Archive of Our Own ^beta

Joshua has already lit the stupid candle three times.

He lights it, then blows it out because it’s too much, then lights it again because the living room smells like takeout and existential dread. Now it flickers bravely on the kitchen counter, next to the artfully arranged bowl of oranges he doesn’t even particularly like, but which apparently make people feel welcome.

It’s almost embarrassing how much effort he’s put in, especially for something that isn’t supposed to mean anything. Just Minghao coming over like he has a few times before. To hang out. Hook up. Maybe steal a hoodie on the way out and leave a teasing text about it later.

Totally casual. Totally normal.

Except tonight, Joshua has vacuumed. Twice. He’s wearing the nice sweater — the navy one that makes his collarbones look interesting, according to Jeonghan. His hair is perfectly soft and floppy, his playlist is curated to be not-too-romantic but still sexy (he overthinks it for forty-five minutes), and he has spent twenty minutes plucking his eyebrows to perfection.

Casual, his ass.

He takes a deep breath and checks the time again. Minghao is supposed to arrive in thirty minutes. Which gives Joshua just enough time to either sit on the couch like a normal human being or — more realistically — spiral in the mirror for the twelfth time and consider texting Jeonghan an SOS message along the lines of “what if he doesn’t want to date me but just wants to rail me and leave??”

…Which would be fine. Joshua had been the one to insist that it was casual, after all. He’s not even sure when that started to feel like a lie. Maybe around the time Minghao started staying to chat after. Or when he made Joshua laugh so hard he snorted wine. Or maybe it was when Minghao casually mentioned liking cats and Joshua had to suppress the urge to imagine him snuggling with a kitten.

And now here he is. Sweater, candle, playlist, hope.

Maybe tonight, he’ll ask. Just — gently. Casually. See if maybe going out on a date is something Minghao might be into.

Or maybe he'll chicken out and fake a noise complaint so he can call the whole thing off and hide under his bed.

He’s just about to check the mirror again when the doorbell rings.

Joshua blinks. His heart jumps. Then he checks the time again.

Thirty minutes early?

His stomach drops.

That’s never a good sign.

The last thing Joshua expects when he opens the door is Seungcheol — out of breath, wild-eyed, and holding a baby carrier in one hand and a very stuffed, slightly lopsided diaper bag in the other. Behind him, his two five-year-old twins are looking at Joshua with wide eyes.

“Hey,” Seungcheol pants. “I need—Can you—Jeonghanie’s in the hospital—he’s okay! He’s okay,” he adds quickly, seeing Joshua’s face start to drain of color. “Minor car accident. He called. He’s coherent. But I need to get to him. Now.”

Joshua blinks, already switching into crisis mode. “What hospital is he in?”

“SNUH.”

“How are you getting there? It was your car that he had the accident in, I assume?”

“No, actually, he was in a taxi,” Seungcheol says, already shifting the baby carrier into Joshua’s arms. “The other car ran a red light. He says he’s okay, just bruised and freaked out. I need to get to the hospital, but our car’s at the shop—Jeonghanie took it in for the inspection.” He stops for a second. “I guess I’ll have to call a taxi myself. Shi— I should have done that earlier, I didn’t realize—"

“Take my car,” Joshua says, without thinking. He reaches back for his keys on the counter and tosses them over. “Go. I’ve got the kids.”

Seungcheol catches the keys like a lifeline. “God. Thank you. You’re the best. You’re—thank you.” He’s already crouching to help Yedam out of his jacket and hand Joshua the world’s chunkiest diaper bag. “Dasom just woke up from a nap, she’ll probably want a bottle soon—there’s one in here somewhere—and the twins have eaten but probably want snacks in, like, five minutes.”

Joshua opens his mouth to ask more—Who's with him? Are you really sure he’s fine? Is he scared?—but stops himself. There’s no time. And the kids are all watching, quiet and wide-eyed, sensing the tension even if they don’t understand it.

“Okay,” Joshua says instead. “I’ve got them. You go. Just—keep me posted?”

“I will,” Seungcheol promises. “I’ll text you as soon as I get there.”

He crouches down, kisses Yedam and Nari on their foreheads in a flurry of whispered I love yous, then gently presses one to Dasom’s sleepy cheek before standing up. “Thank you, really.”

Joshua has a baby carrier in one arm, the diaper bag slung over his shoulder, and a plush bunny Nari solemnly hands him on arrival. “It’s fine. You’d do the same.”

Seungcheol leans in and kisses Joshua on the temple. “You’re a freaking angel.”

Then he’s gone — jogging down the hall, shoes squeaking slightly, keys jingling.

The door closes behind him with a solid, final click.

Joshua exhales.

Yedam immediately starts making vrooming sounds and launching his toy truck into the wall. Nari sits down on the rug and begins drawing on her own knee with a pink marker. Dasom blinks up at Joshua from her carrier with the vaguely disapproving expression of a small CEO who just walked into a budget meeting.

Joshua stares back at her.

The apartment is quiet for about six seconds.

Then, all at once, it explodes.

“Shua-samchon, where’s your crayons?” Nari asks, already rifling through a drawer Joshua knows didn’t have crayons in it this morning.

“I brought my truck!” Yedam announces. “Watch what it can do!” He launches it off the arm of the couch. It soars beautifully through the air, hits the coffee table, and bounces off with a thud that sounds… expensive.

Joshua winces.

Dasom is watching him from her baby carrier like she’s waiting for him to fail. Which, to be fair, is probably a safe bet.

“Okay,” he mutters to himself. “Okay. Let’s just—let’s look in the bag.”

He crouches beside the monstrous diaper bag and starts unpacking like he’s defusing a bomb. Inside he finds:

A bottle, warm-ish, in a soft cloth sleeve with little bears on it. Two sippy cups (one glittery, one suspiciously sticky). Two snack containers with matching lids — rice crackers, apple slices, and small triangle kimbap. Four diapers and a full travel wipe pack. A change of clothes for Dasom, pajamas for the twins. A truck that Joshua’s pretty sure Yedam planted there. And a mystery pouch full of crayons, glitter pens and character stickers.

He sets everything out like a tiny, chaotic buffet. “Alright, okay. We are so fine. This is fine.”

“Shua-samchon,” Nari says gently, tapping him on the arm. “Dasomie’s making her face.”

Joshua turns to look. Dasom is, in fact, absolutely making a face — that tight little mouth and the slightly narrowed eyes that scream ‘I am seconds away from screaming just to see what happens.’

“Right. Bottle time,” Joshua says, fumbling for the bear bottle. “I got you, baby. You’re good. I am so good at this. I’m practically a dad. I have snacks.”

In the time it takes him to warm the bottle a bit more and feed it to Dasom (who accepts it with the dignified air of royalty being served), Nari has started covering the coffee table in character stickers, and Yedam is now yelling “MONSTER TRUCK!” while driving his vehicle up the hallway wall.

Joshua’s sweater is no longer wrinkle-free.

There is glitter on the rug.

And he still has absolutely no idea how he’s going to get any of them to bed if this continues.

He glances at the clock.

Twenty minutes since Seungcheol left.

The doorbell rings.

Joshua freezes. Slowly, painfully, like a man remembering something he definitely wasn’t supposed to forget.

“Oh no,” he breathes.

He stares at the door like it personally betrayed him.

Maybe… he just won’t open it.

He could ignore it. Say he wasn’t home. Maybe Minghao would think he got the day wrong. Maybe he’d just leave.

Joshua is holding a baby.

There’s glitter on his pants.

The playlist he picked out with so much care has already been hijacked by Nari, who’s asking in her sweetest voice if she can listen to “the dinosaur song.” He hasn't checked his hair in over half an hour. Half an hour.

Another ring. This one a little longer. Polite, patient.

Of course it’s patient. It’s Minghao. Cool, calm, emotionally balanced Minghao, who Joshua was planning to ask on a date tonight — a real one, with meals and conversation and no nudity in the first thirty minutes.

And now?

Now he’s a walking daycare center with baby burps on his sweater.

Joshua closes his eyes. Takes a breath. Adjusts Dasom in his arms, whose judgmental expression has softened slightly into sleepy disinterest. She’s full and warm and quiet. That’s one victory.

He can do this. He is not twelve. He is a grown man. A grown man who has babysat exactly zero full trios of children before, but still. He can open a door. He can face this. Even if it kills him.

He walks to the door. Opens it.

And of course — there he is. Minghao, in all his devastating, casually perfect glory. Hair slightly wind-swept, cheeks and the tip of his nose slightly ruddy from the cold, eyes crinkling at the corners when he smiles.

He takes one look at Joshua — the baby, the glitter, the general aura of collapse — and says, with a small, amused tilt of his head: “Oh. I didn’t know you had a kid.”

As if on cue, Nari trots into view, stopping beside Joshua and blinking up at Minghao with a delighted little gasp.

“You’re pretty,” she announces.

Yedam follows a second later, making loud truck noises and running directly into Joshua’s ankle. He glances up at the doorway, mouth full of dried seaweed. “Who’s that?”

Minghao raises an eyebrow. “Kids,” he says, lips twitching. “Plural.”

Joshua makes a sound that might be a laugh or a cry. Possibly both. “I—no, I don’t. They’re not—they’re not mine. I’m just babysitting. Last minute. Emergency. My best friend—hospital—not serious, I swear, just—I didn’t cancel. I meant to cancel. I just forgot. I completely forgot. I’m so sorry.”

There is a pause.

Joshua waits for the ground to swallow him.

Minghao just smiles. “Want help?”

Joshua stares at him. “What?”

“Do you want help?” Minghao repeats, like it’s the easiest question in the world.

“You don’t have to,” Joshua blurts out. “You really don’t. This is—this is not what you came over for. At all.”

Minghao just shrugs out of his jacket, folding it over one arm with casual grace. “If you’d rather I leave, I will.”

Joshua opens his mouth, then closes it again.

“But,” Minghao adds, stepping just inside the doorway and glancing down at Dasom in Joshua’s arms, “if you want my help, I’m more than happy to stay.”

