END

For a couple years, now, it’s been Baekhyun and his son. His son and Baekhyun. A small but happy, functional family. Baekhyun manages to balance his work with his kid’s activities and doctor appointments—lots of appointments; he may be more germ than child, but Baekhyun loves him, anyway—but as he grows up and goes to school, it’s getting harder to maintain that balance.

So he hires a babysitter. Someone gave him some agencies to look into, and he found someone that sounded great.

A guy, too, so no one can say anything about stereotypes. He’s younger than Baekhyun, pursuing degrees in child development and education, dances and draws as hobbies, doesn’t seem to have a huge social media presence, although Baekhyun does find his Instagram account and may or may not have hired him after seeing his photos.

He’s very handsome.

Nice body. Nicer smile.

Meeting Jongin, Baekhyun is so glad to have his son as a buffer, because his little spawn is friendliness personified and takes to Jongin immediately, doing most of the talking and immediately pulling him away to play, so Baekhyun can breathe and give himself a peptalk on how to function around tall, hot men.

He has a type, and Jongin’s it.

Fatherhood has altered it a little, however. For as leggy and toned he is and how deep his voice is and how easily he can lift Tae and his friends, Baekhyun’s heart really goes wild when he notices the small, affectionate smiles Jongin has when watching Taehyung play or color and when he securely holds Taehyung, who succumbs to sleepiness through his protests. His neighbors fawn over Jongin, praising his care, and there’s a sense of pride as well as a smug little bit of satisfaction. Yes, isn’t Jongin amazing? He’s my son’s babysitter.

Often, with his infatuations, the subject will show up in his dreams, and Jongin’s no different. Rather than fooling around, they’re mostly child-friendly, which is also a change he’s noticed since becoming a parent. Jongin and Baekhyun walking Mongryong. Jongin and Baekhyun making breakfast. Jongin and Baekhyun picking up Taehyung after school. Jongin pinning Baekhyun to the sofa. Jongin and Baekhyun grocery shopping. Jongin and Baekhyun taking Taehyung to the zoo.

Jongin and Baekhyun.

For weeks, into months, they’re just employer and employee. Jongin shows up a bit before Baekhyun needs to go to work, or Baekhyun drops Taehyung off at school with the understanding that Jongin will pick him up, and he doesn’t stick around after delivering the boy home or once Baekhyun returns.

They do chat—about Taehyung and work—but Jongin always goes home with a dutiful promise to return on whatever day they agreed he was needed.

It’s maddening.

When he was younger, Baekhyun had no difficulty makes friends or asking out a crush. He learned to get over rejections quickly and didn’t let it keep him down for long. Even breaking things with his wife was relatively painless; they didn’t fall out of love, just out of patience living together. She now works overseas but calls frequently and returns for holidays and birthdays.

So even ended relationships turn into a different relationship; they don’t just stop.

With Jongin, however, it’s like there isn’t a relationship. Just a mutual existence and a bond through Taehyung.

But he’s just too handsome and perfect to not hope for and dream about.

So he pines. He pines hard.

He pines enough that his friends notice and for it. It’s usual for him, someone who’s so outgoing and friendly. They push him to just go for it without knowing who the other party it, and they’d probably still push him, because it’s fun pushing him around when they know he’ll do what they say.

So glad they’re entertained by his emotional torment.

The only one to really take him seriously is Kyungsoo. He just has a personality of someone strong, unflappable, and reliable. Baekhyun trusts him. Kyungsoo knows what he’s like. He knows that when his friend is so quiet and so still for so long that he’s either sick, or something’s happened.

“What’s up?” Kyungsoo asks.

Baekhyun’s holding his clasped hands to his chin, staring someplace between his nose and the tabletop. “I am a terrible person.”

“What’d you deny your kid, now?”

“Nothing—” He shakes his head and lowers his hands. “It’s not that.”

“...Then what? It can’t be that bad, Baek; you’re actually a pretty good guy.”

Baekhyun ignores the backhanded compliment and chews his finger. “You’ve met Kim Jongin, right? The babysitter.”

“Yeah. He’s really good with your son and just as obsessed with your dog.”

“Uh huh. Well, I am a disgusting man with horrible primal needs and urges, and I cannot get the idea of Jongin ing me raw out of my head.”

“Oh God…” Kyungsoo turns a sickly shade of green.

“In bed, even, which is pretty ing romantic for me.”

“I did not need to hear that.”

“He’s just so goddamn sweet and cute, and when he picks up my son and holds him so easily, and I feel like I want more kids, but then my eyes are naturally attracted to his crotch… Like, his is right there. Just some goddamn denim and cotton in my way. Maybe rayon or silk. Or just the denim...”

