The alarm on Yifan’s phone goes off and Yifan groans, turning over to his side and burrowing deeper into his blankets as an attempt to block off the incessant ringing. He knows that Zitao’s going to turn it off anyway. But the alarm continues ringing and there’s no sleepy yawn on the other side of the bed, no rustling of blankets before Zitao reaches over and lazily drapes himself over Yifan’s body to for the phone and turn it off.

 

Yifan sits up, now more awake. “Zitao?” he calls out, gaze trained on the unmoving lump on the bed. “Zitao, sweetie? Are you okay?” He pushes the blankets off to reveal his sleeping husband’s face. Yifan’s fingers skirt on his forehead and he withdraws them sharply with a hiss. Zitao’s burning up.

 

Zitao cracks open an eye at the alarm that hasn’t stopped ringing and smiles sleepily at Yifan. “Oh, you’re already up,” he says in a hoarse voice. He moves to sit up, Yifan’s sharp eyes noticing how sluggish his movements are. “I’ll turn it off, you go get ready for work.”

 

But Yifan’s already pressing his husband back onto the bed, the latter’s eyes wide and confused. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

 

Zitao’s confusion only increases but he says nothing, watching as Yifan gets off the bed, swiping on his screen to turn off the alarm as he does so. With a yawn, Yifan stretches, stumbling over one of his dress shoes he had kicked off last night, too tired to put them on the shoe rack. Zitao hums to himself, playing with his fingers and wondering what he should make for breakfast today.

 

Yifan returns almost immediately after, a digital thermometer in one hand and a glass of water in another. Zitao’s eyes narrow at the thermometer, wondering what it’s for.

 

“Baby, open your mouth,” Yifan says, sitting on the side of the bed carefully to not spill the water.

 

Zitao’s eyes fly open because oh, it’s for him. “What? No!” he shrieks. “I’m not sick! I’m not sick at all! I’m fine! You get that away from me, Wu Yifan!”

 

“Zitao, come on,” Yifan sighs tiredly, placing the glass on their bedside table. It hasn’t even been five minutes since he’s woken up and already Zitao’s acting like a spoilt brat. “It’s five-thirty in the morning. I don’t have time for this.”

 

“Oh, but you have time to go and get a thermometer?” Zitao hisses, body pressed up against the headboard (the furthest he can be from Yifan without getting off the bed) and curled into a ball. “Why don’t you go stick it up your ?”

 

Yifan sighs.

 

Zitao takes pride in being extremely healthy. He does Wushu – well, that is until a surrogate mother gave birth to their twins – eats healthily, does regular exercise and never smokes. He does occasionally drink, but only for special occasions, like in parties or sealing business deals or trying to get Yifan drunk for some . He’s proud of his extremely strong immunity system, and whenever someone comments on him looking the least bit sickly, Zitao becomes the very epitome of being offended. Yifan should’ve known this wouldn’t be easy.

 

“Zitao, just please please please take your temperature,” Yifan pleads. “I just need to check up on you. Who knows? You might not be sick after all.”

 

After a long moment of staring – Yifan’s sleepy gaze against Zitao’s hard one – Zitao sighs exaggeratedly and acquiesces, reaching out his hand and snatching the thermometer from Yifan. “Fine,” he mutters, pressing the button and popping the thermometer into his mouth. “But I’m telling you, I’m fine …” he attempts to say, numbers already appearing on the screen.

 

“Uh huh,” Yifan raises his eyebrow at the rapidly rising reading on the small screen. “You keep telling yourself that.”

 

“But I’m fine!” Zitao whines, his voice being cut off by the beeping on the thermometer, indicating that his temperature reading is done. He slides it out of his mouth and stares at the screen, eyes widening at the number imprinted.

 

“Zitao?” Both of Yifan’s eyebrows are raised now. “Zitao, what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing!” Zitao’s quick to hide the thermometer behind his back. “I’m … I’m fine! I’m normal temperature!”

 

Yifan’s eyebrows narrow. “Zitao. What does it say.”

 

“I said that I’m fi—WU YIFAN! LET GO!” Zitao screams, unprepared for the sudden lunge Yifan made for his arm. They wrestle for a while, and even though Zitao has both the body and the strength to easily push Yifan off, Yifan’s the one who pulls away victorious with the thermometer in his hand, a fact that increases Yifan’s suspicion of Zitao being sick even more.