He looks back up, meets Joshua’s eyes, and offers a small, teasing smile. “You look like you could use some.”

Joshua lets out a laugh that sounds kind of like a wheeze. “That obvious?”

“Only a little,” Minghao says, gently reaching out to pluck a cartoon sticker off Joshua’s sleeve and examining it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Also, one of them just stuck something to the wall.”

Joshua turns around in horror. Yedam is halfway through applying a row of alphabet stickers to the hallway, completely unbothered.

Minghao steps out of his shoes and crouches down to Yedam’s level, folding himself with the kind of dancer’s grace that makes Joshua’s brain short-circuit a little.

“Hey,” he says, voice gentle. “I’m Myungho.”

Yedam narrows his eyes, clearly assessing the situation. “Are you Shua-samchon’s boyfriend?”

Joshua immediately starts choking on air. “No! I—he’s not—we’re not—Yedam-ah!”

Minghao just smiles like this is the most entertaining thing he’s heard all week. “No, I’m not,” he says lightly, then tilts his head. “But we’re friends.”

That seems to satisfy Yedam, who nods solemnly and goes back to sticking letters on the wall.

Nari steps closer, peeking at Minghao from behind Joshua’s leg. “You talk funny,” she says in the blunt way only a five-year-old can.

“I’m from China,” Minghao replies, unfazed. “My Korean isn’t perfect yet.”

Nari looks thoughtful. “I like it.”

“That’s good,” he says with a wink. “Because I like dinosaurs, and your shirt is very cool.”

She beams and immediately begins telling him all about the different kinds of dinosaurs, complete with hand gestures and sound effects.

Joshua watches it all unfold, still holding Dasom like a security blanket. He can’t even pretend to be surprised that Minghao is not only unfazed by the chaos but also naturally good with kids. Of course he is. Of course, he is calm and warm and funny and charming and—

Minghao glances up at him mid-Nari-monologue and raises a single eyebrow, like you okay up there?

Joshua makes a noise that’s mostly a whimper. He is so fucked.

It doesn’t take long for the veneer of control to start slipping.

At first, it’s manageable. Minghao finishes listening to Nari’s passionate dinosaur monologue and gently redirects her toward the sticker pouch before she starts roaring at full volume. Joshua manages to get Dasom burped and settled into her bouncer. Yedam is momentarily distracted by his own reflection in the microwave.

They last, maybe, ten minutes.

Then Yedam discovers the joy of climbing onto Joshua’s coffee table and pretending it’s a pirate ship.

Nari accidentally spills one of the snack containers, and somehow the seaweed ends up under the couch and in her hair.

Dasom starts fussing again, demanding attention with all the regal dignity of a baby monarch who has simply had enough of being ignored.

Joshua is halfway through a sentence when something thuds in the other room. “What was that,” he says flatly.

“Yedam-ah,” Minghao calls calmly. “What did you just knock over?”

“I’m a pirate!” comes the distant reply.

“That explains nothing,” Joshua mutters, already heading toward the noise.

They regroup five minutes later in the living room — Joshua with a toddler-sized blanket wrapped around his shoulder like a cape, and Minghao holding a sippy cup that appears to have been leaking for some time.

They make eye contact across the room.

Minghao raises an eyebrow. “This is going well.”

Joshua gives him a look. “Don’t be smug.”

“I’m not. I’m impressed.” He glances over to where Nari is carefully putting glitter on Dasom’s socks. “They’ve only tried to overthrow you twice.”

“I didn’t realize that was a thing I needed to worry about.”

“Oh, it’s always a thing.”

Dasom lets out a high-pitched squeal, and they both turn toward her.

Joshua sighs. “Okay. I admit it. This might be slightly above my pay grade.”

Minghao just grins and pats him gently on the shoulder. “You’re doing great, Shua-samchon.”

Joshua groans and drops his face into his hands. “Don’t say that like it’s hot.”

“I didn’t,” Minghao says. “But if it helps... I do think you're kind of hot. It’s not quite how the type of overwhelmed look that I like pulling out of you. But still, not bad.”

Joshua makes a strangled sound.

Before Minghao can double down, Joshua’s phone buzzes from the kitchen counter.

He shuffles over and checks the screen, wiping glitter from his fingers before unlocking it.

Cheol 💪🏻 7:47 p.m.
At the hospital now. Jeonghanie’s okay, just a little bruised and annoyed he’s not allowed to walk himself out. Might take a while to get discharged. Will keep you posted. Thank you again. You’re a lifesaver. 💜

Joshua exhales — full and heavy — and leans against the counter for a second. He lets his forehead rest there too, just for a beat. Jeonghan’s okay. That’s all he needed to hear.

He looks up, and Minghao is watching him closely.

“Update?” he asks, gently.

“Yeah,” Joshua says. “He’s okay. Seungcheol just got to the hospital. But it might be a while.”

Minghao nods once. Thoughtful. Then, “If this is going to be a while, would you be okay if I called someone for backup?”

Joshua blinks at him. “What, you have a babysitting squad?”

“A one-man-squad, if you will” Minghao says with a smile. “He’s energetic, good with kids, and responds well to bribes. You’d like him.”

Joshua stares. “Who... is he?”

“My boyfriend,” Minghao says, like it’s no big deal.

Joshua short-circuits.

“Your—boyfriend?”

“Mhm.” Minghao’s thumb pauses over his screen. “I’m texting him about what’s going on.”

Joshua feels every single thought leave his brain at once. All that’s left is a flashing neon sign that reads YOU’RE A TERRIBLE PERSON.

“Wait,” he says. “Wait. You have a boyfriend? Like, you’re in a relationship? While—while we’ve been—?”

Minghao looks up, immediately registering Joshua’s expression. His face softens.

“Oh,” he says gently. “Shua-hyung, no. It’s not like that.”

It’s not like that. Isn’t that what they all say? Joshua takes a step back, still holding Dasom like a witness to his accidental moral collapse. “So, I’ve been—what, helping you cheat on him?”

“No,” Minghao says quickly. “Absolutely not. We’re in an open relationship. We’ve been together for ten years, and open for five. He knows about everything. I promise.”

Joshua just stares, trying to breathe around the huge knot in his chest.

Minghao tucks his phone away, giving Joshua his full attention now. “I usually bring it up earlier,” he says, more quietly. “But when things are just casual, it doesn’t always come up. I didn’t expect us to... keep seeing each other.”

Joshua swallows, brain trying to compute about five different emotional truths at once. “He really knows?”

“He really knows,” Minghao says, steady. “He even knows you’re sweet. And funny. And hot.”

Joshua lets out a weak laugh, half-relieved and half still floating in disbelief. “Oh my god.”

“Still okay if I call him?” Minghao asks, voice softer now. “He really is great with kids. Especially the loud ones.”

Joshua looks around the glitter-dusted battlefield that used to be his apartment, then nods slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Invite your... boyfriend. That’s fine. Totally fine.”

Joshua watches as Minghao calmly sends off a message, completely unbothered. Like this is normal. Like he didn’t just casually drop the word boyfriend in the middle of Joshua’s living room like it’s a weather update.

Which, fine. It’s not cheating. They’re in an open relationship. Everyone involved is apparently informed and consenting and cool.

So, crisis one: resolved.

But now there’s another problem. An arguably worse one.

Minghao has a boyfriend.

A boyfriend.

Like—a real, long-term, boyfriend-shaped boyfriend. Someone tall and good with kids and apparently “responds well to bribes,” which Joshua isn’t even sure he knows how to unpack. Someone who, according to Minghao, already knows about him.

And apparently doesn’t mind?

Which, like. What does that even mean?

Joshua was going to ask Minghao out tonight. That was the plan. The whole point of the stupid candle and the playlist and the eyebrows and the sweater. He was going to take a deep breath, and say something like “I really like you and maybe we could do something less naked sometime?” and it was going to be a moment. A thing.

But now—

Now Minghao has a boyfriend.

And Joshua has a baby in his arms and a war zone forming in his living room and an overactive imagination that’s already supplying him with unrequested images of this mystery boyfriend being tall and warm and charming and probably stupidly good-looking and—

Joshua doesn’t even know this man and already feels like he’s lost some competition he didn’t realize he was in.

Minghao glances over at him and frowns slightly. “Hey,” he says. “You okay?”

Joshua clears his throat and nods. “Yeah. Yep. Totally fine.”

“You sure? You look like you’re doing math in your head and losing.”

Joshua lets out a weak sound that might be a laugh. “Just... recalibrating my entire worldview. No big deal.”

Minghao hums. “You’re taking it pretty well, considering.”

“Yeah, well,” Joshua mutters. “It’s not like anything else went according to plan tonight.”

He immediately regrets saying anything that implies there was a plan.

Minghao raises an eyebrow, clearly curious.

Joshua looks away, focusing on Dasom’s tiny sock-covered foot like it holds the answers to the universe. “Never mind.”

Minghao doesn’t press, which somehow makes it worse. He just goes back to texting, like this is all completely normal.

And maybe it is.

For him.

Joshua feels like he’s developing several entirely new kinds of anxiety.

Twenty minutes later, Joshua is sweating.

There’s rice cracker dust on his rug. Nari has gotten hold of a washable marker and is now coloring in a pillow. Yedam is insisting that the couch is a mountain, and he is a T. rex who must yell from the top of it, while simultaneously trying to feed Dasom an apple slice that is more juice than fruit.

Dasom, to her credit, looks mildly entertained by this.

Joshua, on the other hand, is losing his mind.

Minghao, somehow, looks completely unbothered. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, sipping water and watching the carnage like it’s a performative art piece. He doesn’t even flinch when Nari leans too far off the armrest and nearly topples over.

He catches her just in time.

“I think your child is leaking,” Minghao says calmly, nodding toward Yedam, who is coated in juice and beaming proudly.

“Not my child,” Joshua mutters, trying to rescue Dasom from the half-mushed apple slice before it ruins her onesie.

“She touched my face,” Minghao says blankly, wiping at his cheek with a tissue. “And she was... wet.”

Joshua makes a sound of shared horror. “Why are kids always sticky? Even when they haven’t touched anything sticky.”

