Work Text:
“Do you think being gay makes you better at your job? Because you’re not attracted to vaginas?”
Namjoon chokes on his coffee and starts banging his head on the table. It’s too fucking early for this.
“Whoa whoa whoa, calm down, I didn’t think you hated vaginas that much. You work with them every day,” Hoseok says, patting a warm hand gently over Namjoon’s shoulder.
Namjoon didn’t graduate at the top of his class at Yonsei then turn around and get double board certified for this shit. He really fucking didn’t.
“What the fuck kind of question is that? What kind of nut job would go to school for ten years just because they’re a perv? Besides, even if I were in urology, I don’t think looking at dicks all day would give me a boner.” His answer is muffled, but Hoseok seems to understand just fine since he laughs like a hyena.
The door opens and Namjoon lifts his head to a tired looking Jin walking in with two coffee cups in hand. Jin nods at him and sets his extra cup in front of Hoseok, who greets him with a loud kiss to the cheek.
God, if Hoseok’s presence wasn’t enough already, the stark reminder of love and commitment just had to rear its ugly head too. Namjoon is going to have an amazing day.
“Are you sure about that, Joon? You’re absolutely sure that looking at dicks all day wouldn’t get you going?” Jin asks, taking the seat next to Hoseok and sipping from his coffee.
Namjoon definitely needs to start speaking more quietly. One would think working in the stillness of an OR would teach him how to do just that, but it seems ten years in the world of vaginas has already done its number on him.
“Dicks are gross,” Namjoon retorts, ignoring for now that above all, admiring a patient’s dick would be completely unprofessional.
“You have one.”
“Literally no one with a brain would argue when I say that breasts are infinitely more pleasing to look at than ballsacks.”
“Touche,” Jin agrees. The bisexual agenda lives to see another day.
"But," Hoseok quips sharply, genuinely upset. "To each their own. Imagine having a patient hearing you say all this, you ignorant fucks. Yulje's a safe space and this is not a safe space you're creating right now."
And this is why Namjoon loves Hoseok. Where Namjoon can get caught up in himself sometimes, Hoseok always calls him out when he's wrong, and Namjoon is forever grateful.
Like clockwork, Namjoon’s pager starts screaming bloody murder and he looks down to see it’s finally time for another baby to come into the world. Yoongi’s written RYU BABY, BASICALLY 10 CM!!! in all caps, and Namjoon chuckles before jumping into action.
Coming off three overnight shifts in a row, Namjoon had been ready to give everything up for a mere hour of sleep. The promise of new life, though, no matter how bloody it can get, is always enough to put a spring in his step.
“Call me if you need anything!” Hoseok calls, and Namjoon waves a hand he knows neither of them will notice.
The labor and delivery floor shouldn’t need anesthesiologist Hoseok right now. If all goes well, the team of him and his favorite nurses, Yeonjun and Beomgyu, will be enough. Namjoon has a good feeling about this one—mother’s going to be great, baby’s going to be perfect, and hopefully shit won’t fall through the holes in his crocs today.
Hopefully.
Luckily for Namjoon (and Mr. and Mrs. Ryu), little Baby Sunwoo is born healthy and plump at 8:27 pm, weighing approximately 3.6 kilograms and measuring in at a solid 53 cm. The delivery itself was an easy one, Hyeri pushing for about an hour before Sunwoo finally made his entrance into the world.
Sunwoo has a full head of dark hair that looks soft and downy after Yeonjun wipes him clean of blood and amniotic fluids, and Namjoon even gets to see him blink his tiny almond-shaped eyes open for the first time. Looking to Hyeri and her husband Junyeol, Namjoon can tell Sunwoo is going to be a heartbreaker one day.
Namjoon stitches Hyeri up and checks everything one last time before finally taking his leave. He waves and smiles at the happy couple, Junyeol bowing again and again to express his gratitude, and wishes them well. They’re in good hands as Yeonjun returns to the floor for charting and Beomgyu breaks the room back down into a normal one so the family can finally breathe and adjust to life as three.
Yeonjun will eventually be back to check on Hyeri and whisk Sunwoo off to the nursery to socialize with his newborn friends while his parents take a much needed nap. Beomgyu has a C-section scheduled for later that day, and Namjoon…well, Namjoon’s going to ride the elevator up to peds and bother his favorite Jin hyung before heading back to his office to catch some z’s.
“Hyung!” Namjoon calls, pleased when the man in question startles at the sudden noise.
Jin turns and fixes Namjoon with his favorite iteration of a glare. Nothing can touch Namjoon right now, though—he hasn’t slept in a solid 29 hours, and he’s convinced that time is an illusion and nothing is real. It makes sense that Jin is so beautiful, it has to be a glamour he uses around humans.
Now that his responsibilities have officially shifted to the other doctors for the night, work Namjoon has left and loopy Namjoon has arrived.
“What do you want from me now, my young spawn? I don’t know how you always manage to do it, but you smell like both birth and death at the same time. God, when was the last time you took a shower?” Jin wrinkles his nose and Namjoon lifts an arm to sniff at the offending armpit. Yeah, it’s ripe.
“I don’t know, hyung. I can’t remember the last time I slept in my own bed. Do I even have a home anymore?”
“You definitely have a home, you idiot. And because you’re my literal next door neighbor, I know that the last time you were there was like two nights ago because you wouldn’t stop coming over and asking for ingredients to put in your fried rice, you big, dumb oaf.”
Namjoon does vaguely remember that but it feels like so long ago.
“Wow, hyung,” Namjoon intones. “Are you magic?”
Jin rolls his eyes. “How did you get double board certified? My friend, I think it’s time for you to go to sleep. The babies will come when they want, so do as you advise your patients to do and sleep when the babies are still sleeping.”
Namjoon blinks and suddenly Jin’s hands are on his shoulders, pulling him back down the hall he came from.
Mind still in a haze, Namjoon scratches his head. “I came up here for a reason, hyung, but I can’t remember why.”
Jin pauses, halting his steps and in turn, Namjoon’s, too. Suddenly, his face brightens and he laughs.
“You get one minute in the PICU, Joon. Any more and I know you’re not sleeping today.”
It’s after Namjoon has a few days off to get his life together before returning to the night shift that he finds the waiting room empty one night, save for a young man sitting alone on one of the vinyl chairs leftover from the ‘80s. He’s wearing sweats and looking like he hasn’t slept in a few days, yet he’s still so effortlessly beautiful. The cut of his jaw paired with the way he fills out his clothes feels like too much for a dingy hospital waiting room at three in the morning.
“Hi,” Namjoon says, stretching out a hand for the beautiful man to shake.
The man lifts big, brown eyes at Namjoon and startles—not a reaction Namjoon is necessarily used to, but amusing nonetheless. There’s something about labor & delivery that allows people to open up without pretense, the warmth and anticipation of new life joining everyone together as one, which is why Namjoon always tries to talk to the random stragglers he finds around the floor.
Plus, it’s three am and Namjoon has been awake for 18 hours straight. He thinks this man might understand or at the very least share in his misery considering he, too, is awake at three o’clock in the fucking morning.
“Wow, thighs,” the man mumbles before startling and catching himself. His eyes have since moved from Namjoon’s face to his legs, and he pats a hand over his mouth in embarrassment.
Namjoon laughs, completely endeared by this gentle fool. He’s pretty and aloof, one of Namjoon’s favorite combinations.
Once the man finally snaps out of his daze and shakes his waiting hand, Namjoon waves off his apologies and takes the open seat next to him, offering him one of his Choco Pies that he politely waves away. Namjoon gets it—he’s seen plenty of first-time dads completely lose their chill post-delivery, and he can’t imagine the dry crumbs of a Choco Pie will do this man any good.
First-time fathers are some of his favorite humans to interact with, high off endorphins yet scatterbrained by the sudden weight of responsibility. They’re filled with all this false bravado while their partners labor, scared shitless when Hoseok walks in with the epidural, then teary and weak when the babies finally arrive, all wet sobs and the inability to take their eyes off their partners.
“I’m Namjoon,” Namjoon says, and the man blinks wordlessly at him. This, too, is a reaction he gets a lot. With the Dr. title so blatantly stitched into his white coat, Namjoon’s noticed the difficulty for patients and caregivers alike to drop the automatic formalities that Korean culture demands.
“Oh, you must be Dr. Kim,” the man says, much to Namjoon’s surprise. “I’m Jungkook—Jeon Jungkook. It’s really great to finally meet you. Professor Yang calls you the labor whisperer around here,” Jungkook’s voice tapers off into an easy silence that Namjoon gladly dwells in, making a note to pay a certain Yang Seokhyung a visit sometime soon.
“He must be the one who delivered your baby, huh?” Namjoon asks, because if it wasn’t him or Professor Yang, it has to be Dr. Chu. And if Dr. Chu was involved whatsoever, there would be no way this new dad would be sitting out here when he could be sleeping happily in a private room.
