Needless to say, the next morning is very tense.

 

Yifan wakes up to the sound of someone cooking, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sits up. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, collecting his things and making his way to the bathroom connected to his and Zitao’s bedroom. He would’ve used the twins’ bathroom but he’s sure that they’re using it now, getting ready for school. They like to bathe themselves, but they wouldn’t say no if either mommy or daddy joins them.

 

Yifan stays out of sight, ignoring the rumbling in his stomach. Knowing Zitao, he’d be totally ignored and left to fend for himself. It’s a really petty thing, and Zitao may have matured a lot, but he is still pretty childish. He doesn’t know how to act upon his anger other than being immature.

 

Yifan takes a long time in the shower, contemplating how he should apologize to Zitao. He’d already missed five anniversaries before this, so how did he apologize before? He remembers just begging Zitao to forgive him and pouting like crazy, but he has a feeling that Zitao wouldn’t fall for the same tactic, especially if he uses it everytime. With a sigh, Yifan turns off the shower and towels himself off.

 

“Congratulations, Yifan,” he mutters to himself, stepping out of the bathroom and looking for his phone. “You’ve officially become the world’s biggest .” He sighs again, scrolling through his contacts and calling Joonmyun.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi,” Yifan furrows his brows slightly. “Tell boss I won’t be coming in today.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

Yifan lets out another sigh, closing his eyes in frustration. “Remember yesterday was mine and Zitao’s six-year anniversary? Well …”

 

It takes a while for Joonmyun to answer, but Yifan can still make out the gasp of realization. “Oh my God. I thought you left early. How long did Chanyeol keep you in the club?”

 

“Long enough for me to things up,” Yifan groans. “I feel like I would need a thousand eternities to apologize to Zitao.”

 

“Knowing Zitao, it would most probably take about two thousand eternities.”

 

Yifan frowns. “You’re supposed to make me feel better.”

 

Joonmyun chuckles. “I’m your best friend. I’m supposed to make you feel even tier. But all right. I’ll tell boss.” There’s a long pause. “Wait. Yifan, you’re the boss.”

 

Yifan blinks and pinches his nose bridge with his fingers. “Ugh, I’m too worried about this to even remember I’m the president of Wu Corps.”

 

“And I’m still a bit hungover to even remember that you’re the boss,” Joonmyun laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be promoting some -ups today?”

 

“Not in the mood,” Yifan groans. “How can I terrorize my employees when all I can think about is Zitao being disappointed in me?”

 

“Won’t be your first time,” Joonmyun snickers. “Anyway, I’ll let everyone know that you’re experiencing some personal problems and you won’t make it in today. I’ll also tell them to continue kissing your tomorrow in hopes that they’ll get promoted. See you around. I hope you and Zitao get better.”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Yifan mumbles, ending the call with a miserable sigh. How is he going to do this?

 

 

 

 

 

Yifan comes back down with a fresh change of clothes, surprised to see Zitao sitting alone at the table and breakfast set for … four? Zitao prepared breakfast for him? This isn’t like him. He tends to ignore Yifan the entire day, maybe even the entire week. Yifan has been with Zitao long enough for him to know what his husband’s like.

 

Something’s up.

 

Yifan takes a cautious step into the kitchen, Zitao looking up at him. His eyes are angry and blank, a sure sign that Zitao’s still mad at him. Yifan clears his throat. “Z-Zitao? Sweetie? Can we talk?”

 

“Not now,” Zitao’s tone is snappish. “Wait until the kids have eaten and left for school. Speaking of which,” he folds his arms and raises an eyebrow at Yifan’s shirt and sweatpants, “don’t you have work today, Mr. Boss Man? Promoting some hopeful employees or something?”

 

Yifan scratches the back of his head. “Um. Well. I’m not really feeling well today so I told Joonmyun to tell them that I’ll start the promotions tomorrow instead of today.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Zitao’s voice is now less harsh, taking on a lofty tone instead. “It’s nice to know that you’re still disappointing people on your lack of appearance on special days.”

