Baekhyun never truly appreciates just how tired adults can be. He used to tease his parents for their moans and groans and shortened patience, but now he understands. Being a grown up really a lot of the time. There are bills and fees and appointments and phone calls and having to put up with a lot of crap in the workplace that shouldn’t even be an issue, because everyone learned about sharing and being nice in Kindergarten.

And that doesn't even cover the additional trials of being in a relationship, much less practically married.

There is a bit of reward, at least. He’s accountable for his own actions; if he wants to stay up until three in the morning battling it out online with compatriots across the globe, that’s fine and acceptable. No one has to know except Jongin, and he’s usually passed out by one, anyway.

Jongin works from home, somehow balancing childcare and petcare with his own artistic career that keeps him holed up in his office for hours—even days—at a time.

With that kind of schedule, though, and Baekhyun being away most of the day, their home sometimes falls into disarray. Dishes pile up, clean clothes deplete and take a new form as a hulking mountain on the floor of the laundry room, tabletops and shelves wear cozy coats of dust, and tumbleweeds of blond and black fur scurry across the floors.

Baekhyun comes home to the usual mess after pulling a solid thirteen-hour shift and takes it all in from the front door. He feels tension in his shoulders, adding to the tension from playing nice at work, imaging how his relaxing weekend is going to go.

The tap-tap of nails announce the dogs have deemed him worthy of greeting—probably because they’re hungry—but one poodle is suspiciously missing from the pack. She’s sitting in the corner of the living room, tail wagging a little when Baekhyun finds her, but she looks everywhere but him.

A classic look of guilt.

“What’s up, girl? What’d you do?” Her shoulders hunch, and her head falls. Baekhyun has a bad feeling and makes a circuit through the living room into the kitchen, spotting the yellow piddle puddle in the middle of the room before stepping in it. “Oh, baby,” he sighs. He drops a couple paper towels onto the puddle and ushers the dogs to the back door. Their yard is small but fenced in and made pretty with some flowers Jongin had planted a couple summers ago. None of the dogs are much for digging, thankfully, but one of the hosta plants will need to be replaced, being a favorite plant for the boys to lift their legs on.

Baekhyun watches them a little while before returning to the kitchen to mop up the rest of the mess, finishing with a bleach wipe and washing his hands.

Throughout, he feels someone missing, and he realizes his jeans haven't been pulled at with clever claws, yet.

Tan the cat, boarding with them as long as her father, Jongin’s oldest brother, is out of town, is entirely absent. She gets along well enough with the dogs; they’re not her favorite, but she's accepted her adopted status among the pack as the baby. She's usually with them in greeting people at the door, climbing up their pantlegs when allowed.

She's not lording over him on her cat tree, so the only logical place is one of the bedrooms.

Baekhyun finds the rest of his family in the master bedroom, passed out on the bed. Taeoh is tucked against Jongin’s side, cheek mashed against his chest and mouth-breathing. A persistent cold has taken residence in the poor kid’s sinuses, keeping him home from school. Jongin’s imitating a starfish, legs trapped beneath a blanket with Tan between his knees.

Carefully, Baekhyun pulls Taeoh up off his father and carries him into his own bedroom. The boy is limp but compliant, waking up enough to partly redress himself after Baekhyun gives him clean pajamas. “Hi, Daddy. You're home.”

“I am. Are you hungry?” He feels a bit more alive after holding the boy. Even sick, he's just good company.

Taeoh yawns in Baekhyun's face and rubs his belly. “Yes.”

“I'll make some soup, then, okay? You up to eating at the table or wanna eat in bed?”

“Eat with me.” Taeoh scoots down his bed and pulls the blankets over himself.

“In bed?” The boy nods. Spoiled. Definitely takes after his father. “Okay.” Baekhyun kisses his forehead and closes the door behind him.

Mongryong stands on his hind legs and makes sad eyes at Baekhyun until he's let inside. The Corgi sniffs his human and sprawls out in the middle of the floor.

