The school called Seokjin first, but he was working the dinner shift that night.

So they called Yoongi. He finished the case report early and drove there straight from work. Luck was not on his side, he hit red lights at every intersection. When he walked in the classroom, Jungkook was sitting in a chair in front of her desk. He had blue marker on his face. He was looking at his shoes. They just barely grazed the ground. His teacher had her hand folded on the desk and glared at Yoongi as he entered.

“You’re late Mr. Min,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi apologized. He loosened his tie and unclipped his police badge from the front of his shirt. “There as an abduction and then I hit bad traffic-”

She interrupted him, “I don’t have time for your excuses.”

The teacher’s chair was the only chair in the room meant for adults, all the others where small chairs designed for the second grade students she taught. When Yoongi sat in one, his knees his chin. He had to crane his neck to see over her desk. The teacher’s hair was in a smooth bun, not a strand out of place, and the glasses rested low on her nose. She wrote something down. Then folded her hands and spoke, “Mr. Min I called you in today because Jungkook got in a fight with another student.”

Yoongi glared at Jungkook. Jungkook shrunk further in his seat. “Who was the other student?” Yoongi asked.

She waved dismissively, “Irrelevant. Your son threw the first punch.”

Yoongi turned to Jungkook and asked, “Jungkook why did you hit him?”

Jungkook answered, “He was mean to me.”

“How?” Yoongi asked.

Jungkook hesitated. He tugged on his shirt sleeves and spoke, “They said Seokjin wasn’t my real mom.”

“The class made Mother’s Day cards during arts and crafts,” the teacher explained, “and Jungkook insisted on making one for Seokjin.”

Jungkook spoke in a whisper, “They said that my own mother didn’t want me… and that’s why Seokjin takes care of me.”

Yoongi ran his hand through Jungkok’s hair. Jungkook looked up, tears streaked down his face. “They don’t know anything,” Yoongi said, and gave Jungkook a reassuring smile. Jungkook gave a small one in return.

 “Jungkook could you wait in the hall,” the teacher asked, “I have something I need to discuss with your father.”

Jungkook turned to Yoongi with wide eyes. Yoongi smiled, and nodded to the door. Jungkook grabbed his backpack, the red and black race car one, from its hook and his math workbook from his cubby, and ran outside.

Yoongi turned to the teacher. She leaned over her desk and spoke, “Mr. Min, I understand that you and Mr. Kim are more than ‘friends.’ I have no reason to report this since Jungkook is by far my smartest student and until today he had no behavioral problems.”

Yoongi smiled at that, of course his son was the brightest.

She continued, “But you have to tell him that Seokjin isn’t his mother. I mean, honestly speaking, you can’t keep filling his brain with this nonsense. I don’t know what happened to his mother, you’re doing a fine job raising him by yourself. But you can’t continue to let Jungkook believe that a man is his mother.”

Yoongi was frowning by the time she finished. He stood up right, so that he could glare down at her, and spoke in a commanding voice, “I’ll talk to him about starting fights, but how I raise my son is none of your business. Honestly speaking, you should teach your students not to bully others before you criticize how I raise my son.”

Her jaw hung open.

“Good day, ma’am,” Yoongi saluted her and walked out the room. He closed the door behind him. He let out the breath he was holding and ran a hand through his hair. He felt a tug on his pants. It was Jungkook, looking up with wide eyes.

“Papa, are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

Yoongi smiled, “Yeah, brat. I’m fine.”

Yoongi lifted Jungkook and gave him a kiss on his forehead. Jungkook laughed. His bangs were dripping into his eyes. It was probably time for a haircut.

Yoongi walked out of the school. He asked, “Jungkookie, what is a mother?”

“A mother is the person who gave birth to you. For most people that’s woman, but for me it’s Seokjin! And Seokjin isn’t a woman, he’s a man,” Jungkook beamed.

Yoongi smiled, “That’s right. And you know that both Seokjin and I love you very much?”

“I know,” Jungkook said, “That’s why I hit Jimin.”

Yoongi laughed, “Don’t punch Jimin, his Mom bakes the best cupcakes.”

“Okay I won’t,” Jungkook laughed. He wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s neck, “I love you.”

Yoongi smiled, “I love you too brat.”

Yoongi buckled Jungkook into his car seat. Jungkook stuck his tongue out in his classroom’s direction. Yoongi laughed.

