xiuho!parents verse (4)
Title: From Start To Finish
Pairing: Joonmyun/Minseok; child!Luhan (+ suhan as father/son)
Genre: Fluff, domestic!au
Word Count: 842 + 1020 words
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own EXO.
Summary: Family, Joonmyun thinks, is the only thing that has ever really been constant for eighteen years.
A/N: Two drabbles in the continuation of the xiuho!parents verse.
[PAST]
"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." - A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh
Joonmyun doesn't awake to the sound of static, breathy laughs or cries or groans, not to the sound of babbles or screams coming through the baby monitor. He awakes to the irritating sound of his phone alarm and a cold space in his bed.
A helpful look to his phone says it's four in the morning and with eyes barely open, he rolls out of bed, taking half of the covers down with him as he lands on the floor inelegantly. He squints at the glare of his cellphone backlight as he looks for his glasses on the nightstand. The baby monitor, as well as his shirt, are missing, he notes as he struggles to untangle himself from the covers and slip his glasses on with clumsy fingers.
Sighing, Joonmyun rakes a hand through his unruly bed head and stumbles through the hallway to the kitchen. It's almost mechanical of going through the motions half awake to start up the coffee pot after years of doing it.
"Don't forget to make some for me too," Minseok shouts from the living room.
Minseok is always up an hour earlier with Luhan, sprawled on the carpeted floor as the six month old excitedly wastes his energy.
"No change from the normal," Joonmyun sighs, muscles groaning as he lays down on the carpet on the other side of Luhan.
"Nope," says Minseok, rubbing his eyes to force them open. Joonmyun watches the growing line of hickeys from Minseok's jaw to his collarbones as the latter adjusts himself on the ground. Even at four in the morning, Joonmyun can feel the sense of pride welling up in his chest.
"At least Luhan enjoys being up this early." Joonmyun murmurs as Luhan suddenly takes interest in his glasses. The baby rolls over to face him, wide eyed and spit dribbling from his toothless mouth, and begins to scoot towards him with a hand outstretched. He stays still, letting Luhan forcefully take the glasses from his face and play with them in his little hands.
(Joonmyun always has two spares after the first time Luhan took his glasses a month ago and broke it to pieces, causing him to become useless at work. What good is an ER physician when arteries start blurring together and threading a needle becomes infinitely more difficult.)
Minseok rolls over, pressing little kisses to Luhan's forehead. "I don't mind it so much. So long as Luhan's not crying- and it's not like I'm sleeping at this time anyway." Luhan squeals, proceeding to attempt to stick Jooonmyun's glasses and his entire fist into his mouth simultaneously.
Though Luhan wasn't quick to adjust to his new life, he had fallen into a routine after three long weeks of being in Korea. At just three months old, Luhan managed to consistently cry nearly every four hours in the night because everything was so new. It broke Joonmyun's heart every time he had to awake to Luhan's tears. And the longer he stayed up in the night with Luhan to comfort him back to sleep, the more time he had to think about the future. There would be the time when Luhan would have to learn about how hot the oven is the hard way or how much fracturing an ankle would hurt. There would probably be the bullying and teasing for having two dads.There were sports games and music recitals Joonmyun could be that proud dad recording in the back. There would be the awards Luhan could hang around his room and the childish drawings Joonmyun would get to hang in his office.
And then there'd be a time when they'd have to let Luhan go. They'd have to let him out into the world without keeping him under their protective wing. Joonmyun would be flooding with pride and sadness, and maybe it would be Luhan's turn to comfort him then.
Joonmyun blinks at the sudden wet presence on his face. Luhan has a slobbery finger right next to his eyes, glasses in hand that smack against the side of Joonmyun's face as Luhan squirms. He lifts Luhan into the air, settling the squealing baby onto his chest and smiling affectionately at infinite eyes.
Luhan is okay now. Now, he's attached to Joonmyun and Minseok and enjoys being carried around and played with. He'll still cry sometimes when they drop him off at a daycare during the day, he will still cry at home when they put him to sleep in a room all alone, but the toothless grins and excited giggles are irreplaceable, even if Joonmyun has to pile up the patient files to the next day to hear Luhan laugh.
Minseok scoots into his side, curling against his arm and presses lingering kisses to his cheek. "I'm glad Luhan is happy here with us," he whispers, bringing his fingers to run through Luhan's black hair.
Despite the problems sure to arise in the future, the biggest concern now is holding Luhan close and giving him a family.
"I'm glad he's happy here too."
<><><><><>
Joonmyun takes a seat on a plastic foldable chair the creaks audibly over the echoes of screaming children and ecstatic parents in the auditorium. He's seated too far in the back, to the point the figures start blending into one even with his glasses on. The plastic wrapping of the flowers in his hands crinkle as he fingers it absentmindedly. Luhan had left minutes ago, nearly ten minutes late, to take his spot on the stage.