Jungkook looks confused, but nods slowly nonetheless. Ah, dad brain. Namjoon knows it well, having seen it nearly every day for the past six years. Namjoon sends up a prayer for whoever Jungkook’s partner is. Not only will they have to adjust to life with a new baby, it seems dad’s got a steep learning curve ahead of him.
It’s a shame he’s probably committed to someone already. Namjoon doesn’t see a ring on his finger, but he’s learned not to judge when families come in all shapes and sizes. First children always leave an impression, Namjoon knows now. Whether or not Jungkook and his baby’s other parent are involved or serious or whatnot, Namjoon doesn’t think it would be very becoming of him to try seducing one of his patients.
Jungkook is good-looking with kind eyes, and something tells Namjoon that maybe in any other circumstance he would’ve gathered the courage to ask him to coffee. Jungkook probably isn’t as straight as he expected after that comment about Namjoon’s thighs, but even a sleep-deprived Namjoon knows his limits.
They sit and exchange small talk for a while before Namjoon finally asks about Jungkook’s own birth story. Jungkook’s eyes light up with excitement and he starts talking at length about someone named Tzuyu and how they’d arrived at the hospital when she was seven centimeters dilated yet still had to wait another six hours before she got to ten.
There are so many different kinds of dads these days, ranging from warm to sarcastic to tough to gentle, all trying their best to love their children in only the way they can. Namjoon can tell off the bat that this Jungkook fellow is already a complete fool for his newborn daughter.
It really is a shame that Jungkook is so warm, so kind, and so excited about his family. Namjoon allows himself this one moment to catalogue everything about this man, knowing already that this is the standard he’ll be comparing any and all potential boyfriends to in the future.
It’s odd that Namjoon doesn’t see Jungkook after that night when Tzuyu and the baby are discharged, but he doesn’t say anything, trusting that everyone knows what they’re doing. It isn’t Namjoon’s place to meddle, anyways, but something about the situation leaves him uneasy, as if he’s missing a vital piece of information.
Which is why it’s straight up bizarre when weeks later, he finds Jungkook in nearly the same position he’d left him, same outfit and all.
He’d started believing his brain had conjured up a companion in its peak loneliness, but he thinks he might have to pay a visit to Dr. Chae in neuro if he’s experiencing this delusion again.
“Another baby?” Namjoon asks lightly as a joke, but Jungkook nods solemnly.
“Yeah, and this one was a real big one, too. Dahyun tore a little, but luckily it was barely a second degree. We heard the baby was getting big, so she’s been worried she’d literally tear into one straight line during labor,” Jungkook confesses, huffing out a laugh that Namjoon can’t help but join, regardless of how confused he is.
Namjoon’s usually big brain doesn’t know where to start processing any of what he’s just learned: the fact that Jungkook’s back with another woman and another baby, or that he’s somehow just as involved as he was with his partner from literal weeks earlier.
“Jungkook’s back again?” Namjoon asks a few days later, raising an eyebrow at Yoongi, who looks like he’s been charting since he was born, maybe.
“Yeah, we delivered the baby last night and she was tiny like her mom. Just under 3 kilos and 50cm,” Yoongi replies. He doesn’t bother indulging Namjoon with any other token of acknowledgment, which is what he deserves, Namjoon supposes.
“Who was the lucky lady this time?” It’s hard to keep them in order. Where Namjoon once would’ve kept a meticulous Excel sheet full of Jungkook sightings, he’s now just resigned. Tired of seeing Raging Heterosexual Jeon Jungkook with the sweet Bambi eyes and his superhuman ability of knocking women up like it’s nobody’s business.
“Son Chaeyoung,” Yoongi gives up easily. “I think you might’ve seen her while I was giving her a tour a few weeks ago—the really cool one wearing the leather jacket with dark hair parted down the middle.”
And how could Namjoon forget one of the coolest expectant mothers he’s ever seen?
Goddamn, if Chaeyoung is next in line in Jungkook’s rotating cult of baby mamas, Namjoon knows he has to be concerned for Jungkook’s livelihood. He has no idea how he juggles all of these women or why he decided getting them all pregnant at the same time was a good idea.
Fuck, at this rate he’s going to get caught in his deception. Namjoon imagines someone as cool as Chaeyoung has to know people, and sends up a prayer to whoever’s listening that they would protect Jeon Jungkook from eternal wrath and damnation.
Still, he feigns nonchalance and turns back to his own chart, where he was preparing to meet with another near-term patient.
Myoi Mina, the file reads.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” is what Namjoon wants to say. So fucking badly.
But no, he gets paid good money to be a professional, and a professional is what he will be.
Jungkook smiles lopsidedly and pokes at the diorama of a uterus that sits on Namjoon’s desk. Namjoon resists the urge to smack his hand away. Jungkook hadn’t even made the attempt to change out of his sweats for Mina, as if running into one of his many partners at the hospital was a normal, everyday occurrence for the man.
Why here? Why the fuck does Jungkook always have to bring his partners here? There are literally so many other hospitals in Seoul they could be gallivanting at, and Namjoon doesn’t understand how Yulje has apparently become the new hotspot for sin and reproduction.
It’s like Jungkook is asking to be caught in his tangled web of deception and childbirth, with the way he so haphazardly dangles these women and their various children in front of each other. If Jungkook weren’t so open and plain nice, if Namjoon were only seeing these attributes of his written out on paper, he would firmly believe that he was cold, ruthless, everything wrong with the world. It doesn’t make sense that what he’s seeing never seems to match up with what he knows.
Namjoon doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but a part of him is grateful that Jungkook does decide to spend his time here rather than anywhere else. His company never fails to bring a smile to his face and lift whatever load is sitting on his shoulders. Even the way Jungkook always has a smile and kind word ready for him makes Namjoon’s heart skip a little beat sometimes.
It strikes Namjoon as odd that Mina and Jungkook don’t share any PDA or the small touches that married couples give and receive all the time, but he chalks it up to them just being private people. Maybe Jungkook’s blown his entire quota for touch with all his other ladies. It’s none of Namjoon’s business, anyways.
“Hey, would you mind letting Jimin know I’m ready for him whenever? I saw the updates for the preeclampsia patient’s birth plan and had a couple of suggestions I wanted to run by him.”
Yoongi, still not looking up from his computer screen, murmurs a vague agreement. Hoseok, God bless his soul, maneuvers his rolling chair from the other side of Yoongi to come crashing into Namjoon’s legs, face pressed against his stomach. He makes a few warbling noises that manage to pull a gummy smile from Yoongi.
Curse Jung Hoseok, M.D. Namjoon takes everything back about a certain deity in heaven blessing his godforsaken soul.
He swats Hoseok’s face away and kicks at him to prove some kind of point.
“Jungkook’s talking to Jimin right now but I’ll let him know you rang,” Hoseok says sweetly, running his foot up and down Namjoon’s calf lightly.
A clear HR violation of some sort that Namjoon doesn’t have the time or energy to correct. Still, it saddens him to realize he’d see more success at getting his best friend fired than a female counterpart would with an actual creep.
“Jungkook’s back?” Namjoon asks, feigning nonchalance but wanting to hear more.
It’s gross of him to have such a vested interest in the personal life of one of his patients, for god’s sake, but he can’t stop. It’s like he’s watching a car crash in slow motion and can’t look away.
Jeon Jungkook and his ever-increasing harem of baby mamas will not only be the death of him, but probably be the reason he loses his medical license and gets sued for violating patient privacy.
Dear God.
The years he spent in school working his ass off, all for naught over one curious case of repeated paternity. The nice apartment he owns just down the street from Seoul Forest, even if he shares a wall with Jin and Hoseok and their random nocturnal bouts of giggly sex, has served him well. All the parents he gets to meet and the babies he gets to deliver. The tender moments in which it’s just him and the new life he gets to welcome into the world.
All gone in the blink of an eye.
His mother is going to be pissed.
Yoongi gives him a weird look, as if Namjoon’s the strange one for asking if this father of four (now five) is back already.
Jungkook’s visits to labor & delivery have been occurring at a steady rate, maybe once every few weeks, and Namjoon finds himself missing the younger man in the moments he isn’t there. Hoseok will turn to him with a stupid joke, Yoongi will trip in his haste to help Taehyung with something he can readily do on his own, and Namjoon will turn to share a laugh with a sweet, muscular man who isn’t there most of the time.
In the short time since Namjoon first met the man in the waiting room all those weeks ago, Jungkook has already embedded himself right into the fabric of Yulje Hospital’s labor & delivery ward. Yoongi, Hoseok, and Seokjin all hang off of every word he says and bend over backwards to laugh at his jokes and accommodate his every need. Even Jimin and Taehyung from the doula agency apparently know Jungkook, which makes sense considering Jungkook's now fathered so many children, one of the mothers must have hired a doula at some point.
He’s going insane. Namjoon’s preceptors in school were right when they warned him of the dangers of sleep deprivation all those years ago. Hell, he feels like a fraud now for repeating these things to his own residents without heeding them himself.