“...Now I can’t get the image out of my head.”

Baekhyun continues his tirade, heedless of his friend’s torment. “We are two consenting adults, so it could totally happen, but he’s my babysitter. He hangs out with my son. I can’t have Tae around that!”

Kyungsoo pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Baek—I love you, but you’re being needlessly stupid and very, very gross. I know you can’t help it, but listen, because I’m only going to say this once: It is okay to be attracted to Jongin. It is not okay to reveal your ual fantasies without warning.”

“Sorry.”

“What are you being so weird for? Just flirt with him and ask him out.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Because he’s the babysitter?”

“...Yeah?”

“So what? You’re not going to keep him barefoot, , and chained to the stove. It’s just a job for him. You’ve dated other people with jobs.”

“I just don’t want him to think it’s like a convenience thing. I work a lot, don’t get out much, see him the most, in my own home, even…” The last thing he wants is for Jongin to assume Baekhyun’s looking for a slave or something like that.

“Start small. Talk to him.”

Baekhyun narrows his eyes and scowls. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is.” Kyungsoo scoffs and puts his glasses back on. “Pretend to be a self-reliant adult with social skills. You’ve done it before.”

This is Kyungsoo’s limit when it comes to being supportive. Baekhyun appreciates it, and he’ll acknowledge it later, but right now he’s just feeling petulant and wants to be difficult.

How does one approach someone they’re attracted to in a not-only-physical way? He’s picked up people at bars and clubs; he’s been picked up himself more than once. Those were his younger, wilder days. Way before Taehyung. Before his wife.

Kyungsoo must see his friend stewing, because he nudges Baekhyun’s leg with his foot. “I know you can do it, Baekhyun. If you could convince your wife to marry you, you can talk to anyone.”

Baekhyun just hopes Jongin feels the same way.

The unforeseen opportunity presents itself on a weekend. Baekhyun comes home earlier than usual, because bad weather is forecasted, and finds the apartment empty. There’s a text he had missed from Jongin, saying they took Monryong for a walk.

Baekhyun putters around his apartment, restless. There are always toys to pick up—mostly Taehyung’s. The sofa cushions have kind of shifted out of place, so he tucks them back in. Folds the throw blankets neatly and drapes them over the back of the sofa. The TV stand is really dusty; it’s very noticeable in the light. He wonders how he’s never noticed. There are even fuzzy dust bunnies nestled on the lower shelves, cuddling with his game consoles.

He wonders about when they left and what route they took. Taehyung has a lot of energy, but once he’s run out, he crashes quick. His bike isn’t by the door, so he’s probably riding it. Baekhyun has a few leashes for Mongryong, but they’re all still in the drawer. Jongin had shown the leash he uses for his own dogs, a weird contraption that belts around his waist to leave his hands free, so he can jog easier.

It’s not as goofy as it looks, and it apparently came in handy, because Baekhyun hears Mongryong’s panting down the hall and opens the front door to greet them. With the Corgi leading the way, looking back every few toddling steps, Jongin has Taehyung up in one arm and the child’s bike over the other shoulder.

Taehyung’s sniffling.

Oh, no...his baby’s hurt.

He steps out as Mongryong tries to step in, and Jongin awkwardly holds back so Baekhyun can take his son. “It’s my fault. He fell off his bike and scraped his knees and arm. The bleeding’s stopped, but they should be cleaned properly…”

Baekhyun thanks him and kisses Taehyung’s tear-stained cheek. He doesn’t usually cry, always declaring that he’s stronger than his tear ducts, so Baekhyun knows it must really hurt.

And cleaning the scabbed wounds is just going to hurt more.

After getting him settled in bed with Mongryong and a mild painkiller, Baekhyun sits with him for a while, holding ice packs on the boy’s sore knees.

“I was going too fast, and there were cars,” Taehyung says softly. He gently squeezes Mongryong’s ear in his fist. “Hyung grabbed my bike, ‘n I fell.” Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his T-shirt, he apologizes.

“What are you sorry for? It was an accident.”

“You always tell me not to go fast by the street. It was just we were on a hill, and it’s fun to go down, cuz you go fast without pedalling. Hyung had to run really fast to catch me.” He rubs his nose. “Dad, can you tell him I’m sorry? I’m...” He sighs and sinks more into his pillow. “I’m tired.”

“Sure.” Baekhyun piles the cold packs on top of one another—his child sleeps like him and kicks—and kisses his forehead. “I’m just happy you’re safe. If you still hurt when you wake up, we’ll put ice on again, okay?” Taehyung nods. “Rest for now. Everything’s okay.”

