toward them and then disappearing out the door.

there’s a moment and then woohyun says, “hyung, hyung, your daughter is so cute. she reminds me of my little sister!”

ilhoon is still silent, and when yoongi puts on his glasses, the world refocuses. he should have kissed jungkook before he left. ilhoon’s face is flushed, like it gets when he’s embarrassed.

woohyun notices too, but woohyun also has no tact and hisses a little too loudly, “hyung’s husband? really?!”

“shut up,” ilhoon snaps. “shut up shut up shut up.”

“i already nabbed that first,” yoongi says absentmindedly, while opening up the package from seokjin. “so keep your eyes to yourself, kiddo.”

“oh my god,” ilhoon whines, hiding his face in his hands. woohyun pats him on the back sympathetically before rushing to give yoongi puppy eyes so they can cheat on their diet.

/

there’s no more word from jungkook himself for the rest of the day, but yoongi certainly hears about him a lot. ilhoon is flustered a lot more easily and won’t look yoongi in the eye; woohyun needles yoongi, silently, to show him pictures of his daughter. he shows pictures of his own little sister, who is admittedly very cute, in an attempt to get yoongi to give up his own. woohyun likes little kids, it seems - yoongi wonders what he's doing as an idol, but then figures it's not his place to know. 

yoongi pats ilhoon on the head as he leaves, especially after the rest of the boys come by and he hears woohyun - loud as ever - declaring that they “met yoongi-hyungnim’s family, and his daughter is so cute and hoonie has a crush on his husband - “

yoongi’s not jealous, just a little amused a little - okay, and maybe the tiniest bit irritated (aka jealous) - but he knows he won’t be telling jungkookanything about ilhoon's little crush. it’ll be a little source of amusement for him. besides, yoongi can’t really feel jealous of a kid who is so much younger than jungkook and himself, nor can he fault the kid for liking jungkook. yoongi kinda likes jungkook too.

on his way home he buys donuts from a street stall, taking in the smell of sweet bread and sugar. the name makes him smile a little; sugar, like his underground name. he’s still pretty well known in the underground as ‘suga’.

yoongi pushes old thoughts out of his mind and puts the wax-paper bag underneath his arm. he shifts his actual bag with his laptop and his other necessities (something he had the mind to grab this morning) over his shoulder, heaving everything on a precarious balance as he rings the doorbell to jimin’s place. the plan is to have dinner and then leave for their own bed and hayoung’s crib.

seokjin opens the door, because of course he does. he and jimin like to get together and drink wine like the pretentious s they are. yoongi sighs and pushes away seokjin to go and settle his stuff in his temporary room.

then he proceeds to find jungkook on the couch, who is watching taehyung play with hayoung. he’s flipping up his bangs and making stupid faces with his eyebrows. yoongi shuffles the pillows aside and lays down on jungkook’s lap, burying his nose into his shirt and curling to his side. sleep is good. sleep is what he needs right now.

jungkook makes a little sound, something like amusement, before running his fingers through yoongi’s care. yoongi, despite being almost thirty, sighs in contentment and buries his head deeper in, silently prodding jungkook on to continue. jungkook rubs his fingers in yoongi’s scalp and then cards them through strands of yoongi’s dark hair. it’s not black, per say, but it is a dark brown that he hasn’t dyed in forever.

“yoongi-ah,” jungkook suddenly says, voice a little higher pitched and bordering on an aegyo tone, “you should go blond again.”

not this again. “no,” yoongi grumbles, voice muffled by jungkook’s shirt.

there’s a pause and then, “yoongi-hyung.”

“don’t you ing dare, jeon jungkook,” yoongi continues, reaching up to tug at jungkook’s ear when he finds it. jungkook yelps and then pulls a bit too much; yoongi doesn’t mind. jungkook tends to tug on his hair when they’re romping around in bed anyway.

“stop flirting in my house,” yoongi hears jimin say, probably with a fake gag. “ugh. it’s so gross. jungkookie, why did you get married so young? you should have lived with me instead of spending your time flirting with yoongi-hyung.” yoongi thinks that if jimin was a emoticon, he would be the constantly whining one.

“you should get married too, hyung,” jungkook replies calmly. “who else will pick up after you? auntie certainly isn’t going to.”

“my mom looooooves me. besides, my house is clean!”