 

Yifan winces. Ouch. Zitao’s mood is definitely not going to be any better any moment soon. He clears his throat from lack of anything to do, other than to fill in the painfully awkward silence. The pattering of feet is then heard and Yifan could smother his twins in kisses, grateful for their appearance.

 

“Daddy!” Sehun squeaks happily, flinging himself around Yifan’s legs. “G’morning!”

 

“Good morning,” Yifan smiles with a low voice.

 

“Daddy!” Luhan grins, tugging Yifan’s shirt. Yifan raises an eyebrow before complying to his son’s wishes and crouching down to the floor. Luhan wraps his arms around his father’s neck and pulls him in even closer. “How was your date with Mama last night?” Luhan whispers rather loudly into Yifan’s ear, clearly excited with the details.

 

Yifan freezes. Luhan knows? He knows of the anniversary dinner Zitao had set out for him? He glances up at his husband and Zitao deflates slightly, a look of anger and sadness in his eyes. The expression fades as quickly as it had come, the nonchalant face back on.

 

Yifan lets his eyes linger on Zitao’s face for a moment before focusing back on his son. Luhan’s eyes are big, b with excitement as he waits for his father to tell him the wonderful date they had last night. “It’s … uh …” he shrugs. “It could’ve gone better.”

 

Luhan, thankfully, pouts, not looking like he wants to pry any further. “Aw. That’s too bad.” He lightly pats his father’s cheeks. “Oh well!”

 

Sehun had ignored the entire thing, content on eating his breakfast. He gets crumbs around his mouth and an orange juice stain on his uniform but he doesn’t mind, not when he’s playing with his scrambled eggs and pretending he’s a giant leviathan wrecking havoc over the city of Eggs-lantis.

 

 

 

 

 

Yifan adjusts Sehun’s little yellow cap and watches the toddler readjust it himself. It looks more crooked if anything, but Yifan can’t call him out on it, not when he’s too busy thinking of a hundred and twenty-six different ways on how to apologize to Zitao. He hears a set of knocks and he stands up, peering through the peephole and seeing Chanyeol outside his door. Yifan sighs.

 

He glances to his side and sees Zitao stiffly straightening Luhan’s uniform, the latter too busy with snapping the elastic string holding his hat in place against his neck. He’s always been a little too masochistic for his own good. Yifan clears his throat to get Zitao’s attention. “Um … Chanyeol’s here …”

 

He trails off when Zitao stands up abruptly. “Yes. I know. I heard it. Go send the kids off.” And with that, Zitao turns on his heel and stomps down to the kitchen, leaving Yifan staring after him.

 

“Daddy …” Sehun’s tearful whisper prompts Yifan to kneel down. “Daddy, is Mommy angry?”

 

“No, sweetie,” Yifan sighs. He hates lying to his children, but he doesn’t want his kids to get scared for something that’s only between him and Zitao. “Mommy’s just … tired. I’ll talk to him.” He brings his other arm out and Luhan collapses into it, Yifan wiping away the tears already making their way down his face. “So don’t cry, okay?”

 

“I don’t want Mama to get angry,” Luhan whimpers.

 

“Oh, Luhan,” Yifan can feel his own heart breaking from the sheer tremor in Luhan’s voice. Sure, he’s in the wrong, but what was Zitao thinking letting his anger take over him when the kids are still around? He should have known that the kids would thought that he’s angry at them. “He’s not. He’ll be better before you guys come home, I promise.”

 

“Pinky swear?” Sehun sniffs, holding out a tiny finger.

 

“Pinky swear,” Yifan promises, holding out both pinkies. He links Luhan’s and Sehun’s pinkies with his own large ones, kissing them on the foreheads and patting their backsides. “Now go on. Don’t want to let Chanyeol wait.”

 

He stands up and opens the door, smiling warmly at Chanyeol’s obvious surprised expression. “Surprised?”

 

“Very,” Chanyeol chuckles, once the initial shock dies down. “It’s always Zitao. What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work, boss?”