A lot can change in eighteen years, Joonmyun thinks as the audience begins to quiet in apprehension. The time when Luhan was so small, so vulnerable that Joonmyun was almost afraid to hold him, seems like a dream now. He was anxious that his grip would be too tight or he'd drop Luhan, a three month old the size of his forearm. The fear that would overtake him when Luhan would catch a fever or cry out in pain as he crawled into table corners and stuck his fingers in an electrical socket was so overwhelming; Joonmyun could've never understood such an internal, magnificent pain for the wellbeing of a child without adopting Luhan. He was scared of so many things for something barely a fourth of his height.
At least he can now be relived that his eighteen year old son will no longer be in danger of electrocution or burning himself (although there is always the fear occupying the crevices of his mind). Luhan doesn't need to be locked in a playpen and listened to all the time anymore. He doesn't need to be held and carried and doesn't need the constant reassurance of a parent within his viewing vicinity.
Today, Luhan is graduating. Luhan is leaving his home with Joonmyun and Minseok and moving back to where he always belonged: China. His homeland is calling him back, and Joonmyun still hasn't quite learned how to take it.
(He will probably never learn.)
"Did you get the camera working?" Minseok asks as he takes his seat next to Joonmyun. He's smiling just as wide as he possibly can, but they've talked beforehand and Minseok has the same worries as him. How is Luhan going to fare in the concrete jungles of China? In a place he's barely known, how is he going to survive without the two men who've been with him since he was just three months old?
Joonmyun sighs, fiddling with Luhan's digital camera in his hands. It's not the same as the old cassette video camera he used to have that he'd taped Luhan's piano recitals and soccer games on. It's new and foreign to him and Luhan had forgotten to show him how it works before rushing to his spot on the stage.
Minseok takes the camera and tampers with it as best he can until something looks like it's taking video. He points it to Joonmyun and takes video pre-graduation ceremony.
"Hi baby, we're sorry we made you late and couldn't get good seats, but we're waiting for your speech," Minseok says, turning the camera on himself and leaning into Joonmyun's shoulder. He turns the camera away to see miles and miles of a sea of people, and they're so far away, Luhan will probably whine about how small he looks or how shaky the footage is. "Got anything else to add, Dad?"
"Luhan will probably kill us for embarrassing him like this," he says, smirking at his husband.
Minseok weakly slaps Joonmyun's shoulder. "Oh, shut up. That's what parents are for."
It's true. Parents are for making fun of their kids, for helping their kids, for stepping out of their own comfort zone for their kids. There were the endless nights of staying up until three in the morning with Luhan as he finished projects (though Joonmyun never lasted until 3 AM, but Luhan was always thankful for the presence the next day. Joonmyun didn't mind working at the hospital like a zombie the next morning, so long as Luhan had done what he needed to). There were the hard times of competitions and coming home with teases and taunts for second to last place and cheers and gloats for coming in first. There were the smiles and laughs as they rode amusement park rides and celebrated birthdays and watched movies late into the night. There were the times they'd made fun of Luhan, whether he was old enough to understand or not.
But it's his little family that nurtured and watched him grow and is now sending him off to the unknown where there's no more plastic cage to protect him and baby monitors to hear him all the time.
Joonmyun snaps out of his thoughts when he hears Luhan's name being called. Minseok holds his hand a little tighter, squeezes it a little harder, and holds his breath as he watches their son take the stand and speak.
It's a speech Joonmyun has heard at least ten times in the car. It's a speech he'll never forget, but he will: he'll forget exactly what Luhan said as he stood on that stage above hundreds of his peers, and he'll forget the day, month, and year when he did so, but it's hard to forget how proud he is of his son as he took the stage for his accomplishments. Luhan has done so much, and Joonmyun couldn't be more proud.
"You were fantastic, Luhan," Minseok congratulates afterwards. They're standing in the crowded parking lot, parked farthest away from the school in order to have a little privacy. Minseok presses a light kiss to Luhan's blonde hair- not black like it used to be.
"Thanks, appa," Luhan says, embracing his dad in a hug. He looks at Joonmyun hopefully. "Dad?"
Joonmyun swallows thickly and nervously pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You were great." He wipes at his dry eyes and embraces Luhan tightly. "You really are."
And even though Luhan is moving on to China, going back to where he always belonged, Joonmyun thinks that they're a family, and that's the only thing that hasn't ever really changed in eighteen years.
[NEXT]
A/N: i've had these ideas floating around in my drafts folders for quite awhile- the graduation idea floating even longer ever since i graduated 3 months ago OTL I'm glad to get them done with tho. and now my power is flashing... i should probably make a master list for this verse or something too .... /procrastinates/
Pairing: Joonmyun/Minseok; child!Luhan (+ suhan as father/son)
Genre: Fluff, domestic!au
Word Count: 842 + 1020 words
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Don't own EXO.
