Series: The Trophy Wife
Genre: AU, mpreg
Disclaimer: I don't own anything apart from the story. Please don't kill me.
Summary: It’s been four weeks since Changmin left and Yunho is running out of time. A letter from Changmin’s divorce attorney arrives, sending Yunho to the remotest place he can think of out of desperation and the need to hide from a reality he is not ready to face. But even in the most desperate of places, hope remains.
AN1: OHMYGOD THIS IS LONG... I wish I was kidding... I really do...
AN2: Unbeta-ed as usual and all mistakes are mine :O
The relief that pours through Yunho is indescribable, though with it comes the unwelcome pang of uncertainty. Finding Changmin is one thing, but will he be able to convince his wife not to leave him?
To convince him to forgive him?
Yunho slowly gets out of the car, ignoring his luggage in the back as he crosses the short distance to the front door, finding it unlocked as he enters the house. It is silent, and even after almost a month, he has not lost his ability to sense his wife’s presence, and he knows Changmin isn’t home.
So this is where his wife means. A long ago conversation plays on the edges of his memory, and he recalls his stunning wife smiling at him as he straddles his lap. The reason why it’s slipped his mind is because mere minutes later, he had splayed the teenager over the outdoor table, swallowing down his length that had popped out over the top of those low slung boxers that were holding on by a prayer and not much else.
“Everything I am is yours.”
Those words are now resounding in his mind, and he realises that Changmin says those words again on the afternoon of their fight.
”Everything I am has always been yours.”
Yunho walks slowly through the house, regretful that he has forgotten something so monumental so easily. He wonders if Changmin thinks he has forgotten since it’s taken him this long to come get him. And even then, it is fate that toys with him, landing him here by chance rather than by conscious choice.
But the important thing is that he is here. How is no longer of consequence.
He leans against the doorframe of the main sliding door that separates the living areas, leading from the formal sitting and dining area to the back where the kitchen and small family area is found. The tatami mats are set out neatly, not a rectangle out of place, and here, Yunho finds more evidence of his teenage wife.
Changmin’s iPod and headphones are next to a zabuton, along with a cellphone Yunho does not recognise. Changmin has been completely uncontactable via mobile, and Yunho suspects this might be why. His laptop is sitting opened on the zataku, and Yunho walks over, crouching down on his haunches and swiping the trackpad to turn it back on. He cracked Changmin’s password not long ago, and he is slightly heartened to find that it is still the same. It is actually a really bad password if Changmin had been worried about security.
It opens to a letter that Changmin is working on. A letter clearly addressed to his divorce attorney.
Tell my husband that I will give him one more month to find me.
But that is the only line that makes sense in the letter. There is a large gap, as if Changmin had pressed the enter key several times, the cursor is blinking, indicating where Changmin had stopped. The font here is at least twice the size of the earlier sentence.
I don’t want this. Why hasn’t he found me? I love him but I hate him. I hate him for making me hurt but he’s the only one who can fix the pain. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t fjklsdacsmlimfhiljmadjs
Changmin doesn’t want this divorce.
Yunho sits down heavily on the tatami mat, staring at the screen and the jumble of letters at the end, recognising a frustrated keyboard smash when he sees it. His thoughts are flitting about madly, not knowing what to do. This is entirely his fault. His doing. His young pregnant wife is here, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for Yunho to get his shit together, all by himself.
It is a bitter pill to swallow, knowing how much he has hurt the innocent young man. He should have known Changmin would be here. He should have tried harder to search for him. He should have just dropped everything and come looking for him personally weeks ago instead of depending on other people.
Yunho is still mentally berating himself when he hears footsteps on the deck outside, recognising Changmin’s voice as he sings a heartbreaking love song.
Gaseumi teojige bulleodo neon deutji motani?
Sesang eoneu gose isseodo nan neoreul chajagalge
Sumi meotneun geu nari wado, nan neoreul gidaryeo
Dasi saranghago sipeo, michidorok geuriun
Changmin’s voice stutters, cutting off mid-note on the final word as he slides open the door to find his husband sitting in the middle of the room, staring at him with an expression that seems to be more surprise than anything else. He has one foot in the door, and his body is hidden behind it and the mountain of washing in his arms that he has just taken off the line, but he finds himself unable to move another step as he looks at Yunho. The man has aged a lot since he last saw him, actually looking his age, or even older. Lines that Changmin doesn’t remember Yunho having mar his forehead. There are deep bags under his eyes and his husband looks gaunt, his cheekbones and jaw standing out in stark relief in his face, much more than usual.
Unable to keep looking at Yunho’s face, and the sorrow that seems to be etched right into his skin, Changmin drops his eyes, taking in the way Yunho’s clothes are hanging off his frame, unable to stop the frown that flits across his face as he sees how thin Yunho has gotten.
