Word Count: 1738w

Prompt: parents au kaisoo stumbling upon one of the girls' diaries and reading about her frustrations over something (even though THEY SHOULDN'T READ THE DIARY LMAO)

There’s silence in the house, and it’s as if the blank screen that Kyungsoo’s facing is throwing thunderclap jeers right at his face. He’s got a presentation to do for a client in a couple of days - one that he isn’t anywhere near done with yet, and he’d thought that maybe forcing himself to sit in one place and forcing himself to concentrate would do the trick, but - it hasn’t.

A little reminder pops up in the corner of the screen of his Macbook, and Kyungsoo groans.

FINISH MORDYA PRESENTATION, MORON is displayed in 12-point Helvetica, and Kyungsoo frowns in annoyance at his past self. He really needs to start putting out more formal (and mature) reminders, he thinks.

He clicks the notification closed, takes a sip of his latte and sits up straight. There’s a crick in his neck that he works out, and his fingers are just about to close around his mouse when he hears it -

There’s a wet sound coming from somewhere in the back, a loud groan that makes Kyungsoo jump right out of his seat. It isn’t the kind of sound a human would make - the groan was mechanical, the turning of gears unmistakable. He rushes to the source and he’s more annoyed than surprised - it’s the washing machine.

He sighs.

He told the girls not to leave things in their clothes, washing machines are expensive.

He works quickly, pressing the red stop button before pulling out article after article of soppy clothing, nose wrinkling when the cold makes his fingertips burn. It doesn’t take him long to find the source - a tiny, spiral notebook, stuck just right so that the washing machine can’t spin.

He frowns, and nearly cuts his fingers trying to get it out.

‘What on earth…’ he mutters under his breath, examining the notebook after reloading the machine. He can just about make out the first couple of letters on the inside cover - it’s Soojung’s - but the rest of the pages are stuck together, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally rip up something potentially important to his daughter in his curiosity.

So he does what any other grown father-of-three would do: finds some string to feed through the binding, ties the ends to a couple of chairs so that it’s suspended at waist height and sits down in front of his laptop again, hair dryer in hand.

It takes him about an hour of blow drying to get the pages to unstick. He’s thankful for it: his hands were starting to ache.

At least half of his presentation somehow got done.

I really shouldn’t, he whispers to himself, untying the string to get the notebook down. He sets it down on the table, considers it. On the one hand, he was Soojung’s father - what if she was in trouble, and the notebook would tell him things his daughter wouldn’t say herself? That was a plausible situation, right? That would make it okay for him to -

The front door busts open.

Kyungsoo’s Macbook pings again.

JONGIN WORKING HALF DAY, MAKE HIM LUNCH, IDIOT

Kyungsoo’s breath catches in his throat. He can hear footsteps approaching, knows that his husband would not approve - so he does the only thing that seems logical to him right then.

He pulls off his sweater, and tries to hide the notebook underneath it.

Jongin walks in. He raises his eyebrows.

‘It’s 4 degrees outside,’ he says, slowly, confusion clear in his voice. He’s fully aware of Kyungsoo’s impending deadline, and how stressed the elder gets the more they loom over him, but. Well, he didn’t think that his husband’s heat receptors would die out from the stress. ‘Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?’

‘I - um. Hey, honey,’ says Kyungsoo weakly, eyes widening with every step Jongin takes towards him. Nervousness makes him move in double time, chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back, knee banging against the tabletop in his rush to get up. Kyungsoo ignores all of this, goes instead to throw his arms around his husband, hoping the wince on his face isn’t too obvious. ‘I, kind of, I mean - I wanted to welcome you home.’

‘What, with pneumonia?’ asks Jongin, incredulously. He untangles himself from Kyungsoo’s arms and reaches for the elder’s sweater, inevitably jostling the notebook, causing it to fall. Kyungsoo screws his eyes shut. ‘What’s this?’

‘I wasn’t going to look at it!’ says Kyungsoo, too quickly. He raises his arms to let Jongin put his sweater on for him, and bites his lip when the younger’s focus shifts to the notebook he’s picking up off the floor. ‘She probably left it in her pocket or something, so when I did the laundry, the washing machine acted up and - ’

‘Okay,’ says Jongin, flipping the cover up to see his daughter’s name. ‘So we’ll give it back. She’s supposed to be done with school soon, right?’ he asks, flipping the notebook closed again.

Kyungsoo wants to nod, and just leave it at that. Kyungsoo should, really, it’s just that - well.

‘What if she’s having problems at school and we won’t know because she won’t tell us and reading the thing is the only chance we’ll get to find out and help our baby through whatever emotional turmoil she may be facing?’ hollers Kyungsoo, hands in fists by his side.

Jongin’s eyes go wide. He knows Kyungsoo’s an amazing singer, but still - he wasn’t used to hearing the latter talk so much in just one breath.