“Mongryongie, you're gonna get stepped on...” Baekhyun doesn't move him. The dog has to learn some time or another, so Baekhyun steps over him into the kitchen.

Most weekends, he and Jongin spend a day making food to reheat the rest of the week. They're both busy and don't want the hassle of making a meal when they feel like they're dead on their feet. That Sunday, Baekhyun had made a large pot of soup with bean sprouts, anchovies, and lots of seasonings with the idea that he may get a bit tipsy after the tasting event at work. It's a great soup for when someone's sick, too, though, so he pours some into a bowl to heat in the microwave and puts water on the stove for tea, as well.

He spies on the dogs outside; they're curled up beneath a garden bench. Someone had dragged a gardening glove off the bench.

Jongin's lying down with his eyes closed when the bedroom door opens again and closes softly.

His suspicious on the intruder's identity are confirmed when he's kissed on the mouth and laid upon.

His son flops on his head.

His darling beloved lies on all of him, settling like a large cat.

He raises a heavy hand and drops it on Baekhyun's , missing his back but patting it anyway in greeting.

“Long day?” Baekhyun asks.

Jongin grunts. It was no longer than any other day, but he was in a video conference call for over two hours, so he couldn't even lie down or doodle or anything.

Rather than elaborate, Jongin wraps Baekhyun in his arms, kicks up a leg, and rolls them so they're on their sides.

Baekhyun kisses him again. “Sorry, babe.” The microwave beeps distantly.

“'It's all a part of the process...'” Words he's lived by since accepting an offer to have his comic animated. They'll be short episodes, around ten minutes long, but it's still a lot of work for everyone involved. Just the storyboards are over one hundred frames, more than months of his comics combined.

It's exciting and exhausting.

Very exhausting.

He's almost asleep again when Baekhyun snuggles closer, touching their foreheads together.

“Jongin...you’re hot.”

“Thank you?”

“No, I mean...” Baekhyun pushes himself up onto an elbow and puts a palm over his flushed husband's forehead. “It feels like you have a fever.”

Jongin ducks the hand on his forehead to burrow into a pillow. “I’m fine.”

“Jongin.”

He burrows deeper, releasing Baekhyun to hold the pillow to his face in a sad attempt to hide. “I’m fine, really!”

“Babe...”

“It’s nothing! I just haven’t been sleeping enough.”

“Dear... You’ve been hanging around our little germ for three days, and this project has kept you awake longer than even the average-eight-hours-of-sleep person could handle. How does your throat feel?”

“A little sore, but—Hyung?” Baekhyun abruptly rolls over and kicks his legs off the bed to rock himself to his feet. Jongin sits up with a pout and reaches for a partly squashed box of tissues.

Behind the bathroom mirror is a medicine cabinet is a stockpile of painkillers as well as a supply of cold and flu medicine, sleeping aids, and the usual first aid materials. Everything is kept out of reach of their son, since he’s a bit of a sticker fiend and likes sticking bandages on things. Namely himself and the dogs.

“C’mere, my love,” Baekhyun sings. He pours liquid cold medicine, an unnaturally vibrant orange color, into the tiny cup it comes with. Predictably, Jongin does not come when called, and Baekhyun stalks out to spot his husband anxiously standing in the doorway of the bedroom, holding a handful of tissues to his runny nose.

“Please…” Jongin pleads weakly.

“It’ll knock the sick right out of you.”

“No...” Jongin walks backwards as his husband advances, wielding the cup of bitterness and despair. “I’ll just be miserable for a couple of days. It’s fine.” He'll have time to sleep and recuperate after he meets this deadline. No big deal.

“Your misery is my misery. You’re a worse patient than our son,” he mutters. Jongin is like five of their son combined, and being a fully grown adult, his clinginess is heavier and more hindering. “Just drink it.”

“But it’s gross.”

