Work Text:
Resting his cheek against the toilet seat, Jimin wonders how he’s going to break the news to Yoongi.
Chaeyoung is seven months old. She’s only been on solids for a little over a month; peas and carrots are her favorite to date, and she absolutely loathes bananas for some unexplainable reason, despite the fact that Jimin ate bananas by the pound when he was carrying her.
She has yet to show signs of potential crawling. Jimin’s mother seems to think it’s because she plans to bypass all other forms of locomotion in favor of walking straight away, but Seokjin tells them that she’s probably just lazy, like Yoongi.
At four months old, she had her first cold. She has two teeth so far, one at the top and one at the bottom. Her favorite person in the whole world after her parents is, oddly, Namjoon. Much to Taehyung’s amusement, she can’t stand the sight of Jungkook.
And she’s going to be a big sister.
Jimin’s hand trembles as he rinses his mouth, squeezes toothpaste onto his toothbrush in a daze, tries to shove the revelation into the backmost corner of his mind. He stares into his own reflection, refusing to allow himself even a tiny glance at his abdomen. It’s not that he’s in denial – he isn’t, he insists – but the timing could not possibly be more terrible.
Jimin and Yoongi are not dirt poor, thankfully, but money is still uncomfortably tight, given their low-paying jobs and the crippling economy looming over their heads. Jimin only works three days a week, playing receptionist at Hoseok’s dance studio, and stays home the rest of the time. Yoongi, on the other hand, would work all day, all week, all month if he can, because their rent just got increased, and the car needs fixing, and Chaeyoung’s list of needs is ever-growing, and—
Chaeyoung. Their unplanned and unexpected surprise, who is still a baby herself and has so many more firsts ahead of her that her parents cannot experience to the fullest due to the newest member of the family contentedly taking up residence in Jimin’s belly.
Suddenly overwhelmed, Jimin starts to cry in earnest.
Dinner is a quiet affair, quieter than usual, and Yoongi is unnerved by it.
“Are you okay?” asks Yoongi. He slowly wipes the wet plate Jimin hands to him. From the corner of his eye, Yoongi keeps an eye on Chaeyoung, who is babbling to herself, strapped into her obnoxiously pink Bumbo (a gift from Seokjin, obviously) on the floor.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
Yoongi bites back a cutting response and wills himself to handle Jimin with patience. He knows that dealing with Chaeyoung is a round-the-clock job in itself and Jimin has every right to be exhausted, but it’s so glaringly obvious that Jimin is not fine. It rankles Yoongi, and really, he knows better than to push, but a forthcoming major deadline and lack of sleep set him off: “If I did something wrong, you know you should just tell me.”
Jimin’s hands still. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Yoongi,” he says, voice soft and tone careful. “Like I said, I’m just tired. I’ve had a long day.”
“You didn’t have work today.”
“Well, Chaeyoung was being difficult. She didn’t want to take a nap.” This is a bald-faced lie and they both know it. Chaeyoung is an easy sleeper and during the rare occurrences that she kicks up a fuss about it, Jimin always calls Yoongi at work to let Yoongi talk to her. It has proven to be a failsafe soothing method, something that Jimin is doubtlessly grateful for.
So it’s not surprising that Yoongi pinpoints it without missing a beat. “You didn’t call me today. At all, actually.”
“…My phone’s battery died.”
“Jimin.”
“Why can’t you just let it go?” Jimin half-yells, annoyed. He settles the glass he’s aggressively scrubbing back into the sink. “I said I’m tired, Yoongi. Is it so hard to leave it at that?”
“Because I know there’s something else bothering you!”
“There isn’t, so can we stop talking about this?”
“We will when you tell me the truth.”
Jimin splutters, his cheeks red with anger. “Why do you have to—”
“Jimin, just—”
“I’m pregnant.”
Yoongi is stunned, pupils blown wide open. An ugly, painful silence stretches between them, and Jimin doesn’t know how much longer he can stave off the incredibly strong urge to keel over. The erratic thudding of his heart against his ribcage doesn’t help, of course. He feels nauseous.
“…Did I hear that correctly?”
“You did,” Jimin gulps. “I’m pregnant. Four weeks, I think.”
It’s understandable that Yoongi needs time to digest the weight of the statement, but for every extra second he takes and every distressed wrinkle of his forehead, Jimin feels his insides roil and twist a little tighter.
“We can’t.”