“Yeah,” Yoongi finally replies. “Jungkook’s here with Sana today, room 602. Taehyung’s with the Lee’s in 604.”
Hoseok saunters over from nowhere and wraps his arms around Namjoon, laughing something big and bright into the back of his neck. Namjoon laughs too, strongly against his will, and lifts his head to greet his best friend with a gentle pat to his soft, fluffy hair. Hoseok’s always liked those, and something about the small gesture lifts something in Namjoon, too.
And then he remembers what sent him into a frenzy in the first place.
“Don’t you think it’s weird that Jungkook has so many babies all of a sudden?” he asks, feeling less like a doctor and more like a conspiracy theorist.
Hoseok cackles loudly into his ear and Namjoon flinches. Yoongi deigns to snort but otherwise pretends like he hadn’t heard what Namjoon said.
His best friends, ladies, gentlemen, nonconforming humans, and everything in between.
Thankfully Hoseok humors him and asks what he means.
“It’s the fifth time he’s been here in like, two months, Hoseok-ah,” Namjoon whispers conspiratorially, afraid Jungkook himself might walk up and hear their conversation. “That’s not normal, even for someone like him.”
Hoseok furrows his brow. Thank god someone is equally as confused as Namjoon. No, thank goodness Namjoon isn’t the only one concerned about how this homewrecker has wormed his way into their lives so easily, grin in one hand and giggles in the other.
“Well, Jimin’s here every week.”
Namjoon rolls his eyes. Everyone knows that.
“Of course Jimin’s here every week,” he says proudly. “He has babies to deliver.”
“Uh,” Hoseok says, eyes darting between Namjoon and Yoongi like a cartoon character.
“So does Taehyung,” Yoongi adds carefully, because of course he does. “Taehyung’s here almost every week, too.”
“Yeah, he’s a doula,” Namjoon clarifies. “And you would bring up Taehyung. Have you asked him out yet?”
Hoseok giggles again and move his arm to rest on Namjoon’s shoulder, jostling him around and accidentally jabbing an ear with his elbow. Namjoon loves him though, and is too afraid of Jin’s wrath to say anything.
“Hyuuuuuung,” Hoseok sing-songs to Yoongi. “A little birdie told me Taehyung has an art show in a few weeks. You should go.”
Yoongi finally lifts his head from his computer screen to fix withering glares on both Namjoon and Hoseok, but it’s obvious from the sudden softness in his eyes that he doesn’t mean it. He never means it, not when it’s so clear that he loves them just as much as they love him.
Yoongi’s been at Yulje since before Namjoon first arrived as a baby resident with Chu Minha and Park Jinyoung. Yoongi had spent just enough time in labor & delivery at that point to impart the in’s and out’s of the floor to all the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed residents trying to earn brownie points from doctors and professors wherever they could.
“I am,” Yoongi says, so quiet that Namjoon and his weak ears can scarcely pick it up. What he does pick up, though, is Hoseok’s loud celebratory screech. Namjoon looks around with skittish eyes and thanks the heavens it’s still daytime and therefore still somewhat socially acceptable to make loud noises in public.
Still, he won’t pass up the opportunity to smack Hoseok upside the head when it presents itself.
“Ouch!” Hoseok yells, as if he’s actually 2 and not 32.
“So,” Namjoon starts, widening his eyes at an amused Yoongi. “Tell us everything.”
And Yoongi does, stupid gummy smile making a special appearance at their weekly gossip session. Hoseok and Namjoon both ooh and ah at all the small moments with Taehyung leading up to the one big moment, when suddenly a clap pulls them from the huddle they’ve formed around Yoongi’s computer.
A throat clears, and the two doctors with their backs to the intruder let out a sigh in relief.
“Hey honey,” Hoseok says, turning around to greet his boyfriend sweetly.
Jin presses a gentle kiss to Hoseok’s temple and wraps an arm around his waist easily, though Namjoon scoffs at the man for entering into his personal space as always.
Normally it’s frowned upon to show public displays of affection in the hospital, but the rest of the floor has granted the couple an exception due to an overwhelming draught of loneliness amongst the staff. Like Namjoon said, there’s a certain magic and wonder that exist on this floor that can’t be replicated anywhere else.
“You came just in time,” Namjoon says, nodding at Jin. “Yoongi hyung was just about to get to the juicy part of how he asked Taehyung out.”
“Yoongi?” Jin yells, and again Namjoon praises any deity, hell, every deity, that it’s still daytime.
“Actually, it was him who asked me out,” Yoongi says proudly. “He told me his sculptures were going to be shown at an exhibit next week and said we should grab dinner afterward, just the two of us.”
“That’s more like it,” Jin says, reaching over to clap Yoongi on the back. “You guys have been pining for each other forever. It was only a matter of time.”
Yoongi flushes, which sends the three remaining idiots into a cooing fest, all trying to reach their arms to probe at Yoongi’s squishy cheeks. Only Jin succeeds, and he takes advantage of the opportunity to squeeze. Hard.
“Did you manage to grab some cake from the break room?” Jin asks, and Namjoon has no clue whether Jin’s talking about their break room or the one for pediatrics. With how much time Jin spends on the L&D floor mooning after his boyfriend, Namjoon feels it’s safe to assume the former.
“What’s the occasion, is Dr. Chu finally pregnant?” Yoongi asks nonchalantly.
“How the fuck did you know that,” Jin whines. “I wanted to be the one to break the news.”
Namjoon’s eyes bug out of his head. If he did have said cake in his mouth, he’d definitely be choking.
“She’s pregnant?” Namjoon asks, throwing all thoughts of disguising his surprise to the wind.
“Yeah, Professor Yang brought in the cake and flowers this morning before his rounds. That big bear was so excited his wife was pregnant, it was really cute to see some kind of emotion on his face for once.”
“His…wife?” Namjoon asks, though the gears in his brain are moving at lightning speed trying to catch up. Surely he would’ve noticed his boss and his former co-resident shacking up together over the years. Surely he would’ve known.
“Did you…not realize they’ve been married? For the past five years?” Yoongi sounds incredulous, which says a lot about how surprised Yoongi must be.
“No?” Namjoon offers weakly, earning himself a hard smack from Jin across the back of his head.
“You were at their wedding, Joon,” Yoongi retorts, and Namjoon hangs his head in shame.
“What’s all this about?” A new voice asks, and Namjoon just barely holds back a groan. Of course it’s Jungkook. Of fucking course.
“Jungkook-ah, did you know that Namjoon here had no idea that Professor Yang and Dr. Chu were a thing?”
Jungkook turns an amused smile to Namjoon.
“Hyung, even I knew that and I’m only here every few weeks.”
At least the man is self-aware, Namjoon thinks, unable to come up with a response.
“Well, she’s pregnant!” Jin announces proudly, adding some jazz hands in celebration.
“I’m happy for them,” Jungkook says, voice soft as he looks up at Namjoon from beneath his lashes. “They’ve been wanting this for a long time.”
“You could probably help them with their delivery, too,” Namjoon retorts, unable to keep a little bit of the sting out of his words.
Jungkook blinks for a second while Jin and Yoongi paw at their respective stomachs and cackle hysterically.
Jungkook scratches his head, face tilting to an angle in his confusion. Namjoon will never get over how puzzled this guy is in normal everyday settings—Namjoon, at least has Jungkook’s ever-increasing harem of baby mamas as an excuse. He doesn’t think Jungkook is allowed to use that as his own excuse now that Namjoon has called dibs.
“Uh…sure? I guess? If they really wanted me to?” Jungkook says, still confused.
Namjoon wishes it brought him some kind of satisfaction, but it only makes him feel worse.
Namjoon’s just about to bite into his sandwich a few weeks later when Jungkook comes running onto the L&D floor…again. For fuck’s sake, Namjoon thinks. He really couldn’t have come when Namjoon didn’t have a giant ass Egg Drop sandwich in his hand.
Namjoon actually isn’t even sure how the hell Jungkook got in without being buzzed. The doorbell should’ve gone off on Namjoon’s end, and Jungkook should’ve needed to confirm his identity before Namjoon could hit Admit.
“Who is it today?” Namjoon asks, easily sliding his chair over to Yoongi’s empty spot. With Yoongi on lunch break and Yeonjun shadowing Professor Ahn in peds, Namjoon’s lucky it’s slow while he attends to matters at the nurse’s station.
“Im Nayeon?” Jungkook rasps, still trying to catch his breath.
Namjoon peers at the screen before letting Jungkook know that Nayeon was currently in room 605 and that last time Beomgyu checked, she was still only at six centimeters. Jungkook should know this lingo by now, considering he’s already been here six different times with six different women and in turn, six different children.
And it seems he does with the way he smiles gratefully at Namjoon and mimes himself tipping an imaginary hat at the older man.