(He may have stuck his tongue out too. When Jungkook wasn’t looking of course. He’s not a bad influence.)

Seokjin was in the apartment making dinner by the time Jungkook and Yoongi got there.

Jungkook ran into the kitchen. Yoongi was two steps behind him, with the red and black race car backpack in one arm and a black briefcase in the other. Jungkook wore Yoongi’s officer hat. He held his lollipop like a gun, pointed it at Seokjin, and shouted, “Freeze criminal!”

Seokjin put his arms up in surrender, “I swear officer I didn’t do it.”

Then he laughed and picked up Jungkook and asked, “How is my favorite cop?”

“I thought I was your favorite,” Yoongi whined. He dropped the bags on the kitchen table, and pulled off his tie and ed his shirt.

“You’re not as cute as this one,” Seokjin said in mock sympathy. Jungkook beamed. Yoongi glared. He took his hat back. Seokjin examined the shaved sides of Jungkook’s head, “You took him to get a haircut?” he asked.

“His bangs were too long,” Yoongi said. He stole one of the carrots Seokjin had been chopping.

“It looks nice,” Seokjin said with a smile. Jungkook’s smile grew wider. They had the same round cheeks, and big eyes.

Seokjin squinted at Jungkook’s mouth. He asked, “Did you lose another tooth?”

Jungkook nodded. He reached into his pants pocket, a difficult feat while in Seokjin’s arms, and pulled it out, “Do you want it?”

Seokjin’s eyes widened in surprise, “Not really. Why don’t you throw it away?”

“I’m going to put in my special box with the others” Jungkook said. Seokjin placed him on the ground and he ran down the hall.

Seokjin laughed, “I’m going to have nightmares tonight.”

Yoongi kissed him on the cheek, “You lost your baby teeth when you were a kid.”

“I don’t remember them being that small,” Seokjin shuddered, “it’s creepy.”

They both laughed.

Then they kissed.

Seokjin brushed Yoongi’s bangs. Yoongi smiled.

“Why did his school call us?” Seokjin asked.

Yoongi couldn’t tell him. He waved dismissively, “Jungkook got in a fight at school. Don’t worry, I already talked to him. He was defending himself. The other kids need to learn not to call each other mean names.”

“Was that all?” Seokjin asked. He sighed in relief. “I thought Jungkook did something bad, like cheat on a spelling test.”

“Nah, he’s a good kid. We’re raising him right,” Yoongi smiled. He Seokjin’s cheek. “You need to shave again.”

Seokjin slapped his hand away. “I brought leftovers from the restaurant, eat it before it gets cold.”

“Yes sir,” Yoongi saluted. Seokjin glared. Yoongi laughed. He grabbed Jungkook from his room and they ate dinner together in the living room.

On the living room walls are various frames. There was one of the three of them this past summer, where Jungkook made them Yoongi and Seokjin each their own lopsided flower crown. One of Jungkook and the fifteen year old neighbor Hoseok, who was by far the best babysitter they would ever find, and was more than willing to let seven year old Jungkook draw “tattoos” on Hoseok’s arm in washable markers. One from Seokjin’s workplace from when he was promoted to Sous Chef at the restaurant. One from when Yoongi completed the police academy, where was shaking hands with the police chief as he received his diploma. One from Jungkook’s first birthday, where his godfather, Nam Joon, left him alone for ten minutes, and in those ten minutes Jungkook covered himself in chocolate cake. And one of Yoongi holding Jungkook the first week they brought him home, both were asleep, Yoongi had his mouth hanging open and a bottle in his hand, Jungkook was wrapped in the red and black plaid blanked that he still sleeps with every night.

There are three more photos in Yoongi and Seokjin’s room. One from last year, after Seokjin gave himself a shot and Jungkook covered it with a Mario band aid. One of Seokjin with long hair, during his fifth month of pregnancy. And one from when Seokjin was in the swim team in high school, when he and thirteen girls were wearing the required one piece red bathing suit, when Seokjin always had wide shoulders but once upon a time had curves, and bright red hair that was tied in a bun, and he went by another name. A name that is dead and gone.

On Sunday, Jungkook gave Seokjin the Mother’s Day card he made in class. It had a bouquet drawn on the cover and a long message, written by Yoongi dictated by Jungkook, inside. Seokjin put on the table by his bed.

Next month he made two Father’s Day cards. One for Yoongi and one for Seokjin. Seokjin cried. And used magnets to hang them both on the fridge.