Work Text:
"You have to stay still," Taeil murmurs as he balances on his toes, eyes fixed on the pastel green bow tie he's trying to fasten around Mark's neck. He's had yet another growth spurt over the winter, and is taller than Taeil now. They've been equal in height for the longest time, and Mark had even complained he'd be stuck at his dad's height, doomed to be short forever. Taeil had thrown himself at Mark, then, tickled him until Mark was laughing hysterically, begging for mercy.
"You're not short," Youngho had told him later that night, when Mark had gone to bed and they were watching The Blue Planet on Netflix. Taeil had looked at him, squinting. "You're just vertically challenged; pocket-sized!" Youngho, too, had suffered from Taeil's merciless tickling until he was screaming for mercy. Taeil might be a little bit on the shorter side, but in a tickle war, he always comes out as the winner.
"It's difficult when you're trying to suffocate me," Mark complains, pouts as he looks at himself in the mirror hanging on the wall behind Taeil. When Mark raises his arm to ruffle his black hair, it throws Taeil off balance again and he almost, almost lets go of the bow tie. He manages to regain his balance, gritting his teeth.
"Lee Minhyung stand still for just a minute, please," Taeil says through his teeth, ignoring Mark's whining as he pulls at the ends of the bow tie again and manages, this time, to fasten the clip. Exhaling, Taeil pulls the collar of Mark's white dress shirt over the silk of the bow tie. He makes sure that the bow tie is fastened properly, pulling a bit at it to center it; smiling to himself. Taeil gets properly down on the soles of his feet, pulling back a couple of steps to take in the full sight.
Mark's suit is plaid, with a blue and green pattern; the shades of green matching his bow tie on purpose. The suit is very untraditional, Taeil had been slightly against it at first when Mark had shown him the picture of it on the Internet, telling Youngho and Taeil that he wanted that suit. Youngho had been down at once, of course, eccentric and enthusiastic about Mark's first prom in a magical suit just like that one. Taeil, however, had tried to suggest a couple of black, classic suits, as well as some navy blue ones, but Mark had been impossible to convince, so Taeil gave in. It was Mark's prom after all, and it was he who was going to wear the suit so he might as well get a suit he would want to wear. His dress shoes, however, are black; the only black Taeil managed to get through. A small victory.
The suit is by a designer Taeil has never heard of; too expensive for a high school prom, but Mark had managed to find someone who sold theirs used, and with a little bit of help from Mark's classmate, Mina, it now fits Mark like a hand in a glove. Taeil takes a step to the left so Mark can see himself properly in the full-length mirror. He looks pleased, Taeil thinks, smiling at Mark, even though his attention is fully on his own reflection. Mark looks so grown, even for his seventeen years; looks like an adult in the suit and bow tie, with his hair carefully styled. Taeil sighs fondly, quietly as warmth blossoms in his chest as Mark turns to him, grinning toothily.
Where did his tiny toddler son go?
"You look very nice," Taeil says, throat a little tight, eyes stinging a bit as he walks over to brush invisible dust off of the shoulders of his suit. Mark rolls his eyes at him, but lets Taeil pamper and fuss around him.
"Let's go show Papa."
Mark nods excitedly.
-
In retrospect, Taeil thinks he should have warned Youngho before he brought Mark down from his room on the second floor. Youngho, who had peacefully been putting the last, finishing touches on the boutonnières in the living room had not heard them enter the room — something Taeil thinks is impossible because Mark and his big feet always sound like a flock of cows when descending the stairs — and so when Mark had called for him, a beaming "Papa, look!", Youngho had been defenseless.
Taeil watches as his husband goes through a million emotions in a couple of seconds, until he breaks down in tears. Mark looks thoroughly confused, a frown on his face, arms hanging limply down by his sides as he looks at Youngho. Thank heavens he had put down the boutonnière before turning around, Taeil thinks, shaking his head, looking affectionately over at the crying Youngho. He's trying so hard not to cry, Taeil knows; chest filled with fondness for Youngho and the way he's such an easy crier.
"Do I look bad?" comes Mark's voice from Taeil's side, and the words have barely left Mark's mouth before Youngho shakes his head vehemently, eyes wide.