“Wait, I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”
Jihyo, with the patience of a saint, swallows before repeating herself, slower this time to allow the words to sink into Namjoon’s useless brain. “Jiminie and Jeongyeonie hate each other.”
Jungkook covers his mouth to hide a snicker. “No one knows how they know each other or why their relationship is the way it is,” he adds.
“Wait, Jungkook, why are you here then?” Namjoon asks, thoroughly confused this time.
Jihyo snorts but otherwise turns her attention back to her phone.
“They hired me?” Jungkook replies, sounding unsure. It does nothing to quell Namjoon’s own confusion…and now, curiosity.
“Oh, got it,” Namjoon says, even though he’s definitely the furthest from getting it.
He guesses it makes sense that Jungkook would be a sperm donor, too. It must be a lucrative business if he’s already sired—Namjoon counts how many times he’s seen Jungkook so far—at least six children in the past three months.
Namjoon has to hand it to Jungkook, he doesn’t think sperm donors are usually so involved in pregnancies and deliveries, and if Jungkook really is showing up for his many, many children, he’s a better man than most.
He has to be.
When Jeongyeon finally returns to the room, frown semi permanently etched onto her face after arguing with Jimin over lord knows what, Jihyo’s contractions have finally picked up to come nearly every other minute. Since she had foregone the epidural offered when she first arrived at the hospital, Jihyo’s face locks into a wince that pulls at Namjoon’s weak, weak heart.
Delivering twins isn’t easy. Delivering twins without medication? Lord help her soul. If anyone can do it though, he suspects Jihyo will. The fierce determination in her eyes is unmistakable.
Namjoon’s lucky he was in the room to witness how fast Jihyo’s labor progressed because it’s barely five minutes between Jeongyeon’s return and calling for Yeonjun and Beomgyu to come prepare the room for delivery. With the twins still in the optimum position for a vaginal delivery as Jihyo requested, Namjoon gowns up and gets ready to go.
He hears Jungkook ask Yeonjun if they should call Soobin in just in case something happens, and the blue-haired nurse runs out of the room and returns moments later with a bleary eyed Soobin in tow.
With everyone in position and all the scales and warmers ready to go, Namjoon takes a moment to ask everyone to take a deep breath before the show gets on the road.
“This is the last moment you guys are going to have as a family of two,” he says. “Are you ready?”
He can see on the monitor that a big contraction is due to hit any moment now, and thankfully both Jihyo and Jeongyeon share a smile and some words that Namjoon can’t make out. Jeongyeon presses her hand to Jihyo’s cheek and drops a kiss to her forehead, and surprisingly it’s Jihyo who whispers a quiet thank you in the stillness of the room.
Namjoon looks up at Jungkook and is surprised to find that the man is already watching him with warm, assessing eyes. When Jungkook catches Namjoon looking, the corners of his mouth stretch into a pleased smile, beckoning him in even closer. Namjoon smiles right back, and gently taps at Jihyo’s foot with a gloved hand to signal for her to start pushing with her next contraction.
Jungkook counts out Jihyo’s pushes with Jeongyeon at her other side, and Namjoon pauses to admire the picture of life and family and love in front of him. He loves love, and he loves that the three of them are able to compromise and make things as safe and loving as possible for their children. It’s not a typical setup by any means, but it’s heartening to see they’ve worked out a rhythm that works best for them.
Jihyo, Jeongyeon, and Jungkook—the three J’s, Namjoon now has to call them—are just doing their best.
Once the still-nameless Babies 1 & 2 are lying swaddled in their bassinets between a sleeping Jihyo and bright-eyed Jeongyeon, Namjoon finds Jungkook in the waiting room again.
“God, twins this time, huh? How are you going to take care of them all, Jungkook?”
Jungkook snorts and shoves at Namjoon’s shoulder with his elbow, jostling the styrofoam cup of shitty coffee in his hand. A few droplets flick back onto Jungkook’s t-shirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Why would I need to take care of them?” Jungkook teases, and Namjoon suddenly understands. Jungkook is nice enough to be there at all the births, but detached enough to understand his boundaries as a sperm donor.
Namjoon respects it, but ultimately can’t decide if this is concerning or reassuring.
“Shouldn’t you be with them celebrating?” he tries instead.
Jungkook shoots him a quizzical look. “No?”
“Oh.”
Maybe Namjoon hit a nerve with his question. He figures it must be lonely knowing his spawn are out there in the world while Jungkook will probably be limited to the Uncle Jungkook who visits for Children’s Day and Christmas every year. Namjoon thinks Jungkook should’ve considered that before donating all his sperm in truckloads, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Chin up, yeah?”
Jungkook stares at him for a moment before a smile as bright as a sunbeam takes over his round, beautiful face. Namjoon is torn between staring head-on and looking away for fear of burning to a crisp. This man’s presence demands that Namjoon pay attention, and if Namjoon’s being honest, he doesn’t want to miss a single thing.
“You know, hyung. You say all this random shit that doesn’t make sense sometimes, and it’s just so…cute.”
Namjoon flushes from head to toe, unsure of how to respond. He thinks of all the babies that Jungkook’s fathered so far, a few of them being the little ones that Namjoon himself has delivered with his bare (gloved) hands. He was the first to meet a few of these souls, Jungkook’s children, regardless of whether they eventually come to know him as dad or not.
“Uh, thanks,” Namjoon replies, and he doesn’t miss the way Jungkook’s smile drops.
A pause, a cough, and a clearing of Jungkook’s throat before he picks back up.
“So, hyung. I paint and take photos for fun, and I was wondering if maybe you’d want to come to an exhibition with me? They’re showing some of my pieces, and I heard you like art, so I thought you might be interested.”
Namjoon is definitely interested, intrigued by the thought of catching a glimpse into Jungkook’s mind through the art of his hands. He’s right, Namjoon loves going to art museums and surrounding himself with swaths of color and shape that wrap him up in stories and emotions and everything in between.
Unfortunately, every bit of logic and self-preservation warns him otherwise this time, so he bites his lip and drops his gaze to the floor.
Jungkook is wonderful, he is. But there’s also a side to him that Namjoon doesn’t understand—the one that seems to sell his body for money and think nothing of the fact that he has multiple spawn all over Seoul. Namjoon really likes the guy, but it screams of a kind of recklessness that he can’t really afford in his life anymore.
Namjoon has a steady job, a nice apartment, a routine. Something about flipping that routine on its head for a guy who doesn’t sound very nice on paper doesn’t appeal to him at all.
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
Normally Namjoon finds Jungkook’s confused face endearing, but today it’s maddening. It’s not Jungkook’s fault that he’s entangled in all this shit, but it also isn’t Namjoon’s fault that he doesn’t want to involve himself in said shit. If Jungkook continues leaving pieces of himself all over, what will he have left for Namjoon?
Besides, for all he knows, Jungkook is straight. Jungkook likes women and this chance to see him outside the safe boundaries of Namjoon’s workplace literally screams of the opportunity for Namjoon to fall head over heels for him.
Namjoon knows it’s selfish and unreasonable, he does, but he can’t help what he feels—falling for a straight man at this point in his life, while all his closest friends are slowly settling down and broaching commitment, terrifies him.
“I’m sorry, Jungkook. I can’t go with you. Maybe ask one of your so-called mama’s, yeah?”
“Wait—” Jungkook pauses, nose scrunching in confusion. “What do they have to do with anything?”
Namjoon fights the urge to roll his eyes. He knew Jungkook could be a little scatterbrained at times but he didn’t think he was cruel, too.
“They have everything to do with this, Jungkook.”
“What? What does my work have to do with this? We’re the same, Namjoon.”
Jungkook’s voice is smooth and consistent despite the actual words that leave his mouth. Namjoon hates when people take him for a fool.
“What do you mean, we? We. Are not the same. Don’t you dare lump us together like that.”
Jungkook visibly recoils, moving away from the safe haven he’s found at the edges of Namjoon’s personal bubble. Still, he doesn’t get up or leave, which is what Namjoon had been hoping for. But now there are big fat tears rolling down his face and Namjoon wishes so badly they didn’t exist because of him.
This isn’t the way Namjoon expected their confrontation would go. It’s one thing to imagine it, and another thing entirely for something that’s been a long time coming finally live to see fruition. Namjoon assumed that one day Jungkook would stop coming around, stop coming in with beautiful women who were here to give birth to his children. Instead, Jungkook did the complete opposite and never stopped, embedding himself as an integral part of the Yulje OB-GYN family.
“Please,” Jungkook pleads, and it seems he’s forgotten that the cornerstone of Korean culture is pride with the way he lets go of his so easily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Namjoon. Please. Let me explain.”
Namjoon looks at Jungkook, really allows himself to look his fill for what he fears will be the last time. He picks out Jungkook’s confusion, the desperate way in which he begs for Namjoon’s empathy, but beneath it all he just looks like the same Jungkook that Namjoon has known all along—kind, compassionate, and a little bit naive.
