on his birthday, yoongi wakes up with another year under his belt and a body on top of his own.

jungkook is dead to the world - as usual - and he barely moves when yoongi shifts around a little underneath him. his neck feels like it has a crink, but he decides not to pay that too much attention. the sun is bright between the steel bars of their windowpane. he reaches over and tucks away a lock of jungkook’s hair behind his ear. he’s a warm and familiar weight in yoongi’s arms.

his baby girl is sleeping too, he sees. yoongi catches a glimpse of hayoung’s dark hair from her crib, and after a moment of making sure, he calms at the sight of her chest going up and down at a steady pace.

the day is going to hold an immense amount of festivity and cheer, no doubt. his birthday has never been something important and celebratory when he was younger; the days wherein he used to be a teenager are shrouded in the crass candidness of his lyrics and the redness of his anger. when he was sixteen, he felt everything so passionately; he believed that passion was another face of rage. now, it's different. he grazes an absentminded thumb against the curve of jungkook’s cheek and he knows that passion is different.

passion is the sight of jungkook’s face in the morning mirror, bleary and bloated. it’s his half-lidded eyes and his fingers stumbling over his toothbrush. it’s jungkook yelling at him to put his coffee cup in the dishwasher before it stains and it’s jungkook patiently listing off the things he always forgets to buy at the market. it’s jungkook cradling hayoung in his arms and placing her in yoongi’s hold, trusting and tiny. it’s hayoung reaching up for him when she’s wondrous and playful, grazing the tips of her fingernails on his lips, his chin, his adam’s apple. passion is finding the reason for existing, yoongi thinks, and if that’s the case - then he’s already found it.

jungkook’s alarm, for some reason, goes off. soft violin music saturates the air and stirs him awake; he shakes his head against the bare skin of yoongi’s shoulder socket, mumbling incoherently all the while.

“up and at ‘em, sleepyhead,” yoongi teases. “why’s your alarm set so early? i thought you had the day off?”

“i do,” jungkook’s voice is muffled, because he's refusing to show his face from yoongi’s skin. yoongi can feel his lips mouthing the words as he says them.

“sleep longer,” yoongi tells him gently, using the arm that jungkook’s resting on to thread his fingers through the dark head of hair. jungkook’s been buying one type of shampoo in bulk nowadays; yoongi’s brand, the cheaper one, so his hair smells like vanilla and mint. “we have all day.”

“nooo,” jungkook groans. “gotta get up and make food...breakfast for hana.”

“i can make breakfast. it’s not a big deal.”

“don’t want the house to burn down,” jungkook’s scoff is imminent, even when he’s half asleep. yoongi briefly tightens the hand in jungkook’s hair in response, and all he gets is an unattractive snort. “please, you know it’s a possibility.”

“i can make ramen,” yoongi says petulantly.

jungkook unsheathes a hand from where it’s curled up near yoongi’s ribs and pats him on the head, somehow managing to make a simple act seem condescending.

“why did i marry someone who has no faith in me,” yoongi sighs, looking up at the ceiling.

of course, jungkook has a quip for that too: “because i own your life. now shut up, let me enjoy this for a bit longer.”

“i’m a glorified heater to you,” yoongi accuses, but jungkook just happily sighs from his spot. yoongi can feel the younger’s toes wiggling as he puts his feet in between yoongi’s ankles. his nose is a bit chilly when he digs it against yoongi’s shoulder.

“i’m wearing pajamas and all you’re wearing is sweatpants, and yet i’m the cold one,” jungkook says in woe. “why does this happen? how are you so warm?”

“it’s because the heat of my love is too much,” yoongi makes sure to use the sappiest tone he can possibly muster, leaning over to press wet kisses on jungkook’s nose, forehead, and mouth.

“ugh, oh my god,” jungkook recoils from him, rolling his face into the pillow and away from yoongi. for his part, yoongi’s just chuckling. “you smell like morning breath, oh my god oh my god, i regret life. i regret saying yes to your proposal. i take it back, i take everything back.”