"Of course not, baby," Youngho says in English, voice trembling. Taeil watches, smiling as Youngho crosses the floor and throws himself at Mark, wrapping his arms tightly around him as he murmurs soft, soft praises. They're not the same height — Taeil doubts they'll ever be, Youngho is simply too tall — but Mark has gotten taller, and Youngho can no longer press Mark's face into his chest. Youngho hasn't been able to curl around him and protect Mark from the world for a long, long time.
"I'm not a baby," Mark protests, voice muffled as he speaks into Youngho's shoulder. Taeil steps forward to pat Youngho's back through the white t-shirt he's wearing, resting his small hand between Youngho's shoulder blades briefly to feel his rapidly beating heart, the trembles of his soft sobs.
"Dad, help me," Mark pleads, looking at Taeil with wide, confused eyes.
"Babe," Taeil says, laughing softly while continuing to pet Youngho's broad back. Youngho doesn't react save for a louder sob. Softer, kinder, Taeil tries again, "Youngho, doesn't our son look nice?"
In lieu of answering, Youngho nods feverishly against the side of Mark's head, his own black-and-grey hair bouncing with the motions. The man bun's glory days are long over, but Youngho still, and Taeil quotes, "rocks it," because it keeps his long-ish hair from falling into his eyes when he works. Taeil thinks he looks incredibly hot with his hair like that. Mark thinks he looks like a desperate, old man.
"Papa, my suit, please," Mark tries, in English, too, while awkwardly patting Youngho's shoulders to the best of his ability, seeing as his hands are squished between their bodies. Taeil knows when a war is lost, and the best thing to do is just to let Youngho get through the emotional wave he's riding. The thing is, Taeil knows exactly how he's feeling because he's having the same feelings. Raising a child means you get to see them grow up, but there are times when their growth hit you in the face like a frying pan. You don't really notice them growing before someone else points it out, or when you look at pictures of them while tipsy at 3:30 am in the morning.
With his baby son being seventeen, it's no wonder Taeil has to dye his hair to keep the grays at bay. Youngho gave up years ago, letting the small streaks of gray slowly mix in with his black hair.
Taeil fishes his phone out from his pocket, turns off the sound before he snaps a picture of Youngho and Mark. He successfully gets Mark's attention by calling his name, and he gets a perfect snapshot that he needs to print out and frame later, with Mark looking at the camera, looking thoroughly done with his Papa. However there is softness in his eyes; Mark appreciates this, but probably not at the same level as Youngho does.
"Youngho stop staining Markie's expensive suit with your snot and tears and please, look at the camera," Taeil commands in his Strict Voice. He'd love for Youngho to bawls his eyes out; give him all the time in the world, but they don't have all the time in the world because Mark's friends could be here any moments and Taeil wants to take more pictures, thank you.
Youngho can sob all he wants when Mark has left for prom.
Luckily, there's no snot on Mark's suit, but Taeil has Youngho gently pat the lapels of his jacket and the fabric over the shoulders with a damp cloth before he snaps picture of father and son, both beaming at the camera. Even with Youngho's teary eyes and trembling bottom lips, the pictures turn out nicely. After the tenth picture, Youngho tells Taeil to swap places with him, and he snaps a couple of pictures of Taeil and Mark, too.
"We should get one of me carrying you on my shoulders, Dad!" Mark says excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet while looking down at Taeil with sparkling eyes.
"Absolutely not," Taeil protests, turning around to make sure Youngho doesn't go along with Mark's crazy idea because if they gang up on him, Taeil is screwed.
Mark has to re-style his hair after Taeil's hands used the black strands of his hair as leverage while balancing on his son's shoulders, squeaking.
The pictures turned out good though, Taeil must admit. They dig out Youngho's old Hello Kitty selfie stick for the family pictures that turn into them goofing off, making silly faces at the camera until Youngho tries to get them to sober up because, "this is a moment for the picture books!"
They do snap the Family Picture, with the Hello Kitty stick, and just mere seconds later, the doorbell goes off. Youngho goes to open the door while Taeil drops the selfie stick onto the sofa, and turns to Mark to give him one final once-over before his friends enter the room.