It makes Namjoon even angrier when he remembers what Jungkook has been doing, complicating matters for himself as if the world isn’t complex enough already. So he chooses words meant to cut deep into Jungkook’s soul, hurt him enough to leave Namjoon alone and never look back.
“I’m not the one going around and whoring myself out for money. We are not the same,” he says, ignoring the way his own heart stings at the sight of tears rolling down Jungkook’s face.
Jungkook bites his lips and curls in on himself, visibly showing defeat. He opens his mouth to try and defend himself, but no words come out.
Namjoon always imagined it’d be satisfying to bring about justice. When he was a child, he dreamt often about what it’d feel like to be a hero, taking down the bad guys and protecting his townspeople. Instead, everything he’s eaten today has somehow transformed into sludge at the pit of his stomach, thick and unmoving, and so heavy it hurts to breathe.
Jungkook doesn’t say anything at all, seemingly deciding that enough is enough. His eyes steel over with something cold, and he turns his face to the side to deftly wipe away the tears still streaming down his face. With shoulders trembling, Jungkook returns to face Namjoon with red-rimmed eyes. Giving a curt nod, Jungkook gets up to take his leave.
He looks back at Namjoon once, and the heartbreak in his eyes is enough to shatter Namjoon’s own heart into a million jagged pieces, each one piercing into the very depths of his soul.
One of Namjoon’s favorite parts of the job is getting to know a family throughout the course of a pregnancy, then being there for them when the time finally comes for the newest member to join them. It’s an honor to be the first to hold the small yet sturdy body of a newborn, a privilege to hold them for their first breath and wish them good luck and good health in his heart of hearts before they even get to meet their mothers.
Sometimes families don’t look like the one Namjoon grew up in, and he’s all the more glad to see it. He takes pride in working for a hospital that stands for equality and progress, and everyone at Yulje takes the purpose of providing the best care to all patients to heart.
Namjoon sees it in the way Professor Ahn recycles all profits from the VIP Ward for his Daddy Long Legs program, helping patients in need pay for their hospital stays. He sees it in the way Professor Lee spends extra time learning sign language to communicate with the son of one of his liver cancer patients. It’s evident in the way Yoongi, despite how much time he spends sitting in his well-loved at the nurse’s station, always gives pregnant mothers a full walkthrough of their B-day’s free of charge because he knows firsthand what social anxiety is like.
Working at Yulje and learning from these team members is like nothing he could’ve imagined. Every day feels like a miracle knowing it's an entire hospital full of doctors and nurses and all kinds of staff doing their best to help others.
And then there are cases like these, where regardless of the preparation and hope from all sides, nothing goes right at all.
Yuri walked in happy and loved at 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant, holding a world of possibility and wonder in her hands.
After eight hours without progress, Namjoon and Professor Yang had eventually decided it was time to administer Pitocin to get some contractions on the board. Still, Yuri had labored for hours on end until a drop in the baby’s blood pressure had Professor Yang finally suiting up for an emergency C-section.
Yuri begged the two doctors to do all they could to save her baby, tears shining down her already pale face. It never crossed her mind to think about herself.
While the baby was born big and healthy, at this point, it’s a miracle that Yuri’s even alive.
After calling for transfusion after transfusion and suctioning up as much blood as he could, Professor Yang had placed a hand on Namjoon’s shaking one and held it still.
“Sometimes we’re the ones that make it worse. Sometimes you need to let the body figure out what it needs to do.”
And it did. Yuri’s body had kicked into high gear at the exact moment it needed to and done what only it could do to save her life. It wasn’t Professor Yang, it wasn’t Namjoon, it wasn’t anyone else in the room who did that. At the end of the day, it was Yuri, who despite being sedated and unconscious, showed that first and foremost she was a mother—a mother who knew that the very child she had prayed and wished for needed her to make it through the dark night of childbirth.
Professor Yang visits Namjoon in the lounge a few hours later, beers in hand and a hopeful smile on his face. Once he drops the drinks on the table, he shuffles over to the cabinet to grab some instant ramen.
Namjoon’s mother raised him to always be courteous, so he gets up to help the professor, adding some water to the kettle while Professor Yang opens the packages and sets about dusting seasoning into both styrofoam bowls.
It’s a stark change from the Professor Yang that Namjoon remembers from his years as a fellow, still somewhat bright eyed and bushy tailed. That professor had been awkward and antisocial, always avoiding the rest of the team when it wasn’t work-related. Dr. Chu had always gone out of her way to complain about him, until one day she didn’t.
In all honesty, if Namjoon had paid more attention at the time, he would’ve realized it was around the same time that Professor Yang began coming out of his shell.
“Professor,” Namjoon starts, voice already wavering against his will.
Professor Yang cuts him off. “Seokhyung. Call me Seokhyung today.”
Namjoon’s mouth goes dry at the sudden turn of events, and the professor chuckles good-naturedly.
“You know, I’ve always respected you.”
“What?” Namjoon quickly cuts himself off, embarrassed to be blurting out such an informality at his senior, but Professor Yang—Seokhyung—cuts him off with a laugh.
“Don’t apologize. Please. I don’t know how you feel and frankly, I don’t really care, because the truth is that you have nothing to apologize for today,” Seokhyung says.
“What?” Namjoon repeats, this time thinking just enough to remember his formalities.
Seokhyung looks him in the eye with a gentle smile again, and the knot in Namjoon’s stomach starts to untwist itself automatically. He takes a loud slurp of his ramen and revels in the familiarity of hot, sodium-filled broth and chewy noodles before returning Seokhyung’s smile with a weak one of his own.
“I always respected you because you could balance caring for your patients with your medical expertise really well. There are plenty of residents and attendings alike who’re either soft and dull, or smart with terrible bedside manners, and you’ve always been on the uncommon side of being both smart and kind.
“In all the years I’ve know you, I’ve never seen you lose your head. That’s an indication of your ability to stay cool even when things get tough.”
Namjoon swallows and nods. At the ripe age of 32, he thinks he should know himself better by now.
“Professor, can I ask you something?”
Seokhyung looks surprised but nonetheless nods for Namjoon to continue.
“Is there one thing that makes you happy? How do you keep your chill while everything just keeps happening all at once?”
Voices murmur outside the door, and the squeak of a gurney being moved around resounds from somewhere down the hall. Seokhyung cracks open his beer and takes a long sip, sighing loudly after he swallows.
Finally, he meets Namjoon’s eye, and where Namjoon expected him to look resigned after that sigh, he looks amused, almost as if he’s been expecting Namjoon’s question.
“Dr. Kim, I had to learn the hard way that regardless of how hard I worked, it would never be enough. You probably remember my first year here at Yulje—my mother was in and out of the hospital and my father made the headlines all the time with his mistress. Then he died, just like that.”
Namjoon does remember, bits and pieces slowly coming to him in waves: the whispers of younger residents as they read the news on Naver and connected the mishaps of Taeyang Group’s billionaire chairman back to Yulje Hospital’s new OB-GYN professor Yang Seokhyung. How Professor Yang always looked just that side of weary and bone-tired those few months leading up to his father’s passing.
“I had my friends through all of that, and I had my work to lose myself in, too. Sometimes you need to talk it through but sometimes you need to forget. Everyone has a balance, and that’s something I’ve been learning over time.
“The movies are wrong when they claim that your life just automatically gets better when you meet the special someone. It’s wrong because it not only places pressure on them, but on you. We’re all made to experience life in different ways, and some parts we need to experience together for us to be most effective. Other times, it’s doing the work on your own.
“All this to say that no, there isn’t one individual thing that makes me happy. My wife is one person who elevates the other parts of my life, but she isn’t the only one who can do that. Some days in this business are hard—we lose patients and that’s something we all have to learn how to deal with and process individually. But don’t let those moments make you think that your whole life is a lie. Every single part is the way it is for a reason.”
“You did your best, yeah?” Seokhyung says, standing up and patting Namjoon on the back. “Keep working hard.”
Seokhyung walks out of the room, tossing his empty beer can into the recycling bin and leaving just as easily as he came. Both ramens sit in Namjoon’s possession, but he finds he’s not very hungry anymore.
“So,” Namjoon says, placing his hands on his desk. “You’re looking great at 36 weeks, so anytime you start feeling contractions and progressing through the steps we’ve walked through, feel free to give me a call.”
Momo nods and lets Namjoon continue.
“I don’t know if you’ve met with Nurse Min yet, but if you want to do a run through of where to come when you get to the hospital and what the entire laboring process will look like, he’s ready to walk you through that, too. Some mothers don’t want to admit being nervous, but he really does a great job of telling you everything you need to know so there’s no reason to get anxious when the time finally comes.”
Momo smiles this time, looking like she has something to say, so Namjoon pipes down and gives her the space to do so.
“Doctor,” She interjects quietly, eyes shifting down to her purse before they return to Namjoon. “My husband is supposed to be out of town around my due date and I’m afraid he might miss the actual birth. Is it okay if I have someone with me?