Looking back up, Changmin sees Yunho pinching the bridge of his nose, and taking a deep breath. He finally moves, turning around and stepping into the house backwards, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. The wind is picking up, and his babies who had been protesting the lack of food earlier, appear to have quietened down completely. Whether they can sense his apprehension, he has no idea but he is grateful for their inactivity just this once. He slides the screen door closed with his foot since his hands are full, and stares at it, unwilling to turn around, unsure as to what to say. He has rehearsed their reunion so many times in his mind, but everything appears to have flown completely out of his head. The words that do eventually fall out is definitely not one that he’s rehearsed.
“Cutting it close, old man.” Changmin’s tone is cold and curt to his ears, but his defences are back up.
He straightens his shoulders, closing his eyes as he forces himself to calm down. He can feel a bead of sweat slowly trickling down his forehead and he suddenly feels overly warm. Maybe he shouldn’t have closed the door. The breeze would be welcome right about now, as the house suddenly feels extremely stifling. He is thankful for his choice of outfit right then, a simple matching top and bottom that one of the village women had dropped it off to him the previous day, saying she had made it to fit his body. The deep V of the vest-like top and matching long shorts sit cool against his skin, the material draping but not clinging.
Yunho has no idea what to say. He can almost feel the struggle within the teenager, but he has no idea what to do. Every time he opens his mouth, he seems to fuck things up. Perhaps silence is the way to go. An apology is on the tip of his tongue, but it is frozen in his mouth, as he is paralysed by the certainty that despite what he just read on Changmin’s laptop, that a wrong word from him might ruin this for them forever. His wife’s tone and choice of words are far from welcoming, and while Yunho hopes that Changmin is just retreating back behind his prickly outer shell out of some need for self-preservation, the weeks away from his young wife has made him very uncertain. Coupled with the fact that said wife is pregnant, he no longer knows what to do.
Jung Yunho, head of Jung Corporation International, admired by many and feared by even more is right now, completely at a loss for words thanks to his teenage wife.
He feels like an apology is probably the best way to start. But the word “sorry” refuses to come out. It is almost trite, the word that is, because sorry doesn’t even begin to make up for everything he has done.
Changmin must have been tired of waiting for a response because while Yunho contemplates his options, the teenager turns with his armful of washing, and heads to the sleeping quarters of the house, ignoring Yunho completely.
Yunho stares after him, knowing he should follow but he still has no idea what to do or say. He is almost tempted to call Jaejoong and face the blonde man’s ire if it means getting an in on how to deal with Changmin. He knows his wife is the grudge-bearing sort, and god only knows how long it will be before he gets over this. The possibility of never is pretty high.
Though as long as never means by his side, he can deal with never.
He flexes his jaw, as he swallows hard, raising up from the floor, walking slowly to their bedroom. He will have to play it by ear and take his cues from Changmin. He is a smart man, he can win his wife back somehow surely?
But then again, he has a feeling Changmin might be smarter.
The sliding door to their bed chamber is shut, and his hand sits hesitantly on it as he pauses, wondering whether to open the door or not.
Changmin can hear Yunho bumbling around outside. He is sure the man thinks he is being stealthy but the creaking floorboards give him away easily. He cannot help the walls that are forming around him, and even though he wants to knock them down, not wanting to sully this place that he considers a home with barriers between himself and his husband, it is almost out of his control. He no longer has just himself to think about but his two daughters. Hurting him is one thing, but what if Yunho hurts them? He cannot even bear the thought, and he knows it is probably unfair to think that way, but his trust in Yunho has been shaken.
It is not so much that Changmin thinks Yunho is untrustworthy in any aspect the way Yunho seems to believe so easily of him. He doesn’t doubt his husband would be true and faithful to him till the day he dies. He doesn’t doubt Yunho would give him whatever he asks for should it be within his ability. He trusts Yunho with his life.
But the way Yunho had been so quick to believe the worst of him. Those vile accusations out of nowhere. And the worst of it?
“Are the fucking brats even mine?”
That hurt. That really, really hurt.
And thus his trust in his husband falters a little because of it. It is there, but it is hanging by a tenuous thread.
His heart is one thing. He can swallow his pride and forgive Yunho for his absurd lack of faith in him.
But what of their children?
He hears the floorboards creaking again as Yunho presumably shifts his weight on it as he hovers outside the door, probably unsure as to whether to enter. Changmin sighs, steeling himself to be in the presence of his husband. He wants to crumble. He wants to drop everything and run into his arms. He wants to punch the man across the jaw once again because really, violence doesn’t solve anything but it’ll make him feel a little better at least. He hardens his resolve, unwilling to give an inch. Not just yet.
“I know you’re there.”
A cold voice that carries through the thin screen, making Yunho wince, but it prompts him into action and he pushes the door open. There’s a hushed whoosh, and Yunho stands in the doorway looking into the relatively sparse room.
