“So, we got to school late again this morning,” Jin declares with a sigh as he sips his too sugary Negroni and makes a face.

“What’s that look for?” Hoseok questions with a grin.

“It seems the bartender went light on the gin but heavy on sweet vermouth,” he explains, taking another slurp.

“That's what you get for only ordering drinks with gin in the ingredients.”

“What? I like drinks with my name as an ingredient.”

“Your name is Seokjin,” Hoseok deadpans.

“Your point?” Jin volleys, not missing a beat.

Hoseok chuckles, and Jin takes it as a victory.

“Fine. Anyway, back to your story; why were you late?” Hoseok asks.

“This morning started out fine. Tae got up without a fight even though I woke him up a few minutes earlier than normal. I swear it takes him five years to eat one bowl of cereal so I have been waking him up earlier bit by bit every day, adding five minutes. Today was a whole fifteen minutes. Anyway, I digress,” Jin states, then pauses to place a chopstick full of kimchi in his mouth. “This is freaking amazing,” he tells Hoseok as he chomps on the fermented cabbage.

“Agreed, they do a good job. Reminds me of my nanny’s cooking,” Hoseok muses, leaning over to grab a mouthful himself.

“The morning progresses well, and my sneaky earlier wake time plan seems to be working. We're seconds, and I mean seconds away from heading out the door, with time to spare, when it happens.” It’s their monthly dad’s night out, and Jin’s giving Hoseok a recap of his morning adventures with a very cranky five-year-old Taehyung.

The Morning War

“Appa, where’s the sticker?” Taehyung questions.

“Sticker?” He rakes his mind, trying to remember a discussion with his child involving a sticker and comes up empty.

“The sticker I gaved you. The one my teacher giveded me at school the day befored today,” Taehyung crinkles his brows as though he knows his sentence isn’t quite right but is unsure of his error.

The look is adorable, and Jin opts to not correct the youngster, sensing a war is about to brew.

“They gave you a sticker? Where did you put it?” he asks the child hurriedly. They’re losing precious time, and Jin is trying to avoid the judging looks he gets from Taehyung’s kindergarten teacher.

“I gived it to you,” Taehyung states, much to Jin's bewilderment.

They discussed a plethora of things when Taehyung got home from school yesterday. Things like how delicious banana milk is, and how Jimin drew a bunny on his paper and named it Cookie because bunnies like cookies. They talked about learning to write the letter E, and Taehyung even showed him his E words. But at no point did they talk about a sticker. At least not to Jin’s recollection.

“I don’t think you did, buddy. I don’t think you gave Appa the sticker,” he broaches the topic gently. Taehyung’s not a morning person, and Jin just wants to get them out of the house in peace.

“I did, I giveded it to Appa on your shirt,” Taehyung explains, pointing to Jin’s chest, and Jin instinctively looks down.

“Appa doesn’t have a sticker, Tae. I don’t think you giv- gave it to me,” he replies to his son keeping his voice calm and soft. He can see that Taehyung’s getting worked up as the corners of his lips quiver and a dot of red colors the tip of the child’s nose. “I don’t know what sticker you’re talking about, buddy.”

That. That is the wrong answer.

“THE STICKER THEY GIVED ME AT SCHOOL AND I GIVEDED TO YOU!” Taehyung yells.

Jin inhales, then exhales, slowly letting the air leave his lungs before responding the child. They’ve wasted their fifteen-minute cushion on a conversation about a sticker, and he needs to get Taehyung out the door. He tempers his desire to respond to the child in kind, knowing it won’t do either of them any good.

“Honey, you didn’t give Appa a sticker yesterday. Maybe you remembered wrong.”

This. This is where Jin loses the war.

“I REMEMBEREDED RIGHT. APPA IS WRONG,” Taehyung declares in between loud sniffles as tears stream down the boy’s face. “I GIVEDED IT TO YOU!”

They don’t have time for this.

“Kim Taehyung, you do not, I repeat, do not ever raise your voice to Appa, or any other adult for that matter. Do you understand me?” He reprimands the five-year-old, using his sternest tone, the one he tries never to use, knowing that it frightens the little boy. It's the tone he reserves for moments when Taehyung crosses the line.

Jin’s not a softie. He understands the importance of discipline, but he doesn’t enjoy doling it out. Taehyung looks up in a surprised nervousness, little lips turned down and eyes wide as he nods his understanding. The pitiful look has Jin feeling instantly guilt-ridden, but he holds his ground. The point is for Taehyung to learn a lesson.

