When Yixing comes home from his last class of the day, he finds both Jongseok and Sunhwa halfway on Jongdae's lap, enthusiastically flipping through one of the various photo albums they keep throughout the house. Jongdae is fond of committing memories to paper, and at most family events, a threatening wave of his camera (or phone) has them all shuffling into a surly line.

But this one isn't of the kids themselves (though they're all narcissistic enough to enjoy that). It's an early one, one he likes to term BK: before kids.

He sets his jacket on the sofa, rolling his eyes. “Oh, god, I'd forgotten all about that hideous jacket. You should have burned that thing, Dae.” Sunhwa giggles at his statement, and quickly gives up her seat on the sofa to let him slide in next to Jongdae.

Only so she can crawl into his lap, of course. He shakes his head, smiling a little, and reaches out to ruffle Jongseok's already messy hair. It never stays in place. “Hello, sproglets,” he greets them both. “How have you been today? Awful?”

Jongdae hides a laugh behind his hand as Jongseok stands up, outraged. “I've been very good today!” He announces, an angry little fireball. “I helped daddy tidy my bedroom.”

'Daddy' snorts, a dry smile on his face. “Yes. Emphasis on 'helped,' Jongseok – you were supposed to do it yourself, hmm?”

Thus chastised, Jongseok grumpily slithers back into his seat. “I helped,” he mutters, and Jongdae's amused gaze meets Yixing's. They bite back grins.

Yixing ruffles his son's hair again. “Alright, baby,” he turns to look around the room, “where's Shang?” He asks, curious as to why his eldest son isn't in on the parental mockery. It's usually his favourite hobby.

Jongdae jerks his head up towards the second floor. “In his room. He's Skyping, or something.” He rolls his eyes, and Yixing raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

“So what have we got here, then?” He asks instead, wrapping both arms around Sunhwa as he leans over the album. He snorts when he takes in the photo again. “Ah, your perm phase,” he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Again, not a good look.”

“Poodle.” Sunhwa stabs at the page with one tiny finger, grinning sunnily. “Daddy looks like a poodle.”

Jongseok starts guffawing. “He does!” He holds out a hand for her to high five. “Good one, Sunny!”

Jongdae assumes a long-suffering look. “So I made bad fashion choices when I was young,” he flips the page, and reveals his own smirk, pointing at a particularly bad photo of Yixing in triumph, “so did bàba.” He raises his eyebrows in challenge. “Brassy blonde didn't really work for you, huh, babe?”

Yixing clears his throat. He avoids looking at the photo, because no, the brassy blonde and blunt fringe didn't really do much for him. But he can't let Jongdae know that. “I pulled it off,” he says loftily.

Jongseok and Sunhwa watch the exchange avidly, excited by the tension flickering between the parents. It's hilarious when their parents fight about stupid stuff like this.

“Mhm,” Jongdae does not sound convinced, and flips the page, letting it go. “This is a good one,” he offers, letting Jongseok crane over his arm to look at it, “neither of us look like nineties rejects.”

“Kyungmi looks good too,” Yixing adds, considering the photo. They're all mid-twenties, arms slung around each and grinning – because they have no idea of the hell fate has instore for them. “Was this from when we went to the zoo, and – ”

“The otter screamed at Kyungmi?” Jongdae snickers. “Yes, it is. That was a good day out, actually,” he muses.

“Can we go to the zoo?” Jongseok pipes up excitedly. Sunhwa's head pops up from under her father's arm at the word zoo, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Maybe some other time,” Yixing hedges, falling back onto the familiar ploy of promising-but-not-promising.

Jongdae turns the page quickly to avert the oncoming tantrum. “And look, more bad hair!”. He fluffs his hair appreciatively. “Almost makes me happy for all the grey hairs.”

Yixing snorts, deliberately. As if. He's been there for every one of Jongdae's hysterics when he discovers yet more grey hair. Apparently he made a deal: the rest of them can age, but he's not allowed to. He laughed in his face, because that's the kind of supportive, loving partner he is.

“Hmm,” Jongseok deliberates carefully over the photo. “I think bàba's hair looks worse here,” he decides, hastily adding “no offence, bàba,” when Yixing looks at him in betrayal.

“Whose side are you on, Jongseok?” He asks in mock hurt. His son stares at him coolly.

“My own,” he answers dismissively. Yixing shrugs. Fair play to him.

The next photo has Jongdae cackling. “Oh, god, I remember this one. We were – ” furtively, he casts a glance at the children, amending his statement, “having lots of fun,” he finishes quickly. It's true. They were having lots of fun. They were just also ingesting various substances not suitable for their children to ever know about.

“Bàba looks sleepy,” Sunhwa says, scrunching up her face, “why was he sleepy?”

Jongdae makes a choked ha sound, winking slyly at Yixing. “He was tired, baby,” he tells her seriously, and when she looks at him, unconvinced, he nods. She stares back at him.

Slightly unnerved by her unimpressed stare, Jongdae is relieved when the eldest member of their offspring thunders down the stairs to break the tension. “Oh. Hey.” He says diffidently to Yixing, before turning the book around in Jongdae's lap so he can look at it. He sniggers delightedly, “Oh my god,” he snorts, guffawing, “bà, you look so gay.”

A faint dusting of pink settles on Yixing's cheeks. “I am gay,” he points out wryly, because, well, if Shang hasn't cottoned onto that yet, then they're clearly doing something wrong.

“I know, but...” Shang clears his throat, one last chuckle ruining his composure. “I've never seen you look so camp before.”

Jongdae's face creases in agreement. “He has a point.” He holds up the album in Yixing's face, just to make him uncomfortable. “You are practically half .”

“You enjoyed that, as I recall,” Yixing mumbles under his breath, and Jongdae grins, settling the book back down in his lap.

“Oh, I did,” he assures him, before turning back to the photos. He flips the page, and turns silent. Yixing stops his sulking to look at it, all three of the children crowding in.

He begins to laugh. “Oh. Oh dear, Jongdae,” he says magnanimously, “and you thought mine was bad?”

Jongdae flushes awkwardly, and Shang grimaces, shaking his head. “Okay. Wow. I was wrong. You can look gayer than bà's photo.”

Jongseok, not really understanding his brother's description of gay, wrinkles his nose. “Dad, why are you wearing so much eyeliner?”

Jongdae kind of wishes a hole would appear and swallow him up. The gods of irony are cruel.