‘That wouldn’t be right, Kyungsoo,’ says Jongin, gently, the notebook still in his hand. ‘If she was really having a hard time, she knows she could come to us. You’ll talk to her - we both will.’

‘I know, I know,’ says Kyungsoo, eyes never leaving the notebook. ‘But - I just want to make sure that she’s okay, you know - really okay. I don’t want her to think that she can’t tell us things, and then suffer because of it.’

‘Even so,’ Jongin says, beginning to pocket the notebook - ‘We have no right to infringe on her privacy this way - you know she wouldn’t appreciate that.’

‘I just need to make sure - ’ Kyungsoo says. He reaches forward to make a grab at the book, but Jonginknows his husband, and he’s quick. Kyungsoo’s fingers don’t even brush against the notebook before Jongin snatches it away, holding it high above his own head.

‘Really?’ Kyungsoo deadpans, frustration taking the place of his concern. ‘Using my height against me? Is that really necessary?’

‘It’s only practical,’ reasons Jongin, arm not wavering. ‘If I leave it in my pocket, you’ll just snatch it right back out. I know you.’

Kyungsoo huffs. ‘I may have three teenage daughters, Jongin,’ he begins, squaring his shoulders. ‘But old and weak, I am not. I will fight you. Now help me quell my absolutely valid, reasonable concerns for my daughter.’

‘No,’ says Jongin, taking a large stride backward. ‘This is a boundary that she’s set and doesn’t want us to cross, so I don’t think we should unless she expressly tells us we can.’

‘Give it to me,’ says Kyungsoo, a little dangerously. There’s a flash of something in his eyes, and Jongin knows his husband is strong - but he also knows Kyungsoo would never really hurt him.

He takes another step back.

Kyungsoo lunges forward, latches both his hands on either side of his husband’s waist. It’s Jongin’s weak spot: he’s ticklish, and Kyungsoo knows just how to use that to his advantage. He begins to move his fingers rhythmically, and soon enough Jongin’s on the ground, notebook right in Kyungsoo’s reach, laughter tumbling into his ears. It’s so loud that neither of them hear the sound of the front door swinging open, and shut again - both of them with their attention focused on the notebook Jongin’s struggling to hold on to.

It doesn’t work.

Kyungsoo makes a grab for it - and this time, gets it.

He grins.

‘I always win,’ he smirks, moving to get up and sit on his husband’s back. There’s a sense of smugness on his face as he flips open the first page, and sees, in his daughter’s neat handwriting, the words: Kill Hyeri.

He drops the notebook, and in his shock, allows Jongin to push him off, roll over and get up.

‘We’ve raised a murderer,’ whispers Kyungsoo, in shock more than horror. ‘Jongin - we’ve raised amurderer.’

‘I believe it’s you she gets the murderous tendencies fro - ’

‘Daddy! Papa! What are you doing with that?’ Soojung shrieks, rushing up to her fathers and snatching the notebook from Jongin’s hand. ‘This is mine - where did you get it?’

‘You’re a good girl, right, Soojung?’ asks Kyungsoo, frantically reaching for his daughter and pulling her to his chest. ‘Wouldn’t hurt a fly? Wouldn’t throw the first punch?’

‘Papa, what are you talking about - ’
‘You’re my sweet little youngest, not a murderer, never a murderer - ’

‘Kyungsoo, let her go.’ Jongin’s voice is steady. It calms his husband’s frenetic movements, stops jumbled thoughts from spilling from the elder’s lips. Slowly, Kyungsoo lets go, lets Jongin pull him to his side.

‘We’re sorry we looked at your private things,’ says Jongin, addressing his daughter. She folds her arms across her chest, tries her best to keep her face neutral. ‘It won’t happen again, okay, princess?’

‘Okay, Daddy,’ mutters Soojung.

‘It was wrong of us, and you know you can come to us for anything, so - we promise it won’t happen again.’ Jongin grips Kyungsoo’s forearm a little tighter, motions for the elder to agree. Kyungsoo keeps his lips sealed shut, though, and only regards his daughter with the air of a man about to drive a tank over thin ice. ‘Kyungsoo - ’

‘She has to promise too!’ exclaims Kyungsoo, arms moving to mirror his daughter’s. ‘I’ve been the perfect role model, always calm, never thought of murdering anyo - ’

Jongin lets out a loud sigh, puts his arms around his husband’s shoulders. He gives Soojung a meaningful look, and he’s thankful when she relents.

‘I promise,’ she says, and Jongin can pick up the slightest shade of exasperation in her voice, but he doesn’t make much of it. She’s been good, for the most part. ‘No murdering, and I’ll come to you when I need to.’

A smile breaks across Kyungsoo’s lips, and he reaches for his daughter, squishes her in between him and his husband.

‘That’s my girl.’