 

Yifan shakes his head. “Not up to it. Ask Joonmyun for details.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Chanyeol nods in apology. “I just remembered. He texted me earlier on. I’m really sorry, man, I –”

 

Yifan waves his hand. “Hey, don’t worry about it. It was my fault anyway. My fault for telling you.”

 

Chanyeol snickers and lightly punches Yifan in the arm. “All right. I’ll just go take the twins to school, then.” He smiles down at Luhan and Sehun clinging at Yifan’s legs. “Come on, guys. Time to detach yourselves from the human tree and go.”

 

When Luhan and Sehun cling tighter to Yifan’s pants, Yifan pats them on the heads. “I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to Mommy. We’ll be fine when you get back, okay?” He smiles at them. Luhan is the first to let go, though very reluctantly. Sehun follows his brother’s example, obviously not wanting to be outdone by him. Yifan rolls his eyes at Sehun’s competitiveness but urges them forward anyway. “All right. Have fun at school. Don’t fight, share your things, and don’t cause too much trouble for Yixing. And Chanyeol, now that I think about it.”

 

Chanyeol grins and gestures at his silver McLaren MP4-12C. Yifan wrinkles his nose at the sight of it. He just doesn’t understand Chanyeol’s penchant for sports cars. It’s a gorgeous car, all right, but he still doesn’t see it as safe, especially when it comes to transporting his twins to school. “Come on, guys. Kyungsoo and Jongin are waiting in the car.”

 

Sehun lights up and all but runs towards the car, tip-toeing the best he can and waving frantically once he’s by the window, trying to catch the attention of Jongin. Jongin, who’s right by the window, grins at him and waves back, trying to reach over to the crank to roll the window down. He’s firmly buckled in his seat, though, so he can’t reach the crank with his short arms and both he and Sehun whine.

 

Yifan shakes his head and smiles gently at Luhan. “Go on, now. You don’t wanna be late for school. Don’t wanna make Minseok angry, do you?”

 

Luhan shakes his head slowly. “Make Mama happy again, okay?”

 

Yifan’s smile becomes frozen on his face, even as he waves bye to his kids. Make Zitao happy again when he’s so obviously at fault? That’s nearly impossible. He’d rather hack his way down to the Earth’s core.

 

Nonetheless, he steels himself and closes the door behind him. His nerves are sparked with slight anger now and he needs to calm down in case they have a shouting match. Sure, Zitao’s angry at him, but he doesn’t need to showcase it in front of the twins. It’s just between him and Zitao, damn it. Don’t get the kids involved with it.

 

Yifan takes a deep breath and heads for the kitchen. The house is quiet, but he knows where Zitao goes whenever he gets angry. Sure enough, when he’s at the doorway, he sees Zitao slumped on the counter, a bottle of wine opened next to him. It’s a very Zitao-esque thing to do, to drink whenever he’s angry over anything. It’s a horrible habit he’s trying to break, since he becomes even more angry when he’s drunk, but he still can’t help but do it. Yifan sighs and crosses his arms, leaning on the doorway. “Weren’t you the one who said that they’re going to stop drinking?”

 

“ off,” Zitao growls, not even sparing him a glance. His voice isn’t even slurred in the least, so that means he’s just started on the wine. Good. They can have a civilized conversation then.

 

Yifan raises a brow and sighs again. “What the hell was that? In the living room just now. You know the kids aren’t involved with this. It’s just between you and me.” Zitao slams the wine bottle on the counter. He whirls around and flings his still-filled glass at Yifan, who dodges it at the last second. It goes past the doorway and shatters against the floor, glass and wine everywhere. “ing hell, Zi—”

 

“Who gave you the right to start lecturing me on my behavior?” Zitao screams. “Who’s the one who missed our anniversary for the sixth time straight?”

 

“I apologized, didn’t I?” Yifan says in an exasperated voice. “What more do you want from me? I gave you an explanation!”