It comes out more inelegantly than Yoongi intended it to, judging by the tears welling up in Jimin’s eyes, so he searches for more words to soften the blow. “We have no space in our apartment. Our finances are all over the place – we don’t make enough money – and Chaeyoung, she’s just so tiny still.” Yoongi’s panicked gaze flits to their daughter. “Your body hasn’t healed yet, Jimin. You had a baby just seven months ago, we can’t…”
“I know,” Jimin says. The lump in his throat grows even bigger. “But it is what it is. We’re having another baby.”
Shaking his head, Yoongi presses the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Jimin feels his stomach flip at the alarming gesture. “I can work more,” he quickly offers. “I’m sure Hoseok can give me more things to do at the studio, and—”
“I’m going out.” Yoongi walks out of the kitchen with long, purposeful strides, as if he can’t get away from Jimin fast enough.
Unable to contain the sorrow at being rejected like this, Jimin starts bawling. “Yoongi,” he begs, “please.”
Yoongi sighs as he pulls on his jacket. “We’ll talk about this when I get back.” Then he’s out the door, leaving a distraught Jimin in his wake.
“You, Min Yoongi,” Seokjin begins scathingly when he yanks the front door open, “are the biggest asshole I have ever met in my life.”
“Ah. Jimin must’ve told you, then.”
“Yes, I just got off the phone with your hysterical husband, if that’s what you mean,” says Seokjin, settling onto the couch. “He was crying too much to be intelligible but I managed to catch the words ‘pregnant’ and ‘Yoongi’ and ‘mad’ in there somewhere. So I’m going to assume that he’s pregnant again, and you aren’t happy about it.” Eyes hardening, Seokjin continues, “He was wailing about how he has to be a single dad now since you won’t accept the new baby.”
“That’s harsh, Yoongi.” Namjoon enters the living room, and flops down next to Seokjin. “Even by your standards.”
“I never said I’m not going to accept the baby!” Yoongi swears loudly, aghast by the accusation. “I just need time to think about it. We’re going to need more money, which will be my responsibility since Jimin can’t work more hours once he’s pregnant. And then there’s Chaeyoung, who’s so young and small, and… It’s hard. All of this is hard.”
Something in Seokjin’s demeanor softens. “The timing isn’t ideal,” he says. “Your worries are completely valid. But have you ever thought about how much worse Jimin feels? He has the same worries as you do, plus the added stress of being pregnant so soon after Chaeyoung.”
Yoongi fiddles with his fingers instead of responding.
“You two have so many people who are rooting for you, you know?” Namjoon tells him with a wry grin. “Jimin’s parents are loving and supportive; your parents are loving and supportive. Your boss likes you well enough. Jimin’s boss is Hoseok, so…you know. Between Seokjin, myself and the others, your kids will want for absolutely nothing. Don’t forget that. We’ll help in any way that we can. All you have to do is ask.”
Yoongi feels like he’s about to cry any moment now – he has such great friends, dammit – so he decides to hightail it out of there before his emotions get the best of him. “I won’t,” he says, sounding a little hoarse. “And thank you. To both of you.”
“You’re welcome,” Seokjin replies simply. “And Yoongi?”
“Hmm?”
Seokjin smiles at him. “Congratulations.”
“You really love bath time, don’t you? Yes, you do! I think it’s because you like the rubber duckies Uncle Taehyung got you. They’re cute, just like you! That’s right. What a clean, happy baby you are.”
Yoongi watches Jimin and Chaeyoung from the doorway. His presence goes unnoticed, since Jimin has his back to the door and he’s too busy cooing at Chaeyoung, at any rate.
If there’s one thing Chaeyoung is fond of, it’s being bathed by Jimin. Yoongi thinks it’s because Jimin is so animated and chatty. He also has the squeaky baby voice down pat, which Yoongi has yet to achieve.
“All done! Now let me just—” Jimin turns to grab Chaeyoung’s towel, and spots Yoongi. He visibly jumps. “Oh, you scared me.”
Huffing, Yoongi hands him the towel. “Give her to me. I’ll dress her and put her to bed.”
“I can do it. I’m almost done anyway.”
“Jimin.” The tone Yoongi adopts brooks no room for argument. “You’ve been with her all day. Go take a shower or something, then we’ll go to bed together.” That’s code for we’ll talk later so Jimin just nods, passing Chaeyoung off to Yoongi.