She looks hesitant, and Namjoon feels a pang of sympathy for her. Going into labor in a foreign country in the midst of a first pregnancy is hard enough already. He can’t imagine how it must feel to be without her husband on top of it all.
“Of course,” Namjoon assures. “We have plenty of patients with doulas, midwives, family, friends, all kinds of people with them when they deliver! As long as you have them registered in our system, you’re all good to go. We actually have some agencies we partner with, so if you need a doula, Nurse Min has a list of available ones you can look through on your way out.”
Namjoon already knows that Yoongi will likely try to sell her on Taehyung, but doesn’t say anything else.
“Yes!” Momo’s face brightens. “That’s exactly what we’re doing. His name is Jeon Jungkook—have you heard of him? One of my best friends recommended him and we’ve met a couple times already to go over our birth plan. We love him already, and would love to have him there if Heechul oppa really can’t make it.”
“Oh,” Namjoon says, slowly making sense of what he’s hearing. Surely there’s more than one Jeon Jungkook loosely affiliated with this hospital. There has to be. “What’s her name?”
“Nayeon!” Momo exclaims, and Namjoon wants to shrink himself into the pocket of his white coat and never come out.
“Im Nayeon. She just delivered a baby girl about a month ago? Our entire friend group somehow managed to get pregnant at the same time, so you’ve probably seen Jihyo and Dahyun around, too. Dahyunie was actually the one to recommend coming to see you when I found out I was pregnant,” Momo says with a laugh, clear and bright as bells.
The rest of the appointment passes in a blur for Namjoon, hands sticky with sweat as he answers Momo’s final questions. He gets to the end of his time with her without major incident, limited to snapping a finger through one of his gloves and making Momo laugh politely into her hand.
He ushers her out of his office and into Yoongi’s line of sight, already knowing how excited Yoongi has been all morning to give her the step-by-step walk through of B-day. Birth-day, as Yoongi calls it.
Namjoon heads back into his office and glances at his calendar, sighing in relief when he confirms Momo was indeed his last patient of the day.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Namjoon buries his head in his hands and scrubs at his face before pulling at his hair in frustration. Sweat beads at his temples and in his armpits, and if there’s anything Namjoon hates more than mint chocolate chip ice cream, it’s sweating. And Lord, does he do a lot of it. He doesn’t think anyone else is nearby so he groans loudly, as if voicing his exasperation will do something, anything to help him make things right.
The uterus sitting on his desk mocks his pain.
Suddenly, the door whips open and Namjoon lifts his head to find Yoongi frowning at him.
“Is everything okay, Joon?” Yoongi asks, and Namjoon wants to cry.
He drops his head against his desk to shake it profusely, completely unable to process the news his last patient just dropped on him.
“Hey, hey. What happened?”
“Jnfdjjkfjsaljsf,” he mumbles, and Namjoon can practically hear the creak of Yoongi rolling his eyes.
“Drinks?”
It doesn’t take much to get the whole gang together once drinks and on Namjoon make it past Yoongi’s lips. Hoseok argues that he didn’t want to make dinner tonight anyways, and once he’s in it’s a given that Jin is, too.
It’s a part of existing within a relationship that Namjoon is used to seeing in his line of work, and something he thinks he should’ve looked for more when it came to Jungkook. Namjoon let a lot of things slide when it came to his perception of him, and it shows in the mess he’s now made of it all. Maybe if he’d paid closer attention without assuming the worst about the man…well, maybe they wouldn’t be where they are now.
Yoongi leads them to the samgyupsal place they frequent for team outings with Dr. Ahn and the gang, and the four men fall into an easy rhythm as they happily make their way through the most expensive set on the menu—sizzling pork belly with three layers, pork belly with five layers, intestines, a shit ton of roasted garlic and oyster mushrooms, and finally kimchi fried rice at the end, cooked in the leftover fat from all the meat they ordered.
They’re silent as they eat their fill, pints of OB dipping lower and lower until finally, when the group is collectively on its final spoons of fried rice, Yoongi decides to drop the bomb.
“So, let me get this right. You thought Jungkook was straight this entire time?”
Three sets of equally disbelieving eyes blink at him.
“Tell me you’re kidding,” Jin pleads. “Please tell me you’re messing with us. That kid literally bleeds in technicolor, Joon. How the fuck did you miss that?”
Hoseok remains silent, instead using the opportunity to scoop an extra spoonful of rice out of his boyfriend’s bowl directly into his own mouth. Jin immediately notices, eyes like a hawk when it comes to his food, but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he inches his bowl closer to his boyfriend and waits intently for Namjoon to answer.
And Namjoon doesn’t think he even knows where to begin—from the first time he met Jungkook? The time he thought he’d uncovered something monumental when he thought Jungkook was a sperm donor? Oh right, the time he was a complete asshole to perhaps the kindest man he’s ever met and made him cry in that same sitting?
“I thought he was out here fathering all these babies,” Namjoon admits. If he’s honest with himself, he knows he sounds miserable.
“Oh Joon,” Hoseok says softly, clicking his tongue in sympathy.
Namjoon sighs and takes a long gulp from his pint glass. The beer feels light and crisp against his tongue, a welcome reprieve from the despair weighing him down inside. He wants to say he doesn’t have any idea how any of this came to be, but even he knows better than to lie to himself at this age.
The facts were all in front of him: the way Jungkook always showed up in time for a delivery, how he was already so close with Jimin and Taehyung, his near obsession with birth plans and his dedication to getting it right for all his clients. Hell, he’d literally told Namjoon that Jihyo and Jeongyeon had hired him and it still hadn’t made its way through Namjoon’s thick skull.
Namjoon lifts his head at the sound of a beer getting refilled and sees it’s Yoongi topping off his glass.
“Did you talk to him?” he asks, and Namjoon just barely keeps from bursting into tears.
“I did. And it sucked. Because I suck. I was so fucking rude to him, you guys. He’s never going to want to see me again.”
Namjoon sighs and blows at the glass, trying to see if its surface tension will eventually fail and allow the beer to spill over. It doesn’t.
It reminds him of something his chemistry professor in undergrad had said once—that when executed correctly in perfect conditions, experiments will never fail. The catch was that those perfect conditions rarely ever existed in real life.
Namjoon thinks he’s beginning to understand what Dr. Park had meant when he’d said those very words.
“Come on, how bad could it have really gone?”
Namjoon really wishes Jin hyung hadn’t asked.
He retells exactly what he’d said to Jungkook just days before, wincing a little as each jaw in front of him drops at the words he’d said.
We are not the same.
Don’t you dare lump us together like that.
I’m not the one whoring myself out for money.
Fuck. Namjoon was a dick and he knows it. In the moment he’d believed he was doing Jungkook a favor, doing him a solid and opening his eyes to the way he’d just end up hurting the people he was using. And now it turns out he’d been hired by those very people to be their pillar of strength and last line of defense in some of their most vulnerable moments.
Jeon Jungkook was just out here doing his best to get by and Kim Namjoon was an idiot, completely undeserving of any sort of forgiveness.
“Taehyung told me he just started at the agency,” Yoongi says after a beat. He sets down his chopsticks and looks Namjoon in the eye before continuing. Namjoon, for the first time in awhile, can’t read what his best friend’s eyes are trying to say.
“Apparently they’ve been friends for years after meeting in art school, and Taehyung was the one to help Jungkook get the job a few months ago. Jungkook doesn’t have any plans like Taehyung or Jimin to get any kind of midwife licensure because he’s happy being a doula for now. He gets more of a rush from being around babies that in turn helps his artistic output. Or at least that’s what Taehyung said.”
“Fuck,” Namjoon breathes. Jin and Hoseok repeat it right after, both looking to each other and communicating telepathically before turning back to Namjoon.
“We don’t trust you anymore so we need to fix this,” Hoseok declares. Jin nods firmly beside him and Namjoon swears he sees them bump fists out of the corner of his eye.
“Guys, stop it,” Namjoon says. “I’m just going to find a time with him where I can apologize and hope he hates me a little less after it.”
“I can’t tell if you’re stupid or just really that oblivious,” Yoongi says, voice deceivingly cold.
Hoseok pauses to consider. “If you put all this information together, hyung, it really just points to our Namjoonie being an idiot.”
And because Jin never misses an opportunity to shade Namjoon: “Give it up to our favorite neighbor for fucking things up and making things awkward for everyone at Yulje now. You’re basically on par with that one NS resident who was so in love with his professor that he made her transfer to Sokcho.”
“Jin!” Hoseok hisses, clawing a hand over his boyfriend’s knee, digging his nails into the giant hole in Jin’s skinny jeans.
Jin yelps but quickly quiets down when he hears Hoseok mutter, that’s what you fucking get for wearing ripped skinny jeans past 30, you prick.
