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Off and Fuck (not necessarily in that order) are definitely the first words that threaten to rasp from Hongjoong’s throat the moment he feels tiny fingers prodding at the arm that just so happens to be dangling off the edge of the bed.
A series of things happen next.
First, Hongjoong concludes that, despite being half asleep and partially brain dead, those fingers are way too small to be Seonghwa’s. He knows those fingers, knows them so well he could probably pick them out in a line-up blindfolded. So he’s confident when he says that those aren’t his husbands hands.
Once he’s certain that those hands don’t belong to his husband, he’s left scrambling for what they could be. The horror movie he’d mistakenly watched with Seonghwa last weekend suddenly floats into his consciousness. Oh God. Violent images of him being thrown across the room and turned inside out swirl in his mind, a demonic ghost reaching down his throat and stealing what little left of a soul he has.
But then, as he’s figuring out if Seonghwa has the password to their security box or not, he hears the addition of muffled sniffles coming from next to the bed. Which—providing he’s not trapped in some horror movie involving poking spirits of really fucking annoying small children—means these tiny fingers are his child’s tiny fingers and he’s sure as shit not about to growl at his own kid in the dark.
Immediately he begins to go down the line of possible suspects. He can tell without even opening his eyes that those fingers aren't Yeosang’s fingers. The soft spoken, gentle five-year-old that wears his glasses crooked like it's a personality trait is already lying in bed, brown tufts of hair snuggled deep into Seonghwa’s chest. No, these fingers are harsh and stabby and no doubt belong to Mingi.
Instead of cursing, he groans, untangling his face from the sheets and using the arm that was haphazardly hanging off the side of the bed to rub at his least crusty eye in the hopes of opening it soon. "Minnie—"
"Daddy, are—are you awake?" he asks, voice way too high and the hiccup in the middle is setting off immediate warning bells in Hongjoong’s sleep ridden mind. His eyes squint open, properly, bringing into focus the wet-cheeked, wide-eyed and very upset four-year-old standing next to his bed.
Shit.
"Hey—" he rasps, half lifting his head off the pillow and blindly thrusting his arm out in hopes of pulling Mingi closer to the bed. "Hey baby...wha’s wrong? Bad dream?"
Mingi’s bottom lip starts to wobble and—ah shit—before Hongjoong has time to come into full conciousness, Mingi is bursting out into tears. Broken sobs leaving his mouth loud enough to stir the sleeping idiot next to him. Hongjoong jolts at the sudden deafening noise, immediately sitting up and pulling the small four-year-old onto his lap.
"Shh," he coos, shooting Seonghwa a heated 'wake the fuck up and help me' look, whilst simultaneously rubbing soothing circles into Mingi’s back. He hums a little tune low under his breath, something that came to him a few days ago and hasn’t had time to properly record.
Eventually the panicked boy calms down. His loud, ear-splitting sobs reducing to soft whimpers and occasional hiccups.
"D'you have another bad dream?" Seonghwa supplies, still clearly half-asleep, looking all nice and comfy with Yeosang cuddled in his arms. Hongjoong sends him a scathing look, one that Seonghwa sleepily blinks away.
Sniffing loudly and scrubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his unicorn printed pajamas, Mingi nods. "Uh-huh," he mumbles, before jabbing an accusatory finger in the direction of their bedroom door, lower lip quivering in apparent outrage as more tears start to well up in his eyes. "B-but only 'cause Woo told me that there were muh-monsters under my bed and when I go to suh-sleep they climb up and try t’eat me and my dream was that they started biting off my toes and I like my toes Daddy I like—I just paint'd them purple I don't want them t’eat me—"
"Yeah, I know—I know you don’t, baby," Hongjoong cuts in, running his thumbs under Mingi’s eyes to try and get rid of the recent waterfall, but it proves to be a fruitless effort when they continue to roll hotly down his cheeks. Giving up, Hongjoong pulls the four-year-old into an awkward one-armed hug and sighs, pressing his face into his tiny shoulder.