“hey, it’s my birthday, you’re not allowed to be mean to me,” yoongi rolls over as well, covering jungkook’s body with his own. he’s lucky he’s not sporting morning wood, or else things would have turned heated quite fast. “you’re only allowed to be sweet and loving. and kind.”

although jungkook says something in reply to that - most probably scathing - yoongi can’t understand it from the all the pillow in his mouth. he briefly gets off of jungkook’s back and sits up, leaning against the wall behind their bed.

“we’re past the honeymoon phase, yoongi-ah,” jungkook repeats to him, raising his head to give yoongi the full effect of his cutely scrunched nose that’s trying too hard to be snobby and his bed hair. his right cheek, which was pressed against yoongi for most of the night, is pinkening. “all you should expect from me is a grudging kiss in the morning and a scolding for leaving your stuff everywhere.”

“no. sweet and loving.” yoongi takes jungkook’s phone and closes the alarm. “it’s the law. i’m thirty today.”

“ugh, what an old man.”

yoongi scoffs. “what did you say to me, punk?”

jungkook leans forward, his wide necked shirt showing off the sharpness of his collarbones. his eyes are wide open now, and he tilts his head to the side while resting his head on his hand. with a mockingly innocent tone, he repeats, “what an old man you are. no wonder we’ve been so vanilla lately; your poor heart probably couldn’t handle the rise in blood pressure.”

yoongi gapes. vanilla. poor heart. blood pressure.

“this ing kid,” he swears, reaching over to grab at jungkook’s middle. jungkook doesn’t fight it much, only bothering to shove yoongi off for a bit before letting out an aborted laugh when yoongi’s fingers find their way to jungkook’s side.

jungkook lets out a loud shriek by accident, and they both freeze, looking over at their daughter’s crib.

she’s staring back at them blankly, her head peeking up over the crib’s walls, her hands on top of the bars to hold herself upright.

upright.

“holy - “ yoongi stumbles off of jungkook and nearly falls off their bed.

“is she standing by herself?” jungkook yelps. “what the - yoongi, get off, oh my god! i need to take a picture!”

“my phone is closer!”

“your phone’s camera !”

“do you want a picture or not?! goddamit, jungkook, move your cute little - “ yoongi grabs jungkook’s phone to appease him and then immediately kneels on their bed to be eye level with hayoung. she’s watching her parents curiously, and yoongi tries to not wince at how close they were to doing something indecent in front of their daughter. as soon as she sees yoongi’s attention on her, hayoung gives a big smile.

he snaps a picture (or ten). jungkook bounds up behind him and leans on his back as he’s taking them, making little sounds of awe to get hayoung to smile more. she must still be a little tired from waking up, because she’s not talking as much as she usually does.

“look at you, standing up on your own,” jungkook coos at her. “gave me and papa a heart attack, did you now?”

“bada hatat! papa!” she tries to copy, bouncing up and down from where she’s standing. she’s stood on her own before, but it’s always been at the egging on of her parents or by holding onto both of their hands. she’s never taken the initiative to stand by herself until now.

“what a wonderful birthday present, baby girl,” yoongi swoops forward and kisses her on the cheek, inhaling her warm baby powder scent. “best thing i could have ever gotten.”

“guess is off the table now,” jungkook says nonchalantly from his spot on their bed, and yoongi stills, thanking god hayoung can’t understand words just yet and pondering if he can still get them back on track to what they were previously doing. jungkook doesn’t have the same idea, though, stretching his arms in the air. his shirt rides up and yoongi sees a sliver of tempting skin. “i’m going to use the bathroom - you can change her. bye!” he jumps off the bed and heads for their bathroom, shutting the door behind him before yoongi can even think of an answer.

“sweet and loving,” yoongi shouts, after his mental processes get back online.

