Genre: dad!Chan, angst, fluff
Characters: Chan, Y/N, Noah
"Okay," Chan dropped his keys into the little dish near the front door as Noah skipped in behind him, his school bag clutched in his hands. "You hungry, Noey?"
The seven year old nodded. He copied his father and unbuckled his shoes before placing them neatly next to the older man's.
"What do you fancy eating?" Chan asked just as Y/N came towards them both; her hair was swept back into a messy knot, and the strands that had escaped were covered in paint. Smears of dried clay dotted the apron around her waist, and Noah caught the familiar scent of varnish and musk as she reached out to hug him.
"Hey baby," Y/N kissed his cheek; she grinned fondly and rubbed the smudge of lipstick away from his freckled cheek. "Did you have a good day at school?"
Noah nodded. "I had music today."
"You did?" Chan asked from behind him. "What did you do?"
"Played the keyboard," Noah smiled happily, his eyes crinkling as he tipped his head up to look at his father. "And the guitar. It hurt my fingers. I liked it though."
"Let me see?" Y/N took Noah's little hands in her own, turning them over gently. She smiled as she kissed his fingertips; they were a little red at the sides, but other than that, they seemed completely fine.
She then noticed the hole that was folded over near his knee. Frowning, Y/N crouched down and smoothed her fingers over the fabric.
"What happened here, baby?" She asked.
Noah shrugged a little too nonchalantly. "Fell in the playground. No big deal."
Sharing glances at his tone, Chan and Y/N blinked. Chan manoeuvred the boy into a chair before Y/N gently rolled up the leg of his trousers, exposing a large wound. It was red and raw, tiny pieces of gravel embedded into the blood that had begun to congeal around the torn skin.
Both parents sucked in their breath through their teeth. Y/N grimaced, gently placing her fingers against his skin.
"Oh Noey this looks so painful … didn't a teacher help you?" Y/N sympathised, looking up at the boy.
Noah's face closed up a little. "I didn't need to tell the teacher. I'm a big boy … and big boys don't need help."
At that, Chan frowned. He reached out and cupped the boy's chin in his hand, gently caressing his cheek with a thumb.
"Who said that to you?" Chan asked him softly. "Hmm?"
Noah looked down at the floor. "The boys in my class."
"I'll go get the first aid kit," Y/N said suddenly, standing up as she silently covered with her husband through her gaze. She kissed the top of Noah's head before walking away.
Chan pulled out a chair beside Noah. He made a dramatic sound of relief as he sat down, making the boy next to him chuckle as he watched him stretch his legs out in front of him.
"You know … when I was a kid I'd fall all the time," Chan reminisced casually, his fingertips scruffing Noah's curls up. He suddenly laughed. "I used to cry all the time."
Noah raises his eyebrows curiously. "Really?"
"Really," Chan nodded. "I remember all the boys around me used to make fun of me for it because their fathers said things like 'real men don't cry'. But that's not true … 'real' men do cry."
He waved his hands around in the air as Y/N came back with her little kit. She sat down on the floor in front of Noah, an easy smile on her face as she listened to the things her husband was saying.
"I think … a strong man is one who knows it's okay to show his emotions," Chan continued, his fingers absent minded playing with Noah's hair. "One who has no shame in crying, or asking for help when he needs it. As humans, we all need help sometimes. And there's nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it … you don't have to struggle all alone, yeah?"
Noah nodded quietly. Y/N was sure she could see her husband's words being processed behind Noah's brown eyes. She smiled secretly as she gently patted a wet cloth over his knee, doing his best to clean the wound.
"But daddy … why does everyone say men can't cry?" Noah asked curiously. His eyes had begun to water as Y/N pressed antiseptic solution to his injury, and Chan smiled as he reached out to curl his fingers around his.
"Because that's what men used to be taught," Chan said. "People used to think that men needed to be the strong ones and that meant they weren't allowed to show emotion or cry … a lot of people still think that, but it's not true Noey, okay? If you want to cry, you cry, okay? If you're sad, you're allowed to be sad … if something is hurting you, you're allowed to feel that way. It doesn't make you any less of a man."
A fat tear rolling down his cheek, Noah suddenly grinned. "My knee really stings."
"I'm sorry baby," Y/N hummed as she finished dabbing at his knee. "You're so brave. That's the worst of it all over … you're doing so well, Noey."
Chan smiled. He kissed Noah's cheek and shuffled closer to him so he could slide his arms around the boy in a hug.
"I'm not surprised it stings," Chan said, wiping the tears away from Noah's face. "Honestly I don't know how you got this far without throwing a fit … if that was me I'd be screaming like a baby."
Chuckling at his father's humour, Noah dropped his head against the older man's shoulder. "I don't think I'm the screaming type."
"That's okay," Chan grinned. "I can scream for you."
On cue, Chan started wailing like a comical cartoon; he grabbed his chest with his hand and started flopping around his seat, feigning dramatic yelling that caused his son to erupt into a bubble of quiet laughter.
From the floor, Y/N shook her head fondly as she applied gauze to her son's knee. "What on earth are you teaching our son, Christopher?"
"I think daddy is trying to be a fish?" Noah replied slowly, cocking his head to the side.
Embarrassed, Chan sat up again. He cleared his throat and reached for a glass of water, avoiding the two sets of eyes that were fixed on him.
"Maybe not … " Noah continued. His father's little act had completely distracted him; he had forgotten the pain in his knee and his cheeks had begun to take on their usual rosy hue. "Fish don't drink water."
Giggling around the glass, Chan set it down again. "You're really cheeky, you know that?"
Noah grinned happily just as Y/N smoothed a large plaster over his knee.
"There," Y/N said, leaning forward to carefully kiss his knee. "All better. I think our little Noey needs a treat for being so brave."
"I want a treat," Chan chimed in. Noah giggled, and Y/N rolled her eyes as she placed her hands on her hips.
"And why exactly do you want a treat? What have you done except flop around like a fish on land?"
Noah laughed at the bewildered look on his father's face. "Daddy helped me."
Rifling around in one of the cupboards, Y/N pulled out two chocolate bars. "Hmm … I suppose he did."
She handed them the chocolates, both boys' faces suddenly lighting up at the sight of the confectionery.
"Cheers to you, Noey," Chan held his chocolate bar out to his son.
Grinning, Noah tapped his bar against his father's before the both of them chomped down onto their chocolate.
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