"We're so proud of you, you know?" Taeil tells him fondly, rubbing his thumb at the corner of Mark's mouth, trying to get rid of some dried up toothpaste. Mark squirms a little, but lets him, while rolling his eyes, again. Taeil repeats through slightly gritted teeth, "You know!"
Mark laughs, then, that loud, genuine laughter that makes Taeil's heart clench in the most loving way, warmth and pride filling him as he takes in the sight of his almost adult son, grinning at him exactly the way he used to when he was six years old and had, as Youngho and Taeil had looked away for five minutes, stained their white sofa with pink prints of his small hands and bare feet. They kept a small piece of fabric cut out from the ruined sofa and had it framed, hanging it up over their bed with the permanent hand- and foot prints of Mark as a six-year-old.
Youngho enters the living room, then, followed by a small group of Mark's closest friends and classmates, all dressed to the nines. Taeil had seen most of these kids grow up, too, especially Donghyuck and Mina, who had been Mark's closest friends since kindergarten and his classmates since elementary school. Lucas had been added to the trio in junior high when he had transferred from Hong Kong.
Both boys had gotten a boutonnière and Mina had put on her corsage, home made by Youngho himself. As Taeil knew next to nothing about flowers, Youngho had informed him that they were made with white gardenias paired with some green leaves — Taeil really has no idea — and held together with thin, blue metal wire. Youngho fastens the last one onto the left side of Mark's jacket while looking like he's seconds away from bawling, again.
Taeil snaps more pictures of the quartet, with Youngho glued to his side, arm wrapped around Taeil's waist.
"Dad, we really have to go now," Mark says when Taeil wants them to pose like the Avengers, effectively silencing him by shaking his head and making giant eyes at him. Next to him, Mina laughs.
"Fine," Taeil says wistfully, pocketing his phone after taking a long glance at the last picture he took of the four teenagers, arms around each other, beaming in Taeil's direction. He makes a mental note to send them to Donghyuck, Mina and Lucas' parents, too.
Youngho and Taeil follow them out the door, standing on their small porch as they watch the four teenagers climb into Mina's van — she's actually the only one of them who has gotten their driver's license yet — and then waving at them until they're out of sight.
Youngho sighs heavily, wrapping both his arms around Taeil's waist, resting his forehead against Taeil's temple. The sound of Youngho's breath, the familiar smell of tea tree, is soothing, calming. Taeil places his hands over Youngho's bare arms, feeling the soft hair on his arms tickle his palms.
"Babe, are you ok?" Taeil asks him softly, turning his head towards Youngho, pressing their foreheads together gently. Youngho's eyes are closed, dark eyelashes curving gently upwards. He's beautiful, Taeil thinks for the millionth time, probably.
"He's growing up so fast. I wish there was a pause button," Youngho murmurs, pulling away slightly so he's able to look at Taeil without going cross-eyed. Taeil smiles, tilting his chin up as he strains his legs to be able to brush his lips against Youngho's.
"Yeah, I know the feeling," Taeil says. Youngho's eyes are impossibly soft as he looks down at Taeil, and it's so weird how Youngho still, after more than twenty years make his heart flutter, makes Taeil feel loved, safe, home.
Youngho kisses him, warm, soft, languid. "I love you," he says when he pulls away, thumb running under Taeil's eye, over his cheekbone.
"Love you too," Taeil beams.
"But you're a fucking crybaby. Are you really going to bawl like that for the next two years as well? Seo Youngho you're ridiculous," Taeil teases, grinning up at Youngho who sticks his tongue out at him.
"Says the one who had a minor breakdown because Mark's Captain America hoodie didn't fit anymore," Youngho laughs, pinching Taeil's side playfully. It's Taeil's turn to stick his tongue out at Youngho, squeaking.
"I can't believe I got to marry you," Taeil says, but this time it's without the humor. It's no joke. It's Taeil's heart on his sleeve. It's Taeil's throat feeling tight, eyes burning slightly as the love he feels for Youngho threatens to swallow him whole.
Youngho cups his face, kisses him sweetly, "The feeling is mutual, honey."