“Oh, god.” Yixing groaned in horror, clad in plastic yellow washing up gloves right up to his elbows. “Dear Jesus, what has Jongseok been doing?” Gingerly, he tugged whatever the hell it was his youngest son had shoved down the sink out. “What the bloody hell is C-3PO doing down there?” It was a rhetorical question; when it came to their middle child, it was best not to question his motives. It tended to be a terrifying experience.

He set the dirty little action figure next to the whisk he’d also found blocking up the sink, vowing never to let Jongseok do the washing up again. That was probably the crafty little bastard’s plan – he’d never been fond of C-3PO, he preferred R2-D2 – but it was worth it to not have to unblock the sink again.

A loud sigh sounded behind him, as Jongdae tiredly took in the mess. “Not again,” he said, shifting their daughter in his arms. She made a small mewling sound, clearly not willing to get up; he petted her ineffectually on the head. “How many times have we told him?”

“Far too many,” Yixing said darkly, peeling the gloves off with fastidious fingers. “That child will be the death of me, I swear.”

Jongdae rolled his neck, under-eye circles nearly down to his prominent cheekbones. “He’ll be the death of us all.” Pressing a kiss to the top of the little girl’s head, he held her out to Yixing. “Take her, would you? I’ve got to get Shang up.” Sighing, Yixing nodded, pulling their youngest into his arms.

Sunhwa barely reacted, instead deciding to shove her face into his collarbone and refuse to face the world. “Come on, baby.” Yixing juggled her around in his arms for a moment, trying to find the securest position. “You can help daddy with breakfast.” He paused for a second, staring at the kitchen table. It sort of looked like a small explosion had happened during the night, but then Sunhwa and Jongseok had been playing unicorns vs. marines, and he’d been far too tired to even think about cleaning. “If we can even find space to eat.”

He sighed again. It was going to be a long morning.

***

“Shang, I can’t hear any movement!” Jongdae called, marching up the stairs to shake his eldest son awake, if he had to. Ever since he’d reached double figures, Shang had been impossible to wake up in the mornings; both he and Yixing worried that it was a precursor of his approaching teen years. God help them.

“I mean it, get u – oof.” The impact of colliding with something small and squishy interrupted his demands. “Jongseok, what are you doing?”

The little boy grinned impishly up at his father, dashing off towards the toilet. “Nothing, daddy!” He giggled, shutting the door before Jongdae could grab him and demand just what he was up to. He simply groaned when he heard the click of the bolt sliding across.

“Nothing, my .” He muttered, shaking his head. He didn’t have time to deal with this. “Shang – “

“You don’t have an , dad.” Ten year old Shang had emerged from his bedroom, yawning as he leaned against the doorway. “At least, that’s what mum says.” He held a hand up to his mouth to stifle yet another yawn, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. “Is breakfast ready yet?”

Jongdae wasn’t sure what issue to address first. “Well, your mother would say that.” He grumbled. “And don’t say , you’re only ten!”

Shang rolled his eyes at his father; Jongdae had to blink because it was a gesture all too reminiscent of himself. “Get over it dad, it’s not like I’m actually swearing. Is breakfast ready?” He repeated, slower this time, as if Jongdae was stupid.

He narrowed his eyes at his son. He was not getting beaten at this game, no way. “Yes, it is a swear word, and I don’t want to hear any more from you. Go downstairs and wait for your father to finish breakfast.”

It was obvious that Shang was about to object, if only to be annoying, when Yixing yelled up from the kitchen. “Jongdae, are the other two up yet?”

Jongdae gave his son one last warning look, turning to lean over the bannister and shout down to his partner. “Jongseok’s in the bathroom, honey. Shang and I are coming downstairs now.” Slowly, he turned back around. “Come on. If you’re so desperate for breakfast, young man, you can come and help set up.”

The boy scoffed, but didn’t disagree. Jongdae gestured for him to go on downstairs, ready to follow, until they both heard a resounding crash, that sounded very much like it came from the bathroom.

“What the hell was that?” Yixing dashed to the foot of the stairs, a million different scenarios running through his head as he wondered if they’d have to go to the emergency room for the third time that month.

Jongdae was way ahead of him. “Jongseok, get out of that bathroom right now!”

***

“So, we’re going to have to fix the bathroom cabinet.” Jongdae sighed, Sunhwa on his lap as he tried desperately to get her to wake up and eat. Yixing’s shoulders slumped in front of the fridge, because he knew it was actually going to be him fixing the damn thing, as Jongdae was off to work as soon as they dropped the kids off at school.

“Jongseok, what on earth were you doing to make the bathroom cabinet fall off the wall?” He asked, shutting the fridge door and placing the milk on the table. “And I don’t want any lies. We’ve been through what happens to little liars, haven’t we?”

“Well,” Jongseok started, drawing out the moment as he tried to think of an excuse that wouldn’t get him into trouble. “A rat crawled out of the toilet, you see. And – and it was going to get into the bath and make everything icky, so I had to climb onto the sink and grab something to smash it to death with, except – except when I did that, the bathroom cabinet fell on me.” He smiled happily at his unimpressed parents, pleased with his quick thinking. “Can we get a pet rat?”