"Woo’s a real butthole, huh," are the words that get mumbled softly, pitifully, not only for Mingi but also for the sleep he knows he's not getting tonight, and into the fabric of his little shirt. The words are so muffled that Hongjoong can barely hear them himself, and yet—
"I am not a butthole!"
Hongjoong jumps, because what the actual fuck, and whips his head around to find an equally tousled, tad bit more outraged, four-year-old standing in the threshold of his bedroom door. Then with furrowed eyebrows, he stumbles his way over to the bed.
"Daddy—" he begins to say, but gets cut off when he trips over something, most likely nothing at all, and collapses to the floor with a little shriek. Hongjoong would laugh, he really would, but given the circumstances and the fact that he really shouldn't be laughing at his own child, he holds himself together. Wooyoung scrambles up with a huff, fixing his target limited addition Zootopia Nick Wilde pajama shirt, and climbs up onto the bed.
"Daddy, I am not a butthole!" He whines, bouncing slightly on his knees, the pinch between his eyebrows threatening tears if this situation isn't resolved soon. Damnit, Hongjoong is too tired for this. "I only even told him that 'cause he threatened t’spray Febreze all over Byeol 'cause he knows that gives me allegories and—"
"Allergies, Woo," Hongjoong sighs, rubbing at his face while Mingi clings to his other arm, mumbling something into his shoulder about lies and buttholes.
From the corner of his eye, he can see Seonghwa still tightly curled up with Yeosang, breathing even, face relaxed in a way that only happens when one is in a blissful sleep. Jealously is a horrible, ugly thing and it runs hotly through Hongjoong’s bones. He reaches out a hand and slams it down onto Seonghwa’s arm, his husband’s eyes flying open in confusion and mild panic. Hongjoong glares and Seonghwa sends him a cowed look.
"It's not my fault Daddy!" Wooyoung’s eyes are wide and hurt as he glowers at his brother over the barrier of Hongjoong’s body between them, fingers stroking almost aggressively at the ugly colored, stuffed cat that he no doubt stole from San while they were sleeping. "He jus’ wants my eyes t'get all watery, so he can call me a cry baby again!"
"Woo," Seonghwa’s voice grumbles, finally untangling his arms from Yeosang and winding them around Wooyoung’s small frame instead, tugging gently. "Woo, baby, lie down. God, you know we have an early lunch tomorrow..."
Suddenly there's a loud squeak, which nearly gives Honjoong a second heart attack, and he watches as the sheets in the center of the bed twitch and shift until another head appears. This one much younger and less tousled then the other two. Jesus, how many children are in his bed? In this moment Hongjoong is eternally grateful he had enough foresight to make the decision to get a king bed despite it having been a couple hundred more.
"What the fuck?" Hongjoong mutters, staring at the teddy bear onesie-clad thing that just materialized in the center of their bed. He’s too fucking tired for this. "Jongho when the hell did you—"
"Appa, ‘junie ‘outh?!" The three-year-old all but screeches around the pacifier in his mouth, and its truly amazing that Yeosang is still knocked out on his side of the bed, face slack in deep sleep. Although it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise considering he sleeps through all three of the alarm cycles that Hongjoong sets every week. In the end, Hongjoong's got to go in and physically shake him awake in order not to be late for the bus. Again.
Yeah, weekdays are fun.
"Yeah," Seonghwa mumbles, eyes already slipping shut. Well, there goes his five seconds of parenting. "Yes, mmhm Yeonjun hyung's house."
In his arms, Wooyoung is still resisting his hold, wiggling violently, glancing over his shoulder to look for some back up. "But Appa I'm not a butthole," Seonghwa hums. "App—"
"I never said you were," Seonghwa sighs, sounding exhausted and looking at least as dead inside as Hongjoong feels, pillow creases printed onto his right cheek, suitcases under his eyes where most people have bags. It seems to be the dead weight of his arm rather than any actual pressure on his part that's easing Wooyoung back against the pillows. "Yeah—that's it, just—just go to sleep..."
