Jongdae takes a sip of wine, grimacing when the taste hits the back of his throat. Over twenty years of being a supposed grown up, and he still hates the taste of wine. But Yixing likes it, and it is supposed to go well with the meal, so...well, there’s nothing to do but put up with it. He isn’t exactly sure why they chose to go somewhere a little fancier than they’re used to, but it has been a while since they last went out.

Mainly because leaving Jongseok with the new babysitter had turned out about as well as expected. He shudders slightly at the memory – he hadn’t known people could screech like that, and Jongseok really had only been playing. How was he to know that the babysitter was deathly afraid of frogs?

Yixing clears his throat, interrupting the awkward silence that has fallen between them. “You okay, honey?” He asks, eyebrow raised in concern. He places his knife and fork on his empty plate neatly, unable to eat anymore when his partner is so…distant. “You’re usually more talkative than this, and it’s the first night we’ve had off for, what, months?”

Jongdae blinks, trying to shake the fog away from his brain. “I’m sorry, baby.” He takes Yixing’s hand in his, linking their fingers together in an effort to make it seem like he’s not lost in his thoughts. That’s usually Yixing’s specialty. “I’m just…tired,” he says lamely, shrugging his shoulders because he has nothing else to say.

There’s an amused smile curving across Yixing’s lips. “I think that’s become our mantra over the last few years. Remind me again why we decided to have three kids?”

Jongdae throws his hands up in the universal symbol for confusion. “You’re asking the wrong person. I’m still not sure what we did to deserve Jongseok.” Yixing looks away to hide his smile, trying very hard not to pass judgement on his youngest son – it’s really not fair, when all of their children have their little…foibles.

Jongseok just has a lot more than most. Well, anybody, really.

“This morning, though, really.” Jongdae continues, fingers trailing down from Yixing’s hand to play with the bracelets on Yixing’s wrist. There’s several of the leather bands he’s always had, but now three little beaded bracelets, all obviously Sunhwa’s work. He would know; he has several himself because their daughter likes to imagine herself a jewellery designer. “I should have known something was up as soon as he went into the bathroom voluntarily. You know how he hates to be clean.”

Yixing makes a sound of agreement, pausing to take a gulp of his own drink. He’s glad they sprang for the more expensive wine; he hates a cheap red. “I know,” he says, sighing. “There’s nothing to be done, though. I fixed the cabinet, so we’re just going to have to keep even more of an eye on him.” He grimaces. “If that’s even possible.”

Jongdae shakes his head. “That’s not possible.” He gives Yixing a dark look, bringing his hand up so that his can press the barest of kisses against his knuckles. Even after so long, they’re still ridiculously…close. Yixing finds that he likes it. “You don’t think he was trying to make water balloons out of the condoms again, do you?” He asks worriedly, squeezing Yixing’s hand as he places it back down on the table.

Yixing chokes on his wine, spluttering over the tablecloth. “I hope to god not.” He sets his glass down, grabbing the tumbler of water instead. “The last time was bad enough.”

“I know,” Jongdae winces. “I know.” He repeats, burying his face in his hands. “We had to explain to all those kids at his birthday party that they weren’t balloons, and the looks we got in the playground for weeks after! God, Ben’s mum couldn’t even look us in the eyes…”

“Not to mention the fact we had to go that night,” Yixing mutters. “It took forever to clean those sheets.”

***

Once they’ve paid and left, Jongdae buttoned up into his shouldn’t-be-y-but-so-is overcoat and Yixing shivering in his thin jacket because he forgot his coat, again, Yixing is pressing Jongdae against the wall, pulling the coat around them both.

“Kyungmi’s still got the kids,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against Jongdae’s cheek. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if we were a little late.” He’s so close that he can feel Jongdae’s chuckles vibrating through him.

They’re kissing within seconds, Jongdae nipping at Yixing’s bottom lip with eager teeth and gloved hands ghosting up his still-clothed sides. Yixing can only suppose it’s the thrill of possibly being caught that’s sending trails of heat up and down his body, because they’re barely touching.

“We’re not doing this here.” Yixing can only step back in surprise, because in all the years he’s known him, Jongdae has not been one to shy away from exhibitionism. Far from it.

“Who are you and what have you done with my Jongdae?” His expression is so endearingly bewildered that Jongdae can only draw him closer.

“I’m still here, you ! What I mean is that this is the first time I’ve had you to myself in ages.” He pauses to give Yixing his far too adorable smile – the one Shang has inherited, much to Yixing’s pleasure – and cough awkwardly. “I’d rather play…properly.”

Yixing shivers, and this time, it’s not from the cold. He kisses Jongdae’s awkward grin, murmurs the words into his ear. “Lead the way, baby. Lead the way.”