“It's their natural state,” Minghao says. “Like frogs. Or cursed objects.”

Joshua actually laughs, and for a moment the panic lifts just a little.

And then Yedam jumps off the couch-mountain and lands directly on Joshua’s foot.

He yelps.

The doorbell rings.

Minghao stands like this has all been perfectly timed. “That’ll be Mingyu.”

He heads to open the door.

Joshua stays put bracing himself for... he’s not sure what.

And then the door opens.

And in steps someone who is—unfortunately—ridiculously hot.

Tall. Broad. Warm smile that lights up his whole face. Big eyes, soft hair, the world’s best canine teeth. Dressed in a shirt that hugs his pecs tight and sweatpants like he just strolled in from a boyfriend-approved sleepover commercial. He kicks his shoes off easily, balances a large convenience store bag on one arm, and immediately lights up when he sees Minghao.

“Hey, Myungho-ya,” the stranger says, leaning in to kiss Minghao like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Joshua forgets how to breathe.

“This is Kim Mingyu,” Minghao says, gesturing toward the new arrival as he pulls back from the kiss. “Mingyu-yah, this is Joshua-hyung.”

Mingyu turns to him with a bright grin. “Oh! Nice to meet you, Joshua-ssi. You’re the one who makes great tea, right?”

Joshua’s mouth opens, then closes. “I—I guess?”

Mingyu beams, stepping further into the room like he already lives there. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Joshua blinks. “You... have?”

Mingyu nods, casual like this isn’t completely derailing Joshua’s internal world. “Minghao talks about you.”

Joshua glances at Minghao, who has already returned to sipping water like he didn’t just throw a metaphorical match into Joshua’s emotional filing cabinet.

“Oh,” Joshua says. “Cool. Uh… you can talk to me casually if you want, I guess?”

Joshua finds himself face-to-face with Mingyu’s smile at full force when he says, “Really? Thank you, hyung!”

It’s a lot.

Thankfully, Dasom chooses that exact moment to start fussing again, little fists waving in indignation, and Joshua snaps out of it. He bounces her gently, the way he’s seen Jeonghan do a hundred times. “Okay, okay, I got you.”

Mingyu watches with open affection. “Wow,” he says, setting the convenience store bag down on the counter. “You’re really good with her.”

Joshua makes a noise that’s half laughter, half nervous wheeze. “I’m surviving. Barely.”

“Well,” Mingyu says, clapping his hands together like he’s ready to take charge of a kindergarten class, “let’s make it a team effort.”

And then he dives right in — he crouches beside Yedam and asks about trucks with the same energy as someone pitching a business proposal. He lets Nari decorate his shirt with stickers while complimenting her technique. He helps Joshua get Dasom settled into her bouncer again, gently cooing at her like she’s the most important person in the room.

He fits in so easily, it’s almost unfair.

One second, he is organizing a sticker rescue mission under the coffee table, and the next he’s on the floor with Nari draped over one arm, Yedam trying to climb his back like a jungle gym, and Minghao sitting beside them with a lazy little smirk like he’s watching a very good show.

“I’m gonna marry Gyu-samchon when I grow up,” Nari declares suddenly, sticking a glitter star on Mingyu’s cheek.

Yedam gasps. “No! I’m gonna marry him! I asked first!”

“You didn’t!” Nari shrieks.

“I did! I gave him a juice box!”

Mingyu chuckles, delighted. “Wow. I’m in high demand tonight.”

“Obviously,” Minghao says, tossing a sticker sheet toward Nari like he’s refereeing a game. “You’re handsome, strong, and you’re currently the least sticky person in the room.”

Mingyu grins. “You noticed?”

“Please,” Myungho scoffs. “I’ve noticed everything. I live with you.” He leans back on one hand and adds, perfectly casual, “And for the record, I am the only one here who’s been dating you for ten years.”

Mingyu’s ears pink immediately.

“Also,” Minghao continues, voice light but eyes glinting, “I’ve tolerated your awful snoring, cleaned up your cooking experiments, and watched that terrible drama you liked because you said it ‘had heart.’ If anyone deserves to marry you, it’s obviously me.”

“Oh my god,” Mingyu says, absolutely beaming, “you did watch that drama.”

“Against my will.”

“You cried at the end.”

“I was emotionally manipulated!”

They’re both smiling, eyes soft, utterly tuned into each other even while the kids continue shrieking about wedding logistics and sticker placement.

Joshua stands there, quiet in the doorway, holding a glass of water, watching the whole thing with his heart somewhere around his ankles.

Because it’s funny, sure. It’s chaotic and silly and slightly unhinged.

But also?

It’s real. It’s loving. It’s warm and lived-in and so good.

And then—

Mingyu tears his eyes away from Myungho and turns to Joshua with a grin. “You all make good points. But I think I’ll marry Shua-hyung.”

Joshua nearly drops his water.

“What?” he squeaks.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t tried to claim me tonight,” Mingyu says cheerfully. “You win by default.”

Joshua stares at him like he’s trying to understand an alien language.

“Very husband-coded,” Myungho adds.

“Plus,” Mingyu says with an exaggerated wink, “I hear you make good tea.”

Joshua opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Nothing comes out.

Mingyu turns fully toward him now, still grinning, still surrounded by small humans and glitter like some kind of beautiful domestic deity. “And, just so you know,” he says, “I’d make a great husband.”

Joshua stares. “What.”

“I’m serious!” Mingyu leans back on his hands. “I do laundry without being asked, I put the toilet seat down, I remember birthdays, and I’m really good at opening jars. Like really good.”

“He is,” Minghao says, flipping a sticker onto Yedam’s forehead. “I haven’t struggled with a lid in ten years.”

“I also make really good kimchi fried rice, and I’m great with parents,” Mingyu adds, completely undeterred by Joshua’s frozen, deer-in-headlights expression. “I cry during sad commercials, which proves I’m in touch with my emotions.”

Joshua is still blinking, mouth slightly open, holding a juice cup he has absolutely no memory of picking up.

“I’m tall enough to reach the high shelves,” Mingyu continues, counting on his fingers now. “I don’t snore that much, and I give excellent hugs.”

“Confirmed,” Minghao says.

“I’m also fun at weddings, which feels relevant given our current discussion.”

Joshua makes a tiny, choked noise.

Nari, sitting cross-legged beside them, claps her hands. “Can I come to your wedding?”

“Only if you bring the glitter,” Mingyu says, and Nari squeals in delight.

Joshua’s entire brain reboots.

“I—I need to—water,” he manages, turning stiffly toward the kitchen.

“You still have water, hyung!” Minghao calls after him, laughing.

Once he closes the kitchen door behind himself, Joshua leans his head back against the cabinet with a dull thunk, then turns his gaze slightly to the side — to the framed photo on the counter.

It’s of those candid beach shots Jeonghan insisted they frame. The three of them on a trip to Busan five years ago: Seungcheol holding a cooler, shirt halfway unbuttoned, laughing at something off-camera; Jeonghan in sunglasses and chaos, throwing a peace sign and looking like he’s about to say something he absolutely shouldn’t; and Joshua in the middle, caught mid-smile, genuinely relaxed in a way he hasn’t felt in weeks.

He stares at the picture like it’s mocking him.

“This is your fault,” he says to it flatly.

“Just hook up a little,” Jeonghan had said, voice all casual wisdom and barely disguised scheming. “You don’t have to date anyone, just—put yourself out there, Shua-yah.”

And Seungcheol, the traitor, had nodded, saying something annoyingly well-meaning like, “You’ve been closed off for a while. A little connection could be good for you.”

And Joshua, fool that he is, had listened.

He’d downloaded the app. Set up a profile. Scrolled, swiped, met a few people. Kept it simple.

And then Minghao happened.

Quiet, clever, dry-humored Minghao, who made him laugh when he didn’t mean to and touched him like he actually mattered. Who stayed to chat after and never overstayed, who had an annoying ability to see right through him.

That was... already a problem.

But it was manageable.

But now there’s Mingyu — this golden, glitter-dusted, ridiculously tall boyfriend bombshell who makes toddlers laugh and says things like “I give excellent hugs” with no shame at all.

Joshua buries his face in his hands and groans. “I wasn’t even ready to develop feelings for one person.” He peeks out through his fingers, still looking at the photo. “And now there’s two, you absolute bastards.”

The kitchen is quiet. Soft light, a cluttered counter, the faint distant sound of Nari yelling something about pirate rules.

Joshua braces both hands on the edge of the sink, willing his heartbeat back into something less dramatic.

The door creaks open behind him.

He doesn’t need to look.

“You good, hyung?” Minghao asks.

Joshua exhales. “Yep. Totally. Just needed a second to not be in the blast zone.”

“Reasonable.”

Footsteps. The quiet shift of air as Minghao leans beside him against the counter. Close but not crowding. Still. Calm.

Joshua lets the silence hang for just a second more, then sighs. “I should go back out. I’m not supposed to leave them.”

“They’re okay,” Minghao says. “Mingyu’s got them. They like him.”

Joshua glances over at him. “Yeah, but I don’t know him. Not really. And technically I don’t know you either. Not enough to be leaving Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s kids alone with you for more than a minute.”

Minghao gives him a look that’s half amused, half understanding. “You’re right. It’s good you’re thinking like that.”

“I’m their emergency contact,” Joshua says, voice a little tighter than he means. “This was my job tonight. And I’ve just been... in here.”

“You needed a second. You’re allowed to breathe.”

Joshua doesn’t respond. He just presses his lips together and lets his gaze drift to the juice cup on the counter and the framed photo beside it. Glitter on his sleeves, a sticker on his elbow, the vague scent of baby formula clinging to his sweater.

And Minghao — graceful, unbothered, still managing to look put together like this is a lifestyle photoshoot and not almost three hours into toddler chaos.

Joshua shakes his head, smiling humorlessly. “How do you still look like that?”

“Like what?”

Beautiful, he doesn’t say. “Like... a person. Not a swamp creature who’s been slowly destroyed by children.”

Minghao smiles. “I don’t let them see fear.”

That gets a real laugh out of Joshua — small, but honest.