But even lying down, Wooyoung is far from finished, and Hongjoong should really step in and say something, but he's still in shock from his toddler randomly materializing in the middle of his bed. Like was he there the entire time? Or was he hiding underneath the bed again and crawled up sometime during the sibling drama?
"I was just joking with Minnie," he continues, quietly defensive. "Appa, I even put the nightlight on for him, you know the princess one? The one you got him for his birthday. I put it on ‘cause I knew he would get scared—"
"I know, Woo," Seonghwa murmurs, already falling asleep again, nuzzling his face into Wooyoung’s shoulder and breathing in the sweet scent of his shampoo. He mumbles something else about pancakes before he’s clearly dead to the world once more—for another precious five minutes at least.
Hongjoong rolls his eyes as he watches his husband, nothing more than a mess of dark strands and a sliver of pale face now, shoulders heaving with soft, sleepy breaths. There are nights when Hongjoong will accidentally wake him as he stumbles in from another late night at the studio and Seonghwa won't be able to drift off again, complaining about how sensitive to sound's he is. Yet somehow, he always manages to sleep easily through these sorts of late-night crises, offering his half-assed contribution in the form of the Sleepy Octopus Method (which is honestly no joke).
"Right," Hongjoong sighs, adjusting his position on the bed when Mingi decides to climb, uninvited, into his lap. "Woo, maybe you should apologize to Minnie since you did scare him." He suggests, running a soothing hand through the soft tangles of Mingi’s hair. It’s way too late to conjure up the energy to be mad at anyone, no matter what they’ve done. “We can talk about it more in the morning ‘kay?”
“S’good idea,” Seonghwa grumbles, barely coherent to anyone who hasn’t had full conversations with him after two too many bottles of wine. Still, Hongjoong appreciates the back-up, smirking at him over Wooyoung’s head, even as the little shit opens his mouth to argue more.
"But-"
"Woo, it's not time for buts, it's time for sleeping."Hongjoong groans, picking up a drooling Jongho from the foot of his bed and placing the three-year-old securely next to him. "I promise you nothing is going to happen to Byeol. Minnie is not going to spray Febreze on him at—" He glances at the clock on the bedside table and just barely manages to hold back his tears. "Jesus christ. Five o'clock in the fucking morning."
“Swear jar,” Seonghwa sleepily points out and Hongjoong just barely manages to stop himself from punching him in the face.
"I'll go to sleep when Woo apa-logized to me." Mingi mutters, wriggling his way under the sheets and promptly taking up two thirds of Hongjoong’s pillow space.
"It's apologizes, Minnie." Hongjoong informs with a sigh, rubbing a stressed hand over the crease in his forehead. Have kids, they say. It'll be fun, they say.
"But you were trying to hurt Byeol! Sannie was gonna be sad! I did what I had t’do!" Wooyoung flails, tiny body thrashing in Seonghwa’s hold and Hongjoong’s one hundred percent sure if he was standing, he would be stomping his feet.
"Well, you were trying to make me cry!" Mingi defends, eyes wide and hurt, and fully prepared to stay up all night just to prove his point. Hongjoong groans, the urge to either scream or cry intensifying. This is not how it is supposed to go.
"You were crying like five seconds ago!" Wooyoung points out, attempting to struggle up onto his elbows again, but thankfully Seonghwa’s conveniently restraining embrace doesn't let up so easily (Hongjoong wasn’t kidding when he mentioned the Sleep Octopus Method. Once you’re in it, there’s no getting out).
Mingi makes a little sound of despair, his eyes round and wet. "I was not!” He wails, voice cracking again, lower lip in full pout, ready to launch himself on top of his brother if Hongjoong’s arm around his waist wasn't there, firmly gripped, to stop him. “I’m just allergied!"