She squeals and grabs Yoongi’s nose, a much-loved habit of hers that Yoongi is sure Hoseok helped cultivate. “Okay, that’s enough,” he says, peppering her chubby cheeks with kisses. “Off to bed with you.”
It takes Chaeyoung only ten minutes to fall asleep once she’s put into a freshly laundered sleepsuit and tucked into the crib with her trusty Kumamon plushy under one arm. Yoongi makes sure the baby monitor is on, and leaves the door open a crack before he makes a beeline for their bedroom.
The lights are out and Jimin is in bed, but he’s sitting up and decidedly awake. Yoongi can feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves.
“We need to talk,” says Yoongi, moving to sit beside Jimin on the bed. “But before that, I’d just like to say I’m sorry for how I reacted. I was tired, and overwhelmed, and I took it out on you. That was hardly fair of me.”
Jimin doesn’t say anything, waits for him to continue.
“I’m really sorry. As worried as I may be, it must be ten times worse for you. Things are going to be difficult from here on in…but we’ll figure it out.” Yoongi interlaces their fingers together. “We’ll be okay. I’ll take care of you. That’s a promise.”
“All three of us?” asks Jimin, giving him a half-smile.
“Yeah,” Yoongi breathes out. His free hand finds purchase on Jimin’s stomach. There’s still nothing to feel but they know it’s there. “All three of you.”
They schedule a doctor’s appointment during the week after Jimin told Yoongi he’s pregnant and the obstetrician confirms it – five weeks now, Dr. Choi says, ever so cheerful, with a due date around mid-April, a spring baby. Yoongi tries not to think about how he has less than eight months now to rake in twice as much money as he usually makes, and squeezes Jimin’s hands a little tighter.
“We can hear the heartbeat during the next appointment, right?” Jimin asks. He looks calmer now, more relaxed.
“Yes,” nods Dr. Choi. “So I’ll see you two in a month’s time. Take care, Jimin. You know the drill: get enough rest, take your vitamins and no stress!”
Easier said than done, Jimin thinks, but he murmurs in assent nonetheless.
After the appointment they go to pick up Chaeyoung from Jimin’s parents and decide to tell them about the new baby then and there, to get it over with.
“I knew you two weren’t running errands,” Jimin’s mother says, somewhat haughtily, as she and her husband pore over the grainy sonogram print-out Yoongi hands her. “My instincts are never wrong when it comes to you, Jimin.”
“Well, we could’ve been,” retorts Jimin. He winces when Chaeyoung tugs on his hair.
“You and Yoongi only ever leave Chaeyoung with me for work. Never for ‘errands’.”
Yoongi makes the mistake of snorting, which earns him a hard glare from his mother-in-law. “What do you look so smug about?” she demands, narrowing her eyes at him. “What was going through your head, putting another baby in Jimin so soon after the last one?” Jimin whines at this, but she plows on. “I’m too young to be a grandmother of two! I can’t believe you would be so irresponsible.”
But there’s a twinkle in her eye and a pleased blush dusting the apples of her cheeks, so Yoongi is right to assume she might not be that upset after all.
He still apologizes, to humor her.
“I’ve forgotten how horrible this is,” Jimin wheezes, eyes shut tight to fight against the dizziness that threatens to overpower him. “It’s even worse this time—”
He breaks off as his stomach heaves, and he deposits more vomit into the toilet bowl.
Yoongi rubs the nape of Jimin’s neck with one hand and holds Chaeyoung to his chest with the other. “I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time,” he says softly, for lack of anything more original. “Is there anything I could do for you? Tea? Or maybe some crackers? We can give that wristband thing that Seokjin-hyung recommended a try if you want.”
“I’ll be fine. It’ll pass soon enough.” Jimin beams at Yoongi despite his weariness. “I’m okay.”
There’s no point in arguing since it is an unchangeable fact, and such symptoms will dissipate at their own pace, so Yoongi swallows down his anxiety and passes Chaeyoung to Jimin when she leans out of his arms, making grabby hands urgently. “What do you want for lunch?” Yoongi questions. “I’ll cook.”
“Okay.” It’s a testament to Jimin’s fatigue that he agrees without complaint. “Anything’s fine. And please heat up Chaeyoung’s potato puree while you’re at it.”
With a nod, Yoongi moves to head for the kitchen, but pauses when he feels Jimin’s hand on his bicep. “Yeah?”
“No chicken. I don’t think…” Jimin bites his bottom lip, looking guilty. “Anything but chicken.”