He falls quiet again. His fingers brush the edge of the countertop. His throat feels tight in a way he’s not prepared for.

He swallows. “Mingyu’s great.”

Minghao hums. “Yeah. He is.”

Joshua looks down at his hands. “He clearly loves you a lot.”

There’s a pause. Then, softly: “I know. I love him too.”

Joshua nods. “It shows.”

Minghao glances over at him. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, something gentle.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Joshua says. “I just... need to get back out there.”

Minghao gives a small nod. “I’ll come with.”

And together, they head for the door.

Joshua and Minghao step out of the kitchen and into the living room—

—and Joshua nearly short-circuits on sight.

Mingyu is on the floor, mid-pushup position, muscles flexed under his shirt sleeves, hair a little messy, grinning through the effort like he’s having the time of his life.

Why?

Because both twins are currently perched on his back, cheering like they’re riding the world’s most enthusiastic horse.

“Seven! Nine! Ten!” Nari counts gleefully.

“Faster!” Yedam yells. “You said you were strong!”

Mingyu groans loudly but doesn’t stop. “I am strong! I just didn’t know your butts were this heavy!”

Yedam cackles. “You’re weak!”

“I’m being bullied,” Mingyu pants dramatically. “By literal children.”

Minghao raises an eyebrow. “Gyu-yah,” he says, calm and fond and not at all surprised. “What are you doing?”

Mingyu lifts his head just enough to pout up at them. “They didn’t believe me when I said I could do twenty pushups with both of them on my back.”

“So obviously,” Minghao says, folding his arms, “you had to prove yourself to two toddlers.”

“They doubted me, Hao-yah! My honor was at stake!”

Minghao sighs, full of long-suffering patience, and walks over to gently pluck a sticker off the back of Mingyu’s neck. “Of course it was.”

Joshua stands frozen just inside the doorway, very pointedly not staring at the way Mingyu’s shirt rides up slightly with each push-up. Or the way his grin is all crinkled eyes and flushed cheeks. Or the way both kids are adoring him like he hung the stars and can turn into a dinosaur on command.

Nope. Not noticing that at all.

He’s totally fine.

He’s chill. Normal. Mentally healthy.

It’s just a guy. Doing pushups. With two kids on his back. In Joshua’s living room. Looking like that.

Minghao glances over his shoulder. “You okay back there?”

Joshua coughs. “Yep. Yeah. Yes. Just… it’s probably time we get them ready for bed.”

Mingyu, now lying dramatically on the floor while Yedam bounces on his back like it’s a trampoline, lifts his head with a hopeful pout. “Bedtime already?”

“Unless you want to be doing pushups until midnight,” Joshua says, stepping back into the room and somehow managing not to combust.

Mingyu gasps. “Is that a challenge?”

“Absolutely not,” Minghao says, already heading for the twins. “C’mon, gremlins. Let’s find pajamas before someone starts crying.”

“I’m not gonna cry!” Yedam shouts.

“You say that now,” Joshua mutters, scooping up one of Yedam’s trucks from the rug. “Five bucks says he gets sleepy-angry in ten.”

Nari is already spinning in circles. “I want the ones with the unicorns!”

“You always want the ones with the unicorns,” Yedam complains.

“Because they’re better than your boring trucks!”

Joshua watches them start bickering and sighs. “Okay. Myungho-yah, you’re on pajama duty. Mingyu-yah, you’re with me on teeth and face wash.”

Mingyu perks up. “Yes, sir!”

“Don’t call me sir.”

“Yes, hyung.”

Somehow, that’s even worse.

Joshua leads the charge to the bathroom with Yedam dragging his feet behind him and Mingyu carrying both a towel and a washcloth like it’s a sacred mission.

Nari somehow ends up covered in toothpaste.

Yedam refuses to open his mouth for a full minute, until Mingyu bribes him with the promise of a bedtime story in the best dinosaur voice he can do.

Dasom, mercifully, stays mostly asleep, save for one very intense glare when Joshua bumps her bouncer with his knee.

It takes thirty minutes, five negotiation rounds, and at least one glitter sticker removal from someone's eyebrow, but eventually the twins are in their pajamas, tucked under a blanket, waiting for the bedtime story Mingyu promised.

Joshua’s bed has never looked like this.

It’s supposed to be where he decompresses. Where he reads, or doomscrolls. It’s where he has gotten the brains fucked out of him more than once by Minghao.

It is not supposed to be filled with toddlers.

Nari is curled up under the duvet, her arm thrown across Yedam like she owns him. Yedam is burrowed so deep into the pillows he looks like he might just melt into them, eyes wide with anticipation, clutching the edge of the blanket like something important is about to happen.

Dasom is tucked safely in her carrier at Joshua’s feet, full and quiet and barely blinking, like she too is waiting for the show.

And at the foot of the bed, sitting cross-legged, is Mingyu. His shirt is rumpled, and there’s a tiny pink dinosaur sticker stuck to his cheek.

Joshua sits stiffly on the edge of the bed beside Yedam, careful not to jostle anything. He’s still wearing his sweater, the hem spotted with baby powder and possibly toothpaste. He feels like a mess.

He glances up.

Minghao leans in the doorway, arms crossed, head tilted, watching with the fond, exhausted expression of someone who’s seen this show before and still finds it funny every time.

“Okay,” Mingyu announces dramatically. “Tonight’s story... is the tale of the Mighty Dino Prince!”

Nari gasps. “Is it about a real dinosaur?”

“Obviously,” Mingyu says. “But not just any dinosaur. This one is very strong. And very handsome. And very good at pushups.”

Joshua mutters under his breath, “Oh god.”

Yedam giggles.

Mingyu clears his throat — and immediately launches into the most absurd, committed dinosaur voice Joshua has ever heard. It’s deep and gravelly and cartoonish and a little too good, like he’s done this before. Probably has.

“And then,” Mingyu growls in his Dino Prince voice, “he roared across the valley, like this—raaaaaaawrrrrr—because he smelled... broccoli.”

The kids dissolve into shrieking giggles. Nari kicks her legs under the blanket, and Yedam is wheezing like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

Even Dasom lets out a soft little coo from her carrier, like she’s humoring them all.

Mingyu huffs and wipes fake sweat from his brow. “And thus, the Mighty Dino Prince vowed never to eat anything green ever again.”

“Nooooo,” Nari groans, still laughing. “That’s not how it ends!”

“Broccoli is good for you, Jeonghan-samchon always says so” Yedam says with great seriousness, as if it’s a personal betrayal.

“Tell that to the prince,” Mingyu says, grinning.

He’s about to launch into the next part — something about a volcano and a disco party — when Yedam suddenly turns, tugging at Joshua’s sleeve.

“Shua-samchon?” he says, blinking up at him.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, brushing a bit of hair from his forehead.

His voice goes soft. “Is Jeonghan-samchon really okay?”

Nari looks up at that, suddenly very quiet.

Joshua freezes for a split second. He swallows. “Yeah,” he says gently. “He’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Yedam asks, eyebrows scrunched together. “Appa said there was an accident.”

“There was,” Joshua says. “But it wasn’t very bad. Jeonghan-samchon went to the hospital just to be safe. Seungcheol-appa’s with him now. They’re going to come home soon.”

Nari hesitates. “He’s not hurt?”

“He got a little bruised,” Joshua says. “But the doctors checked him out, and he’s okay. I promise.”

Yedam’s mouth wobbles just slightly. “Not even a little bit broken?”

Joshua reaches out and squeezes his hand. “Not even a little bit.”

They nod, slow and quiet, and Nari leans her head against Yedam’s shoulder, curling in close.

Joshua watches them settle, heart tight in his chest.

Then, from across the room, Mingyu says — still in the Dino Prince voice, but softer now — “And then the Dino Prince found out his favorite uncle was okay. So, he threw a tiny dinosaur party to celebrate.”

The kids blink at him.

“With confetti?” Nari asks.

“Obviously,” Mingyu replies.

“Can we have a tiny party when Jeonghan-samchon comes back?” Yedam says, hopeful.

“Absolutely,” Joshua says, voice thick.

They smile, warm and sleepy, and Joshua gives Mingyu a grateful look.

He just winks back.

And then — gently, like he knows it’s needed — he resumes the story, voice lower now, slower, easing them toward sleep.

From the doorway, Minghao watches all of it with that same soft, unreadable fondness.

And Joshua...

Joshua leans back against the headboard, eyes on the kids, and lets himself breathe again.

The last few lines of the story trail off into the hush of the room.

Yedam is out cold, mouth slightly open, hand still wrapped around the edge of Joshua’s sweater. Nari follows soon after, curled in close beside him with her glitter-stickered pajama sleeve tucked under her cheek.

Mingyu lowers his voice as he finishes the final line — something about a dino disco dance-off under the stars — and slowly eases himself off the bed like it’s a sacred mission.

Joshua carefully extricates his sweater from Yedam’s grip and rises too, mindful not to jostle Dasom in her carrier as he lifts it from the floor. She’s still asleep, blessedly, the softest frown tugging at her mouth like she’s dreaming something mildly offensive.

They all tiptoe out of the bedroom like a covert operation, closing the door behind them with the quietest click.

Back in the living room, everything feels a little softer. Dim light. Less chaos. Glitter still sparkles faintly on the rug, but the noise has faded.

Joshua places Dasom’s carrier gently on the couch and rubs his eyes. “That was... a lot.”

“You did great,” Mingyu says, stretching his arms above his head with a little groan. “Plus, you look less exhausted than Myungho, and all he did was watch.”

“I wasn’t just watching,” Myungho says, settling beside the couch with a small, amused smile. “I was actively participating.” He doesn’t look tired to Joshua, but Mingyu knows him better, must be seeing the signs Joshua is missing.

“You were serenely sipping water and letting me get tackled by children.”

“Same thing.”

Joshua snorts — then his phone buzzes.

He pulls it from his pocket and checks the screen. His heart lifts immediately.

Cheol 💪🏻 9:47 p.m.

We’re on our way back. Jeonghanie’s okay. Sore and cranky, but okay.