"Liar—!" Wooyoung bursts out, head falling back hard against the pillows as he gives up on trying to escape. He hisses his retorts up to the ceiling instead. "You don't even have allergies."
"You’ve both got a fucking allergy to sleep," Hongjoong snaps, lack of sleep running his patience thin, shutting them up in an instant. Wooyoung glowers at the ceiling quietly, while Mingi stares up at him with wide glittering eyes. He avoids looking at those, rubs his face some more instead—they're both a lot softer with Mingi, and at this point, he knows it and knows exactly how to play on it, and Hongjoong refuses to fall for that shit, not at five fucking AM.
"Daddy I'll go t’sleep once Woo tells me he's sorry for saying there's monster's trying t’eat my toes." Mingi mutters, his voice still thin with leftover tears, but firm, decisive. His arms cross over his chest and the pout he makes clearly reads no one’s going to sleep ‘til he gets what he wants. Hongjoong lifts his face from his hands to glance over at the determined expression on Mingi’s small face and sighs.
"Alright, fair enough.” He concedes with a short nod, turning to his other side and pinning the fleecy Nick Wilde with a pointed look. Wooyoung doesn’t say a word as he stares angrily up at the ceiling, and once again Hongjoong is left wondering why he thought adopting six kids was a good idea. (He wouldn’t actually trade any of them for the fucking world, he’s just really sleep deprived and a bit delirious. Cut him some slack.)
“Woo what do you say?" Hongjoong asks. It's way too late (early?) for disciplining right now, but it's as if he can't stop himself. He can't remember when seizing every opportunity to teach manners and respect became a knee-jerk reaction, but it's second nature at this point, as natural to him as the hard look he gives the kids to get them to do shit—the look he's wearing right now, underneath the sleep-puffed mess his face no doubt is.
Arms wrapped deathly tight around Seonghwa’s grip, Wooyoung blinks up at the ceiling, eyes all scrunched and glowering a very pouty glower. “Can Sannie and I have extra pancakes tomorrow?” he asks, throwing Hongjoong off entirely because no—no, that’s not what he was supposed to say.
“Yeah, sure,” Hongjoong sighs, shutting his eyes as he tries to remember what the lesson here was supposed to be. Mingi—toes—something to do with that, right? Was he supposed to be thanking Mingi for getting scared? Apologizing, maybe? Hongjoong has no fucking idea, but it’s 5:00 AM and Hongjoong doesn’t fucking care anymore. “Look—just—what d’you say to Mingi?”
“Sorry you’re such a crybaby—"
"Wooyoung, " Hongjoong warns, giving his best don’t-fuck-with-me face.
Stubborn shit that he is, Wooyoung glowers up at him a moment longer before he rolls his eyes with a dramatic flair more suited for fucking Broadway, unceremoniously throwing his tiny hands in the air and turning his head to glance over at his brother. "Fine. I'm sorry I scared you and made you cry even though you totally deserv’d it—"
"Wooyoung. "
"—I promise I won't do it again." Wooyoung sighs, and they both know that's a plain fucking lie, but it's as good as it's going to get tonight (this morning?).
Mingi wrestles with the sheets, pushing himself up onto an elbow to see Wooyoung. "You promise?"
"Minnie, I just said—"
"Double promise, though," Mingi says, and now it's Hongjoong’s turn to roll his eyes, flopping down between them and leaving them to it. "You gotta double promise, Woo."
"I'll pinky promise," Wooyoung offers, after a moment of consideration, holding out his tiny pinkie. This seems to work for Mingi because he lets out a small gasp and basically tramples over Hongjoong’s organs to link fingers.
Good, this is good, he thinks helping the small boy back to his original spot. Maybe Hongjoong will be able to get some sleep after all. With that thought in mind he tilts his head towards Mingi and raises his eyebrows, jerking his head in a pointed sort of way towards Wooyoung.