Jongin’s not in the living room or kitchen, and the bathroom door is open. Maybe he went home to beat the rain. He can call him later.

Baekhyun never locks his bedroom door, ever since he had a kid. His son was a needy little cuss, and he taught himself to pick locks as a toddler.

Maybe he’ll learn the value of privacy as a teen, but for now, he’s all about having easy access to his dad at all times of the day. Like a puppy, if he can’t see Dad, that means he’s not there, which makes him sad or naughty.

Sharp movement catches his attention, and he meets the round eyes of his babysitter. Jongin holds a T-shirt to his bare chest, a mimicry of modesty.

“Uh…”

“S-Sorry, Byun ssi. I didn’t hear you. I just—” He looks at his shirt and holds it tighter. “I got kinda dirty, so…”

Baekhyun hitches a thumb over his shoulder, still staring in a daze. “You can use our shower.”

“It’s fine.” He shoves his clothes into his backpack and pulls the shirt over his head. Baekhyun has brief but glorious moments of ogling Jongin’s tight torso and surreptitiously wipes his mouth. “I should get going, anyway,” he adds, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He takes a step, winces, and bends down to touch his knee.

“You alright?” Parent senses tingling, Baekhyun strides into his room and spies the red, raw flesh that comes with dragging one’s knee over rough cement. “You’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing,” Jongin mumbles dismissively. He frowns at his palm and picks at it. “I just fell when I grabbed Taehyung.”

Acting first, as usual, Baekhyun grabs Jongin’s hand to look at it. The palm is scraped with little rolls of skin peeled up. “Did you wash it?”

“It’s not bad…”

Baekhyun sighs and turns, dragging the man behind him. “First thing you do is wash it! I’ve got something that stings like crazy—I don’t use it on Tae—but it works miracles on scrapes and small cuts.” He points to the edge of the bathtub. “Sit.”

Jongin obeys, shoulders hunched like he’s being scolded. Which Baekhyun kind of is. It’s logic to clean a cut! Don’t just let it sit open and untreated. Faith healing isn’t always reliable.

It’s only when he’s kneeling in front of Jongin—staring at tan, athletic legs—that Baekhyun’s consciousness claws through his mission-oriented action. He just bullied a grown man, not really a stranger but not exactly a friend, either, into his bathroom to play nurse. Jongin’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

“Byun ssi?”

“Sorry! Lost in thought. And call me hyung; Byun ssi makes me feel weird. These don’t look bad, though; you won’t even scar.”

“You’re a doctor, now?”

“No, just a dad with a klutzy child.” He holds a wad of cotton over the open end of the antiseptic bottle and turns it upside down a couple times to saturate it. “This will sting, so please don’t kick me.”

Even holding Jongin’s foot, his leg still jerks at the first touch of the antiseptic, and he bites back a swear.

“I don’t feel a thing,” Baekhyun comments. He gently takes Jongin’s hand to give it the same treatment, blowing on it when finished out of habit, like he does with Taehyung. “Oh, uh—I don’t know if that actually helps or anything…” He laughs.

“It does.” Jongin’s reply is soft, and his cheeks are pink. His fingers curl in Baekhyun’s grip.

A flash of light draws their attention to the little bathroom window. Clouds have moved in, bringing a storm.

“It’s raining.” Baekhyun caps the bottle and replaces it in the medical kit he keeps beneath the bathroom sink.

Jongin follows him into the living room and looks out the balcony door with a tight frown.

“It should pass quickly. Stay and wait it out.”

Shrugging off his backpack, Jongin holds out his injured leg to avoid bending it as he perches on the sofa. He accepts the offered ice pack.

And Baekhyun doesn’t know what to do. He clearly remembers Kyungsoo’s advice, but it really is easier said than done. Sitting at the kitchen island seems distant; sitting at the table just seems odd, when not eating; going to his room is plain rude.

He sits on the arm of the sofa opposite Jongin, watching Taehyung’s door and hoping Jongin just assumes he’s being a worried parent. Which he is. But he’s also an awkward man with hormones and a crush.

“Taehyung wants to apologize, by the way. He’s sorry you had to chase after him and got hurt.”

“He doesn’t need to apologize for that.”

Baekhyun shakes his head. “No, he should be sorry for being reckless. I think he will feel better if he hears you say you forgive him, though.”

Jongin smiles, and it really could chase away clouds and invite the sun. “I’ll talk to him later. He’s a really good kid. Must take after his dad.” It’s an off-hand remark, but Baekhyun can tell it’s honest and tries to hide his pleased smile.