Joshua exhales like he’s been holding that breath for hours. He quickly types back a thank you and sets the phone down, shoulders finally dropping just a little.

“They’re on the way,” he says. “Jeonghanie’s okay.”

“Good,” Mingyu says, his voice warm. “I’m glad.”

Joshua nods, then glances between them. “You guys don’t have to stay. I can take it from here. Really.”

Minghao tilts his head. “You trying to get rid of us?”

Joshua huffs a laugh. “Just trying to be responsible. You’ve both already done so much.”

Mingyu sinks down onto the couch, all long limbs and cozy domestic energy. “Then let us be responsible with you for a bit longer. You’ve earned a break, hyung.”

Joshua opens his mouth to argue — then realizes he doesn’t really want to. So instead, he sinks into the armchair opposite them with a quiet sigh, tugging his sleeves over his hands.

The apartment is warm now. Still faintly chaotic, sure — but in a lived-in, survivable kind of way.

There’s a pause. A beat of peace.

Then Mingyu stretches like a cat and says, “I can always head out if you two wanna pick up where you left off tonight once your friends pick up their kids.” He wiggles his eyebrows dramatically.

Joshua chokes. “I—what?”

Minghao makes a thoughtful little hum. “We weren’t actually doing anything. Yet.”

“What a shame,” Mingyu says with a grin. “But it won’t be that late when Shua-hyung’s friends get back, I wouldn’t want to cramp anyone’s style.” He looks between them, pointedly. “I’m very respectful that way.”

Joshua’s brain stutters. “I mean—wait—hang on. You’re his boyfriend.”

“Sure am,” Mingyu says, absolutely beaming.

“And you’re... really okay with this? With me and him...?”

Mingyu tilts his head, all open ease and sunny charm. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Joshua blinks. “I mean—I know you said you’re open, I just—” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “This is new to me. Like. You’re Myungho's actual boyfriend. And I've been sleeping with him.”

Minghao gives a little hum of agreement, tilting his head, waiting.

Joshua fidgets, fingers tightening around the pillow in his lap. “And I was thinking about... maybe asking him out. On a date.”

There’s a pause.

Minghao’s eyes widen just a fraction. It’s subtle — blink and you’d miss it — but Joshua sees it.

And then, like it’s nothing, Minghao says softly, “Oh.” Not unhappy. Just... surprised. And maybe a little pleased.

Mingyu, on the other hand, grins so wide it should be illegal. “Wait—really?”

Joshua blinks at him. “I mean—yeah. I was going to. Tonight, actually. Before the babysitting and the glitter and the juice and... you.”

Mingyu absolutely beams. “Hyung, that’s so cute.”

Joshua blinks again. “Why are you happy about that?”

“Because you like him!” Mingyu says, like it’s obvious. “And he likes you. I mean, he talks about you all the time.”

“I do not,” Minghao says, deadpan.

“You do,” Mingyu replies, equally deadpan. “It’s adorable.”

Joshua looks between them like they’ve both lost their minds. “This is... I don’t get it. You’re happy I was going to ask your boyfriend out?”

Mingyu shrugs, still grinning. “Sure. It means he’s into someone who actually gives a damn about him. And,” he adds, pointing with a dramatic flourish, “you’ve been giving him heart-eyes all night, so. I approve.”

Joshua makes a strangled sound.

“I have not been giving heart-eyes,” he says weakly.

“You absolutely have,” Mingyu and Minghao say in unison.

Joshua definitely doesn’t whimper.

Minghao leans a little closer, chin propped on his hand, voice low and warm. “You could still ask me out, you know. If you want.”

Joshua lifts his head just enough to squint at him. “What, in front of your boyfriend?”

Mingyu lifts both eyebrows and gives a little shrug. “I don’t mind.” There’s a beat. Then he adds, casually, like he’s discussing the weather, “Or you could ask me out too, if that makes it easier.”

Joshua short-circuits. “What.”

Mingyu blinks innocently. “What? You’re cute, hyung. You’re fun. You’ve got great sweater game. And if Myungho likes you, it probably means you’re a good person. He has great taste like that.”

Joshua stares at him like he’s malfunctioning.

Minghao sighs and leans back on the couch. “You’re scaring him, Gyu-yah.”

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, completely unapologetic. “But also, it’s not my fault. Hyung is so pretty when he’s flustered.”

Joshua makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like the beginning of a stroke.

He sits very still, cushion clutched to his chest like it might keep him afloat and tries to process the fact that he is—objectively, undeniably—being flirted with. By two disgustingly attractive men. Who are both sitting casually in his living room like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Like there’s nothing they’d rather be doing than flirting with Joshua.

In his juice-stained sweater. In his glitter-dusted apartment. With sticker residue on his elbow and a brain that hasn’t recovered from the emotional whiplash of the evening.

He stares at them.

Minghao, elegant and dry, watching him like he’s amused. Mingyu, all bright smile and big muscles and obvious affection.

Joshua swallows.

Everything about this night has gone off the rails. The candle never mattered. The playlist is long dead. He still has a cartoon sticker on his elbow.

And somehow?

He had fun.

Despite the baby wipes. Despite the anxiety. Despite everything he thought he couldn’t handle — here he is. Still here. Still curious. Still kind of dizzy from it all.

So, he straightens up. Looks at Mingyu.

“You’re...” He clears his throat and tries again. “You’re very charming, you know that?”

Mingyu perks up instantly. “I do know that, but it’s always nice to hear.”

“And annoying,” Joshua adds, pointing a finger at him. “In a devastating, stupidly handsome kind of way.”

Mingyu’s grin goes crooked. “Aw. Hyung, you’re gonna make me blush.”

“And you,” Joshua says, turning to Minghao now, “are... terrifying.”

Minghao raises an eyebrow, amused.

“In a good way,” Joshua amends quickly. “Like. Calm and smart and entirely too good at knowing exactly what people are thinking, which is both hot and deeply unfair.”

Minghao tilts his head, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why, hyung, are you flirting with us?”

“Maybe I am,” Joshua says, and okay, that felt like jumping off a cliff.

He takes a breath. His fingers tighten around the cushion in his lap, grounding himself. “I don’t know what this is,” he says. “Or what it’s supposed to be. But... I like you. Both of you.”

Minghao raises an eyebrow, expression unreadable but soft.

Mingyu’s grin is slow and warm, like sunshine.

Joshua shrugs, awkward. “And if either of you were — I don’t know — interested in maybe hanging out sometime? Without juice boxes and pirate ships? I think I’d like that.”

Minghao tilts his head, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Is that your version of asking us out?”

“I’m rusty,” Joshua mutters. “I panicked.”

Mingyu lights up. “It was cute! You’re cute, hyung.”

Minghao nods. “Agreed.”

Joshua groans into his hands. “I take it back. I’m leaving the country.”

“You can’t,” Mingyu says cheerfully. “You still owe us a proper date.”

Joshua peeks through his fingers. “So... that’s a yes?”

Minghao smiles. “That’s a yes.”

But before Joshua can say anything to that, there’s a knock.

Joshua startles, head snapping toward the door like it personally offended him. Before he can even get up, he hears it — the soft beep of the security code being entered.

And then the click of the door unlocking.

By then, he’s already moving.

He’s halfway across the room by the time the door swings open.

“Jeonghan-ah,” he says, too fast, too tight.

Jeonghan steps in slowly, bundled in a hoodie and a thick scarf, one hand still resting lightly against his ribs. Seungcheol is right behind him, carrying a bag from the pharmacy and wearing that tired, tight-lipped expression he only gets when he’s been worried but doesn’t want to show it.

Joshua reaches them in two strides.

“What happened?” he asks, already scanning Jeonghan from head to toe. “Are you okay? What did they say? Did they take scans? Are you—did you hit your head? Why didn’t they let you leave earlier?”

Jeonghan lifts both eyebrows, amused. “Hello to you too.”

Joshua doesn’t laugh. He’s barely a second away from grabbing Jeonghan’s face to check for bruises.

Jeonghan sighs, but his voice is gentler now. “I’m fine, Joshuji. I swear. They did all the scans. I have a bruised rib, a very annoying headache, and an overwhelming urge to lie on your couch and complain about modern car safety, but that’s it.”

Seungcheol nods. “He was lucky. The driver’s side took most of the hit. But the seatbelt still threw him forward pretty hard. No concussion, though. They kept him a while just to monitor things.”

“Which was boring,” Jeonghan adds, “and full of nurses who did not laugh at my jokes.”

Joshua finally lets out a breath, slow and shaky. “Jesus. You scared the crap out of me.”

Jeonghan’s teasing expression softens. He reaches out and gently squeezes Joshua’s wrist. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I just—when Cheolie showed up with the kids, I thought—”

“I know,” Jeonghan says again. “But hey. I’m upright. I’m functional. And I’m incredibly grateful you watched our children on zero notice while I was learning what it feels like to be politely scolded by six medical professionals in a row.”

Joshua lets out something that’s half a laugh, half a sigh of exhaustion. “You’re such a menace.”

Jeonghan beams. “You love it.”

He steps further into the apartment, unwinding his scarf — and then stops.

Seungcheol nearly bumps into him. “What—?”

Joshua watches it happen in real time — Jeonghan’s gaze sweeping toward the couch. Landing. Locking.

And then Seungcheol’s doing the same.

And then they’re both staring.

At Minghao. And Mingyu.

Still sitting on the couch like this is completely normal. Like it’s not the most chaotic foursome of humans this apartment has ever contained.

Joshua panics.

“They helped with bedtime!” he blurts out, a little too loud.

Jeonghan blinks. Slowly. Then looks back at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Who helped with bedtime?”

Joshua opens his mouth. No words come out.

Mingyu waves. “Hi! I’m Mingyu. I did dinosaur voices.”

“I helped brush teeth,” Minghao adds, calm as ever.

Seungcheol frowns like he’s trying to solve an equation without enough variables.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, hums and drifts toward the couch — toward the carrier tucked gently into the cushions. He sinks down beside it without a word. One finger reaches out, brushing gently across Dasom’s tiny knuckles. She shifts in her sleep, unfazed, and Jeonghan starts to rock the carrier ever so slightly, like it’s second nature.

