The day Jongseok starts to walk comes with no prior warning, but a lot of panic; he's nearing two years old, and still walking only on his knees, or crawling if needs be. Yixing's taken him to the doctor's twice already, and after a battery of tests, they've concluded there's nothing physically wrong with him – he's just not walking yet.

Yixing can't help but suspect that Jongdae's genes have something to do with it. It's not that Jongdae's lazy or anything, but he does like to do things in his own sweet time, and woe betide anyone trying to force him into anything. And his mother is always saying how Jongseok is the spitting image of Jongdae at that age, so it really wouldn't surprise him if Jongseok is delaying his walking deliberately.

Jongdae, on the other hand, is pretty sure Yixing's constant coddling isn't helping. How is poor Jongseok supposed to learn if someone's either holding him or strapping him into a stroller? Of course, if either one of them were to mention their suspicions to the other, it would result in a massive argument; it's much better they keep their ideas to themselves.

So when Jongdae takes a hold of Jongseok's tiny little hands and pulls him up so he's wobbling on his own two feet, he's not expecting much. This is approximately their one thousandth and sixty-seventh attempt; Jongseok is clearly doing this to with them. But the doctor said it was best to just keep encouraging him and see what happens, so they have to keep trying.

“Okay, baby,” he smiles at Jongseok, expression softening when the little boy gives him a gap-toothed grin of his own. Why is his son always so adorable when he's trying to teach him things? It really makes it hard to get anything done. “Aw, well aren't you sweet, smiling at daddy like that? You're such a handsome boy, aren't you?” He's getting dangerously close to being one of those cutesy, vomit-inducing parents who think their offspring rainbows, but he can't find it within himself to care. It's the same every morning when he sees Shang all dressed up in his school uniform like a tiny adult.

Yixing rolls his eyes at how fluffy his partner is being. “He's always smiling, Jongdae.” He leans down to chuck Jongseok under the chin, however, resisting the urge to coo at their toddler. He does too much of that already, and he doesn't want Jongseok to grow up with a big head – look what happened with Shang. “Everyone always says he's such a happy baby.”

It's true. Jongseok might cause more trouble than one would think possible for someone so small, but he is a remarkably happy child. He's always smiling at absolutely everyone, and charming old ladies into giving him sweets as soon as one of his dads' backs are turned. Yixing is a little worried about what this means for him in later life, but for now, it's adorable, so he lets it pass.

Jongdae presses a kiss to Jongseok's knuckles. “Is bàba right? Are you a happy baby?” He croons, waving Jongseok's hands up and down as if he's dancing; Yixing snorts from behind him. “Are you a happy baby who's going to walk for bàba and daddy today?” He tries, smiling wider in the hopes that it will encourage him.

Jongseok just giggles, tugging his hands out of Jongdae's loose grip. The force of the movement is too much for him, momentum swinging out of his favour as he crashes down onto his padded bottom. His mouth trembles, a look of such indignant surprise on his face that Yixing has to bite his own lower lip to keep from laughing. Jongdae reckons they have about five seconds before he starts roaring.

He and Yixing sigh simultaneously.

***

They give up on teaching Jongseok to walk for the moment; he's obviously not in the mood, and – even though Yixing has regularly scheduled meltdowns in which he despairs of Jongseok ever walking and wonders just what they did wrong – they know he'll do it eventually. It's just scary because the only experience they have of children is Shang, who did everything at the normal time, and all the other smug parents in their various parent-and-tot meetings who go on and on about how their kids hit milestones right out of the park.

It's kind of hard to be smug when your baby hasn't even learnt to walk yet, but they're working on it.

But it won't do to dwell on it, so when he catches Yixing spacing out, Jongdae pats him on the arm, trying to drag his him out of yet another daydream. “He's going to be fine, you know he is.”

Yixing grunts in response, too morose to think of replying properly. All he wants is for his children to be healthy, and yes, somewhat normal – because he's already aware that quite a few of the parents whisper about whether or not Jongseok's 'unusual' family is the reason he's a little different. It hurts, because his boys are perfect and wonderful children in their own right; having two fathers doesn't change anything – it doesn't make them lesser, or wrong, or deficient in any way.

“Honey?” Jongdae's hand closes around his arm, the action drawing him back to the present. “You're scaring me, being all quiet like that.”

