The door creaks a little when he pushes it open. He freezes, worried that the noise will be enough to wake up the baby – and by association, Jongdae – but he's lucky tonight. Both man and baby are peacefully sleeping.

He creeps towards Jongseok's cot, leaning gently over the side to check on his son. Jongseok is fast asleep, tiny arms thrown above his head, one hand curled into a little fist. Yixing gently unfurls it, tucking him in more securely with the purple dinosaur he adores.

Parental checks complete (the house feels so quiet when Shang stays at his mother's), he turns to Jongdae, who is snoozing on an inflatable mattress. He sighs. If he could, he'd drag Jongdae back into their bed, but that would wake him up and Jongdae is nothing if not stubborn.

Unlike their son, Jongdae is lying on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow and a skinny leg poking out from under the covers. He looks younger in his sleep – almost as young as he did when Yixing first met him – and he is struck with a wave of nostalgia for the days when everything was so much simpler.

He never understood how much it hurt Jongdae when he avoided the question of their relationship. That was his way; it was what he'd always done, from the very beginning – when his mother asked if he'd met anyone nice, and he'd say yes, yes he had. He just failed to mention that they were male rather than female, and told her as little about them as he could.

It's not that he's ashamed – although Jongdae would argue that deep down, he is, and that's the basis of of this particular issue – it's just that he grew up believing his uality was something to hide. He'd like to say that things have changed, and that his fear was unneeded, but it's not – people still stare when they hold hands, still tut when they kiss in public and they're not shy about telling them they're being irresponsible for having children.

It's not everyone. He knows that. To be honest, most people don't give a damn as long as it doesn't affect them directly. It's a minority – a prejudiced, vocal minority who don't care about the hurt they cause because they think they're going against God, social mores, or just being ing weird.

But then there are the others. The people who say they're all for gay rights, that they have a gay best friend they couldn't live without, and declare themselves to be totally liberal – whatever that means.

They're just as homophobic, in other ways. They expect one of them to be 'the man,' they joke about their life and blatantly ask if he's a versatile top or a whiny bottom, thinking they've got the lingo down. He has to patiently explain – every bloody time – that it's not like that, that they just love one another and that's all there is to it – but they just give him a puzzled look, because they can't conceive of a gay man outside the clichés.

There are men who embody every single one of those clichés. They're vocal, they're loud and they're proud, and they're incredibly obvious, but they do not embody all of them, just as the idea of lesbians being y and mean is perpetuated by the visible few. In some ways, as he's gotten older, Yixing has found himself becoming even less enamoured with gay culture.

Perhaps it's because he no longer has very much in common with the men who live only for themselves and bounce from man to man. He doesn't know. All he knows is that when he says, “I'm gay, and this is my partner, Jongdae,” people start assuming things. Things he'd rather they didn't assume, and things he doesn't want attached to his boyfriend or his family.

It's not because he's ashamed of his lifestyle. It's not because he thinks men liking men and women liking women is intrinsically wrong. And it's not because he's embarrassed that he and Jongdae are no longer able to do whatever they want, and are tied down by children, and bills, and jobs and all of the other things that go into maintaining domesticity.

It's just because he loves his partner and he loves his family, and he doesn't know how to get that across in a way people will understand.

***

He's shivering, now, having been out of bed for at least ten minutes. Their house always turns into an icebox at night. Jongdae looks warm and comfy under his covers, even if he is on the crappy airbed, and what he really wants is to do is crawl in next to him and hold him close.

It shouldn't be this hard; this is why he hates fighting so much – he never knows how to act afterwards, how to be forgiven in a way that doesn't piss Jongdae off further.

The airbed wobbles as he climbs in, adjusting to the extra weight. He's probably going to accidentally deflate it, or something, but as he pulls the covers around them, he finds that he doesn't really care.

Jongdae is still sleeping fairly deeply, chest rising and falling slowly. He shifts in his sleep, arm coming to rest above his head and head turning sideways so that he is no longer facedown on the pillow. Yixing snuggles in as best he can, fitting himself along Jongdae's body in the little space available to him.

He knows Jongdae will most likely be annoyed when he wakes up, but he thinks it's a fair trade.

***

He wakes up to soft humming and murmured singing; when he opens his eyes, it's still dark, and all he can really make out is a shadowy figure near the cot, rocking something in their arms gently. He's tired enough to frantically feel in the bedclothes for Jongdae's warm body, feeling foolish when his hands come up empty and he realises that it is him, humming a lullaby.

Jongdae's voice is quiet, but it carries in the gloom. “Go back to sleep, Xing.” He yawns, voice devoid of energy. “I've got him.”

Yixing ignores him, pulling the covers away from his legs so that he can stand up. His eyes are adjusting to the dark, and he can make out Jongdae's facial features as he comes nearer. Jongdae looks him full in the face, but his lips are set in a tight line. “Is he okay?” He asks, looking down at the red-faced baby worriedly.

“He's fine,” Jongdae answers, still rocking Jongseok in his arms. “He just woke up because his nappy needed changing, and now he can't – or won't – go back to sleep.”

He goes back to humming his lullaby, occasionally singing full lines before reverting back to simple sounds when he forgets the lyrics. Yixing watches him carefully, not sure how to broach the subject of him creeping into bed with Jongdae unexpectedly.

Well, not exactly unexpectedly – Jongdae knows how he hates sleeping alone.