 

One look at the screen is all it takes for Yifan’s eyes to bulge out. “Forty-eight point five degrees Celsius?” he almost screams. “Zitao, you’re the temperature of the sun!” He exaggerates of course, because whenever Zitao gets sick, he doesn’t believe the person until they compare him to something on a cosmological scale, something which Yifan has to whisper to their doctors’ ears before they give Zitao his prescription.

 

“I’m fine,” Zitao continues to argue, his body now slumped against the headboard.

 

“You’re staying in bed, and that’s final,” Yifan says with a stern glare, the one that he knows Zitao will never argue against.

 

“But the kids –”

 

“I’m their father too, Zitao,” Yifan rolls his eyes, already maneuvering Zitao so that he can be more comfortable on the bed. “I’ll have them ready for school in no time.” He leans over and presses a kiss on Zitao’s forehead, ignoring the searing heat. “Sleep. It’s about time you rest.”

 

“But I’m fine,” Zitao tries to insist.

 

“If you say that one more time, I’m throwing all your Gucci products over the river,” Yifan threatens.

 

“You wouldn’t!” Zitao gasps, bolting up right.

 

“I won’t, but only if you stay in bed and rest,” Yifan shakes his head with a sigh, pinching his nose bridge. “They were bought using my money anyway. Now you stay, and I’ll cook you something.”

 

“You?” Zitao’s eyes narrow as he lays back on the bed.

 

Yifan rolls his eyes and scrolls through his phone. “Okay, fine. I’ll call backup.”

 

“Not Chanyeol,” Zitao says immediately. “Nor Joonmyun.”

 

Yifan frowns at Zitao. “They’re the only ones I know at work who has kids.” He’s about to give up and let Zitao suffer through takeout when a person in his contacts list catches his eye. “Oh! What about Yixing?”

 

“Xing ge?” Zitao blinks up at him, reaching for the glass of water.

 

“Do you know any more?” Yifan continues to stare at the contact, unsure if he should still call him. “I mean, the kindergarten doesn’t open until seven, and he lives fairly nearby … I’m sure he won’t mind once I tell him of your sickness.”

 

“I’m not sick,” Zitao says with a glare, sitting up slightly to sip the water. “I’m just resting.”

 

“Okay, I’ll call him up,” Yifan presses the call button and leaves the room with a roll of his eyes. As much as he loves Zitao, he can become unbearable when he “rests”.

 

 

 

 

 

Luhan groans at the sound of a muffled scream coming from the kitchen. He sits up lazily, rubbing his eye and glancing at the clock. It’s going to be six. Why didn’t mommy wake them up and bathe them already?

 

With a yawn, Luhan crawls off his bed, his pajama top rumpled and messy. He stands on tiptoes to reach for the doorknob, pulling the door open and wandering down the halls. Soft laughter reaches his ears and he smiles slightly, pleased to have such a pleasant sound this early in the morning. Luhan rounds the corner to the kitchen, expecting to see his mother and father playing around as they usually do, when someone he had not been anticipating is who he sees, brushing off flour of his father’s shirt.

 

“Daddy?” Luhan croaks out, eyes as wide as they can be. “Yixing gege?”

 

Both Yifan and Yixing turn at the voice, the latter grinning widely. “Oh, Luhan!”

 

“Yixing gege, what are you doing here?” Luhan’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Where’s mommy?” He turns to Yifan. “Daddy, where’s mommy?”

 

Yifan sighs and looks pleadingly at Yixing. Yixing just smiles and takes the bowl from Yifan’s hands, shooing him away to his son. “Go and talk to your sons. I’ll finish breakfast.” With another smile, Yixing continues to stir the batter.

 

Yifan lifts Luhan in his arms and brings him back to his bedroom. Sehun seems to have just woken up, one small hand rubbing an eye and his hair a complete mess. “Daddy?” Sehun calls out hoarsely. “Daddy, is that you?”

 

“Yes, it’s me,” Yifan says, setting Luhan on Sehun’s bed and sitting between them.

 

The hand falls from Sehun’s eye and Sehun pouts up at him. “Where’s mommy?”

 

“Yixing gege’s here,” Luhan suddenly says, looking accusingly at his father.

 

“Why’s he here?” Even Sehun is surprised. It’s no secret that they both love their kindergarten teacher to bits, but for him to be in their household is a shock for the both of them.