Their bed is a modern version of the traditional futon, sitting on a raised platform about six inches off the floor instead of on the floor completely. The pile of washing sits on one end, while Changmin sits cross legged in the middle of it, faced away from him and calmly folding the laundry. Had Changmin not spoken to Yunho on two occasions now, he would have thought the teenager would not have known of his existence.
Yunho finally finds his voice even though it is nothing more than a hoarse croak. He sees his wife’s hands still over the washing pile. A few inexorable seconds pass before Changmin once again resumes his folding. The silence stretches between them, but he really has no idea what to say.
Changmin’s mind is whirling. Judging by Yunho’s expression earlier, he has come to the sad conclusion that Yunho had not found him because he knew he was here. He hopes his husband will prove him wrong, but somehow he doubts it. Perhaps it is just his natural instinct to protect himself again, to assume the worst because in that way, he can never be disappointed.
But again, it is way too late for him because even assuming the worst does not negate the bitter taste of disappointment with his husband.
“You’re here by chance aren’t you?”
His wife really is smarter than he is. To answer or not to answer? He is damned either way. Damned for running away, and damned for not knowing. There is no inflection in Changmin’s voice. It is utterly flat, and devoid of any emotion. The silence stretches on, the only sound is the soft rustle of clothing as the teenager continues to fold the clothes. He opens his mouth several times to answer, but nothing comes out. Changmin finally beats him to it.
“Please leave. You can sleep in the guest room next door. It might be a little dusty but I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“Don’t.” The word is like a shard of ice, almost dripping in scorn. “You’ve ruined this place for me. Don’t make it any worse. Just go.”
Yunho stares at the rigid back of the teenager, wishing he could see his face. From the brief glance he got, even though he was admittedly dazed, Changmin’s face has filled out. The cheekbones are still there but his cheeks are fuller, softer. But he doesn’t want to push it, and so he backs out of the room quietly, sliding the screen door shut as quietly as he can. He doesn’t move though, staying there, staring at the door, a hand against it, taking deep breaths.
Willing himself to step away.
But he cannot, and so he stays standing there, a hand against the door frame, imagining that he is touching his wife.
The second the door shuts, Changmin lets out a shaky breath. His chest is constricted with the suffocating feeling of holding in tears. He knows Yunho hasn’t left because he doesn’t hear the floorboards creaking either back to the living area or towards the bedroom next door. His babies are oddly quiet, and he places a hand over his belly, whispering under his breath, apologizing and coaxing them to show him some sign of life.
But he gets nothing.
Yunho has no idea how long he stands there, but he finally turns to leave, heading back out to the car to get his bags, but then deciding at the last minute to drive out to get some food. Changmin has no car, and he has no idea how his wife has been getting provisions.
Changmin is jolted from his bubble of self pity when he hears an engine start. The loud grunting noise of a heavy duty AWD that must have been the black BMW SUV he saw earlier gets him on his feet immediately. He can hear the gravel crunching as the car backs out and he stands up in a hurry, knocking over the pile of washing he had so painstakingly folded earlier, barely even giving it a second glance as the stack topples to the floor. He runs out of the room, racing through the house to get to the front, opening the door just in time to see the black SUV turn and tear out of the driveway in a cloud of fine sand and dust.
He stands there till the dust settles, till he cannot see the car any longer along the beach road running parallel to the sea. He isn’t aware he is crying till he feels the tell-tale tickle of a tear hanging precariously off his chin.
“You asked for this, didn’t you?”
His voice is soft, empty, too exhausted to give any more as he talks to himself.
“You told him to go.”
Changmin chews his bottom lip as more tears seep out.
“I didn’t want him to go… But I told him to go anyway.”
He lifts his hands, rubbing his palms tiredly over his eyes, wiping away the tears.
He leans against the door frame, staring at the empty driveway, looking at the deep tire tracks in the formerly unmarred surface. He rubs his hand over his belly. He has completely lost his appetite, but he knows he has to eat. The twins are normally very active when he hasn’t eaten, as if reminding him that he needs to eat for them too, but they are oddly quiet and he is starting to worry.
Feeling all alone, Changmin turns, closing the door quietly behind him, and he pads barefoot through the house, avoiding the creaky floorboards as is his habit. He has been there long enough to have memorised all its hidden creaks and squeaks.
But what use is all that without his husband?
The house he had once considered home is shattered. His illusions are gone.
Because it is not the house that is his home.
It is Yunho.
That feeling of desolation as he watches the car drive away morphs and changes into annoyance the further he walks into the house. By the time he reaches the kitchen, Changmin is angry. Angry with himself for not giving Yunho a chance, and angry with Yunho for giving up on him so easily.
Dishes and utensils slam around the kitchen as he makes himself an early lunch. The forlorn teenager is gone, and in its place is a rather pissed off pregnant young man.