In the end, it's Jongdae who brings it up. “So, are you going to tell me why you got into bed with me in the middle of the night?” He says casually, as if they're discussing the weather.

Yixing decides to go for honesty. “I missed you,” he says simply. “And I hate fighting with you.”

Jongdae sighs, leaning over the side of the cot to lie Jongseok back down. The baby grizzles for a moment, not liking his new position, but as Jongdae tucks him in properly and kisses his forehead, he quietens. “We can't keep having the same fight, Xing,” he whispers, mindful of the baby next to them. “Something's got to give.”

“I know,” Yixing whispers back. “But you refuse to listen to me every time I explain, and I don't mean to hurt you – I just...” He bites his lip. “I just never know how to describe...us.”

“What is there to describe?” Jongdae scoffs. “'This is Jongdae, my boyfriend. We have two kids together.' It's not that hard.” He turns away, deliberately avoiding Yixing's gaze. “Would it kill you to introduce me as more than a friend? It's pretty clear we're more than that, anyway. We don't act like friends.” His voice becomes fierce at the end, the pent up hurt turning to anger because he hates crying.

“We never did act like friends,” Yixing reminds him. “Everyone always thought we were together.” He tries to smile – to lighten the mood – but Jongdae is unmoved.

“Seriously, Xing. It hurt this time.” He sounds hard, pissed off – but Yixing can hear the hurt underneath.

“Dae, I never – ” He sighs, and starts again. “I never meant to make you feel like I was belittling our relationship, or anything.”

“It was a party, Yixing.” Jongdae says, teeth gritting. “None of them were going to remember us, and if they did remember us as the weird gay couple, so what? We are gay.”

“It's not that!” Yixing whispers hotly. “I just hate the way people act when we say we're together. I hate that they start looking for indicators that we're gay, or they just stop smiling or – or – ”

“Or what?” Jongdae mutters tiredly. “They chat about what a nice couple we are? Or how you don't often see gay families?” He turns around again, crossing his arms defensively. “What is it you don't like hearing, because I can't understand why it's so hard to tell people you're with me when I thought we were happy together.”

“Baby, it isn't that,” Yixing says desperately, because this conversation really isn't going the way he wants it to, and why does he always have to put his foot in it? “Never that. I am happy. You know I am.”

“Then why won't you bloody act like it in front of other people?” Jongdae hisses furiously. “Am I really that of a boyfriend, because if that's how it is, you're quite welcome to find someone else you won't be so ashamed of!” His voice rises at the end of his speech, and Jongseok twitches in his sleep. Jongdae starts guiltily, fussing over the cot for a moment.

“Jongdae, don't be ridiculous.” Yixing is hurt by the assumption he'd want anyone else – by the assumption he could leave that easily. “I don't want anyone but you, and you know that.”

“Then show me that in front of other people,” Jongdae pleads quietly. “I deal with it in front of your mother. I keep all PDA to a minimum in front of the people at your job. But I don't want to have to hide how much I love you in front of everyone.” He pauses for a moment, fingers clenching on the side of the cot. “Because it feels like a slap in the face every time you stop me from kissing you or push my hand away.”

“I'm sorry.” Yixing says lamely, unable to find any other words. “I didn't – I wasn't aware it upset you that much.”

The contemptuous look Jongdae gives him at that hits him right in the gut. “Oh, so me storming off wasn't enough of an indicator?” He responds sarcastically.

“I didn't mean that.” Yixing folds his arms. “I meant that I didn't know it had been hurting you like this. I'll – I'll try to stop doing it so much.”

“I mean, when we were younger, you had no qualms about kissing me in front of a load of other people in a club.” Jongdae says loftily. “What's so different now?”

“We have jobs. Careers,” Yixing stresses. “And two kids who need parents who don't ostracise them from the rest of the community because people can't deal with us being gay. That's what changed.”

Jongdae stays silent. He sighs, giving in. “I suppose you're right about that one. But it doesn't mean you can just pretend I'm your male companion, or your golfing buddy you just randomly decided to raise children with. I'm not Joonmyun.”

Yixing snorts. “I'm well aware you're not Joonmyun. You're my boyfriend, not Kyungmi's little .”

“Be honest,” Jongdae gives a brittle laugh, breaking the tension somewhat. Yixing breathes easier. The argument is over – for today, at least. He knows that one day, he is going to have to find a way to completely move past it, but for now, it's enough to make Jongdae laugh. “We're all her little es.”

Yixing wraps his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Jongdae's shoulder. When Jongdae relaxes into his hold, he smiles, glad that he's somewhat forgiven. “I know. But he's chief .”

Jongdae cranes his neck back to look at Yixing. “Does that mean you're my chief , then?” He murmurs, sounding interested. Yixing raises an eyebrow.

Because Jongdae's answer was back to his usual, snappish retorts, he feels brave enough to chance his next words. “I kind of have to be, don't I, to be able to deal with you.”

He knows he's going to pay for that cheeky retort later, but he knows a sore is well worth some good make-up , and the knowledge that Jongdae isn't going to murder him in his sleep with a hatchet.

Inspired by the fact that I get very irritated by a lot of people's views of homouality, and the fact my dad told me that he's even more homophobic now than he was before, despite being gay and having come out of the closet over a decade ago.

On a lighter note, I managed to write a for Bedroom Acoustics (I am shocked), and this is Undomesticated's fiftieth chapter! I feel like I should celebrate. Any ideas, anyone? I feel like we need an image of Jongseok handing out cake to everybody.