“Alright,” is Yoongi’s prompt, albeit pained (of all things Jimin’s body could be averse to, it has to be the one food they eat the most) response. “No chicken, babe. Got it.”
This is going to be a long journey.
“I can’t believe this is already happening, dammit,” pants Jimin. He sucks in a breath, struggling to button his favorite pair of jeans. “It’s too soon!”
Clearly upset, he turns toward Yoongi, who’s heartily shaking a rattle to entertain Chaeyoung. “What is it?” Yoongi says, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m showing already.”
“…And?”
“I’m only at ten weeks!” wails Jimin. It takes every ounce of self-control he has not to stomp his foot in annoyance. “With Chaeyoung I didn’t start showing until I was well into my second trimester, you know that. It’s still too soon to tell people, but now they’re all going to know just by looking at me.”
Now this – this is familiar territory for Yoongi. Jimin’s insecurity over his appearance has always been an issue in their relationship from the get-go, and it’s foreseeable that pregnancy would increase it tenfold.
“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says gently. “Everyone gains weight during pregnancy; it’s just a matter of when. You’ll still look so, so beautiful no matter what.” He stands behind Jimin and hooks his chin over the latter’s shoulder. “Don’t forget that I’ve seen you pregnant before, and loved you through all of it.” Jimin’s cheeks flush as Yoongi touches his waist.
Yoongi inches his palm forward, over the plane of Jimin’s lower belly. The bump is small enough that he can cover the entirety of it with his hand but it’s distinctly hard under his touch, a reminder of what lies within.
Peeved due to having lost her parents’ attention, Chaeyoung rocks back on her heels and squawks to alert them of her acute displeasure. Her tiny hands smack against the playmat crossly. “Oh, baby,” Jimin sighs with a fond chuckle, untangling himself from Yoongi. “Come here.”
“Wait.” Yoongi grabs him by the wrist and pulls him back. “Look.”
The rattle Yoongi abandoned earlier is on the edge of the bed and Chaeyoung zeroes in on it, brows furrowed in concentration. She glowers at the toy as if it had done something to personally offend her.
But she wants it. She wants it more than anything.
“Come on, Chaeyoung-ah,” Yoongi says under his breath. “You’ve got this.” Next to him, Jimin is frozen to the spot, jaw hanging slack.
There’s a split second of silent tension before Chaeyoung nudges one knee forward, and then another, and another—
“She’s crawling!” shrieks Jimin, rushing to pick Chaeyoung up and cuddle her close, despite her loud protests. Yoongi quickly slots the rattle into her fist to quell her whimpering. Satisfied, she shoves it into her mouth and starts to gum on it. “Yoongi, get her baby book. We can finally use the ‘crawled for the first time’ page today!”
Jimin continues to fuss over Chaeyoung, prattling on about things that don’t make sense, but as he looks over at Yoongi, his shoulders seem to sag with relief, and Yoongi knows that Jimin isn’t over the moon because Chaeyoung has finally mastered the art of crawling.
The truth is, Jimin is just glad that it’s a milestone he still gets to cherish and enjoy, before the baby inside him begins to consume more of his time and energy, leaving little to none for Chaeyoung. It isn’t a lot but he will take what he can get.
So Yoongi does his part, which is to step aside and let Jimin take an hour to decorate the ‘crawled for the first time’ page, complete with doodles and stickers.
At sixteen weeks, Jimin is no longer able to hide that he’s pregnant. He still wears the loosest sweaters he can find to work, in a valiant attempt to do so, but Hoseok calls him out on it.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’re pregnant again.”
“Is it really that noticeable already?” Jimin groans, leaning back into his chair.
“Yes.” Hoseok nods firmly, before breaking out into a grin. “Or maybe Seokjin-hyung couldn’t keep his big mouth shut and told me himself. Pick one.”
“I pick the second option.”
“Good choice.”
Hoseok laughs, and Jimin rolls his eyes. “Hyung,” says Jimin after a beat of silence. “I’m going to work right up to when the baby’s born. I hope you know that.” Before Hoseok could protest, Jimin barrels on, “We need the money. Raising two kids is going to be pretty expensive so just…let me. Okay? I’ll be careful. I won’t do extra work; all I want is to keep the hours that I have right now until I absolutely can’t anymore. Please?”
It’s evident that Hoseok disapproves, but he understands their situation, so he begrudgingly consents to it. “Alright,” he huffs. “7,500 won an hour, eight hours a day, three days a week.”