“Medicine isn’t supposed to taste good.”

“They don’t know what an orange even tastes like.”

“Drink the goddamn medicine, Jongin.”

“No. You have to catch me, first.” Baekhyun chases him around the living room and into the kitchen—he still has the energy to jump over a sofa and dodge a Corgi in full sploot, but his foot catches poor Tan, who screeches and streaks into their son’s room. Baekhyun catches Jongin’s elbow and spins him around, holding the plastic cup to his mouth and tilting it back. Instinct opens his mouth, but his shoulders hunch more and more until Baekhyun’s the only thing holding him upright.

A few seconds of torture later, the cup is mostly drained, viscous remains slithering down the sides to pool at the bottom. Baekhyun takes some himself to stave off potential infection by his two germs. It really is disgusting, but he keeps a straight face just to prove a point. He tosses the measuring cup into the kitchen sink and spots one of the dogs pulling another by the collar.

Baekhyun slaps his palm on the window. “Knock it off!”

Jongin, feeling betrayed and unloved, sits on the kitchen floor and tries to get the nasty taste out of his mouth by dragging his wadded tissues down his tongue. Mongryong sniffs him curiously, wrinkling his nose at the medicinal smell.

“What kind of role model are you to our son?” Baekhyun nudges him with his foot.

“A good one promoting survival.” He swats Baekhyun's leg. “That was mean! And disgusting.”

“It's not that bad, and you’ll get over it. Ten thousand won says you’ll be back to normal tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to bet with you. You’re a bully.”

“I know. I’m a horrible person for wanting my family to be happy and healthy and not a snotty mess of misery.” He pulls his sullen husband to his feet. “C’mon. We’ll watch Avatar. I’ll even make you some pears with honey.”

Jongin sullenly accepts the bribery and wraps a blanket around himself and sits on an end of the sofa, curled up like a pillbug and set to ignore his awful husband.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes, telling himself to call his mom later and apologize for any and all problems he caused her growing up.

While the human-shaped sulk cues up the TV show, Baekhyun pours a couple mugs of tea and takes the soup from the microwave. It's best to eat it hot, but he doesn't want Taeoh to burn himself, although it cooled enough during his pursuit of his husband.

He lets the dogs back inside on his way to Taeoh's room. They slink to their beds and lay down under his reproachful glare.

“Start without me, Jongin. I'll be right back.” Tan winds around his ankles and leads the way to Taeoh's room. The boy's fighting sleep, trying to focus on a book. “Hey, kid. I need you to sit up, so you can eat.”

“I think I'm too sleepy to eat...” He yawns and reaches for Tan, who climbs his blankets and lies between his knees. It's her favorite spot, no matter whom she's laying on. Probably cat instinct telling her it's the most hindering place to be.

“I know, but you need to eat, and it'll help you get better.” He sets the bowl on the little desk and sits beside the boy. “I have medicine, too. A couple days, and you'll be all better and can go back to school.”

Taeoh eyes the purple cold medicine with a growing frown. “They don't even know what purple tastes like!”

“Just drink it all at once, then have some soup. The taste won't last; I promise! Papa drank his no problem.” Baekhyun hates lying to him, but when it's for the greater good, he'll do it.

“Really?” He doesn't look convinced. Tan offers no opinion when consulted. Baekhyun passes the measured spoon, and holds it for the boy to drink.

He actually does swallow it all at once. No tears, no whining, just some very interesting expressions. Baekhyun's rather proud.

“I promise the soup tastes better,” he assures. Thankfully, Taeoh's not holding the medication against him and willingly takes the bowl of soup. Baekhyun serves as backrest while he eats, offering kisses and petting his hair.

It's never any fun being sick. Not as a kid, and not as an adult. Baekhyun's always had a pretty strong immune system, but when he's sick, it hits hard and fast. Jongin and Taeoh are more typical, gradually falling down the spiral of suffering that just drags on. It wasn't too big of a deal to Baekhyun until he started seriously dating Jongin and fell in love with Taeoh.