/

jungkook makes western-style pancakes for breakfast, which he knows yoongi has a weakness for. he’s also left a little pot of something else (“kimchi jjigae,” he says absentmindedly when yoongi asks) on the stove, and hayoung is manning her own spoon and breakfast bowl today. there’s green mush all over and her hands and her onesie but she’s so deliriously happy at feeding herself that it’s hard to be upset. even jungkook is just staring at her fondly, no exasperated look in sight.

there’s a stack of five for them both, all fluffy and round with maple syrup on top and raspberries. there’s a cup of coffee for yoongi and a cup of milk for jungkook, and nothing is overdone or extraordinarily ostentatious. it’s warm in their kitchen. yoongi is in his pajamas, jungkook still has a bedhead that makes his bangs look messy, and yoongi is inexplicably happy.

jungkook takes a couple of bites, washing it down with milk, and yoongi just watches him for a few minutes with a smile half hidden on his face. their dining table, round and white, is small enough for yoongi, jungkook, and hayoung to sit at arms length from each other.

when jungkook notices that yoongi isn’t eating, he pauses mid-chew. “what’s going on? you don’t want any breakfast?”

“i do,” yoongi says, “but i want you feed me.”

jungkook’s look says it all; it’s a mixture between what the hell is wrong with you and you’re not serious.

“i remember you used to do it back when we started dating,” yoongi remarks. he raises an eyebrow and for some reason, it makes jungkook blush. “you were so cute; you’d feed me pieces of your meal and share your food all the time.”

“we were in college,” jungkook says flatly. “i was nineteen.”

“and it’s been six years since, and look where we are now,” yoongi says. he leans in closer and rests his head against jungkook’s shoulder. “i’m tired, jungkookie, i don’t feel like doing it today.”

“what, eating?”

“mhm,” yoongi says cheekily.

“it’s like the older you get, the more of a child you are,” jungkook mutters to himself, exasperated, before taking yoongi’s plate and cutting a bite with his spoon. he holds it in front of them both, but yoongi declines it. “lovingly, babe.”

hayoung giggles. she taps her spoon against the table of her high chair before putting it in . yoongi sends her a wide smile, conveying to her just how much he’s enjoying this.

“i’m going to lovingly kick you where the sun doesn’t shine,” jungkook says darkly.

“i’m hungry,” yoongi sings, still leaning against jungkook’s shoulder. he feels it when jungkook lets out a good god why do i put up with this sigh and raises the spoon again.

“hyung,” he begins, tone soft, “you should eat so you won’t feel tired later.”

the hyung is what gets him. jungkook has never called him hyung, not even when they started dating, because yoongi didn’t want to be reminded of older brothers and family back then. now it’s just a term of affection that sounds so sweet whenever it’s aimed at him, and it always - always - manages to knock yoongi out.

he eats grudgingly. “you play a dirty game, jeon jungkook,” is what he mumbles through a mouthful.

jungkook smirks. yoongi can’t take him seriously with the hair at the back of his head sticking up. he doesn’t mention it, though, because it’s adorable and it’s his birthday, okay.

“you started it,” jungkook accuses, but continues to feed yoongi anyway. he uses the same spoon to feed himself, and in between bites, they praise hayoung’s superior utility skills.

half an hour later jungkook has hayoung cradled in his left arm as he’s setting all the dishes in the sink. he’s going to hand-wash them later instead of using the dishwasher. yoongi admires the slope of jungkook’s shoulders, his pale, unmarked neck, his quick and efficient hands.

quietly he sidles up to his husband’s side and wraps an arm around his waist. jungkook’s just gotten the last of the plates in when yoongi takes him by surprise with a kiss. it’s short and sweet; jungkook’s mouth tastes like sugar.

“what’s that for?” he asks, but yoongi doesn’t get to answer, because a split second later hayoung has her palm on jungkook’s cheek. she pushes his face so he turns toward her and she smacks a big kiss straight on his mouth.

jungkook just works his mouth open and closed. yoongi lets out a short chortle of laughter. deviously, he presses against jungkook closer and steals another kiss.

a moment later, hayoung kisses him again.