He breaks into sudden laughter halfway through the meal, coughing and spluttering over simple meal of hot rice and seaweed soup. The self-awareness is a little slow in coming this time, but once it does, he cannot help but laugh. His own mood swings are making his own head spin. One minute he is crying, the next he wants to punch Yunho in the gut, and now he’s laughing hysterically over everything.
He is starting to feel a twinge of sympathy for Yunho. He can barely deal with himself in his pregnant state. It might be worse for his husband.
But then he shakes it off, mentally checking off all the things he needs to do before he packs up and returns home where he belongs.
With his husband.
Yunho stares in consternation at the rather sparse village grocer that he has come across. He can read the labels well enough, but he really has no idea what to do with the myriad of cans and packaged food beyond that. He knows how to grill fish and squid and other kinds of seafood, but Changmin is pregnant and he is sure he’s read somewhere that pregnant males and females should not eat much seafood because of mercury levels that can be found in them.
He can absolutely see Changmin’s horrified expression if he presents him with a plate of grilled fish. His wife’s vocal pitch can get rather high when irate and he can almost hear the screech and accusation of Yunho trying to poison him.
He paces the tiny grocery that amounts to little more than the corner convenience store back in Seoul. In fact, he is sure the corner convenience store back home is about twice the size of this place.
There is all manner of fresh vegetables though, and Yunho buys the lot, figuring that he can cook vegetables somehow. He also buys several packets of ramen to be used as a last resort although his last attempt at making it on his own resulted in Changmin doubled over in laughter because he had forgotten to put in the soup base.
And the teenager has never let him forget it.
Yunho sighs, knowing that their daughters would be married and Changmin would probably still bring up Yunho’s severe lack of judgment from a month ago, using it to his favour when it suits him.
Once satisfied with his purchases, Yunho loads the car up. However just as he is about to get into the SUV, a couple of older women accost him bearing gifts.
He smiles in welcome, recognising both women. They are neighbours of his caretaker and seem to enjoy treating him like a delinquent school boy. He tolerates it because he knows they do it out of affection rather than anything else.
“We were about to visit your young wife when we saw your car.”
“It’s about time you got here! What took you so long?”
“Stop being so nosey!”
“Don’t you want to know? They’re never here without the other and then suddenly a month ago, little Chami turns up all alone and looking like his world just ended. What did you do, you bad boy?”
“Don’t answer! It’s none of our business. I’m just glad you’re here to keep an eye on him. He keeps swimming and we keep nagging at him not to because he’s gotten so big.”
Both women turn narrowed eyes on him.
“You haven’t seen him?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And you haven’t noticed?”
To his bemusement, one of the tiny women literally jumps up to give him a resounding slap up the back of the head.
“Don’t you have eyes, boy?”
“Good grief. You’re hopeless. My husband was just as hopeless god rest his soul. I think he only noticed we had kids when I popped out number five.”
“Stop speaking ill of the dead! That’s my brother you’re gossiping about!”
“He won’t care.”
“But I do!”
Yunho looks back and forth between the two bickering women, unwilling to cut in, but also knowing he has to. He clears his throat once, hoping to get their attention. It doesn’t work, so he tries again, and a third time, and he finally gets lucky on the fourth.
“Is there something wrong with your throat?”
“We just gave your wife some lovely lemons. Ask him to make you a hot lemon drink. Take a spoonful of crushed ginger just before and then wash it down with the drink and you’ll be as right as rain.”
“I never understood that saying. What does right as rain mean anyway? I never thought rain was right. It’s just wet.”
“Stop being such a silly old woman! Can’t you see the boy is trying to get back to his wife?”
“Is that what he’s trying to do? I thought he was shopping for…” she trails off to look into the backseat of the car, “…vegetables? What are you going to do with all those vegetables?”
“Your wife won’t eat those. He says it makes him feel like a cow.”
“Well, he’s certainly on his way to being the size of one. Is he carrying two babies?”
“Good grief! He told us he’s carrying twins you batty old goat.”
“Here! We’ve been cooking for him. Take this to him. The food usually lasts two days but since you’re here, it’ll probably only last one. Come by here tomorrow and the same time and we’ll have more food for you.”
“You really don’t have to do that… I can cook.”
Both women make identical rude sounds before turning to each other and bursting into girlish giggles that are at complete odds with their wrinkled faces.
“Your wife needs proper food, not half cooked seafood.”
“They’re not half cooked!”
“That’s not how he tells it. He says it’s a good thing the fish is so fresh because if it wasn’t, he figures you would have poisoned both of you a long time ago.”
“He said that?”
Both women nod, smiling widely.
“He talks about me?”
“All the time. He mostly complains though. He doesn’t say much, don’t worry. But when we do see him and comment on anything, he will somehow manage to bring you into the conversation.”
“I don’t think he realises he does it.”
“Your wife misses you.”