They drive to school in silence save for the sounds of Taehyung’s on again off again sniffles coming from behind Jin where he sits in his booster seat.

They’re ten minutes late.

And yes, Jin’s once again the recipient of Ms. Wang’s judgmental glare.

DAD’S NIGHT OUT

“Wow, that sounds rough,” Hoseok sympathizes with a low whistle.

“That was not the roughest part,” Jin starts with a shake of his head. “The worst was that he hugged me so tight when I dropped him off and kept telling me that he loved me, like, like he was worried that I didn’t love him back.” He sighs, gulping the remainder of his sweet beverage. “, Hobi, why is parenting so hard?”

“I wish I had an answer or a manual. Sometimes I feel like I’m on it, you know? Like I’ve mastered the beast. Then Jimin will cry, misbehave, or do something so completely out of character that I’m left baffled and confused as hell,” Hoseok replies with an equally loud sigh.

“Oh, wait. I forgot to tell you the best part. So I get home, frazzled as , feeling like the worst parent on the planet. I pick up a cardigan from yesterday that was laying on top of the hamper to throw it inside, and guess what’s attached to the front?”

Hoseok begins to laugh before Jin answers.

“Yup, you guessed it. Staring back at me is a gold star sticker with the words GREAT JOB written on it. my life.”

“Did you tell him you found it?”

“Mmm, and I even apologized,” Jin answers.

“Wow, you’re a good father, Jin. I’m not sure I would have told Jimin. Maybe, but I don’t know,” Hoseok replies thoughtfully.

“You would have. I know you,” Jin says confidently.

“Maybe.” Hoseok shrugs. “Oh, did Namjoon tell you about Jennie’s visit?”

Jin doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lets the shock of Hoseok being yet again the person Namjoon turned to wash over him. It’s not that he’s jealous, per se. It’s more like an ache in the pit of his gut, a lingering question, of wondering when and if he’ll be the person Namjoon runs to first. Swallowing back the dull pain, he reigns in his emotions before answering his friend.

“No, no he hasn’t said anything to me. To be honest, I haven’t... we haven’t been in contact lately.” Jin doesn’t elaborate, and he hopes Hoseok doesn’t ask why.

“Oh? I thought for sure he would have.” Hoseok doesn’t pursue the thought further. It takes herculean-like strength for Jin to not delve further as to why Hoseok believes this. “Wait. Why haven’t you been in contact with Namjoon?” Hoseok questions him suddenly.

The question is one Jin has been trying not to answer. The answer, he fears, will reveal more about his feelings than he’s comfortable admitting to himself. Yes, everyone around him is aware of his attraction to Namjoon. What they may not be privy to is the fact that it’s more than just liking Namjoon or things about Namjoon. It’s that he feels connected to the blond like there’s an invisible string that ties them together, and every time Namjoon pulls away it hurts. The pain is reminiscent of when his wife died, a dull twinge that follows him everywhere he goes like a dark cloud he can’t shake.

“No reason really,” he lies. “Just thought it might be a good idea to put some distance between us.”

Hoseok arches a brow, and Jin knows the man sees straight through his bull, but to his friend's credit, he strings Jin along.

“Really? Why?”

He looks at Hoseok and chuckles. It sounds more like a bubble of air passing from his lips than actual laughter. Nothing about Hoseok’s inquiry is funny, apart from the fact that he’s being shrinked right now, as the younger man gently guides him to answers he doesn’t want to give. He lets out a defeated sigh.

“How do you expect me to answer that, Hobi?”

“Honestly? It’s why we do this once a month, isn’t it? Time away from the kids where we can talk and get crap off our chest. You have poop on your chest, and I’m here with the scooper. Lay it on me, son. I can handle whatever you’re about to say,” Hoseok jokes, but Jin knows the man is serious.

“It feels like a losing battle, Namjoon and me. He talked to you about Jennie first. He called you when she shows up. He has you and Yoongi, and the both of you seem to meet needs that I, no matter how hard I try, will never be able to. And, and it ing hurts,” he vents his frustration and feels somewhat lighter.

“Hyung, I think you’re wrong. There are needs that Namjoon has that only you can fill, but neither of you is at the point where you can see what those needs are. Namjoon is learning to look past his fears, and you’re just beginning to open your heart. You can’t expect it all to happen suddenly. It took years for the both of you to build your walls. I