 

“Don’t throw Chanyeol under the bus for this!” Zitao slams his hand on the counter. “Why didn’t you make an effort to leave early?! If you knew that our anniversary was yesterday, then why did you still stay out so late?”

 

“Because Jongdae suddenly came up and talked to me for almost an hour!” Yifan retorts back.

 

“Then shove him off and come back home!” Zitao screams again.

 

“He’s my friend’s spouse!” Yifan yells back, kicking the laundry hamper near him. He doesn’t know why it’s suddenly there when they have a perfectly good laundry room, but he’s glad it’s there. He’d rather kick that than the hard counter and possibly stub his toe. “Am I not allowed to talk to him?”

 

“Not when you have your own husband to go to!”

 

“You’re not the only person in my life, Zitao,” Yifan growls. “I have the kids and my friends in the workplace. I have my family back in Canada, and I have your friends too. I haven’t seen Jongdae in a while, and, hmm,” here, he puts on a mocking look of thinking, “it’s awfully rude for someone to just push past one of their friend’s husbands after months of not seeing each other, isn’t it?” He folds his arms. “But you wouldn’t know, would you?”

 

Zitao’s jaw is hanging open and his eyes are wide in shock, fire blazing in them. “Are you ing saying,” he whispers, “that I’m rude?”

 

Okay, so maybe Yifan shouldn’t have insinuated that, but he had already known he was going to be in deep trouble after saying that, so he stands his ground.

 

Yifan spreads his arms wide. “You tell me.”

 

“Yifan –”

 

“You are by far the most narcissistic person I have ever met,” Yifan cuts through. His head is pounding, but he needs to say this. It’s been a long time coming, and Zitao needs to know now. “You tend to put me down just to make yourself feel and look better. I love you so much, Zitao, but you always act as if everything orbits around you.”

 

Zitao stays silent for a moment, expression the epitome of offense. “I have the twins –”

 

“But what about when it’s only the two of us?” Yifan interrupts again, his voice dropped to a hiss. He needs to make Zitao understand. “Huh? What about whenever we go out with our friends, you keep joking about how I never do anything around the house and say that I’m useless with the twins?” He doesn’t expect tears to spring to his eyes, so he bites his lip so that none break free and show his moment of weakness to Zitao. “It hurts, Zitao. Every time.”

 

Zitao softens at the sight of tears, so he looks away. “I get hurt too, Yifan. By you. So many times that I lost count.”

 

“Haven’t I apologized to you every single time, though?” Yifan whispers. “With the exception of last night, haven’t I made sure that you never go to bed with a frown on your face and tears down your cheeks?” He closes his eyes, trying and failing to will the tears back. It doesn’t help, tears running down his cheeks in little rivulets. “So why do you never apologize to me?”

 

Zitao opens his eyes and his heart pounds painfully at the sight of his husband’s wet face. He crosses the kitchen in three long strides and stands close to Yifan, lacing their hands together and touching his forehead against Yifan’s. “Why did you never say anything?” Zitao asks softly, anger all gone. This is the first time he’s seen Yifan cry (that doesn’t regard the twins), so how can he stay angry? “I always assumed you were fine with it. If you had told me, then I would’ve never continued to do so.” He closes his eyes and brushes the tip of his nose against Yifan’s. “Oh God, I’ve been telling our friends those ‘jokes’ for years. Why didn’t you stop me?”

 

“How could I?” Yifan murmurs, his own eyes fluttering shut. “You looked so happy that you were telling them something funny, that I couldn’t stop you.”

 

Zitao smiles, opening his eyes and squeezing Yifan’s hands until the latter’s eyes crack open as well. “I’m not mad anymore,” he confesses. “I don’t know why, but I’m not.”

 

Yifan smiles shakily. “Is it because you realized that you’re not perfect and that we both have faults? And that there’s no point in getting mad at me because I’ll probably do this again next year?”