Namjoon thinks it’s safe to roll his eyes once again and does exactly that. If anything, he’s grateful for the way his friends can always make him smile after a rough day. Still, guilt still paws at the inner surface of his skin, where blood and tissue and sinew all meet and become one, an angry being that wants nothing more than to slide right off Namjoon’s bones, too embarrassed to call him their own.
“Namjoon-ah, that boy has the biggest fucking crush on you that I’ve ever seen with these old, decrepit eyes of mine. Why? I have no fucking clue. But he does. Yeah, you fucked up, but you might still have a chance.” Yoongi punctuates his words by tapping on the table in steady beats, progressively getting louder and louder.
“He’s right,” Jin adds. “Professor Ahn was spilling the tea while we were on-call together and he said his wife told him that Jungkook likes you.”
Namjoon doesn’t understand what he’s hearing. Surely he’s blown his chances by now. There’s no way Jungkook’s going to want him after Namjoon practically tore him a new asshole the other day.
Hoseok must be reading his mind, because he’s the next to jump in and affirm him. “It’s not too late. Fight for him, Joon.”
When Namjoon looks up at his three best friends, he sees the amalgamation of the tiny personality traits he’s acquired from each one of them over the years. Even greater, he sees the parts of them that he so badly wants to emulate for himself: Hoseok’s never-ending optimism, Yoongi’s all-or-nothing attitude, the way Jin fights like hell for what’s right.
If anything, he owes it not only to himself, but to his friends to try his best to repair things with Jungkook. Not only is he Namjoon’s friend, but he’s their friend, too. While Yoongi, Jin, and Hoseok are out here living to the best of their abilities, Namjoon doesn’t want to be the one to lower that bar.
He takes another sip of his beer and revels in the way it tastes—crisp and clean, almost like a new beginning.
If Namjoon had bet money on his and Jungkook’s next meeting occurring in the hospital, he might’ve lost it all.
A few weeks after their big samgyupsal outing, Yoongi passes Namjoon a scrap of paper with a time and an address scrawled on it. Namjoon squints at the chicken scratch, wondering what the hell it could be. He eyes the paper warily, as if it’s timed to blow him to smithereens, and the older man rolls his eyes as he punches Namjoon in the shoulder.
“Turns out Taehyung’s art show is the one Jungkook invited you to. You should come get your man.”
Namjoon freezes and narrows his eyes at the scrap. He reaches for the glasses he keeps in his pocket to see if it’ll help him understand the barely-legible writing, then thinks better of it when he remembers he has his contacts in.
“Can you just text this to me? I can’t read this.”
Yoongi does, and Namjoon smiles when he feels his phone buzz in his pocket a moment later.
It’s an ordeal trying to find an outfit that says he’s mature enough to be at an art exhibit, but young enough to keep the lonely older men at a firm six-foot radius from Namjoon. He settles on his favorite pair of loose-fitting olive trousers and a cream cashmere sweater, looping a big scarf around his neck. Namjoon tops it off with a long denim jacket and a baseball cap on the off chance he needs to make a stealthy exit.
He doesn’t know how Jungkook will react to seeing him, but he still needs to be prepared for every possible outcome. In his heart of hearts, he’s man enough to admit that while he doesn’t deserve it, he hopes Jungkook will still give him a chance.
When he gets off at the subway station down the street from the gallery, he’s surprised to find that the neighborhood is quiet yet bustling, filled with side streets and various shops and cafes made up of different degrees of earthy and artistic. A toy store specializing in handmade wooden toys, a puppy cafe entrenched in monsteras and moss, a brightly lit dine-in restaurant advertising deconstructed sandwiches, whatever those are.
Yoongi had mentioned offhandedly that the gallery was attached to Jungkook and Taehyung’s studio, and Namjoon finds that the vibe here matches what he knows of Jungkook. Not what Namjoon thinks of him, but the very facts Jungkook had been presenting to him the entire time.
Namjoon makes his way around to the gallery and takes a pamphlet from the usher situated outside the door. He stands off to the side to flip eagerly through the pages and find Jungkook’s feature, chuckling quietly to himself when he sees that indeed Taehyung and Jungkook’s profiles sit right next to one another.
Jeon Jungkook (29), sculpture & ceramics
Jeon is a graduate of the Seoul National University College of Fine Arts, boasting both a BFA and MFA in Sculpture. A co-owner of the VJK Gallery Space with Kim Taehyung (across), Jeon considers it his life goal to depict the complex range of human emotion through the lens of intimate, everyday moments.
For this exhibition, Jeon has prepared a glimpse into his thoughts regarding the nature of self and the varied perceptions of self, a collection of pieces working together in triads to reflect the placement of objects along Sigmund Freud’s structural model of the psyche.
Namjoon has always had a feeling Jungkook was intelligent, but fuck. He’s blown away when he finally makes his way around the space and experiences Jungkook’s work for himself. This collection of pieces ranges from towering and larger than life to smaller recreations of everyday household objects that leave Namjoon wanting to reach out and touch.
The way each piece is positioned feels fragile, all of them harmonious from far away yet fraught with tension as Namjoon pulls in closer to examine them individually. Some pieces feel so raw and complex, marred with purposeful fingerprints and imperfections while others remain smooth and polished. It’s hauntingly beautiful and startlingly clear what Jungkook is trying to express in his art.
Someone clears their throat from behind Namjoon, and he startles, assuming it’s a security guard there to tell him to back away from the artwork.
“I’m sorry,” he starts, then stops when he realizes who it is.
“Oh,” Jungkook says, fish mouthing at the sight of him.
The two of them blink at each other, unsure of where the lines stand outside now they’re on Jungkook’s turf.
Speaking of Jungkook, he looks good. He always looks good, but Namjoon doesn’t know where to rest his eyes tonight. All he sees is solid chest in the slim black turtleneck Jungkook has tucked into slim-fit trousers, topped off with a black blazer that leaves no room for discussion as to how large his biceps really are.
It isn’t fair to Jungkook, but Namjoon still wants.
More than that, though, he wants to make things right.
“Hi,” they both start, and Jungkook’s face breaks into a pretty smile that shows all his teeth.
“How’d you end up here?” Jungkook asks, and when Namjoon surveys his face, he doesn’t detect any underlying malice or ill will. Just curiosity.
“Yoongi told me I should come,” Namjoon admits with startling honesty. “And I wanted to see you.”
“Oh,” Jungkook repeats, scuffing a shiny dress shoe-clad foot against the ground.
Namjoon scratches his neck awkwardly, having focused too hard on the artwork since arriving to remember the speech he’d rehearsed in his mind on the way over.
Jungkook surveys Namjoon’s face for a moment, and Namjoon doesn’t think he’s ever felt so on the spot before. It’s like the sculptor can see into his soul, and he’s the only one who can mold Namjoon’s face into whatever expression he wants to see.
Something must convince him to take a chance, because soon enough Jungkook is grabbing one of Namjoon’s hands and leading him away.
“Let’s talk in my office,” he says simply, and Namjoon follows.
Jungkook’s office isn’t anything like what Namjoon expected, and in complete honesty, Namjoon isn’t even sure what he’d anticipated in the first place.
It has high ceilings just like the rest of the studio, and a sky light up above is the only source of light. It's almost completely empty save for a desk nearby. The rest of the space itself is open and free for both maximum creation and destruction.
Jungkook makes no move to turn on the lights, instead leaning back against the desk at the edge of the room to look up at Namjoon with hooded eyes. Finally, he can see something darker reflected in them—a little bit of hurt overwhelmed with a lot of doubt. Whether it’s in himself or in Namjoon, it isn’t clear.
“I need to apologize,” Namjoon starts, taking a step closer to Jungkook. From this angle, the moon shines right down onto Jungkook’s face, emphasizing his cheekbones and the shimmer of something right at the tip of his nose.
Jungkook nods but doesn’t say a word.
“I know this is on my terms—that I came here and bombarded you out of nowhere because I had to tell you I’m sorry, and I’m so sorry that I’m disrespecting you by doing so. But I needed to make it clear that I was an idiot. I wasn’t kind to you, when that’s all you were to me.” Namjoon takes a breath and hopes for something, anything from the younger man.
“You were a jerk,” Jungkook says, face smoothing into an expression Namjoon can’t quite decipher.
“I was a jerk,” Namjoon agrees. “And I’m sorry for assuming the worst about you when all you did was show me how kind you were and what a huge heart you had for people. It didn’t make sense in my brain, you know? How can he be so lovely, and how do I equate that with this persona I’m making up in my head?”
Jungkook flinches, but Namjoon presses on.
“It turned out I didn’t need to do that at all. I didn’t take the time to consider who you were and it hurt you so deeply, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I wanted to tell you how fucking sorry I am,” Namjoon grits, hand tightening into a fist of its own accord. He’s so fucking angry with himself, so fucking frustrated at how oblivious and self-centered he can be, that it makes his blood boil.
Tears blur Namjoon’s vision and he inhales shakily to regain some semblance of control over his senses. If the sounds Jungkook makes just a few feet away are any indication, he seems like he’s in the same boat.