“Thank you. I kind of feel like I owe you something more, now, since you did save my child.” Maybe this isn’t the greatest moment, but he’s got a good feeling. Time to shoot his shot and see what the damage is. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Now?”

Not the reaction he was expecting, but it’s not a no.

“Well, if you’re aching that much now, I could make you a drink and take you out later.” Pretty smooth, if he does say so himself. The only flaw in this proposal is he can’t just make Jongin a drink and not make one for himself as well. Anyone who knows Baekhyun well knows that he cannot hold his alcohol.

For a while, he’s fine. He makes them something easy from the booze he keeps up on a high shelf that Jongin reaches for him after curiously watching him dig a pasta ladle out of a drawer. His mother is shorter than he is and never wanted help getting things from high shelves; Baekhyun learned from her but isn’t ungrateful for the help.

They drink on the sofa with the TV on to the news. According to the meterologist, who apparently spun her wheel and got a different result from that morning, the rain is going to remain heavy until evening.

Baekhyun slides along the back of the sofa until he’s pretty much lying on it, holding up his head with his hand and giggling at the fuzzy motion effect of an anchor’s tightly checkered blazer. “That looks funny… Isn’t that weird?” He points with delighted laughter to the female anchor, whose houndstooth skirt has a similar effect.”

“I think it’s called a moiré effect,” Jongin says.

Shifting his fascination from the TV to Jongin, Baekhyun amazedly asks, “Jongin, are you smart?”

He shrugs. “I took a graphics course a few semesters ago, and that happened a lot in prints.” Looking between their glasses, Jongin frowns at Baekhyun. “Hyung, are you drunk?”

Baekhyun tries to shrug, and his head falls onto his shoulder. “Yes.” He giggles again and turns his body so he’s better balanced on his chest. Having slid so far, he’s nearly face-to-face with Jongin, who really doesn’t seem to mind, and Baekhyun embraces the opportunity to look at him closely.

He’s very handsome.

Nice body. Nicer smile.

Warm hands. Baekhyun tucks his cheek into Jongin’s palm and follows when he draws his hand back.

Pretty lips. Tentatively at first, Baekhyun returns his kiss enthusiastically and laughs giddly when he’s rolled down from his perch to the sofa cushions.

Jongin stands to kneel over him and kisses him again. Baekhyun’s hand wanders to the leg holding him up from the floor and hazily asks if his knee is okay, but Jongin’s reply is lost between a grunt of acknowledgement and a sigh of contentment.

Finally, after a sports update, recap of that morning’s traffic accident, and a report on the potential epicenter of the spreading virus, they pause their heavy makeout session. Jongin sits on Baekhyun’s thighs with his face hidden between Baekhyun and the sofa. He says something, but it’s muffled, and he only tucks his head a little to speak more clearly.

“Is this okay, hyung?” He finally sits up, chewing his lip. “I wasn’t— I didn’t know if you were interested.” He’s blushing, and it’s one of the cutest things Baekhyun’s ever seen.

It should go without saying, now, however, that he is very interested.

“I definitely am.”

“So I’m not overstepping?”

“You’re understepping, if that’s possible.”

“Oh, good.” Jongin looms over him again, very likely with every intention of kissing him, but is rudely interrupted and intercepted by a warm, slimy tongue and dog breath.

Mongryong pants happily in their faces, wiggling at their combined attention. Taehyung stands nearby, open-mouthed and picking at the scabs on his arm.

“Are you dating my dad?!”

Jongin is unprepared, and it’s adorable. He nods stupidity. “Yes?”

“You are?” Baekhyun’s still pinned and not enjoying it as much in the presence of his son, but he laces his fingers over his belly and watches a blush spread to Jongin’s ears.

“Uh—I-I’d like to! I mean, I thought—” He stops babbling when Baekhyun takes his hand.

“I’d like to, too.”

Taehyung whoops, getting Mongryong excited, and they chase each other around the kitchen. He’s obviously feeling better.

In the past, it’s been Baekhyun and his son. His son and Baekhyun. Now, it’ll be Baekhyun, his son, and Jongin.

a/n: One of two fics written for the Ultimate Top Kim Jongin fest. (prompt no.UT57 Baekhyun is a single father crushing on his son’s really hot babysitter)

I loved this prompt. It's so obviously intended for , but that's not my scene. People too consumed with lust are my scene, though; I like making internal monologue. Read their struggle with their treacherous hormones and how they suffer in polite company. I do wish I'd done more with the mentality of a dad and his uality, though. For some, , much less dating, after children is just not a priority or not possible. Kinda sad, sometimes. Baekhyun's not that dad, though.