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s your blubbering face,” Zitao shrugs playfully, before his face darkens and he steps away from Yifan. “And if you ever, ever forget our anniversary ever again, we are getting a divorce.” He kisses the corner of Yifan’s lips, tasting a hint of saltiness, Yifan placing his hands on Zitao’s hips. “Okay, we’re not. I love you too much to ask for a separation. But I will kill you. Slowly. Painfully. Condemned to sleep on the couch. Forced to do all the chores for two whole days. No kisses from me for a week.”

 

Yifan hisses, his grip on Zitao’s hips tightening. “That last one’s too much.”

 

“Don’t be such a baby,” Zitao rolls his eyes. “All right, fine. We’ll limit that to only a day.”

 

“Much better,” Yifan says softly. “Anything you want, as long as you’re happy and I’m forgiven.”

 

Zitao thumbs away Yifan’s tears. “Did you forgive me?”

 

“Oh, Zitao, I already have,” Yifan smiles.

 

Zitao wraps his arms around Yifan’s neck and buries his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the musky scent. “You’re too nice,” he whines, voice slightly muffled. “You’re spoiling me.”

 

“You deserve it,” Yifan kisses his head. “I’m really glad this didn’t lead to an argument. We should just stick to talking. It’s much more effective.”

 

“I guess,” Zitao mumbles. “The kids were scared, weren’t they?”

 

Yifan shrugs and pulls Zitao away, looking into his eyes. “Nothing cake can’t handle.”

 

Zitao grins so widely his face hurts.

 

 

 

 

 

Zitao had just smeared chocolate on Yifan’s cheeks just as the doorbell rings. Yifan reaches for one of the paper towels when Zitao lightly slaps his hand away, a playful smile on his face. “Uh uh, you are going to answer the door with chocolate all over your face.

 

“You’re so childish,” Yifan chuckles, stealing a kiss. He’s about to move away when Zitao grabs his collar, pulling him even closer and deepening the kiss. Yifan grunts in surprise, his hands sliding around Zitao’s waist and feeling Zitao giggling in the kiss. “I love you,” he says softly, pulling away and staring into his husband’s eyes.

 

Zitao softens and pecks him on the lips. “I love you too.” He reaches behind him and grabs a handful of powdered sugar, flinging it to Yifan’s face. “Even more with powdered sugar on your face.”

 

“Zitao!” Yifan coughs, jabbing at Zitao’s sides. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear. You’ll pay for that, you little monster.”

 

The doorbell rings again and Zitao spins Yifan around, urging him towards the door. “Hmm, maybe, but not now. Go answer the door looking like a mess.”

 

“You’re a menace,” Yifan shakes his head fondly, hurrying towards the door lest the person on the other side loses patience and starts to leave.

 

He opens the door and brightens at the sight of a surprised Baekhyun blinking confusedly at him. “… Yifan?”

 

“Yeah,” Yifan’s grin widens. “How were the twi—OOF!” His legs get tackled, Luhan and Sehun screaming at their father.

 

“Daddy!” Luhan chirrups happily at him.

 

Sehun doesn’t say anything at him, cheeks bulging as he munches on something, hands twisting in Yifan’s sweatpants.

 

“Welcome back,” Yifan greets, lifting his sons up. “Thanks for dropping them off, Baekhyun. Even if Zitao had to bribe you.”

 

“He said he’s able to afford some things now that someone,” here, he emphasizes the word, eyeing Yifan with a smirk, “has just gotten their black card.”

 

Yifan sighs. “Of course.”

 

“Daddy,” Luhan suddenly whimpers, tugging on Yifan’s hair. “Daddy, is Mama …”

 

“He’s much better now, sweetie,” Yifan promises. “I told you he wasn’t angry.” At you, he adds in his head.

 

“Okay!” Luhan’s attention gets diverted to the chocolate on Yifan’s cheek, wiping at it before sniffing it curiously and stuffing his fingers into his mouth. “Daddy, you taste good,” he compliments.

 

“That’s … that’s gross,” Yifan wrinkles his nose. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re becoming a zombie.”

 

“No, daddy!” Luhan laughs. “I wanna be a pirate!”