“Here! What are you still doing here? Go and kiss and make up. I’d tell you to make babies but it’s clear you’ve already done that.” The woman lets out a cackle, coughing when her companion elbows her in the side and gives her a disgusted look.
“Just go before she starts telling you what the best way is to get male offspring. Your poor wife had to sit through it and I’m sure him saying he had to go puke was an excuse. A good one, but an excuse nonetheless and since you’re not pregnant, you can’t use it so just go before she starts!”
“And remember to come back here at the same time tomorrow.”
Yunho suddenly finds himself with a stack of bento boxes, and his nose is assaulted by a delicious aroma.
By the time he manages to shake himself from the utterly bemused stupor their chatter has put him into, both women are gone. They move quickly, surprisingly spry for their age, but then that seems to be the norm around these parts. He chuckles to himself, stacking the bento boxes on the passenger seat next to him carefully before he drives off back to his wife who apparently missed him, feeling a lot more cheery than when he left the cottage in the first place.
Changmin loves him.
Changmin misses him.
Which means that all that back at the cottage is just Changmin being his ornery self.
And Yunho certainly knows how to deal with ornery.
Changmin is washing up in the kitchen when he sees the cloud of dust coming up the road from the window. A black SUV materialises out of the dust and he almost drops the plate he is washing.
Why is Yunho back?
He stands still, ears perked, listening, and true enough, he hears the grunty engine cut just outside the house. He waits, hearing the slam of several doors, before he resumes washing, prepared to ignore Yunho.
Alright, so he is still a little miffed. So Yunho never really left, which means he is not giving up on him. Which means he can stop being angry with him about that. But then he has to stay just a little angry because Yunho made him cry. And he doesn’t have to be annoyed with himself for not giving Yunho a chance because clearly the man doesn’t know when to quit since he’s back.
Changmin growls under his breath, managing to utterly confuse himself with that crazy train of thought. He’s been suffering from memory lapses and confusion in the last week or so, and while he knows it is normal, what people affectionately call “baby brain”, he still hates it nonetheless.
He hates feeling out of control. He hates that his emotions are all over the place. He hates just not feeling himself.
Alright, that’s a good enough reason to be angry. Yunho doesn’t need to know he’s not really angry with him.
Why is he playing games?
“Oh for fuck’s sake! Shut up already in there. I’m pregnant and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
Changmin whirls around at the sound of Yunho’s confused voice, cheeks colouring slightly when he realises Yunho must have heard him berating himself. Great, add crazy to the list of defects he has thanks to being pregnant.
“Who are you talking to?”
“But I heard you say something.”
“You’re hearing things. It comes with age.”
“No, it comes with madness not age. And I’m perfectly fine.”
“Whatever you say, old man.”
The easy, mildly jousting banter they have always had falls between them as if the last month never happened. Changmin turns back to the dishes, chewing on his bottom lip, wondering if it really is that easy to be normal again, disbelieving and distrusting the ease even though he knows it is probably a fair indication as to where they both really are.
As he turns away from his husband, a sharp gasp reaches his ears.
Changmin turns back to Yunho warily, pasting on the haughtiest expression he can muster, quirking his eyebrow at his gaping husband whose attention appears to be centering around his mid-section.
“What now?” He asks, but he knows what it’s about.
“You’re so big!”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“No, seriously. You’re so big. You’re probably the same size as Jae now and he’s got eight weeks on you!”
“You’re getting senile. Trust you to remember Jaejoong is eight weeks ahead when you’ve clearly forgotten I’m carrying twins.”
“I haven’t forgotten.”
Changmin chooses to ignore the sudden softness around Yunho’s eyes as he looks at him, turning away once again to try for the third time to finish doing the dishes.
He feels rather than hears Yunho behind him, and his body stiffens.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Because I don’t want you to.”
“Because is not an answer, Changmin-ah. Why?”
Changmin almost snarls at Yunho’s transparent attempt at reasoning with him. It’s a trick that the older man uses to point out when Changmin behaves irrationally. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, he loathes his husband. When he cannot answer, he knows he is being illogical or at least, not being sensible.
And Changmin hates not being sensible.
So he hits below the belt. Way, way, way below the belt.
“Who knows where your hands have been. I saw those photos.”
There is a catch in Yunho’s voice, and Changmin swears under his breath. Fucking hell.
“You know which photos.”
His voice is about as cold as he feels. His hands move mechanically over the plate he has probably rinsed about three times now. The coldness is his own doing though, and really, he is kicking himself for it.
Yunho’s voice is soft, almost defeated, and Changmin hates it. He hates being the reason for it. He wants Yunho to fight with him. He wants that spark of life again. This whole situation is bizarre and completely unlike them and he is feeling dreadfully out of sorts. And thus, he goads.
“Of course you say that.”