But his eyes never leave the couch.

Joshua watches it all with dawning dread.

Jeonghan’s gaze lingers on Minghao — legs crossed like he owns the place, expression unreadable but politely interested. And then to Mingyu, who’s offering a bright, friendly smile like he’s already been accepted into the family.

Joshua can practically hear the gears turning in Jeonghan’s head.

But to his credit — and Joshua will absolutely thank him for this later — he doesn’t say anything. He just hums. Thoughtful. Like he’s chewing on something he desperately wants to say, but decides to let it sit for now.

Seungcheol, meanwhile, is still squinting like they walked into the wrong apartment.

“So,” he says slowly, “these are...?”

“Friends,” Joshua says too quickly. “They came over earlier and stayed to help when the kids got wild.”

He gestures vaguely toward the couch, like that might smooth things over. “That’s Kim Mingyu. And that’s Seo Myungho. Both born in 1997.”

Seungcheol blinks. “Mingyu and Minghao,” he repeats, slowly. “Right.” There’s a beat. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned either of them before.”

“Oh, I’ve heard the name Myungho before,” Jeonghan says, voice airy and so very dangerous. “Just once or twice. Usually in the context of ‘he’s really hot but it’s casual, Jeonghan-ah, don’t start.’”

Minghao hums, visibly pleased. Not smug — not exactly — just lightly smug-adjacent. “That does sound like hyung,” he says, eyes twinkling as he glances at Joshua.

Joshua lets out a sound like a dying radiator.

“But you,” Jeonghan says, turning to Mingyu now. “I have never heard of before.”

Mingyu sits up a little straighter, still all bright eyes and perfect teeth. “Hi! I’m Myungho’s boyfriend.”

Jeonghan’s eyebrows vanish into his hairline.

Joshua’s soul makes another attempt to leave his body.

Seungcheol, from somewhere behind them all, says, “Wait. You lost me.”

He holds up a hand like he’s directing traffic. “So let me get this straight. That’s your boyfriend.” He points at Mingyu.

“Yes,” Minghao agrees easily.

“But you two,” Seungcheol continues, now pointing between Joshua and Minghao, “have also been... hooking up?”

Joshua groans. “Oh my god, please stop talking.”

Minghao nods, extremely unbothered. “That’s correct.”

“Casually,” Jeonghan adds helpfully, shooting Joshua a deeply amused look. “Very casually.”

Mingyu wiggles his eyebrows. “But now we’re going on a date.”

“Wait what—” Seungcheol starts, eyes narrowing in confusion. “You’re going on a date with him?” He points at Mingyu, then swivels to Joshua. “You’re going on a date with the boyfriend of the guy you’ve been sleeping with?”

Joshua opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. “I—kind of? I guess?”

Minghao, bless him, finally steps in. “All three of us,” he says calmly. “We’re all going on a date.”

Seungcheol blinks. “Together?”

Minghao nods. “Together.”

There’s a pause. A beat of silence while Seungcheol processes — and then he just shrugs. “Cool. Never expected I’d miss that much in just four hours.”

Jeonghan is already grinning, eyes glinting with absolutely no mercy. “Joshuji, I can’t believe you agonized about this. You bought a candle. You plucked your eyebrows. You texted me no fewer than three times with drafts of ‘casual but romantic’ ways to ask him out—”

Joshua covers his face with both hands. “Jeonghan-ah.”

“—and now,” Jeonghan continues, ignoring him entirely, “you’re going on a date with two guys. Two extremely attractive guys. At the same time.”

Mingyu beams. “Thank you!”

Minghao leans back on the couch, looking quietly pleased. “He did look really nice when I got here. I liked his sweater a lot, even when if it had baby burp stains.”

“Oh my god,” Joshua moans into his hands.

Seungcheol, bless him, sits down slowly in one of the armchairs like this is a family meeting he did not know he was attending. “Okay, so just to clarify — this whole thing started when I dropped off my children here in a minor crisis, and now Joshua is in a throuple?”

Minghao tilts his head. “Not yet.”

“But we’re open to discussions,” Mingyu adds helpfully.

Joshua groans into his hands.

Jeonghan opens his mouth but before he can launch into another round of teasing, Seungcheol gently cuts in. “Okay, but—hold on. Before we unravel the rest of this unexpected development... how are the twins?”

That stops Joshua in his tracks. He drops his hands and straightens up, instantly serious.

“They’re asleep,” he says, gesturing toward the bedroom. “Eventually. It took some—uh, improvising. But they’re out.”

Seungcheol visibly relaxes. “Thank god.”

Jeonghan presses a hand to his chest. “They’re all okay? Nobody cried too hard? Nari didn’t try to launch herself off anything again?”

“Nari definitely tried to stand on the arm of the couch,” Mingyu offers cheerfully.

“But Myungho caught her,” Joshua adds quickly. “And Yedamie only cried once, and it was because we ran out of dinosaur stickers, not because he got hurt.”

Jeonghan exhales. “Okay. Good. I knew you could handle it, but—still. First time watching all three on your own. That’s intense.”

Joshua opens his mouth to say something self-deprecating, but Mingyu beats him to it. “Hyung did great.”

“Seriously,” Minghao says, voice softer now. “The kids love him.”

Joshua flushes. “It was... a lot. But they were really sweet.”

“They told us we could come to their wedding,” Mingyu adds. “All of us. Apparently they’re both marrying me.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Sounds about right.”

Seungcheol smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing. “Thank you,” he says, voice quiet. “For taking care of them. I know it wasn’t the night you planned.”

Joshua shrugs, smile sheepish. “Wasn’t the worst night, either.”

Jeonghan eyes him. “That is a suspiciously soft answer coming from someone who texted me ‘what if I throw up on him mid-sentence’ not even half a day ago.”

Joshua lets out a small, strangled sound. “You said you deleted that text!”

“I said I wouldn’t screenshot it,” Jeonghan says sweetly. “Different thing.”

Minghao looks delighted. “You were that nervous?”

“I told you, you’re terrifying,” Joshua says, burying his face in his hands again.

Mingyu leans toward Minghao, stage-whispers, “He definitely likes you.”

Jeonghan doesn’t miss a beat. “Okay, but what I still don’t understand is how you got here.”

Mingyu blinks. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Jeonghan says, narrowing his eyes like he’s inspecting a very handsome bug. “One second, it’s emergency babysitting. The next, you’re sitting in Joshua’s living room like it’s your job. Explain.”

Mingyu glances at Minghao, then shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He texted me that he needed my help.”

“And you just dropped everything and showed up?” Jeonghan asks.

“Of course I did,” Mingyu says, as if that’s the only logical answer. “I always do when Hao needs me.”

Joshua feels personally offended by how sincere that was. Minghao looks like he’s trying not to smile — and failing.

Mingyu, unbothered, continues: “Plus, he said there were kids.”

Jeonghan blinks. “And that’s a good thing?”

“I like kids,” Mingyu says. “And chaos. And Minghao’s face when he’s mildly overwhelmed.”

“You like pushing my buttons,” Minghao replies, deadpan.

“That too,” Mingyu agrees. “Anyway, I brought snacks, got stickered by a five-year-old, spent time with two of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen, and now I’m going on a date. Solid Friday, honestly.”

Jeonghan stares at him for a beat, then turns to Joshua. “Okay. I approve of this one.”

Joshua blinks. “You—what?”

Mingyu lights up. “Thanks, Jeonghan-ssi!”

“You can call me hyung, both of you,” Jeonghan says like he’s bestowing an official seal of approval. “And of course, I approve. I mean, anyone who shows up for toddler mayhem with snacks deserves at least one date.”

Mingyu gives him a proud thumbs-up.

But before the teasing can spiral again, Seungcheol rises from the armchair with a quiet grunt, rolling his shoulders. “All right. I hate to break up the fun, but it’s late. We should get the kids home.”

Jeonghan sighs like he was hoping for a second round of chaos, but glances down at Dasom — still snoozing peacefully beside him — and softens. “Yeah. They’ll be cranky if we wait too long.”

Joshua stands, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll go get the twins.”

“I’ll help,” Seungcheol says, already moving toward the hallway.

When he pushes open the bedroom door, it creaks slightly, but neither of the kids stirs.

Yedam is sprawled diagonally across the bed, limbs everywhere, his small mouth open in a tiny snore. Nari’s curled up next to him, unicorn pajama sleeve pulled halfway over her fingers, a faint smudge of glitter still clinging to her cheek.

Joshua exhales, chest aching in that gentle way it always does when he sees them like this — soft and safe and just so small.

Seungcheol steps in behind him, gaze softening immediately. “They look so tiny every time I see them like this.”

Joshua nods. “They were pirates an hour ago.”

“Of course they were.”

For a moment, they just stand there — quiet, reverent — before Seungcheol moves to crouch beside the bed.

“I’ll take Yedamie,” he whispers.

Joshua nods, stepping closer to lift Nari with as little disturbance as possible. She makes a soft noise against his shoulder but doesn’t wake, just nestles in closer, one glitter-stickered hand fisting in the collar of his sweater.

Seungcheol lifts Yedam with practiced ease, bracing the boy’s weight against his chest. Yedam’s cheek squishes gently against Seungcheol’s shoulder, one sock barely hanging on.

“Thanks again,” Seungcheol murmurs, voice low. “I know it was a lot.”

Joshua shakes his head. “I had help.”

Seungcheol chuckles. “That’s another conversation entirely.”

They make their way back down the hallway — slowly, quietly, careful not to jostle either kid awake.

When they step back into the living room, the diaper bag is already packed and zipped, waiting neatly by the door — a small miracle Joshua hadn’t even thought to ask for. Mingyu’s crouched beside Dasom’s carrier, murmuring something soft under his breath like she might respond, even though she’s still sound asleep. Jeonghan is half-standing beside the couch, a little off-balance, and Minghao is steadying him with a careful hand under his elbow.