 

“Sehunnie ninja!” Sehun cheers, swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

 

“Yeah, Jongin gave him one of his cookies,” Baekhyun says, ruffling Sehun’s hair fondly. “Speaking of Halloween costumes …”

 

Yifan shakes his head. “Don’t ask. Zitao suddenly decided to be a brat again and smeared chocolate and powdered sugar on me.” Sehun starts to squirm in his arms, Yifan taking the hint and putting both twins back down on the floor. Luhan and Sehun run towards the kitchen, screaming for their mother.

 

“You guys all right again, I see,” Baekhyun smiles gently.

 

“Yeah,” Yifan leans against the doorjamb. “Hopefully this’ll never happen again.”

 

“Judging by your bird brain, I doubt it.” He dodges the kick Yifan aims at him, laughing as he turns around and waves. “See you again, Yifan. Give Zitao a kiss for me!”

 

Yifan waves back, watching as Baekhyun gets into his car and drives off, before closing the door behind him. He hears Luhan animatedly telling a story and he enters the kitchen, watching how Zitao gives Luhan the can whipped cream to decorate the cake while Sehun plays with one of the strawberries Zitao’s given him.

 

He leans against the doorway, watching the scene with such fondness and love his heart is aching to burst. Luhan’s tongue sticks out of his mouth in the most adorable way as Zitao helps him guide the cream around the cake, even letting him draw a crooked smiley face in the center.

 

Zitao looks up and smiles warmly at Yifan, beckoning him over with his hand. Yifan obliges, standing over Luhan and tilting his head towards Zitao. “You’re so obedient,” Zitao laughs, “not removing the mess on your face.”

 

“For your information, I taste like a masterpiece,” Yifan retaliates. “Well, according to Luhan, who thought it would be nice to taste the chocolate.”

 

“Mr. Masterpiece here has his chocolate ruined, I see,” Zitao teases. “I ought to touch that up.” Without warning, he grabs the can of whipped cream and sprays it on Yifan’s face, laughing hysterically as Yifan stays frozen, shell-shocked with what just happened.

 

“Mama!” Luhan laughs. “Daddy isn’t food!”

 

Zitao takes Yifan’s face in his hands and kisses him, away the whipped cream on both his lips and fingers. “But you’re right, darling. Daddy does taste good.” His eyes darken and he sends Yifan a cheeky little wink, turning back to the cake and asking Luhan for suggestions on other decorations for the cake.

 

Yifan breathes out to deeply calm the raging arousal pumping in him, turning away to wash his face. He catches Zitao’s eyes, the latter mouthing I love you before reaching over for the can of cherries. Yifan’s heart thumps and he turns on the faucet, the widest grin on his face.

 

Zitao may be the most arrogant, narcissistic, teasing minx in the whole world, but goddamn does Yifan love him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

---

 

Tumblr | Twitter | ask.fm

 

- Wow, this took a long time coming. The last time I updated this was October of last year (WOW, I am so sorry), so … yeah. I’m really sorry.
- I didn’t want to write more angst as the previous chapter already had it. I mean, I initially wanted it, but I wasn’t in the mood to churn out a tear-jerking chapter.
- Eggs-lantis is probably my best pun ever.
- For once in my fanfic-reading life, I want a situation where it’s Yifan as the ‘victim’ (that is, the one who’s feeling hurt) and Zitao as the ‘’ (this doesn’t need explanation), and Zitao has to apologize to Yifan. Yifan is always, always the arse, and it’s getting very tiring to read. So, why not I write it and hopefully start a trend of #ZitaoTheAss and “introduce” this side of Taoris? Who says Zitao’s perfect and Yifan’s always the douche? Why can it never be the other way around? And even if it is the other way around, why must Yifan be the one on bottom? Why can’t he still be on top and be the one Zitao apologizes to?
- All right, enough rant.
- Okay, because most of you (or even all of you) might not understand why I put the little “{{TEMPORARILY DISCONTINUED}}” label next to the title, it’s best that you go to my latest blog post. Or better yet, just click on this link.