“she’s copying me,” yoongi says in delight. “she’s - “ he dissolves into laughter.

hayoung doesn’t notice her papa dying on the floor, instead tugging on jungkook’s hair and using her minimal use of word sounds to say something serious to her dad. jungkook shifts his daughter in his arms and splutters at yoongi. “calm down, you jerk, you’re making her go crazy.”

“wait, wait,” yoongi gathers himself and presses another kiss to jungkook’s mouth, slightly pushing him against the counter. when he pulls back, hayoung is staring at them curiously. then - as expected - she kisses jungkook again, this time longer and with more force.

“my mouth feels numb,” jungkook states after she pulls away, turning toward yoongi for approval.

“aren’t you full of surprises,” yoongi snickers. he does it again, just to bother jungkook and to see what happens. hayoung blinks big brown eyes at him and then she leans toward him this time, and yoongi grins. “is it my turn?” he kisses his baby girl and she claps her hands afterward. yoongi thinks he’s found her new favorite game.

“i feel like she’s being raised to be a ert,” jungkook says, voice woeful. “and older men are already stealing my daughter’s first kiss.”

“the only ert i need to be is the one that gets your attention,” yoongi scoffs. “besides, you’re not that bad.”

“i’m talking about you, mister i-grab-my-husband’s- in the morning.”

“listen, babe, i got that habit from you. you started it,” yoongi reminds him, referring back to how jungkook used to - in nice words - touch buttswhen he was nervous back in college and, if jimin is to be believed, high school. now all he does is yell out his frustrations and when he’s nervous, he pulls on his sleeves and shirt hem until they’re about a size bigger.

“don’t touch me, min yoongi,” jungkook grumbles, especially when yoongi goes in playfully for another kiss. “no. go kiss a pillow.”

“sweet and loving, remember?”

“i’m always sweet and loving.”

“and snarky,” he adds. “don’t forget snarky.”

“yeah, but you like that. just like how i like your grumpiness.”

yoongi grins stupidly. yeah, he does.

/

“okay, but i’d rather go to sleep again,” yoongi grumbles. “or we could go back to what we were doing before. hayoung can take a nap, right?”

“yeah? and where are we going to, quote unquote, do it? in the bedroom? in front of our daughter?”

“i’m so neglected,” yoongi leans back against the sofa’s arm and sighs mock-dramatically.

jungkook rolls his eyes. “just come here and help me put this away some place where it won't be seen; it's so big and bulky.” he’s referring to their coffee table, sitting in between their sofa set and television. it’s because jungkook has invited all their friends over - and yoongi means all of them- for lunch, plus a couple of other people that yoongi’s close to (or so he’s said) and they’re just rearranging things to be more spacious.

hayoung is bouncing around in her playpen, making “oooh” sounds every time jungkook walks past her, like some sort of attention alarm. it’s disgustingly adorable, and yoongi secretly takes a five second video of it.

there are lights all around the room, hanging up in arcs around the wall. there’s a couple of balloons tied to placeholders and put on the floor; other than that, nothing screams ‘birthday party’, which is just how yoongi likes it. jungkook’s made food all morning while indulging yoongi in his awful attempts at sneaking in tastes at the ingredients. it’s not a big menu, either, so yoongi hopes for a small, quiet time, and then a one way ticket into bed. or a cuddling session on the sofa.

that’s not how it turns out, though; the first guests are namjoon and seokjin, who both hug yoongi as soon as they see him. seokjin congratulates him on finally joining the thirty club (to which yoongi gives him a long-suffering look) and namjoon asks if he should call yoongi “ahjussi” now.

“you’re twenty-nine, brat,” yoongi hits the back of his head - stupidly tall as he is - and he waves them in. unfortunately, seokjin brings with him a plastic bag just full of food, and namjoon is holding a cake box behind his back. he grins, unrepentant, at yoongi when the elder notices.

“smells great, jungkookie,” seokjin says as he notices the island full with finished stuff. “i’m going to take all these out and just set them down, okay?”