“yeah, now,” jungkook mutters underneath his breath. yoongi turns around so he’s facing the crowd of people. seokjin is in the kitchen, namjoon has his headphones plugged in, and both taehyung and jimin are pushing each other subtly to get hayoung’s attention. she’s playing with the blocks that has pictures of food on it and their respective names. she’s more interested in the pictures and the familiar sight of apples and peaches than the words themselves. jimin is trying to build a tower with them to get her attention, and taehyung is toppling them over one by one to make her laugh at the destruction. taehyung is going to turn his daughter in a cheerful ball of viciousness, if jungkook doesn’t get to her first.

hayoung wiggles her little over to the blocks and then picks one up. there’s a picture of a sun on it, and it’s colored yellow. it fits in her hand nicely and has rounded, soft edges so she won’t hurt herself.

she seems to think on the block in her hand for a second, staring at it intensely in the way only babies can do. she ignores both jimin and taehyung, who are talking to her in a ridiculous baby voice. namjoon looks up from his phone and berates both of them for looking like idiots. yoongi privately thinks so as well, even though he himself is guilty of babbling to his daughter with a baby voice when she was younger (and, okay, maybe even now, but no one can prove it  - )

and that’s when hayoung moves away from the terrible twos; first, she throws in the block in her hand toward jungkook, and it lands at his feet. neither of them bother to pick it up, watching their daughter curiously as she crawls her way quickly toward jungkook.

she sits up then, holds the block with the sun in her hand, and then shows it to jungkook. she puts it on his lap and blinks her big brown eyes at him before clearly enunciating, “dada.”

the hands in yoongi’s hair stops.

the noise quiets down for a second, so the only sound is the hiss from the kitchen, where seokjin is cooking. yoongi forces himself to sit up.

he stares at jungkook, who is quickly flushing and watching hayoung with his eyes wide in wonder. vaguely, yoongi muses if this was how helooked like when hayoung called him papa for the first time, because he can sure understand the rush of happiness that shoots through him like adrenaline at the sight of jungkook’s wide, blinding smile, that of which he hasn’t seen since the day they got married.

he’s not saying anything though, just sort of blinking at the block in his lap; hayoung pats jungkook’s leg and grabs onto it, probably trying to climb up again. from the side, jimin whispers, “is this the first time she’s called jungkook ‘dad’?”

“holy , you should videotape this,” taehyung responds in a furiously hushed voice.

yoongi takes the matters into his own hands. with the same exhilaration jungkook had when hayoung said ‘papa’, he grabs hayoung by the waist and settles her in his lap. “that’s right, baby girl. this is your daddy.”

“dada,” hayoung repeats, fingers tugging on jungkook’s shirt this time around. when jungkook won’t take her, like he usually does when she wants him to, she frowns and leans more toward him. “dada goyb.” yoongi has no idea what she’s said, but jungkook falls against his shoulder, laughing. his face, the tips of his ears are all flushed in happiness.

“i’m your dad, yeah,” he repeats, muffled against yoongi’s shoulder. satisfied, hayoung tugs at jungkook’s hair. “oh my god, yoongi, she just called me dad.”

yoongi isn’t smug. so he may or may not have been practicing that by showing hayoung pictures of jungkook and repeating dad, dad, daddy over and over until the word’s lost all meaning to him. it’s worth it to see the pleased, soft smile on jungkook’s face, as if all he’s ever worked for - as if all he’s ever done has accumulated to this moment.

yoongi doesn’t even notice the background noise, so enthralled by the way jungkook a finger down hayoung’s cheek, and the way she responds with a similar hand movement, as if trying to replicate his intimacy, that he doesn’t realize jimin and taehyung whooping and replaying the video on jimin’s cameraphone, showing it to namjoon who is scolding them for ‘ruining the moment’ before running off to show seokjin.

namjoon quietly gets up with an excuse to use the bathroom.

“i don’t know what to do with myself,” jungkook whispers, wedged in yoongi’s shoulder and the couch. “i - what do i do, oh my god.”

“you could take her, for one,” yoongi suggests. she’s starting to get heavier and heavier as days go by, jesus.

jungkook lets out an honest-to-god high pitched giggle. though his default laugh can be classified as a giggle, yoongi has only seen him giggle like that when he’s drunk. it’s so cute that yoongi has to kiss him on the forehead.

“we just adopted her yesterday, how can she be so big already,” jungkook sniffs. “she’s - she’s calling me dad and she’s giving me a block - she’s starting to give me gifts - and before i know it she’s going to be sending me off into a retirement home and i’ll be alone, sad, watching my daughter from afar.”

“where, exactly, am i in that equation?”

“you’ll be dead because you never do any work around the house and i figure i’ll eventually snap and murder you,” jungkook jokes, pinching yoongi’s side. “of course you’re there, i just meant...alone as in, no kids. augh hana don’t your dad, i thought we went through this phase already!”

yoongi thinks of them as old men, jungkook’s hands wrinkled but slender, his eyes getting lighter as the years go by, his hair turning grey. yoongi thinks about jungkook smelling of soft perfume and eating things with less sugar and being too tired to have in the future even though he’ll be a tease like he always has been and yoongi figures that he can’t ing wait to grow old with him, yeah, but he’s in no rush either.

instead, he says, “worrying about the future is my part in this relationship. you keep on being cute, babe.”

“bab,” hayoung repeats.

“no more words for today,” jungkook presses a finger against hayoung’s mouth, which she happily takes to chew on, “i don’t think my heart can take it.”

to add another symptom to jungkook’s possible oncoming cute-induced heart attack, yoongi sets his daughter down briefly on the floor and kisses jungkook senseless. just for a moment.