Confused, Jimin says, “My pay is 5,000 an hour.”
“Well, now it’s 7,500.”
It takes Jimin a second to grasp what Hoseok is trying to do. “Hyung,” he grumbles. “You can’t just—”
“Hey, don’t tell me what to do.” Hoseok points a commanding finger in Jimin’s direction. “I’m your boss. And don’t you dare say anything about pity. I’m only doing it because there’s a new law that says employees at dance studios have to earn a minimum of 7,000 won an hour.” (It’s not true.) “So are we clear, or do we have to bump it up to 10,000?”
Jimin shakes his head, blinks the tears away. “Crystal clear.”
“Good.”
To say that Yoongi is in a foul mood would be an understatement. He is drained and irritable, having picked up an extra shift to cover for his colleague who’s out sick, and he was stuck in a meeting with his boss that ran late, so he had to miss Jimin’s appointment. Jimin was sweet, understanding as always, but if anything, it makes Yoongi feel even worse.
When Yoongi arrives home, Jimin and Chaeyoung are huddled together on the couch, watching cartoons.
“Chaeyoungie, look who’s home!” Jimin coos, pointing to Yoongi. “It’s Daddy!”
Yoongi swoops in and seizes Chaeyoung, throwing her into the air. She giggles, shrill and loud. “Careful,” reminds Jimin, but he’s smiling, eyes curved into crescents.
Once Chaeyoung has had her fill, Yoongi places her into her playpen. He then slots himself next to Jimin on the couch, automatically looping an arm around him. Jimin burrows into his side.
“Bad day at work?”
“Hmm.”
Jimin doesn’t press. He’s been with Yoongi for five years, and that’s five years of knowing that Yoongi will only open up when he wants to. “Taehyung went with me to my appointment,” he says lightly. “He cried so much when he heard the baby’s heartbeat, even Dr. Choi was starting to get worried.”
This earns a laugh from Yoongi. “How was the appointment?” he asks. His hand slides under Jimin’s shirt and makes contact with the warm, taut skin of his now-prominent stomach. “Any news?”
“Baby’s great. Right weight, right size, healthy.”
“And you?”
“Right weight, right size, healthy,” Jimin repeats playfully. “And we found out the gender today.”
It isn’t a big deal – the baby could only be one of two genders, after all – but Yoongi feels an inkling of nervousness regardless. “And?” he prompts.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” says Jimin, “but we’re gonna have to go again if you want that son you’ve always wanted.”
Yoongi finds himself releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. “Another girl?”
“Another girl, yeah.”
Strangely, Yoongi doesn’t feel the bout of frustration that he expected, despite having wanted a little boy to call his own for as long as he could recall. “I’m happy,” he says, and Jimin knows it’s true. “I’m really happy, Jimin.”
“I know. I’m happy too.”
The last thing Jimin wants to do when he’s nearly seven months pregnant is have a party. His back is constantly aching, so are his feet, and with it comes an unattractive gait when he walks.
But Chaeyoung is one now. It’s been a whole year since she entered the world, kicking and screaming, and Jimin will be damned if he does nothing to commemorate the occasion.
“Jimin-hyung,” says Jungkook, exasperation bleeding through his words. “We’ve got this covered. All you need to do is find a nice chair and sit down.” He has his hands on Jimin’s shoulders and is trying to shove Jimin out of the living room.
“But—”
Yoongi gently sets his hand on the small of Jimin’s back, rubbing a bit to ease some of the discomfort. “We’ve got it all under control. Chaeyoung is taking a nap and so should you, before our families get here and make everything even more chaotic than it already is.”
Jimin pouts. “Fine.”
He doesn’t nap, and bustles to the kitchen after half an hour of being confined to their bed, but at least it’s half an hour more that he’s off his feet, so Yoongi lets it slide.
The party is fairly small and uneventful, but Chaeyoung seems to be enjoying herself. She’s cheerful, glad to be the center of attention amongst her grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins.
“Is it time for cake yet?” Hansoo, Namjoon and Seokjin’s three-year-old, complains. He’s annoyed, bracketed in his father’s hold by arms that are too sturdy for him to escape from. “I want cake!”
“Sure,” Jimin says. “I think it’s time for cake.”
