Yifan knows something is up when Jongdae doesn’t return his greeting after he returns home from an afternoon—so not late—basketball game with friends. There isn’t even a hum of acknowledgement, which is usually reserved for when his husband is reading or watching TV.

Peering around the corner into their little kitchen, Yifan finds Jongdae stirring a mug of what smells like strong tea. He knows he’s not quiet, and Jongdae should definitely have heard him. “…I’m home,” he calls gently.

“Yifan.”

Uh oh. Not only was it his full given name and not an affectionate pet name, but it had that disappointed mom-tone that few perfect without having had children first.

He tiptoes up behind Jongdae, loosening his tie, and wraps his arms around the man with a low, “Jongdae.”

“Wu Yifan.” Oh, no. What did he do? He’s usually pretty good about picking up after himself, although neither of them will be starring in Better Homes and Gardens anytime soon. “Did you forget anything this morning?”

Yifan kisses his cheek with exaggerated fondness, but Jongdae doesn’t even flinch. So teasing won’t work. He really messed something up.