“go ahead, hyung,” jungkook says faintly from the living room. “is that cake, namjoon-hyung?”

“i got vanilla with chocolate cream, a large, yoongi-hyung’s favorite,” namjoon cheerfully informs them. “my wallet is suffering, hyung, please compensate me.”

“no one told you to buy a cake.”

“i was morally obligated,” namjoon says, wounded.

he sets it on the counter and then follows seokjin to where hayoung is sitting in her playpen. seokjin waves at her and makes harmless little faces while namjoon just hovers.

the doorbell rings again and it’s jimin and taehyung this time, bright-eyed and holding gift boxes in their hands. they give yoongi twin looks of mischievousness.

“happy birthday, hyung!” jimin exclaims, practically bouncing in his spot. he hands over the gift and then treats yoongi to a surprise hug that lasts about a second and a half. “got this for you. now, where is the food at, i haven’t eaten jungkook’s cooking in a long time.”

taehyung mumbles a shy happy birthday to him, fiddling with the present, and yoongi sighs and ruffles his hair in a brotherly way. he waves them all inside and taehyung says, “hoseok-hyung texted me to tell you guys that he got stuck in traffic, but he should be here soon.”

“he’s driving all the way here?” hoseok lives on the opposite side of the seoul, sadly, and only comes around when there’s a time and place to meet up together.

“it’s your birthday, hyung, we all have to be here!” taehyung tells him emphatically, and at that, yoongi feels something warm flood through him. jeez, these guys.

jimin pushes through both seokjin and namjoon’s reluctance and careful circling of the baby, leaning over the playpen wall to poke at hayoung’s cheek. she jerks a little with the movement and makes a sound every time jimin continues to poke her.

“aren’t you turning a year old soon, hayoungie?” jimin gasps, remembering her birthday. “at the end of march! you’re going to be a whole year old! tell uncle jimin what you want, and he’ll get it for you, okay?”

“papa!” she says, and yoongi smirks when jimin pouts.

“not papa, you already have papa wrapped around your little finger - “ well, yoongi supposes, it is true. “ - but what about a new dress? toys? books?”

“i call everything on the dress category,” taehyung argues. “your taste in clothing is bad, jiminie.”

“i dress fine.”

“your taste in women’s clothing, then.” taehyung turns up his nose and goes to the kitchen, leaving jimin gaping behind him.

namjoon’s brought his own speakers and he’s setting them up in the living room, somewhere at the top so no wandering, curious little hands can accidentally break something. they’ve long babyproofed their home, but who knows what crazy things hayoung might get up to if left to her own devices.

jungkook is putting out plates and chopsticks. the cake is a huge, atrocious thing with white and blue frosting, flowers, music notes, and icing balloons. figures namjoon would spend an extra dollar or two on something like that. when jungkook catches the look on yoongi’s face, he snickers. “i promise, i did not tell him to get this. those hyungs brought stuff on their own; they’re just like that.”

jimin’s brought his camera, and he’s filming everyone and everything, although for the most part, his filming is subjective: the camera lens is more often than not pointed at hayoung.

“you missed all her good moments, hyung,” jungkook tells him as jimin films hayoung rolling over.

“what do you mean?”

“she stood up by herself in the crib today,” jungkook recounts, amusedly smiling. “gave both me and yoongi a heart attack. we have pictures.”

“and,” yoongi interjects, picking up his daughter in his arms, “she’s become a little mockingbird.”

jimin raises an eyebrow from behind his camera. “what do you mean?”

yoongi situates himself next to jungkook, who only sighs. yoongi kisses him and sure enough, a couple seconds later, hayoung kisses him too.

“oh my god,” jimin practically yells, “that is the cutest thing on the planet.”

“she does it mostly to jungkook,” yoongi snickers. “and i’ll get one if i’m lucky.”

“she’s copying you, oh my god,” jimin’s bouncing up and down, laughing. “she’s jealous of her papa stealing all of her daddy’s attention, so she’s trying to get it back. jungkook, how does it feel to have two people fighting over you?”