The cake is big and fancy, from the bakery near Hoseok’s dance studio. It has caused a sizeable dent in Yoongi’s wallet but it’s worth it, when Chaeyoung’s eyes light up at the multitude of candles decorating the colorful buttercream swirls. She claps her hands, rather sloppily due to her lack of dexterity, but she looks completely thrilled.
Jimin and Yoongi kneel on either side of Chaeyoung, Yoongi holding her up as Jimin helps her blow the candles out. It’s adorable how she can’t stop squealing, overcome with excitement. Taehyung is studiously recording everything for posterity, while Jungkook takes photos.
Locking eyes with Jimin over Chaeyoung’s head, Yoongi whispers, “Happy first anniversary as parents.”
It makes Jimin smile, his eyes misty. His right hand unconsciously rests on his swollen belly. “Happy first anniversary as parents,” he parrots. “We did pretty good, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” Chaeyoung is in Yoongi’s lap now, using his thighs as footholds. “We did pretty good.”
“I can’t believe them.”
Jimin looks up from the book he’s reading. He stares at the pack of onesies and diaper bag his husband is currently brandishing. “Wow, they really think they’re being subtle with this. It’s sad, almost.”
“It’s sad, definitely,” Yoongi corrects, tossing the items onto the bed.
They had made it clear to their family and friends that there will be no baby shower this time. After all, their second child is also a girl, which allows them to reuse almost all of Chaeyoung’s things. However, everyone appears to be undeterred, and there’s a ridiculous pattern of events that has been going on.
Three weeks ago, Yoongi’s brother and sister-in-law gave them a ‘used car seat’ that they claimed a neighbor was giving away for free because her child had gotten too big for it. It doubles as a bassinet, said sister-in-law had tittered nervously. How convenient, am I right? (Jimin ignores the price tag hanging off the base out of secondhand embarrassment for the couple.)
Last week, Namjoon dropped off Hansoo’s old crib, mumbling something about how Hansoo has outgrown it and would now very much prefer a big-boy bed. Yoongi had rolled his eyes when the large box that contained the crib pieces also had Hansoo’s old stroller in it, tucked carefully into the bottom.
Hoseok has been sneaking in wads of cash into Jimin’s bag and jacket pockets whenever he had the chance. Even Taehyung and Jungkook are in on the plan; the onesies and diaper bag Yoongi found slipped into Chaeyoung’s chest of drawers are proof of that.
“Well, I think it’s sweet,” says Jimin resignedly. “We need all the help we can get, now that we’re in the home stretch.” He shifts, tucking another pillow behind him.
“Six weeks to go, huh?”
“Yup.”
Yoongi slinks a little further down the bed so he can rest his head on Jimin’s belly. At this point, Jimin is a lot bigger than he was with Chaeyoung, but Yoongi doesn’t say so, out of consideration (for his husband) and admittedly, fear (for his life). “She moves a lot more than Chaeyoung did,” he remarks.
Judging by the grimace Jimin is sporting, it’s a fact that he knows all too well. “She’s bigger,” he sighs. “And she’s running out of space.”
“Well, it’s not your time yet, so you better wait.” Yoongi splays his hand on the bump, warmth flooding his chest at the sporadic jolts and prods he’s feeling. “You can come after Daddy returns from Japan.”
Jimin stops carding his hand through Yoongi’s hair and smacks him instead. “That’s still too soon! You’re only going to be in Japan for this weekend. Don’t be dramatic.”
“I don’t want to leave,” says Yoongi, looking troubled. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay with Chaeyoung?”
“I’m always okay with Chaeyoung,” is Jimin’s calm reply, “and you have to leave if you want that raise.” It’s a prerequisite for employees to attend a three-day seminar at the company’s Tokyo headquarters and pass a written examination if they want to get a raise.
Sensing that Yoongi is still iffy about leaving his heavily pregnant husband and toddler behind, if only for three days, Jimin cups his chin so that he’s forced to look up. “You promised to take care of all three of us, didn’t you?”
“…Yes.”
“Then you’re going to go to that seminar and get that raise,” Jimin declares, sounding a lot more confident than he feels. He feigns a solemn frown to go with it. “You’re going to work hard, so your daughters can buy all the My Little Pony dolls and princess dresses they could ever want in the future.”
It’s a silly goal, but Yoongi knows it’s just Jimin’s way of distracting him from the true reason as to why he desperately needs that raise: they’re behind on rent, bills need to be paid, Jimin’s upcoming hospital stay when the baby comes is going to cost a bomb.
