“Taehyung, it's four ing’o’clock in the morning. Why the hell are you calling me?” Namjoon’s voice is groggy and upset, and Taehyung has a brief moment of guilt that passes too quickly for him acknowledge that it ever existed.

He runs his hand through his hair as he listens to Namjoon’s rant about why waiting for the freaking sun to come up is a socially acceptable time to make a phone call. But he’s at his wit's end. He’s the CEO of one of the largest conglomerates in the world; he holds the lives and fate of thousands of people in his elegant, well-manicured hands. He’s the New York Times titled God of acquisitions and mergers, so why the is it so hard to find and keep a damn nanny?

“She ing climbed into my bed with no clothes on, Namjoon.” He cuts off the man’s diatribe. “As my best friend you’re gonna ing wake up at four am and like it, damn it.”

“Your bed? ? Well, , that’s just…damn. ?” Namjoon fumbling for words has Taehyung feeling somewhat better. Rendering the normally articulate man speechless is an accomplishment in and of itself.

“Yes, .” He sighs, “Seriously, Joonie, I just want a nanny. Someone willing to take care of my daughter, keep her safe, and make her smile. Am I asking too much?”

“No, you’re not. But, you’re successful, and as my sister likes to point out on a near daily basis – hellfire hot. What does that even mean? Hellfire on its merits is a bad thing. Not sure I agree with her analogy. I mea..”

“Namjoon, focus. I need a nanny. I leave on a business trip in three days, one that I can’t bring my three-year-old daughter to, but I also can’t leave her alone to fend for herself,” Taehyung says blowing hard at hair loitering by his eyes. It’s too long; he needs a haircut.

Sighing loudly into the phone, he bemoans his existence. He barely has time to deal with the necessities of life, like keeping his hair at an acceptable length. The last thing he needs right now is another round of mindless interviews to find yet another nanny. This is the fifth caregiver he’s lost in less than a year, and he’s just puzzled as to why. If his Inna (Ini for short) were the spawn of Satan, he’d understand the high turnover rate, but the little girl is the definition of adorable, sweet, squishy goodness and is generally loved instantly by all who meet her.

People are immediately drawn to her wide innocent eyes and boxy smile (which she gets from her dad). His daughter is not the problem; no, the real issue is him. He doesn’t invite the problem. To the best of his recollection he’s never flirted (at he doesn’t believe he has) with any of the women. Yet, every one of them has claimed that he led them on. What the actual . He’s barely home, and when he is, he’s worn out and too tired to hold a conversation, much less flirt.

“What about a manny?” Namjoon’s asks abruptly.

“A manny?” he repeats the word.

“Yeah. Why not hire a guy? Either that or a lesbian.”

“This last one was a lesbian!” Taehyung exclaims, the idea of a male nanny sounding better and better as the moments roll by.

Namjoon’s booming laughter on the other end of the line almost has Taehyung dropping the phone, he’s so startled by the sound.

“It’s not funny, not even a little bit.”

“Seriously, you don’t find the irony of a girl who only likes girls trying to seduce you to be funny? Because I think it’s hilarious.” Namjoon laughs harder.

“Why am I still friends with you?”

“Because I’m your lawyer, and I answer your four am calls,” Namjoon answers matter-of-factly, and all Taehyung can do is nod in agreement.

“Oh, right, that’s why,” Taehyung concedes. “So, a manny, huh? Tell me more.”

“I have no more to tell. I’m just the guy with the idea; you’re the one that makes the dream a reality. I’m tired, Tae. I need sleep. I’ll call you later when the sun’s up.”

He tosses the phone on his bed once Namjoon disconnects, then throws himself right along side the cell.

“A manny. A guy. That should work, right? “ He asks the empty room. “But would he take good care of Inna?” He doesn’t know. If he’s the standard, then the answer is a resounding no.

Taehyung wakes up in the same position he’d thrown himself after his talk with Namjoon. Every joint in his body is aching due to his awkward sleeping position. He sighs and sits up. His bones crack as he stands to his feet, and he feels more seventy-five than twenty-five. The clock says five forty-five, and he groans loudly.

“Appa,” a tiny voice coming from his doorway has him turning his head.

“Hey, sweetie. What are you doing up?” He scoots off the bed and walks over, kneeling before her.

She reminds him so much of her mother. When Inna was born, for the first few months he couldn’t look at her without feeling like someone had shot a bullet point blank through his heart. He shudders at the memory. Light brown hair is falling out of the ponytail now stuck at the side of her head, and the child’s wide eyes are puffy and half closed. She’s clutching her favorite Strawberry Shortcake blanket in one hand. It’s the only thing her mother had left behind. Taehyung pushes down the feelings that are trying to escape. He sunk the ship of anger a while ago, and he will not be resurrecting it.

“Strawberry blankie is dragging on the floor,” he says as he picks her up, holding her to his chest. Her head drops to his shoulder almost immediately. She pops a thumb in and plays with the soft cotton blanket, yawning into Taehyung’s skin. “Wanna lie down with Appa?” Taehyung smiles as he feels her nod against his neck.

As he wraps his tiny daughter in his arms, stilling as she snuggles into his chest with a contented sigh, it dawns on him that this is the second female to crawl into his bed in the less than twenty-four hours. He chuckles to himself; when did his life turn into such a mess? Listening to Ini’s even breathing is calming, and Taehyung puts some thought into Namjoon’s suggestion. May