"Minnie?" Hongjoong prompts. Mingi has his arms wrapped around his baby brother, blinking up at him, eyes wide and sleepy-looking and way too fucking adorable for the current situation. "What do you say to Woo?"
"Thank you for pinky promising." Mingi mumbles, directing the apology more at the top of the Jongho’s head than at his other brother, but whatever—tonight (it’s definitely morning at this point) that'll have to do.
"Great. We all good now?" he asks hopefully, breathing out a soft curse of relief as Mingi nods, flopping back against the pillow and nestling into his side. "Awesome," he sighs, tucking an arm around Mingi to make sure he doesn't get shoved off the bed during their sleep.
It’s quiet for about eighteen and a half seconds before a tiny voice cuts through the air.
“Daddy, I wanna be in the middle.”
Hongjoong feels his body deflate with the groan he lets into Jongho’s hair. “Are you fucking serious?” he whines.
“Woo gets to be in the middle,” Mingi points out. “And I don’t want the monsters t'eat my toes.”
Well, now how the fuck is he supposed argue with that?
“Sure, whatever, how about you all sleep in the middle.” He grumbles, tightening his arms around both Mingi and Jongho and rolling them all over.
With Mingi being a lover of affection and Wooyoung too close to sleep now to kick up a fuss about personal space and Yeosang just generally being dead to the entire world, the three end up sprawled in a soft pile in the center of the bed, an ugly colored Byeol poking out somewhere from under the little gremlins and stabbing him in the thigh.
There's a beat of quiet as they all settle, the only sounds being soft breathing and the morning birds softly crowing outside his window. It was already early morning, the temperature way too cold outside the safety of the sheets, and the sky barely bright with different shades of muted blues and white of pre-dawn light.
Hongjoong snorts to himself as he shuts his eyes again, exhaustion making him feel terribly fuzzy about all of this: The way Seonghwa’s arms look tucked around Yeosang like that, ridiculously thick, biceps bulging softly under the skin, like he's fully prepared to protect him from anything, even in deep sleep. The way Jongho’s soft hair feels tickling his chin, the sweet scent of the kids' vanilla shampoo as familiar to his nose as the smell of his own pillows. The way the six of them fit together like a jigsaw puzzle in this dumb bed that was always too big for two people anyway. It's the kind of warmth and fuzz that might make him gag if he wasn't too goddamn tired to fight any emotion that wished to claim him, but even all that warm fuzz—and trust me there’s a lot of warm fuzz—isn’t enough to stop the homicidal thoughts teasing at the edges of his mind when—
“Appa I’m too hot,” Wooyoung whines, kicking a leg roughly out of the sheets as if to solidify his point. The sudden thump of his foot on the mattress has Mingi stirring awake again, snuffy little snores shifting into a tiny sniffle as he blinks himself into consciousness.
Seonghwa grunts something so thick with dialect that it takes Hongjoong a second to recognise it as a curse, before he stretches out on his back with a pitiful groan. “Yeah, okay,” he grumbles, helping Wooyoung to clamber over him without stepping on his dick or rupturing some internal organ with his sharp little toes. (There’s a pained grunt towards the end, but it’s definitely not pained enough to be a dick, so Hongjoong remains unconcerned.)
“But I wanna cuddle with Woo,” Mingi mumbles tiredly, shoving himself up on his elbows (no care for the fact that he mushes Jongho’s face into the mattress) as Wooyoung face plants into the sheets at Seonghwa’s other side.
“Why don’t you cuddle with me?” Hongjoong asks adding a not-entirely-fake pleading edge to his voice in hope that it might get the kid to stay-fucking-put for the sake of a few more hours of sleep, but no. Of course not. Silly Hongjoong.