“I'm done, Daddy.” He holds the bowl, almost empty, and spoon out for Baekhyun to take.

“You can't eat any more? It's nearly gone.” Taeoh shakes his head. “Just a couple more spoonfuls, and you can sleep.” The boy obediently opens his mouth when offered the spoon, accepting the deal only if he's not the one doing the work.

“There. All gone! Good job, baby.” He tucks the blankets firmly around Taeoh's body, making a boy mummy and suspending the cat. “Get some sleep. You'll feel better.”

The boy's eyes close, and he's out like a light. Even Tan looks impressed for a moment, climbing up to sniff his chin.

Baekhyun closes the door partway, kicking the pile of dirty sheets and clothes into the hall to join the rest leaning against the washing machine. He piles the empty bowl and spoon into the dishwasher and sets it to run in a couple hours. There's still some cooked pears from when Baekhyun made them for Taeoh yesterday, hidden behind the containers of soup. Sometimes, he worries he's going to burn out the microwave with how frequently he uses it. Until that day, he will continue to use it repeatedly rather than cook something fresh.

The poodles are lounging with Jongin on the sofa, but they clear out after Baekhyun shoos them away. “You all know I have claim to this spot.”

Jongin's emerged from his cocoon, staring with bleary eyes at his office. He's a bit disoriented when everything goes white, but it's just his husband's shirt up-close.

“I said to start without me.” Baekhyun sits on his lap and offers the warm, honeyed pears and a mug of tea. “Taeoh's asleep.”

Jongin picks up a pear with his fingers. Heathen. “I should go back to work.”

“You're sick and barely awake. They'll understand.”

“I have a deadline.”

“I know that, but if you work yourself until you pass out, you won't be working then, will you?” He takes a pear for himself. “You draw better when you're awake.” Jongin doesn't argue; he knows it's true. Too often, he's drawn while lying down, and the proportions and perspective turn out incredibly skewed unless viewed from the same recumbent angle.

Jongin groans and hugs Baekhyun, trying to not get snot on his shirt. “I hate being sick. It should just stop once you become an adult.”

“I know.” Baekhyun pets his hair. He hates when his boys are sick. “There is an ancient remedy to the common cold, tried and true over many many years.”

“What's that? I'll try anything as long as it doesn't taste like cold medicine.”

“Well, you know what they say—fight heat with heat...” Baekhyun gives his best bedroom eyes, and Jongin shakes his head.

“I don't think that's what they had in mind.” He kisses Baekhyun's neck, but it's more snuggly than sensual, and almost immediately stiffens with the onset of a sneeze. He manages to catch it in his elbow, scaring poor Mongryong out of a good dream.

“Maybe tomorrow.” Baekhyun hands him the tissue box from the coffee table and picks up the remote. “For now, the best thing is rest and fluids.” Rest is best for them both. He feels the soreness in his feet and tightness in his shoulders once he's lying across the sofa. Jongin drops his tissue onto the growing pile beside the sofa and drapes an arm across Baekhyun's chest.

There's a soft thump down the hall, and Taeoh follows Tan into the living room, dragging a blanket. They both climb onto the sofa; the boy slithers between Baekhyun and the back of the sofa while Tan claims the high ground beside Jongin's head, an eyebrow in show of comfort.

It's a tight fit, but nobody complains.

Cleaning, school, and work can wait until tomorrow.

---

a/n: Written for the Ethereal Boys fest. (prompt no.46 Even when there's a sick kid, a tired Jongin, and too many dogs, Baekhyun wouldn't trade it for the universe.)

I read about a saying in Korea: yi yeol chi yeol (이열치열), meaning to fight heat with heat. Sweating cools us down, but we have less energy when cold, so eating something hot revives us. I interpret it as "sweat it out," though, when referring to a cold.