“Are you okay, Jeonghan-hyung?” Minghao asks — quiet, even — and Joshua watches the way Jeonghan nods, a little slower than usual.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan says. “Just stiff. Hospitals are not designed for lounging.”

“They’re not supposed to be,” Seungcheol mutters, shifting Yedam more securely in his arms.

Jeonghan, unsurprisingly, doesn’t let that go unchallenged. “Then they shouldn’t give me that much time and that many chairs.”

He bends down with more caution than usual, letting Minghao keep him steady as he lifts Dasom’s carrier by the handle. She stirs a little, lets out a sigh, then settles again.

Joshua adjusts his hold on Nari, who’s gone entirely boneless in his arms, a small huff of breath tickling his neck. He looks toward Minghao and clears his throat. “Thanks for helping him,” he says — quiet, meant sincerely. “I know he’s... annoying about accepting it.”

Minghao just dips his head in acknowledgment. “Of course.”

Mingyu helps Seungcheol shoulder the diaper bag. “You guys heading up?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol says, shifting his stance. “Unless you want us to crash here. Five people, one couch. Feels like college again.”

Joshua snorts. “I already watched your kids for four hours. I draw the line at hosting a family sleepover.”

“Coward,” Jeonghan mutters, without heat.

Seungcheol looks at Mingyu and Minghao. “Seriously. Thanks for jumping in. You didn’t have to, and... it helped. A lot.”

Mingyu lights up immediately. “They’re great kids. Plus, Joshua-hyung looked like he was about to cry.”

“I did not,” Joshua says flatly.

“Only a little,” Minghao offers, and his face doesn’t change, but Joshua swears there’s amusement buried in there somewhere.

“The disrespect in this room,” Joshua mutters under his breath.

Beside him, Jeonghan lets out a soft laugh. Then he shifts, turning toward Minghao with that familiar look — polite, pointed, and way too perceptive. “Thanks for looking out for Joshuji tonight.”

Joshua stiffens slightly, but Minghao just gives a small nod. Unbothered. Still unreadable.

“Of course,” he says.

There’s a pause. Joshua can feel it. Jeonghan tilts his head, studying Minghao like he’s working out an equation he already half-knows the answer to.

“I can see why he panicked about asking you out,” Jeonghan says casually, and Joshua wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

Minghao doesn’t blink. “That’s flattering,” he says, tone bone-dry.

“But true,” Jeonghan says, adjusting his hold on Dasom’s carrier. “You’ve got mysterious cool guy energy. It’s a lot to process.”

Joshua silently begs for mercy.

Then Jeonghan turns to Mingyu. “And you,” he says, tone shifting like he’s not sure what box to put Mingyu in yet. “You are... definitely something.”

Mingyu straightens a little, almost reflexively. “Thanks?”

“I mean it in the best possible way,” Jeonghan says with a grin. “I’m very intrigued.”

“Alright,” Seungcheol cuts in gently, before any more chaos can unfold. “Let’s get them upstairs before one of them wakes up and starts a coup.”

Joshua nods quickly, grateful for the out. He adjusts Nari in his arms and heads for the door. “I’ll be right back.”

He glances back once, and catches Minghao’s eyes — steady, calm, soft around the edges.

“We’ll be here,” he says.

When the door clicks shut behind them, for a moment, the hallway is quiet — soft carpeting under their feet, the faint buzz of an overhead light, the hush of a late hour settled over the building.

Joshua adjusts his grip on Nari, still asleep on his shoulder.

Seungcheol shifts Yedam in his arms and exhales. “Alright.”

Jeonghan turns to Joshua immediately.

“So,” he says, tone deceptively calm, “what the actual hell?”

Joshua closes his eyes. “No.”

“Oh, absolutely yes,” Jeonghan replies. “You do not get to just casually have two hot guys in your living room and act like that’s not the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all week.”

“Han-ah,” Joshua says, barely keeping his voice down. “There are children asleep on us.”

“And we’re walking,” Jeonghan says sweetly, “which means we have time. Start talking.”

Seungcheol clears his throat. “Okay, wait. I just need to know... when I left you here earlier, you were flustered, way overdressed for a causal hookup, and holding a sippy cup upside down.”

Joshua winces. “Don’t remind me.”

“And now,” Seungcheol continues, “you’re in some kind of situationship with two very attractive men who apparently... help with childcare?”

Joshua sighs, shifting Nari higher on his shoulder. She’s still deep asleep, her soft breath warm against his neck.

“Okay, well—when you left,” he says, voice low, “I was supposed to be getting ready for a normal night with Myungho. Just him. Just... asking him out, maybe.”

“Which I knew,” Jeonghan replies serenely. “I was very supportive.”

Joshua snorts. “You were the opposite of supportive.”

“I’m recovering from a car accident,” Jeonghan says in a whisper-dramatic tone. “You’re legally required to be nice to me.”

Joshua gives him an unimpressed look. “Unbelievable.”

Seungcheol, walking just ahead, glances back. “So, when did the second guy come into it?”

Joshua exhales, watching his feet as they move quietly down the hallway. “Myungho mentioned him when you texted that you would be a while. Mingyu. His long-term boyfriend. They’re in an open relationship. I didn’t know.”

“And how did that go?” Seungcheol asks, careful not to jostle Yedam too much.

Joshua tries not to wince at the memory. “I panicked internally. Then externally. A lot.”

Jeonghan lets out a tiny snort. Joshua doesn’t even need to look at him to feel the grin that’s definitely spreading across his face.

“But,” Joshua says, “Myungho was really clear. He said Mingyu knows everything. That it wasn’t a secret. That he usually brings it up earlier, but… I guess he didn’t think we’d keep seeing each other.”

Jeonghan hums, practically vibrating now. “And then?”

Joshua grimaces. “Then Mingyu showed up.”

“And you weren’t weird about it?” Seungcheol asks, more curious than judgmental.

“I was so weird about it,” Joshua mutters. “He walked in and kissed Myungho like it was nothing, and I just—short-circuited. Thought I was going to pass out.”

A beat. Then, from Seungcheol: “Oof.”

“Yeah. I babbled. I panicked. I think I lowkey offended Myungho without meaning to. And then Mingyu just started helping, like it was the most normal thing in the world. And he was nice. And charming. And—ridiculously hot. And he flirted.”

“With Myungho?” Seungcheol asks.

Joshua gives him a look. “With both of us.”

Jeonghan makes a noise that is ninety percent glee. “I’m sure you handled that like a champ.”

“I had a quiet freak-out in the kitchen,” Joshua mutters.

“Quiet?” Seungcheol says, skeptical.

“Dasom was sleeping,” Joshua hisses. “I was respectful.”

“Mm,” Jeonghan says. “That’s growth.”

“Anyway,” Joshua continues, ignoring them, “Myungho came in. He talked me down. Was just... calm. Steady. Told me I could breathe.”

That part had stuck with him, actually. Not the words, exactly, but the way Minghao had said them — like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t a big deal to offer someone space like that. Like it wasn’t a big deal to offer it to Joshua.

Jeonghan hums. “Good,” he says. “You could use more people who can deal with your high-strung ass.”

Joshua narrows his eyes. “I am not high-strung.”

“You’re literally whisper-arguing with us while holding a child,” Seungcheol says, without turning around.

Joshua glares at the back of his head. “I’m incredibly calm.”

Seungcheol snorts so softly it barely counts as a sound, but Joshua hears it. So does Jeonghan, judging by the slight shake of his shoulders.

“And then we walked back out,” Joshua says, tightly, “and Mingyu was doing pushups.”

There’s a beat of quiet hallway air.

“With your kids on his back.”

Another beat.

“Both of them.”

Jeonghan nearly drops the baby carrier.

“You’re kidding,” he hisses, clearly torn between horror and delight.

“I wish I were,” Joshua mutters. “Nari was cheering. Yedam was yelling at him to go faster. Myungho looked like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

“Oh my god,” Jeonghan says, in a tone that could only be described as reverent.

Seungcheol turns his head slightly. “Okay, but like... how many did he do?”

“Twenty,” Joshua snaps. “Like it was nothing. Like they weighed nothing. And he was smiling the whole time!”

Jeonghan makes a strangled little noise that sounds suspiciously like he's trying not to wheeze.

“Wait,” he says. “Wait—he flirted with you, helped with bedtime, and did pushups with the twins like he was auditioning for some kind of domestic thirst trap?”

Joshua groans. “I hate how accurate that is.”

“Oh no,” Seungcheol murmurs, almost gleeful now. “He is so your type.”

“He’s everyone’s type!” Joshua whispers furiously. “He’s like... if a golden retriever turned into a stupidly tall demigod and decided to be good with children!”

Jeonghan lets out a laugh that he covers with a cough. Barely.

Joshua does not appreciate the betrayal. He trudges on, voice low and urgent. “And the worst part is, that’s not even the worst part.”

Seungcheol hums, intrigued. “There’s a worse part?”

“Yeah,” Joshua mutters. “Because then I looked at Myungho again. And remembered I still hadn’t even asked him out. That this whole night was supposed to be about him. And then Mingyu happened, and everything exploded. And through all of it, Myungho’s just been—calm. Steady. Watching me spiral like it’s mildly entertaining.”

He exhales, sharp and shallow. “And I swear to god, he’s even hotter now than he was when we met.”

“Tragic,” Jeonghan deadpans.

“No, seriously,” Joshua says, like he’s pleading for understanding. “I thought he was hot the first time. That was the whole point. Just a hookup. A little fun. That was the plan. But then he stayed to talk. He made me laugh. He noticed things. And now—” He breaks off, swallows hard. “Now I’m feeling things.”

Seungcheol makes a small, vaguely sympathetic noise.

“And he’s so elegant,” Joshua adds, like the words are being dragged from him. “But not in a showy way. He just... moves like everything makes sense to him. And then he’ll say something that knocks the air out of your lungs. And it’s always the right thing. Always. And he’s not even Korean! How is he more articulate than I am in my own damn language?”

Jeonghan, to his credit, at least tries not to laugh out loud.