“it feels like i’m going to get a mouth sore.”

“cute and loving, jungkookie,” yoongi breathes in his ear, and jungkook rolls his eyes so hard they may just fall out of their sockets.

the rest of the day is spent in enjoyment - his friends stay until evening. hoseok manages to make it in an hour later, just as they’re starting on lunch, and it’s a nice meal with many leftovers. jimin and jungkook package up the rest to give everyone, taehyung is toting around hayoung with promises of expensive gifts in the form of cute clothes so he may also receive kisses (and, yoongi likes to note with smug satisfaction, it’s not working), namjoon helps clean up to the best of his ability, and yoongi gets to rest on the couch after it all and not do anything because it’s his birthday.

there’s cake smudged on his face, though, from when taehyung took a huge swab of icing on his finger and smushed it against yoongi’s cheek. jungkook had laughed so hard he almost cried, and in vengeance, yoongi went around hugging everyone and smushing their faces together, taehyung and jungkook his first victims.

hoseok initiated a tiny dance party to which hayoung was the main star, bopping up and down as much as her little legs could handle, nonsensically singing along with the beat. hoseok had given her a little full body shake and a, “that’s some talent! hyung, your daughter is going to be a grade-a dancer one day!”

jimin took so many videos. yoongi’s kind of afraid to ask him how many he has in his arsenal now.

hayoung finally rested easily in seokjin’s arms, without leaning over and wanting to escape. of course, neither jungkook nor yoongi was in the room at the time, but no one is mentioning that.

they all had a good time, leaving the apartment with a satisfied, content feeling. yoongi leans back against the couch now, watching the television mindlessly, wondering how he could miss the noisiness already. he’s always going on and on about how he dislikes big parties - and he does, he really doesn’t like large ostentatious gatherings - but a small little thing like this, with their friends, makes yoongi curl up in happiness.

jungkook practically falls into the seat next to him, body slumping against yoongi’s side, head leaning on his shoulder. he hugs yoongi’s arm and nuzzles his face against the fabric of his sweater.

“did you enjoy, mr grinch?”

“for your information, my heart grew three sizes bigger today,” yoongi says.

jungkook laughs and leans back so he can look at yoongi. slowly, he moves forward and pushes away yoongi’s bangs from his face. his fingers barely graze the skin of yoongi’s forehead.

“what are you doing?” he asks, bemused.

“being sweet and loving,” jungkook says gently. he presses his mouth against yoongi’s cheek, and then there’s a box being pressed into yoongi’s arms. it’s wrapped neatly in blue wrapping paper, yoongi’s favorite color, and a small white ribbon. “happy birthday.”

yoongi exchanges glances with him - most notably, they say, i can open this now? and jungkook responds with, well when else are you going to open it?

he picks apart at the paper until there’s only a medium sized, brown box left. he opens it and sees, in the midst of tissue paper, a bottle of familiar cologne.

jungkook gives a tiny laugh when yoongi says incredulously, “i thought you were joking!”

“i like when you wear it, and you like it too, so why not?” he rationalizes. “besides, the real gift is underneath.”

yoongi looks through the tissue paper and sees another box, rectangular this time. he opens it and inside there’s a beautiful watch, made of leather and silver and ticking away with it’s long needled hands. he runs a thumb over it and says, “babe, you didn’t have to.”

“look here,” jungkook says in response, picking up the watch and turning it over. he taps a little square box near the bottom edge. “this is where the battery is, and - “ here, he presses a curious third button on the side, next to the two other knobs, and the top half of the back pops open. “ - this is the little compartment inside.”

there’s a small picture of him, jungkook, and hayoung there, smiling at the camera, faces bright.

“so you can have us wherever you go, no matter what time it is,” jungkook finishes, sort of shyly receding back into the sofa cushions. “i hope you like it.”

“i love it,” yoongi rasps out, feeling a little bit choked. “thank you.”

“happy birthday,” jungkook tells him again, linking their hands together. they remain that way for the rest of the day.