 

“Would you calm down and listen to me?” Yifan says, though there’s no real heat in his words. He transfers Luhan to his lap and Sehun’s hair, trying to tame the wild mane. “Mommy is sick. He can’t help you get ready for school, but I can’t do it myself because I have to leave for work soon. I called Yixing for backup. Since he lives close by, he can come to help and send you to school on time.”

 

“Mommy’s sick?” Sehun asks, tears in his big eyes.

 

“Yes, and don’t disturb hi—” Sehun jumps off the bed and dashes out of the room. “Sehun!”

 

“Wouldn’t mommy be jealous, though?” Luhan asks, regaining his father’s attention. “Remember that nice lady in your office? The one in the Peter Pan stories?”

 

“You mean Wendy?” Yifan sighs. Wendy’s one of the Junior Executives in his office and he was assigned to be her mentor. The fact that she’s also a Canadian drew him even closer to her, and they became the best of friends almost immediately. It’s just too bad that Zitao keeps seeing her as a threat despite Yifan’s endless claims that Wendy fully supports their marriage and has no intention of stealing Yifan away from him (how can she when she’s been eyeing one of the female secretaries the entire time?). “Yes, you have a point.”

 

“I like Miss Wendy,” Luhan hums. “She gives me lollipops whenever you bring me to the office. She gives Sehunnie chocolate because Sehunnie doesn’t like lollipops.” Luhan then grips Yifan’s arm tightly, turning around and looking seriously into Yifan’s eyes. “Can Miss Wendy be our second mommy?”

 

“No,” Yifan says sternly. “You already have Yixing for that. And God knows how long Zitao’s going to be ing to me about having her as your second mom.”

 

“What’s ‘ing’?”

 

Yifan’s face turns pale. “N-nothing you should know about!” Zitao is going to kill him.

 

 

 

 

 

Sehun cracks the door open and peeks his head in, watching his mother not moving from the bed. He slips inside the room and closes it gently behind him, tip-toeing to Zitao in small, quiet steps. Zitao turns to look at him once he’s close enough, managing a small smile.

 

“Oh. Sehun-ah, what are you doing here?”

 

Sehun doesn’t see any more reason to continue his silent trek, so he shuffles closer to his mother and pouts at him. “Daddy just told us you’re sick. Is mommy sick?”

 

Zitao chuckles and faces the ceiling once again. “Yes, mommy’s sick,” he sighs. It was hard enough to accept the fact, but it’s even harder to admit it to your own kid. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Sehun says sadly, reaching out the best he could and patting Zitao’s arm. “Remember what you told us? You said that we should never be sorry for things we couldn’t con … con …”

 

“Control?” Zitao suggests.

 

“Yeah!” Sehun grins. “Don’t be sorry you got sick, okay?”

 

Zitao laughs a little wetly. “You’re such a good boy, Sehun-ah,” he smiles, closing his eyes. “Mommy’s so proud of you.”

 

Sehun smiles and stands on the balls of feet, stretching to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Get well soon. Xingxing’s helping daddy bring us to school.”

 

“Mmm,” Zitao hums, already halfway to dreamland. “Tell daddy that I’m going to deck him later for having another man in the house.”

 

Confusion contorts Sehun’s features but he nods anyway. “Okay. Sleep good, mommy. When we come back from school, we’ll take care of you!” With a grin, he bounds away.

 

 

 

 

 

(“Daddy, mommy said that he’s gonna de … de … um … deck? Yeah! Mommy said he’s gonna deck you later!”

 

“What?! Why?!”

 

“Because you had another man in the house!”

 

“Told you he’ll get jealous.”

 

Yifan groans and proceeds to ignore both Luhan ranting about how he’s always right and Yixing laughing at his misery while dressing Sehun in his uniform.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

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- Do you know how hard it is to write a purely fluffy domesticated AU TaoRis when you’re used to dark and mature themes? Very.
- Maybe that’s the reason why I don’t update this often.
- Okay partly but the main reason is because of schoolwork ono
- And it’s never too early for a Wendy cameo ouo God, I love her. She’s so pretty *_*
- I’ll write jealous Zitao soon … ouo

 

I’m so sorry for not updating this earlier. It’s just that Finals are approaching and I barely have any time for myself, let alone updating a fic ono I’ll try to update faster … but no promises >n<