“I believe you though.” His tone is light, airy even, almost jaunty. But it is also frosty and mocking. “Unlike you, I believe you when you say nothing happened. Why couldn’t you give me that same courtesy? Have I acted like a fucking whore in any way apart from the day we met?”
“But?” Changmin whirls around, a spray of drops landing on Yunho who barely flinches. “But?” Changmin pulls off the rubber gloves he is wearing, tossing them carelessly over the sink as he stalks his husband. He is standing at his full height now, gazing contemptuously down the edge of his slim nose at his husband who is backed up against the kitchen counter. He almost smirks at the look on Yunho’s face but he doesn’t. He needs them to be back to normal. He knows they are close to it if the early part of the conversation is any indication, but that knee-jerk need to assert dominance is coming over him, and for some reason, he wants to give in to it. The sanctity of this place has been tainted, but he has well accepted the fact that his home is where his husband is, and therefore he isn’t feeling too bereft over the loss.
Changmin’s voice is silky soft, and that in itself is a warning as he backs Yunho into the corner of the kitchen.
Yunho glances furtively up and down from Changmin’s closed off expression to the clear evidence of his pregnancy. He wants to touch, but he has a feeling Changmin might actually bite his hand off if he tried reaching out to touch his belly. He is really damned either way again right now. He didn’t mean for the “but” to come out but it does and the teenager has latched onto it like a dog with a bone.
“But, old man? Care to explain?”
“No, I didn’t mean that.”
“You always say what you mean.”
“And when did you suddenly lose this ability to speak what you mean? Have you changed so much in four weeks that yes means no and no means yes, now?”
“So that’s a yes?”
Yunho’s voice is forceful, louder than he intends but his wife is being an insolent brat, and if he guesses right, the teenager is doing it on purpose.
“So which is it?”
“Stop playing, Changmin-ah.”
“Playing?” Changmin cocks an eyebrow, looking so haughty that if Yunho didn’t know better, he would think the teenager descended from royalty. “I am not playing.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Oh, so you know me so well you’re making assumptions again? How did that work out for you the last time, old man?”
Without warning, Changmin spins on his heels and stalks away, pushing open the back door roughly.
Yunho’s voice cracks out like a whip, and Changmin can feel the word lashing him, and he freezes with a foot out the door.
This time the tone is slightly softer, but not by much. The command is there, the demand for him to turn around and face his husband. And he is damned if his hackles don’t raise at the tone. The man should be groveling and begging his forgiveness, not snapping his name out as if he is one of his fucking employees at work.
But then, the former supermodel admits to himself that he doesn’t want Yunho to beg or grovel. If he wanted a man like that, he would have been better off married to Micky. Everyone makes mistakes. That’s what makes them human. He knows Yunho is sorry. The man doesn’t have to say it. It’s written in his face, his disheveled clothes, and much slimmer body. Changmin isn’t exactly the apologising kind either, and to expect his husband to be one would be rather hypocritical.
He pivots slowly on his heel, eyes flashing darkly as he sees his husband, a hip against the kitchen counter, and his own damnable eyebrow raised.
“I’m not your servant. Don’t speak to me like that.”
“You are my wife.”
“I’m still your wife by the skin of your fucking teeth. What do you want?”
“I’m trying to apologise.”
“You’re doing a damn shit job of it, old man.”
“You’re not exactly being very cooperative.”
Changmin lets out a sound of disbelief that really leans more towards disgust. He steps back into the house and slams door shut behind him, the door bouncing off the opposite end, so it is slightly ajar. He folds his arms across his chest, resting lightly on his belly as he glares at his husband.
“What do you want me to do? Stand here and let you kiss my feet? You’re more likely to get my foot down your throat if you tried something like that.”
“I’d rather get something else of yours down my throat…” comes the husky reply.
Changmin colours immediately, damning himself as he brings his hands down, fisting them by his sides as he stares at the now smirking older man. Goddamn if he doesn’t want to wipe that cocky expression clean off his face. Damn him. Damn his hormones. Damn his traitorous body because he can feel himself reacting immediately to not just Yunho’s words but his tone, and the way he is now casually lounging against the kitchen counter, looking deceptively uncaring.
“Cat got your tongue?”
Changmin lets out a howl of frustration as he finally gets moving, storming past Yunho, shrugging a stray hand off his arm angrily as he seeks refuge in the bedroom. He is never one to run from a confrontation but he is this close to jumping Yunho on the kitchen counter and he really doesn’t want that. Damn it. The man has to suffer a little bit more.
Why is he cutting off his nose to spite his face?
He blames it on his hormones. On whatever craziness that’s flowing through his body right now. He sits right next to the sliding door, panting slightly, trying to catch his breath. His cock is in full bloom for the first time in a month, and the heaviness is pissing him off. His body’s reaction to his husband has always been his downfall. It was his downfall the day they met and he really should have paid attention to the warning signs. If he is going to win this battle, he is going to have to control it somehow. Proximity is the worst. That and the way Yunho speaks to him. That underlying hint of command that Changmin abhors, yet it turns him on no end which in turn pisses him off and it’s a rather interesting cycle because it adds just that little bit more to their relationship. He cannot imagine being with a man younger than Yunho.