“I will go to that seminar and get that raise.” Yoongi lifts himself up on an elbow so he can kiss Jimin, relishing the feel of Jimin’s soft, plush mouth against his. He keeps one hand on Jimin’s stomach, cupping their unborn child. “For My Little Pony.”
“You better.”
Jimin is home with Chaeyoung just three weeks later when he feels a twinge of pain that curls around his belly, pressing against his spine, and he knows.
So he calls Yoongi.
“Jimin?”
“It’s time.”
“Baby time?” Yoongi tries to act like he isn’t panicking, bless him, but his strained voice betrays him. “She’s three weeks early.”
“Baby time,” says Jimin in confirmation. “And it’s okay. Three weeks isn’t a lot.” Despite the situation, he feels the need to comfort Yoongi. “We’ve passed 37 weeks a couple of days ago, remember? She isn’t premature.”
“Yeah. Okay.” An audible gulp. “Okay, I’m leaving the office now.”
“Alright, babe.” Jimin keeps his tone light, serene. As an afterthought, he reminds Yoongi, “Drive carefully. There’s no point in rushing. We have hours ahead of us, believe me.”
“Okay.”
Yoongi arrives home a little over fifteen minutes later. His office is at least half an hour away without the added traffic of rush hour, but Jimin doesn’t comment on it.
“One every seven minutes, I think,” he hums, wincing. “We’ll have to drop Chaeyoung off at my parents’ before heading to the hospital, but she’s been fed and bathed, so that’s one less concern for all of us.”
Yoongi doesn’t bother to hide his shock. “You’re in labor yet you still managed to bathe and feed our daughter in between contractions?”
Jimin shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“You really are something else, Park Jimin.”
Eight hours later, Jimin openly sobs when Dr. Choi hands him his daughter, flailing and angry, wrapped in a fleecy lilac blanket. “Hi,” he manages to choke out. “Oh, hello. Hello there. Look at you! We’re so happy to meet you. You’re beautiful.”
“She is,” agrees Yoongi. His throat feels tight too as he hovers over them both. He cradles the back of her downy head with a shaking hand. “Hello, Sooyoung.”
“I don’t remember us agreeing on Sooyoung.”
“She looks like a Sooyoung.”
Jimin snorts. “It’s cute,” he says. “I think it suits her. Chaeyoung and Sooyoung.” He kisses the newborn’s forehead. “You want a turn? I’m getting tired.”
“Sure.” Carefully, Yoongi gathers Sooyoung into his arms. He drinks in her every feature, from the slope of her nose to the pucker of her mouth. God, she is so gorgeous and real and theirs, and he’s in love.
“You were incredible, Jimin,” Yoongi murmurs reverently, leaning down to press a kiss against Jimin’s sweaty temple, but Jimin meets him halfway. Their lips clash and it’s clumsy – gross, even – but it can’t possibly be better than this, with Sooyoung between them.
“Thank you so much.” Pressing their foreheads together, Yoongi says, “Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought that this would be my life. You and two amazing little girls… I can’t ask for more.”
Jimin smiles. His eyes are puffy and ringed with dark circles, hair plastered to his face with sweat, but he is glowing. “I love you, Yoongi.”
“I love you, Jimin.”
Their lives don’t miraculously become easier after Sooyoung is born. If anything, it becomes even more hectic.
Chaeyoung still doesn’t understand the concept of babies – given that she herself is one – and doesn’t really show any affection toward Sooyoung as a result. With Yoongi’s raise, comes more commitments at work. Most days Jimin barely has time to sit down, for he’s too busy chasing after Chaeyoung, now a pro at walking, like a headless chicken with Sooyoung strapped to his chest in a baby carrier.
And they fight. A lot.
Yoongi is always stressed because of work, and Jimin is tired from dealing with the girls all day, so they yell and make sure to use words that really hurt. Sometimes Jimin cries, sometimes Yoongi storms out of the house.
(But they’re stronger because of it.)
“Daddy!” Chaeyoung cries out when Yoongi steps over the threshold, running toward him as fast as her small, inexperienced legs could carry her. He catches her, hoists her onto his hip. “Hello, princess. What are we having for dinner?”
“Chicken,” Jimin announces, grinning at him. Sooyoung is snoozing against his shoulder.
Laughing, Yoongi pecks him on the cheek, then nuzzles Sooyoung’s fine dark hair. “Chicken,” he muses. “Finally.”
(They’re stronger because of all of it.)