Summary: Family, Joonmyun thinks, is the only thing that has ever really been constant for eighteen years.
A/N: Two drabbles in the continuation of the xiuho!parents verse.
[PAST]
"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." - A.A. Milne's Winnie the Pooh
Joonmyun doesn't awake to the sound of static, breathy laughs or cries or groans, not to the sound of babbles or screams coming through the baby monitor. He awakes to the irritating sound of his phone alarm and a cold space in his bed.
A helpful look to his phone says it's four in the morning and with eyes barely open, he rolls out of bed, taking half of the covers down with him as he lands on the floor inelegantly. He squints at the glare of his cellphone backlight as he looks for his glasses on the nightstand. The baby monitor, as well as his shirt, are missing, he notes as he struggles to untangle himself from the covers and slip his glasses on with clumsy fingers.
Sighing, Joonmyun rakes a hand through his unruly bed head and stumbles through the hallway to the kitchen. It's almost mechanical of going through the motions half awake to start up the coffee pot after years of doing it.
"Don't forget to make some for me too," Minseok shouts from the living room.
Minseok is always up an hour earlier with Luhan, sprawled on the carpeted floor as the six month old excitedly wastes his energy.
"No change from the normal," Joonmyun sighs, muscles groaning as he lays down on the carpet on the other side of Luhan.
"Nope," says Minseok, rubbing his eyes to force them open. Joonmyun watches the growing line of hickeys from Minseok's jaw to his collarbones as the latter adjusts himself on the ground. Even at four in the morning, Joonmyun can feel the sense of pride welling up in his chest.
"At least Luhan enjoys being up this early." Joonmyun murmurs as Luhan suddenly takes interest in his glasses. The baby rolls over to face him, wide eyed and spit dribbling from his toothless mouth, and begins to scoot towards him with a hand outstretched. He stays still, letting Luhan forcefully take the glasses from his face and play with them in his little hands.
(Joonmyun always has two spares after the first time Luhan took his glasses a month ago and broke it to pieces, causing him to become useless at work. What good is an ER physician when arteries start blurring together and threading a needle becomes infinitely more difficult.)
Minseok rolls over, pressing little kisses to Luhan's forehead. "I don't mind it so much. So long as Luhan's not crying- and it's not like I'm sleeping at this time anyway." Luhan squeals, proceeding to attempt to stick Jooonmyun's glasses and his entire fist into his mouth simultaneously.
Though Luhan wasn't quick to adjust to his new life, he had fallen into a routine after three long weeks of being in Korea. At just three months old, Luhan managed to consistently cry nearly every four hours in the night because everything was so new. It broke Joonmyun's heart every time he had to awake to Luhan's tears. And the longer he stayed up in the night with Luhan to comfort him back to sleep, the more time he had to think about the future. There would be the time when Luhan would have to learn about how hot the oven is the hard way or how much fracturing an ankle would hurt. There would probably be the bullying and teasing for having two dads.There were sports games and music recitals Joonmyun could be that proud dad recording in the back. There would be the awards Luhan could hang around his room and the childish drawings Joonmyun would get to hang in his office.
And then there'd be a time when they'd have to let Luhan go. They'd have to let him out into the world without keeping him under their protective wing. Joonmyun would be flooding with pride and sadness, and maybe it would be Luhan's turn to comfort him then.
Joonmyun blinks at the sudden wet presence on his face. Luhan has a slobbery finger right next to his eyes, glasses in hand that smack against the side of Joonmyun's face as Luhan squirms. He lifts Luhan into the air, settling the squealing baby onto his chest and smiling affectionately at infinite eyes.
Luhan is okay now. Now, he's attached to Joonmyun and Minseok and enjoys being carried around and played with. He'll still cry sometimes when they drop him off at a daycare during the day, he will still cry at home when they put him to sleep in a room all alone, but the toothless grins and excited giggles are irreplaceable, even if Joonmyun has to pile up the patient files to the next day to hear Luhan laugh.
Minseok scoots into his side, curling against his arm and presses lingering kisses to his cheek. "I'm glad Luhan is happy here with us," he whispers, bringing his fingers to run through Luhan's black hair.
Despite the problems sure to arise in the future, the biggest concern now is holding Luhan close and giving him a family.
"I'm glad he's happy here too."
<><><><><>
Joonmyun takes a seat on a plastic foldable chair the creaks audibly over the echoes of screaming children and ecstatic parents in the auditorium. He's seated too far in the back, to the point the figures start blending into one even with his glasses on. The plastic wrapping of the flowers in his hands crinkle as he fingers it absentmindedly. Luhan had left minutes ago, nearly ten minutes late, to take his spot on the stage.