“Daddy, I cuddle you all the time.” Mingi retorts, half whiny and half exasperated, as if Hongjoong was a clingy girlfriend instead of his dad. Hongjoong’s comfortable enough in his masculinity to admit that he can become a little overly-enthusiastic with his love when it comes to the kids, and Mingi’s the easiest victim because he enjoys it, rather than the other runts who either squirm like they’re being electrocuted (Yeosang and San) or complain loudly until he lets go for the sake of his eardrums (Wooyoung and Yunho). Hongjoong’s lost this fight already, he knows it, but it’s made a little less bitter when Seonghwa catches his eye, a sleepy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You can come snuggle with me,” he offers, and Hongjoong’s just glad the kids are too young to pick up the drawling intonation to Seonghwa’s sleep rough voice.
He’s a lot quicker to concede with Mingi’s request now, who clambers over Seonghwa, half pulled by Wooyoung, to settle down with his brother on the other side of the bed. Finally having disrupted everyone enough to feel at peace with themselves and the world around them, they both curl up without another word, eyes shut, Byeol clutched close to Wooyoung’s chest, Mingi with his face buried in armpit of Wooyoung’s shirt. It’s amazing, really, how much wrecking their parents’ night’s sleep seems to soothe them.
“Hey,” Seonghwa hums, rolling over Hongjoong and curling himself around his back, sighing contently when Hongjoong links their fingers together. The warm fuzzy feeling from before comes back in tenfold.
“Hey,” Hongjoong replies in a whisper, snuggling in the embrace. “You smell good.”
“No I don’t,” Seonghwa snorts pressing into the crook of his neck, and Hongjoong can hear the eyeroll in his voice. “This bed is way too hot and I’m sweating like a pig.”As if to prove his point, Seonghwa wipes his damp forehead against the back of his neck, wetting his warm skin and making Hongjoong shiver and crinkle his nose in mild disgust.
Hongjoong gags, “Fine, your right, you do smell like shit, get the hell away from me.”
Seonghwa lets out a whine, wiggling his body impossibly closer. "You never complain when I come back from the gym."
"It's easier to ignore when you're wearing those stupid little shorts." That leave nothing to the imagination, Hongjoong would very aggressively like to point out. The black nylon barely reaches past mid thigh, showing off those long and lean model legs in all their beautiful tanned glory. Yes, Hongjoong is very aware of just how attractive his husband is and just how easily he's effected by him. With those shorts on, the house could be on fire and Hongjoong would be too busy daydreaming about riding that same thigh until his vision blurs at the edges, for him to notice.
"Ah," Seonghwa hums, the smugness in his voice makes Hongjoong sick. "I thought it was a little odd that you kept staring at my legs, who would have thought a little skin was all it would take for you to become a little stupid, Joongie."
"Shut up," Hongjoong grumbles, cheeks warm, trying to scoot away from his stupidly smug husband. It's all for show really, there's no where for him to go, the entire bed is already taken over by their children, but that doesn't stop Hongjoong from trying. "You're so annoying, go away."
Seonghwa chuckles and it’s all 90 percent air and 10 percent sound, but somehow it still manages to make his heart flutter. “Mm, never.” He hums and presses his nose into the base of Hongjoong’s hair, tightening his grip around Hongjoong’s waist. “You’re mine forever.”
“Gross.” Hongjoong grumbles, giving up and titling his head to give Seonghwa more room to nuzzle in.
“You love it,” Seonghwa grins, nipping at the exposed part of his shoulder where his shirt must have shifted. “And I love you.” He presses a gentle kiss under his ear, reaching out and playing with the tips of Jongho’s hair when he lets out a sleepy whine, and Hongjoong is so, so disgustingly endeared.
“Yeah, whatever. Go to sleep.” Hongjoong mumbles settling himself back down into the third of a pillow they’ve been left to share.
“I’ll try,” Seonghwa sighs, nestling his crotch unnecessarily close to his ass...and then a little closer again.
Hongjoong laughs softly, wiggling his hips just a bit, enough to hear a strangled groan before tangling their fingers together once again. "And I love you, too," he adds, as if it's an afterthought, but they both know it's not.
It never is.