He rubs at his eyes, fingers massaging his temples in an effort to wake himself up. “I'm sorry. I'm just...” He trails off, a sigh caught in the back of his throat. “I don't want people muttering about how we're ty parents again. We're doing all we can to get him to walk, and it's not like he's not healthy and happy, so – “

“Shh,” Jongdae slides a comforting arm around his shoulder; Yixing can't help but lean into him. “You're getting ahead of yourself. If someone wants to complain about the way we parent, they can, but it doesn't actually have anything to do with them. Yeah, it hurts, but in a couple of years their kid's going to be in some fancy private school and we'll never see them again. Jongseok is fine.” He stresses the word fine, squeezing Yixing's shoulder as if to reassure them both, because he can't deny he's worried himself. “He's just a stubborn little boy who doesn't want to walk yet, but he'll do it eventually and then we'll have nothing to worry about but the fact he keeps putting his fingers in electric sockets.”

Yixing chuckles at that. “He does that anyway.”

“Exactly!” Jongdae says, glancing over to where Jongseok is sat, carefully stacking blocks on top of each other. He knows that as soon as the tower gets big enough, Jongseok will gleefully smash through it and then shuffle over to them on his knees for amusement, but he figures they have a minute or so left to continue their adult conversation. “Kids develop differently. It's just how it is.”

“You got that from that parenting blog.” Yixing's eyes narrow suspiciously for a moment, before he smiles again. “But you're right, he'll do it when –“

“Bàba!” Their son's insistent little voice interrupts the tense little discussion. “Block!” Yixing swivels around, Jongdae's arm still slung around his shoulders.

“I can see, baby – “ He starts, about to compliment Jongseok's uneven masterpiece, but is shocked into silence when Jongseok uses the side of their beaten-up armchair to pull himself upwards. “Jongdae,” he hisses, shoving the other man in the chest with his elbow. “Look!”

“Ow!” Jongdae squawks, rubbing at his chest with a pained expression on his face. “That hurt!”

“Just look, will you?” Yixing doesn't have time for Jongdae's theatrics; instead, he grabs Jongdae's shoulders and forcefully swings him around to watch their son potentially take his first step.

“Oh my god,” Jongdae breathes, unable to look away as Jongseok grips the arm of the chair unsteadily. “Is he –”

Yixing's eyes are huge. “I think so.” He throws his arms around Jongdae's waist, spellbound. “, Jongdae, I think we might have raised another functioning child.”

He really shouldn't be so surprised by the idea, but he can't help it.

Using the armchair as a crutch, Jongseok puts one shaky foot forward, and then another. When he doesn't immediately fall over, he gives a tiny little chirp of satisfaction, and lets go of the chair. At this point, Jongdae's pretty sure neither he nor Yixing are breathing, and he's got half a mind to sprint towards the kitchen and grab his phone so he can capture this momentous occasion on video, but he's afraid the sudden movement might spook Jongseok.

“You can do it, Jongseok!” Yixing cheers, too excited to keep quiet any longer. “That's it, come over to bàba.”

Jongseok looks up, pudgy hands reaching towards his father. He staggers forward – looking for all the world like a miniature, drunken Jongdae – and nobody says anything, the both of them willing Jongseok on with all their might.

It doesn't work.

The baby determinedly takes another step – looking as confident as a toddler can – and promptly falls down right on his bottom again. This time, Jongdae rushes over and scoops him up before he can start crying, a jubilant expression on his face.

“He almost walked, did you see that, Yixing?” He says delightedly, bouncing Jongseok gently in an effort to keep the tears at bay. Jongseok's arms wrap around his neck, tiny fingers tugging at the short hair at the nape of his father's neck. Jongdae winces, but doesn't say anything; it's a particular habit of Jongseok's, much like Shang's need to dig his nails into someone else's finger before he goes to sleep.

“Of course I saw it, I'm right here!” Yixing rests his chin on Jongdae's shoulder, sliding his arms around Jongdae from the back. “You nearly did it, sweetheart. Nearly!”

Jongseok preens, enjoying all of the attention. He lets go of Jongdae's hair to pat at his other father's nose ineffectually. “Food?” He asks hopefully, bursting into giggles as Yixing pretends to eat his fingers. “Dada no!” He screams, flailing excitedly in Jongdae's arms.

Jongdae groans as a small foot dives into his ribs. “Like father, like son. Can you two stop abusing me?”

The little hand pulling at his hair makes the answer quite clear.