“And the sex,” Joshua goes on, in a whisper now, like a confession. “It was supposed to be a one-time thing. Just—scratch the itch. But he’s so good. Like... unfairly good. And I thought maybe that would be the worst of it. That I’d just be weak about the sex and then move on.”

He stares straight ahead, like the hallway is his last hope for salvation. “But then he said something kind. Just—casually. Like it was easy. Like I mattered. And now I can’t stop thinking about it. About him. About both of them, apparently, because my brain is broken and I hate this.”

There’s a long, quiet pause.

Then Jeonghan says, very solemnly, “Sounds like you’re having a deeply unfortunate case of feelings.”

Joshua groans, tipping his head back against the wall. “God, I know.”

“You poor thing,” Seungcheol says, gently smug.

“Shut up,” Joshua mutters.

They round the corner toward Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s apartment, quiet except for the soft sound of their footsteps and Yedam’s tiny snore. And Joshua thinks—briefly, horrifyingly—that he might actually miss the chaos they just left behind.

Inside the apartment, it’s dark but warm — lights dimmed low, familiar in the way only Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s place can be. Joshua steps in carefully, Nari still a soft weight against his chest. Seungcheol brushes past him to flick on a lamp and disappears down the hall to settle Yedam.

Jeonghan carries Dasom toward her bassinet, steady despite the lingering stiffness in his movements. He sets the carrier down gently, unbuckles her with practiced ease. There’s something reverent in the way he lifts her out. She stirs once, lets out a tiny sigh, then goes still again when Jeonghan tucks her in.

A minute later, Seungcheol returns, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “He’s out. Didn’t even blink.”

“That’s because I wore them out,” Joshua says, trying for breezy but only managing about fifty percent. “Stories. Pirate ships. Interpersonal toddler politics. They made me work for it.”

Jeonghan laughs softly. “You’re a natural.”

“No, I’m a babysitter with performance anxiety.”

“Still,” Seungcheol says, stepping closer, “you didn’t have to do any of that. And you did it without flinching. Thank you, Shua-yah.”

The quiet gratitude in his voice knocks something loose in Joshua’s chest. He shrugs, awkward now, reaching to rub a hand down Nari’s back as she starts to stir.

“They’re my family too,” he says. “Of course I helped.”

That gets him a long look from both of them — Jeonghan’s eyes a little shiny at the edges, Seungcheol’s mouth twitching like he wants to smile but doesn’t quite let himself. The air goes still for a beat. Full of something warm and a little overwhelming.

Then Seungcheol steps forward and gently takes Nari from his arms. “We know,” he says, voice soft.

Jeonghan leans in next, presses a kiss to Joshua’s cheek. “You sap.”

Joshua barely has time to blink before Seungcheol does the same from the other side, warm and easy, squeezing his arm after. “We love you, you idiot.”

Joshua goes pink. “Okay,” he mutters. “That’s enough. I’m leaving. Good night.”

Jeonghan snorts. “You’re blushing, Joshuji.”

“Have fun. Be safe,” Seungcheol adds.

Joshua doesn’t dignify that with a response. He turns, heads for the hallway, and lets the door close behind him with a soft click.

The quiet settles around him.

Just a walk down the hall. Nothing dramatic. Just him, re-entering the apartment where both of the hot, capable, annoyingly charming men he’s somehow agreed to date are still waiting.

He exhales. Rolls his shoulders. Tries to look less like someone on the verge of a meltdown.

Then he unlocks the door and steps inside.

The apartment feels warmer than when he left. Dim light, the faint smell of apple snacks lingering in the air, and low voices from the living room.

He rounds the corner and freezes.

He’s not sure what he expected them to be doing when he got back. But it certainly wasn’t this.

Mingyu is sitting cross-legged on the floor by the couch, a small pile of stray stickers and glittery debris stacked neatly on a paper towel in front of him. He’s got one of Nari’s abandoned coloring pages folded in his lap and is mid-sentence when Joshua comes in.

Minghao is beside the coffee table, crouched with a damp cloth, carefully wiping what looks like a constellation of sticky fingerprints off the wood. His hair’s fallen forward a little, and he tucks it back absently.

They both look up at the same time when they hear the door click shut.

“Oh!” Mingyu lights up, bright and unbothered. “Hyung, you’re back!”

Minghao straightens slowly. His smile’s smaller, but no less warm. “Everything okay?”

Joshua blinks at them. At the half-tidied battlefield of his living room. The paper towel of chaos. Minghao still holding the cloth, Mingyu now fiddling with a glitter star like it’s precious.

“You’re cleaning,” he says blankly.

Mingyu glances around. “Just tidying up little. We didn’t touch anything sacred.”

Minghao gestures to the baby wipes container. “We figured this was fair game.”

“You didn’t have to,” Joshua says, and immediately wants to kick himself for how choked it sounds.

Mingyu shrugs, smile still easy. “We wanted to.”

And god, it’s not fair. It’s really, really not fair — how casual they make it all look. Like this is normal. Like Joshua coming back to find two gorgeous men gently tidying his glitter-covered apartment is just... part of the evening.

He leans against the door, still clutching his keys like they might anchor him.

“I was gone for five minutes.”

“We’re very efficient,” Mingyu says cheerfully.

Joshua just blinks at them, brain lagging a full five seconds behind. His heart does something deeply unhelpful in his chest.

“I—uh,” he starts, eloquent as ever, “I didn’t know if you’d still be here.”

Minghao straightens up fully, cloth still in hand, and looks at him — not confused, not offended. Just steady.

“You said you’d be right back,” he says simply, like that settles it.

Mingyu nods. “We told you we’d wait, hyung.”

And they did. They’re still here. In his space, tidying up a mess they didn’t make. Smiling at him like none of it was too much.

Joshua steps further into the room. His chest feels weirdly tight — like it’s holding too many things all at once. Relief. Nerves. That low hum of attraction that still hasn’t gone away, just curled somewhere deeper.

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “So... what now?”

It’s Minghao who answers first, voice quiet but sure. “That depends. What do you want?”

Joshua blinks. “I—”

Minghao keeps going, gentle. “We can say goodnight here. Make plans for another time. A proper date.”

Mingyu leans against the edge of the table, gaze soft. “We’d like that. If you want that, hyung.”

There’s a beat. Minghao’s eyes find Joshua’s. “Or if what you want right now is... what tonight was originally supposed to be, that’s okay too. We’d be happy to stay.”

Mingyu’s voice is softer now, careful. “That could be the three of us, or just you and Hao, if that’s what you’re more comfortable with. No pressure either way.”

Joshua feels it land in his chest — the sheer care of it. The way they’re offering something real, not dangling it. Not asking for anything he’s not ready to give.

And what stuns him most is that both options feel real. Genuine. There’s no pressure in either of their voices. Just possibility. Just choice.

He could say yes. Could fall back into the version of himself who only wanted easy things, temporary things. He could kiss them both and lose himself in something that would, undoubtedly, feel incredible.

But instead—

Instead, he finds himself smiling, a little crooked and a lot soft. “No, I... I think I’d like the date.”

Minghao’s lips twitch — not quite a smile, but something close. Mingyu grins outright.

Joshua clears his throat. “Like, an actual one. Without kids. And with… food. And feelings. Probably.”

“That’s my favorite kind,” Mingyu says, cheerful as ever.

“And mine,” Minghao adds, looking right at him.

Joshua lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. There’s a weird, light feeling fluttering in his chest. Not nerves, exactly. Hope, maybe. Or something dangerously close.

“Okay then,” he says. “Let’s do that.”

Minghao nods, like something’s been settled. “Hyung, you should give Mingyu your number.”

Joshua fetches his phone from the counter, sees that Seungcheol must have left Joshua’s car keys there at some point. Mingyu bounces on his heels, pretending not to hover.

They exchange numbers. “I saved you as pretty glitter hyung,” Mingyu says proudly, screen already tucked away before Joshua can react.

Joshua blinks. “You what—?”

Minghao, standing beside him with the smallest tilt to his mouth, says mildly, “You should probably get used to it. He sends compliments a lot. And gym selfies. At least half of them shirtless.”

“Noted,” Joshua says, faintly horrified.

The horrifying part, of course, is the fact that he will absolutely look at them. All of them. Multiple times. And then think things. Feel things. Terrible, distracting things that will ruin his whole day.

He’s doomed.

Minghao eyes him for a moment, something amused flickering behind his gaze. “You’re already flustered.”

“I am not,” Joshua lies, voice a little too high.

Mingyu grins. “Myungho-yah, we should bet on who can make hyung blush more.”

“I’m right here,” Joshua says flatly.

Minghao pretends to consider it, fingers tapping once against his arm. “Tempting,” he says. “But too easy. I like a challenge.”

Joshua lets out a scandalized sound that’s half laugh, half gasp. “You’re both—ridiculous.”

“Charming,” Mingyu corrects, then takes a deliberate step closer. He drops his voice just enough to make it dangerous. “And a little bit devastating, in the right lighting.”

Joshua can feel his ears burning. “Get out of my apartment.”

Minghao, calm as ever, just tilts his head and steps in too — not quite as close as Mingyu, but enough to bracket Joshua between them.

“Are you sure, hyung?” he asks softly, voice still light, but there’s something in his gaze — something Joshua feels settle under his skin.

And just like that, the mood shifts. Still warm. Still teasing. But steadier now. Anchored.

Mingyu backs off first — just a step, but enough. “We’ll text,” he says. “And plan that date.”

“Looking forward to it,” Joshua says, trying for nonchalant. Fails.

Minghao doesn’t back away. Not yet. His hand lifts, light against Joshua’s cheek. Not possessive — just present.

“Goodnight, Shua-hyung,” he says. And kisses him.

It’s not rushed. Not heated. Just firm and sure and entirely focused. He pulls back slowly, his thumb brushing once across Joshua’s jaw before dropping away.

Joshua doesn’t even have time to catch his breath before Mingyu swoops in and presses a quick kiss to his cheek — bright and affectionate, like punctuation.

“Sleep well, hyung.”

And then they’re gone — out the door with a rustle of coats and a quiet click, leaving Joshua in the soft stillness of his apartment.

He exhales.

And smiles.