No, correction. There is no way anyone but his husband who can control him.
And yes, he wants to be controlled. He wants to be dominant, but he also wants to be put in his place when he goes too far. To be reeled back in. It is a rather strange way to behave, but that’s just how he is. That need to belong to someone, having not really belonged to anyone since he lost his family.
He hears the boards creak just outside, and he hears Yunho settling down on the other side of the rather flimsy door. There is no lock, and he knows his husband can burst in whenever he wants, but he also knows Yunho won’t do that.
Not yet anyway.
Not unless Changmin goads him further.
Will he or won’t he? That’s the question isn’t it.
They both sit there in silence, Changmin willing his erection away, but it doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. After lying dormant for almost a month, his body is suddenly raring to go. It’s amazing really how quiet and unreactive his body has been in the last four weeks, considering this is supposedly the “horny trimester”. Well, tough for him.
He stretches out his legs in front of him, rearranging himself to ease the pressure on his balls as he leans back against the wall. His eyes are fluttering shut when a low voice comes through the door.
“I know you’re there, Changdola. I know you’re back. I know you’re not angry anymore, and for that I am grateful. I also know that you know how sorry I am for this mess.”
Changmin doesn’t say anything, simply waiting.
“I love you. Perhaps more than you can imagine, but that’s alright by me because we have the rest of our lives for me to convince you of it. I cannot excuse my behaviour that afternoon, but I never stopped loving you.”
Changmin’s breath catches at his husband’s words, a hand moving against his will to press against the door. Alright, maybe he didn’t want the groveling and the begging, but Yunho’s words wash away any lingering misgivings he might have. He is self-conscious about his strong feelings for the older man, having lived so long thinking that it is one-sided, and for Yunho to say it out loud, as clear as day, so that no one can misunderstand him, is causing him to drop his walls once again. They don’t say the words often, almost never in fact, so the words now are to be cherished. That small waver of trust in his husband is slowly being regained. It is not complete, but it will be.
Yunho can see the outline of his wife’s hand against the screen door, and he lifts his own palm to press against the silhouette, heartened when his brat doesn’t pull his hand away. He knows then for sure that he has been forgiven.
The seconds tick by, and Yunho’s features twist into a knowing smirk as he figures out a way he knows will get to the pregnant teenager.
“And now that we’re both in accord over that, I want my wife back. I want the exasperating teenager who is constantly at war with me in my own house. The house that’s supposed to be a place of tranquility, but I’d have it no other way. The very same teenager whose beautiful mouth I miss so much. The mouth that moans so wantonly when I slip my fingers into your tight little hole. I miss the filthy words that come spilling out as I fuck you into the bed. I miss —“
Yunho rears back as the door is suddenly wrenched aside, a furious Changmin glaring disbelievingly down at him, his cheeks red, eyes overly bright, chest heaving slightly.
“Fucking hell! Are you mad? Can’t you leave me alone? Just go away! Go get acquainted with your hand or something if you’re that horny. Just stay the fuck away from me!”
He draws his foot back and actually kicks Yunho squarely in the gut, but the older man can feel that he pulled his kick back at the last minute, which makes him want to laugh, but he knows if he does he will probably get a real kick. He watches as the irate teenager once again blows past him, storming down the hallway out to the back of the house.
Dark chuckles trail after Changmin as he is finally able to leave the suddenly really, really, really tiny confines of the cottage. Damn his husband. Damn his arrogant ass.
The next few days are a bit of a cat and mouse game. And unfortunately for him, Changmin acknowledges that he is definitely the mouse in this particular situation. He spends most of his time trying to dodge Yunho. The man hasn’t tried to touch him again, but he doesn’t need to. The heat in his eyes and the innumerable suggestive words would be sufficient to start a fire on the wettest of wood.
Speaking of wet wood.
Changmin is getting increasingly disgusted by the amount of underwear he is going through. He is stubbornly refusing to reacquaint himself with his own hand, although he knows damn well that Yunho is getting acquainted with his own if all the sounds coming from the other room are anything to go by. He knows the damnable man is doing it on purpose. Who the fuck yells that loudly while masturbating anyway? Three times, four times a day. What the actual fuck? He wants to take a bat to his husband’s head. A bat in the form of his cock if he’s being truthful.
But Changmin is nothing if not stubborn.
He knows he is being completely irrational, and Yunho is absolutely his for the taking should he want to, but he feels like he is rewarding Yunho or something if he gives in.
Or showing weakness.
