The first time they get ready to take newborn Jongseok out, Shang is grumpy, Yixing is sick with yet another cold, and Jongdae is so sleep-deprived he can’t even focus properly. It’s not the best of situations, but Yixing is determined – they need to get out of the house, and focus on anything but how loud the baby screams at god-awful hours in the – well, not morning. He screams all the time.

He’s worse than Shang. Jongdae honestly didn’t think that was possible.

“Xing, honey,” he stares down at the tiny baby in his carrier – he’s quiet, for now, but that doesn’t mean anything. “Are you sure this is the best idea?” He loves baby Jongseok – really – it’s just he’s so, so tired, and he’d really rather try and get a nap in before the baby soils himself again or something.

Yixing blows his nose; Jongdae winces at the loudness of it. He sounds a little like a foghorn. “Yes.” There’s a fierce, not all-together sane glitter to his eye, but Jongdae’s not sure if that’s the cold or just the sleep-deprivation. “We need to get out. I need to be out in society.” He sounds possessed; Jongdae’s right eyelid twitches in response.

“But you’re sick.” Jongdae tries feebly, watching as Shang slinks into the kitchen out of the corner of his eye. A little hand reaches for the biscuit tin, but Jongdae is over there to stop him before he manages to open it. “No, sweetheart.” He says firmly. “You can’t have one, you’ve already had breakfast – “

“That’s not fair!” Oh god. Jongdae can feel the pain exploding behind his eyes – why, oh, why did Shang have to shriek? “Mummy would let me have one.”

Yixing sigh, blocked-up nose making the words more accented than ever. “No, she wouldn’t. Mummy agrees with us that you have to eat healthily.”

Shang crosses his little arms, as angry as a four, nearly five year old can be – which, as Jongdae and Yixing have learned – is very angry. He stomps one tiny foot. “She loves me more than you do!”

Yixing’s pretty sure he’s heard Jongdae say something similar before; sometimes the similarities between father and son are acute. “That’s not true, you know we love you just as much as mummy – “

“No you don’t!” The decibels Shang is reaching are sending a soaring pain through Jongdae’s head, and it’s not even 10:30 in the morning yet. “You love stupid Jo-Jongseok more than me!” He still can’t quite say his baby brother’s name right; at any other moment, it would be cute – but right now all Yixing and Jongdae can do is exchange an exhausted look and try not to cry at the unfairness of it all.

Jongdae pulls him into a hug; Shang struggles, kicking and screaming about wanting to be let down, but he ignores it. “We love you just as much as your brother,” he tells him, voice cracking with tiredness, and well – hurt. This isn’t the first time Shang has said this, and every time he does it, he feels like the worst father ever. They’re not trying to make him feel unloved; Jongseok is just a very needy baby.

He looks to Yixing for help; the other man looks like he’s on the verge of tears, but maybe it’s just the cold. “We could never stop loving you.” The words are nasal, but they’re true; Jongdae nods along, adjusting a still-struggling Shang against his hip. The little boy gives a token flail of his limbs, but the fight’s gone out of him; he’s learnt from the many, many times he’s thrown a tantrum that daddy has a very good grip.

Besides – this time it’s him getting the cuddles and not stupid Jongseok, which is exactly as it should be.