“I love you, too,” Kyungsoo says easily, kissing Jinsol on the forehead and then swinging her around with muscles that bulge. Chanyeol knows from experience that she’s not that light anymore, so watching Kyungsoo hold her with little difficulty is something almost amazing. Enviable.
It’s been a few months since they got married, and a few weeks since Kyungsoo’s arm healed, and nothing has changed. They haven’t kissed since their wedding day. They still sleep in bedrooms separated by Jinsol’s. They still refer to each other as their best friend. They still haven’t told Baekhyun and Jongdae they’re even married, but that’s more due to schedules clashing than anything else. They haven’t even seen Baekhyun and Jongdae in months.
Chanyeol doesn’t know why, but something about this whole situation bothers him. Something about their relationship, something about Kyungsoo’s easy relationship with their daughter. Something he envies.
It slips out before he can stop it. “What about me?” he whines. He exaggerates a pout, to make it look less like he’s being serious. He doesn’t know if he’s being serious or not.
“You big baby,” Kyungsoo says, laughing, as he settles Jinsol down on the sofa. He turns to look at Chanyeol as he does so, grinning. “And you. I also love you.”
“Ewwwwwwww,” Jinsol complains, drawing the syllable out. She’s wrinkling her nose and looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Hey!” Chanyeol grumbles. “What’s gross about your Dad and I saying that we love each other? We’re best friends.” He pauses. “And married to each other.”
Jinsol just looks at him, with one eyebrow raised. “Dad,” she says, with the soul-suffering sigh of a teenager. Considering she’s still a few years away from being a pre-teen, this is all kinds of unnecessary.
“That’s not a very nice expression, Jinsol,” Kyungsoo says. “It’s rude.”
“Dad,” she repeats, though this one is used on Kyungsoo. She turns back to Chanyeol. “It’s gross because you’re my parents.”
Chanyeol smiles, because if that’s all she has to complain about, they must be doing something right.
To tease her, he walks over to Kyungsoo and wraps himself around his back, draping himself over Kyungsoo’s shoulders the way Jeongguk does to Yoongi. “Hey, Husband,” he says, humour evident in his voice, and leans in to press a kiss to Kyungsoo’s cheek.
Jinsol throws a hand over her eyes, gets up, and runs to her bedroom, shrieking (and giggling).
“Uncalled for,” Kyungsoo says, but he doesn’t make any attempts to get out from Chanyeol’s grasp, so Chanyeol just snuggles in closer.
Chanyeol fakes a gasp. “I would never,” he says. “You wound me, Soo.”
“Ha,” Kyungsoo says. After a few moments of silence, he says, “You don’t need to feel left out. I see you looking at us sometimes and you look almost jealous, though I’m not sure which of us it’s for. You’re welcome to join in any time, you know that, right?”
Chanyeol just tightens his arms around Kyungsoo. He’s never actually held him like this before, thinking that having a human scarf is a little silly, but he’s starting to realise how comforting it is. Kyungsoo may be shorter than him but he’s not smaller by any stretch of the imagination. He doesn’t need physically protecting. But there’s still something in Chanyeol that wants to hold him. He thinks he’s starting to understand Jeongguk better. The need to hold, to protect, is strong. And holding Kyungsoo like this is easy, when Kyungsoo lets him.
Kyungsoo and Yoongi have similar personalities. If Yoongi can put up with it, so can Kyungsoo.
“I had time with her when you weren’t here,” Chanyeol says. “It’s your turn. I’m not…jealous. Not like that. I just.” He shrugs. Kyungsoo can probably feel it. Want to be loved. They’re not easy words to say. Even if Kyungsoo can say I love you easily, and has been able to for years, it doesn’t mean Chanyeol can.
It’s funny, that Kyungsoo—a more stoic person, who gets angry easily, who used to threaten their friends with bodily harm if they didn’t stop making noise—would be the person who finds saying this kind of thing easy, when Chanyeol—a more physically affectionate person who wears his heart on his sleeve—would have difficulties, but apparently that’s the way it is.
“It’s okay,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” Kyungsoo says. “Just…you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“Yeah, of course,” Chanyeol says, and rests his face in Kyungsoo’s hair.
“Though that doesn’t mean I can excuse random kisses,” Kyungsoo says, wriggling out of Chanyeol’s grasp and raising an eyebrow at him.
Chanyeol laughs, but his heart isn’t really in it.
Your turn, amaxingbaek!