How the fuck is he going to get out of this without clawing his skin off from sheer sexual frustration? He is also getting increasingly snappy, completely on edge most of the time. The twins have been really quiet since their father arrived, and Changmin has no idea why. It was almost a full 24 hours before he felt them again, and even then it’s a light flutter, the kind that they started with all those weeks ago, and not the rather firm kicks and jabs that he’s gotten used to.
And to make matters worse, Yunho has apparently forgotten his fucking underwear. Really, who does that? Since a good ninety percent of the clothes he’d packed actually belong to the older man, Changmin graciously offered the man a few pairs of underwear, only to be rewarded for his generosity by a wicked smirk.
“I’m on holiday. It’s nice to be free and easy.”
“You’re going to scare away the locals.”
“No one’s looking except you, Changdola.”
“I’m not looking!”
“Really now? Then how do you know I’m not wearing underwear?”
Well, he got him there.
Instead of responding, Changmin swallows his splutters, throwing the handful of neatly folded boxer shorts into Yunho’s face before once again stalking back to the bedroom to lie naked on the bed and hope the cool breeze will take the heat from his body.
It never works.
Just that morning, Changmin had seen Yunho out of the corner of his eye bouncing happily in his loose shorts as he whistles a tuneless song, jangling the car keys noisily as he heads out to the car.
“Where are you going?”
“To pick up some food from those nice old ladies.”
“You’re not going out like that!”
“That’s my name.”
“Are you serious?”
“Well, I’m hungry and I know you’re hungry. And yesterday when I was late meeting them, they blistered my ear for ten extra minutes because I am apparently not looking after my wife well enough so yes, I am serious.”
“You can’t go out like that! Let me go.”
Changmin gets up with a long groan from the tatami mat at the effort as his back twinges, blinking in surprise when he finds Yunho suddenly hovering by his side, trying not to look anxious.
“Stop looking like that. I’m perfectly fine.”
“You shouldn’t be moving.”
“I’m not an invalid you idiot!”
“Well, you still shouldn’t move too much.”
“I’m pregnant, not a vegetable. Now give me those keys.”
“For fuck’s sake, you are not leaving the house like that.”
Yunho shakes his head in wonderment.
“You know, if our daughters come out swearing like sailors, I know exactly who to blame.”
Changmin merely shrugs.
“So their language might be a little colourful. No big deal. Give me those damn keys.”
“Then I’m coming with you!”
And the second the words leave his mouth, he finds his personal space overcrowded by a sudden show of masculine dominance as Yunho manages to press him up against the wall.
“Not with me, Changdola.”
The timbre of Yunho’s voice drops a couple of notches, and Changmin suddenly feels inflamed. He tries to draw breath, but every single inhale brings him the scent that is uniquely Yunho. A slightly sweaty Yunho, and Changmin wants a taste.
Yunho nuzzles along Changmin’s sharp jawline, his body not actually touching his wife anymore. There is a sliver of space between them, and it is only his nose that is touching the trembling teenager. He can feel the younger man shaking, and he knows why. His wife is intelligent, rational, and never afraid of taking his pleasure, so why is he being so skittish now?
Changmin can feel Yunho breathing the word out rather than actually speaking it. His hot breath fans the flames already licking through his body from his husband’s proximity, and it takes an almost inhuman amount of willpower for Changmin to shove the older man away from him.
“Remember what, old man?”
Changmin knows he’s made a mistake when a rather wolfish grin transforms his husband’s already handsome features into something just that little bit more.
“You always come first, Changmin-ah.”
It takes a couple more seconds before the words actually register in the teenager’s mind, and he swallows the moan bubbling up his throat and threatening to erupt and just end it for him right there. So he growls instead, two hands flat against Yunho’s chest as he shoves the man back further away again. He snatches the keys from the chuckling older man, punching him glancingly in the upper arm as he leaves, running through the house, and out to the car.
He doesn’t start breathing properly till he is well on his way along that beach road towards the little village to meet those nice women.
Yunho stands in the doorway, staring at the black SUV tearing down the road at high speed. He tamps down the prickle of worry, trusting and knowing Changmin will not do anything to harm himself. He smirks to himself as he pulls off the tee shirt he is wearing, draping it over a shoulder. He runs a hand down his belly, feeling the ridges of his abdominals, and then back up, chuckling to himself. He has lost weight, and the thin layer of fat is almost gone, but the muscles are still there, more than ever in fact because spending time at the gym is just one of the ways he whiles away his time as he thinks about his wife over those long four weeks.
He has seen Changmin staring at him, practically drooling when he thinks he isn’t looking. But Yunho is hyper aware of the teenager, just as he knows his wife is hyper aware of him.
“You’re not winning this one, brat.”
AN: I wanna cry because there's going to be a part 3... OFFICIALLY the longest damn oneshot/chapter I have written ever in any fandom. I'm not gonna post this to the comms till I actually finish it ;;
Part 3 - Seobangnim...