“You don’t have to say anything, I promise. I just hope I haven’t made an unsafe environment for you at work and if you want to report me to the hospital director, I get it, I deserve it and I won’t fight back. I just hope you—fnjfgndkg.”
Namjoon’s cut off from continuing his soliloquy when a pair of lips are suddenly attacking his own. He hadn’t noticed Jungkook approaching him with the way he’d been trying so hard to keep his tears from falling, and finally they fall, mingling with Jungkook’s as they kiss beneath the moonlight. Namjoon’s slow to move his lips in response, but when he does, he takes the time to map out the entirety of Jungkook’s mouth, savoring every sweep of his tongue against Jungkook's.
“You fucking idiot,” Jungkook says through his own tears when he finally pulls away. “I could never feel uncomfortable around you, are you kidding? I like you so much.”
Namjoon’s brain short-circuits and reboots itself and he still has no clue what Jungkook is saying. In the meantime, Jungkook rests his forehead against Namjoon’s own, seemingly staring directly into his soul. Namjoon tucks his hands inside Jungkook’s blazer and anchors himself to the feeling of holding Jungkook’s tiny waist within his fingers.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Namjoon whispers against Jungkook’s mouth, closing his eyes to the way Jungkook blinks more tears down his cheeks.
Namjoon’s always believed in the cathartic nature of rain, but perhaps what he’s stumbled upon is the next best thing.
“Stop saying that. I forgive you, Joon. With everything I have.”
Namjoon presses another kiss to the corner of Jungkook’s mouth and savoring the salt of his tears against his own lips.
“I’m sorry,” Namjoon repeats. “I’m so sorry.”
Jungkook doesn’t bother responding this time, closing his eyes and breathing Namjoon in. He isn’t even looking at him and yet Namjoon feels like he’s on display for Jungkook to take apart piece by piece with capable hands.
“You’re being way too easy on me, Jungkook-ah. I don’t deserve it,” Namjoon says, because it’s true. He doesn’t.
“You don’t,” Jungkook agrees. “But I want to give you a chance because I believe in you. You’re a little aloof, a lot oblivious, but you mean well. My mom always said that character is forged in the fire and shown in the flames, which was her way of saying we should only make judgments once we’ve considered all the possibilities.”
Jungkook moves his hands down to meet Namjoon’s that are still locked on his waist, and intertwines their fingers before pulling away to create some distance between them. Not losing any tightness in his grip, Jungkook leads Namjoon for the second time tonight, this time to join him on the soft leather sofa that had been just steps away this entire time. Namjoon had missed it completely while his focus was on Jungkook alone.
“Have you ever heard the story of how Dr. Jang and Professor Ahn got together?” Jungkook asks, suddenly changing the subject.
Namjoon’s struggling just to keep up, but shakes his head obediently. This couple, thankfully, he had known about. The few times he’s had to help out in the ER, the nurses had always been gossiping about the surprise romance between the sole GS resident and the one pediatric surgeon within the Yulje Hospital system.
It had made sense at the time, since it seemed like Dr. Jang had been scrubbing in on all of his surgeries while the rest of her fathers in general surgery teasingly complained.
Namjoon’s joined them for lunch in the cafeteria from time to time, what with Professor Ahn being best friends with Professor Yang. Namjoon really isn’t the most perceptive person, as evidenced by this entire series of unfortunate events with Jungkook, but he did think the way they held each other’s pinkies under the table was really fucking cute.
“I had lunch with Dr. Jang the other day and she told me about their meet-cute when I was complaining about you. Oops,” Jungkook says, aiming for nonchalant with a shrug. The way his ears flush red in an instant give him away immediately.
Namjoon smiles encouragingly, not wanting to overstep and embarrass Jungkook even further.
“I want to be like her. She said Professor Ahn didn’t give her the time of day before she confessed. Like, she didn’t know at the time that he was in love with her too, but he just…wasn’t very nice. He had a lot going on and she respected that. She didn’t go too much into detail, but she just said that his actions always told her that he was a good person.
“And that’s how I feel about you. The reason I want to give you a chance is that outside of this one isolated incident, you’ve always treated me well. You’re always caring for everyone, whether they’re a nurse or patient or janitor. We all make mistakes, right?”
“Still,” Namjoon argues. “I didn’t…I didn’t treat you well at all.”
Namjoon hates to admit it, but it’s true. He knows he was cruel, and now it’s time to be honest, with both Jungkook and himself.
“I was really shattered when you said all that, hyung. Like, I had this huge, raging crush on you, right? It felt really obvious. I had no idea what you were talking about and it didn’t make sense that you could be so mean when I’ve always just seen you…so kind. So funny. Someone I loved being around.”
Namjoon visibly cringes when he hears his words parroted back to him and Jungkook laughs.
“I’m sorry,” Namjoon repeats solemnly. “I don’t deserve you being so nice to me now. Shouldn’t you hate me? I would hate me.”
Jungkook pauses and shrugs. “Let me be the judge of that. I think I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay,” Namjoon finally agrees, letting out a breath he was definitely holding.
“I feel like I know you pretty well at this point, Namjoon-ssi, but I’d like for you to have the chance to get to know me, too. That way you know what you’re getting yourself into if we do decide to date, since that’s the intent of this. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll still be friends. Does that sound fair?”
Jungkook lifts an eyebrow and Namjoon bursts out laughing.
“Why do you need to make it sound like we’re on a game show? This isn’t Love is Blind, oh my god. We can take it as we go, Jungkook-ssi,” Namjoon replies, matching Jungkook’s sudden formality with his own. “There’s no pressure on you either way.”
Jungkook moves his hand closer to Namjoon’s, looking up at him once for an okay before hooking Namjoon’s pinky with his own.
“I know,” he says, smiling so wide that Namjoon can see his dimple. “I trust you.”
Namjoon doesn’t feel the burning need to correct him this time.
When Momo finally does make it back to Yulje, this time in labor and with her husband in tow, Jungkook is already waiting for her at the nurse’s station, caught in conversation with his new boyfriend—Dr. Kim Namjoon, OB-GYN, double board certified in Surgery and Obstetrics & Gynecology.
“Hey you buffoons! Did you guys figure out your shit yet?” Heechul calls as they walk over to sign in with Yoongi, and Jungkook laughs something bright and beautiful right into Namjoon’s ear.
“Does everyone and their mother know about us?” Namjoon asks, raising an eyebrow at his sweet, lovely boyfriend. He tightens his hold around his waist and chuckles when Jungkook starts to elbow his way out.
“It’s not that hard to figure out,” Yoongi deadpans. “I fucking hate you two. Please stop defiling my work station before I call HR.”
Jungkook giggles and turns to press his face against Namjoon’s shoulder—Jin and Hoseok’s PDA quota be damned. Namjoon squeezes his hip and finally lets go to reach over and grab Momo’s chart, pulled and prepared the moment she’d called and notified Namjoon that she and Heechul were on their way.
“You guys are so sweet,” Momo says happily, almost in a daze. Namjoon feels a pang of sympathy for her, knowing full well that in a few hours she’s going to be feeling a solid pain of 1,000 on a scale from one to ten.
“You got the birth plan?” Namjoon asks his boyfriend, and Jungkook shoots him a wide smile and thumbs up in response.
“I’m always prepared, hyung. Heechul hyung said he’d kill me if I wasn’t.”
Heechul guffaws from where he’s holding his still smiling wife. “I never said I’d kill you. Just that I know people who could.”
Yoongi gets Momo and Heechul all checked in and Namjoon takes a moment to watch Jungkook in action,making note of the way he runs through an abbreviated version of their birth plan before bumping fists with Momo in a secret handshake Namjoon’s never seen before. He spies pure unadulterated trust in her eyes, and something in him feels proud to know that it’s all directed to his boyfriend, Jeon Jungkook, arguably the best person in the entire world.
Jungkook shoos the couple away to their hospital room and bets it’ll be five minutes on the dot before Yoongi follows after them to start hooking Momo up to all the monitors in her room. Namjoon sets a timer on his phone and laughs when Yoongi gets up when the timer reads 4:59.
"Hyung," Jungkook drawls as soon as Yoongi's out if sight.
Namjoon lifts an eyebrow in question, unsure of what Jungkook will say when he spots the mischievous glint in his eyes.
"What does this leave me at? Is this my ninth baby now?" Jungkook gestures a pregnant belly with his hands, and Namjoon snorts.
"Hopefully your ninth and your last. I don't think either of us could keep."
"Maybe one day, though," Jungkook murmurs.
Namjoon lifts his head from his charts to see a shy smile on Jungkook's lips. "Maybe," he says, and Jungkook beams.
When it’s finally time for Jungkook to join the couple and for Namjoon to do his customary checks, they get up to do it together. It feels fucking amazing to walk down the halls to go deliver another baby with his boyfriend in tow, Jungkook’s smaller pinky clutched in his.
Namjoon wouldn’t give it up for the world.