A lot can change in eighteen years, Joonmyun thinks as the audience begins to quiet in apprehension. The time when Luhan was so small, so vulnerable that Joonmyun was almost afraid to hold him, seems like a dream now. He was anxious that his grip would be too tight or he'd drop Luhan, a three month old the size of his forearm. The fear that would overtake him when Luhan would catch a fever or cry out in pain as he crawled into table corners and stuck his fingers in an electrical socket was so overwhelming; Joonmyun could've never understood such an internal, magnificent pain for the wellbeing of a child without adopting Luhan. He was scared of so many things for something barely a fourth of his height.
At least he can now be relived that his eighteen year old son will no longer be in danger of electrocution or burning himself (although there is always the fear occupying the crevices of his mind). Luhan doesn't need to be locked in a playpen and listened to all the time anymore. He doesn't need to be held and carried and doesn't need the constant reassurance of a parent within his viewing vicinity.
Today, Luhan is graduating. Luhan is leaving his home with Joonmyun and Minseok and moving back to where he always belonged: China. His homeland is calling him back, and Joonmyun still hasn't quite learned how to take it.
(He will probably never learn.)
"Did you get the camera working?" Minseok asks as he takes his seat next to Joonmyun. He's smiling just as wide as he possibly can, but they've talked beforehand and Minseok has the same worries as him. How is Luhan going to fare in the concrete jungles of China? In a place he's barely known, how is he going to survive without the two men who've been with him since he was just three months old?
Joonmyun sighs, fiddling with Luhan's digital camera in his hands. It's not the same as the old cassette video camera he used to have that he'd taped Luhan's piano recitals and soccer games on. It's new and foreign to him and Luhan had forgotten to show him how it works before rushing to his spot on the stage.
Minseok takes the camera and tampers with it as best he can until something looks like it's taking video. He points it to Joonmyun and takes video pre-graduation ceremony.
"Hi baby, we're sorry we made you late and couldn't get good seats, but we're waiting for your speech," Minseok says, turning the camera on himself and leaning into Joonmyun's shoulder. He turns the camera away to see miles and miles of a sea of people, and they're so far away, Luhan will probably whine about how small he looks or how shaky the footage is. "Got anything else to add, Dad?"
"Luhan will probably kill us for embarrassing him like this," he says, smirking at his husband.
Minseok weakly slaps Joonmyun's shoulder. "Oh, shut up. That's what parents are for."
It's true. Parents are for making fun of their kids, for helping their kids, for stepping out of their own comfort zone for their kids. There were the endless nights of staying up until three in the morning with Luhan as he finished projects (though Joonmyun never lasted until 3 AM, but Luhan was always thankful for the presence the next day. Joonmyun didn't mind working at the hospital like a zombie the next morning, so long as Luhan had done what he needed to). There were the hard times of competitions and coming home with teases and taunts for second to last place and cheers and gloats for coming in first. There were the smiles and laughs as they rode amusement park rides and celebrated birthdays and watched movies late into the night. There were the times they'd made fun of Luhan, whether he was old enough to understand or not.
But it's his little family that nurtured and watched him grow and is now sending him off to the unknown where there's no more plastic cage to protect him and baby monitors to hear him all the time.
Joonmyun snaps out of his thoughts when he hears Luhan's name being called. Minseok holds his hand a little tighter, squeezes it a little harder, and holds his breath as he watches their son take the stand and speak.
It's a speech Joonmyun has heard at least ten times in the car. It's a speech he'll never forget, but he will: he'll forget exactly what Luhan said as he stood on that stage above hundreds of his peers, and he'll forget the day, month, and year when he did so, but it's hard to forget how proud he is of his son as he took the stage for his accomplishments. Luhan has done so much, and Joonmyun couldn't be more proud.
"You were fantastic, Luhan," Minseok congratulates afterwards. They're standing in the crowded parking lot, parked farthest away from the school in order to have a little privacy. Minseok presses a light kiss to Luhan's blonde hair- not black like it used to be.
"Thanks, appa," Luhan says, embracing his dad in a hug. He looks at Joonmyun hopefully. "Dad?"
Joonmyun swallows thickly and nervously pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You were great." He wipes at his dry eyes and embraces Luhan tightly. "You really are."
And even though Luhan is moving on to China, going back to where he always belonged, Joonmyun thinks that they're a family, and that's the only thing that hasn't ever really changed in eighteen years.
[NEXT]
A/N: i've had these ideas floating around in my drafts folders for quite awhile- the graduation idea floating even longer ever since i graduated 3 months ago OTL I'm glad to get them done with tho. and now my power is flashing... i should probably make a master list for this verse or something too .... /procrastinates/