Nap-Trapped (Dad!Yoongi One Shot)
World: non-idol Dad!Yoongi x Reader Words: 3256 Warnings/Tags: Some cursing, otherwise just fluff
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Yoongi’s eyes flutter open. Cocooned in the washy-washy sound of ocean waves, in a dark room with only lit cracks around the door, a weighted blanket tucked in tight around him, Yoongi feels like a caterpillar waking after a long period of metamorphosis. His body is heavy and a bit numb in the extremities. He’d fallen asleep with his arms in a weird position but when he shifts, the weighted blanket starts to… roll?
“Fuck,” he hisses as alertness shoots through him. He pops his shoulder up –the bad one that has felt stiffer than usual lately– to keep the little head from rolling further as his hands tighten around the tiny body curled up in a ball on his chest, arms and legs tucked in as if the baby is still nestled in your stretched belly. The baby doesn’t budge an inch though because even in sleep he’s been holding that little body in place.
But shit shit dangerous. He can’t fall asleep. He’s not supposed to be asleep right now, he’s supposed to.. To…
Danger averted this time, Yoongi tries to remember what he’s supposed to be doing. Quieting the baby, yes, ideally to sleep because you’re at your breaking point in the bedroom right now, trying to recover from giving birth while also nursing a baby round the clock. Yoongi can’t imagine. When you’d finally broken down in tears, he’d whisked the baby away, determined to do whatever it took to give you as long a break as possible, whether that means rocking your newborn son to sleep or just enduring his cries.
Thankfully, the baby fell asleep after only twenty minutes of crying –twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, to be fair. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s cut out to listen to a baby cry, at least not his own. He’s never been bothered by babies crying in airplanes or public spaces, toddlers grabbing onto his pants in confusion, not even when Taehyung’s toddler sneezed directly into his open mouth. With spit. Twenty minutes of the baby crying doesn’t make him shake and flush and overheat the way it does for you, but he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want the baby to be upset about something unknown, something he can’t deliver on.
But you fed the baby at least as much as the internet says is a solid meal for a two week old, Yoongi changed the poopy diaper that followed every meal due to something he’d been reading about called a ‘gastrocolic reflex’, the temperature of the nursery is a perfect 21-degrees Celcius, there are no scratchy tags on the white sleeper, and according to his mom’s advice before, that’s almost the whole list of why a newborn cries. The final two are the most challenging though: because the baby is too tired and just because.
That “just because” reason seems like a good way to fuck over the exhausted parents but Yoongi was determined to win this battle with your newborn son for your sake. You will rest and he will make sure there is no reason behind the crying and then endure whatever remains…
But the crying apparently did not last. After recreating the exact scenario Seokjin swore by for his own son, Min Kija had done the unthinkable and kindly fallen asleep. Yoongi just doesn’t remember exactly when it happened because apparently those same things work like a charm on him as well and he’s not sure how long he’s been asleep. Time has an ephemeral quality to it. To be honest, he’s not quite sure what day it is either because he’s cleared his calendar for a month to support you and the baby round the clock through samchil-il, your month recovery period. At the time he’d thought that would be enough but now he’s not sure because even though you’ve eschewed some of the more isolating Korean traditions when a baby is born –no visitors for 100 days, no showering, always wearing socks (he’d tried to keep them on you but, flushed and overheated, you’d thrown them across the room and dared him to try again)-- he’s not sure that your two mothers are being enough support. Honestly, he thinks you might wind up murdering one of them, most likely your own.
Besides, isn’t it his job as your husband to help? He doesn’t mind following tradition when it makes sense, but the idea that caring for your wife and newborn is more woman’s work feels outdated and wrong. Maybe he should clear his schedule for another month. You have the savings to make it work, no problem. Maybe he and his own dad would be closer if his dad had been more involved in those crucial early months. Yoongi doesn’t want to risk it.
He yawns and then freezes as the baby grunts and shuffles against his chest. It only takes a moment for the baby to settle back down, a little warm ball of porridge melted against him. In an effort to support you in whatever you need, he’s allowed you to take most of the lead on holding the baby because you like to. He doesn’t blame you. Yours was the effort that turned his little contribution into this big healthy baby. Yours was the pain and sweat that brought him into the world. All Yoongi’s been able to do is take care of you, and change diapers until he’s got the hang of it actually. The last thing he wants to do is deprive you of anything you want to do.
Especially when he gets it: holding the baby is the best part. As his eyes adjust better to the low light, he makes a careful study of the little profile, the hands tucked under the baby’s chin, the single foot that has somehow escaped the blanket wrapped across them both. Yoongi stole the blanket from the hospital because the baby had fussed when they’d unwrapped him from it to put him in the car seat for the journey home. It didn’t matter, the hospital had a thousand of them. Yoongi would do much more than that to keep his son comfortable.
His son. Becoming a father feels like a gradual process to him and he’s not there yet. Appa doesn’t fit as a name or title, it hasn’t been earned yet. It feels as tacked on as the baby’s name: Min Kija. You had selected the name near the end of the pregnancy and Yoongi was fine with it, especially once the baby was born, because it fit as well as anything –as in, nothing else would fit better. The baby is just a blank slate. He doesn’t look like anything yet, not even like a son because Yoongi isn’t a father, how did he supposedly have a son?
But apparently he is a father now and he does have a son now and Yoongi will go along with whatever comes your way in life as long as you are with him. Even a baby, which he knows nothing about, he’s managed to learn nothing from his friends until now. On purpose. He didn’t think he needed to until suddenly he did.
Kija is pretty fucking cute though. It’s surreal and probably fruitless trying to map the baby’s features to his own or yours or anyone in your families. You say the baby has his mouth and he thinks the baby has your eyes but who can say for sure? He’s watched the way the faces of friends’ babies have changed. All he knows for sure right now is that neither of you is as good as your mothers at getting the baby to sleep, and he’s got to figure it out so he can say he’s pulling his own weight around here. Right now you are MVP uncontested and he won’t be able to compete but he does think he should hit a point where he’s silver, ahead of the grandmothers. He wants to be that sort of dad.
He swears he hasn’t moved but the baby’s arm suddenly shoots out like it’s falling. He quickly presses the arm down and adjusts his hands to make sure Kija knows he is perfectly secure here. He won’t fall asleep again, he can’t, and risk letting the baby fall off. He’s not sure how much time has passed –it feels like hours but he doubts it’s been that long, even though the blackout curtains make it impossible to tell from the slant of the sun– but he needs to make this baby nap stretch as long as humanly possible because two weeks have made it clear that Kija will wake up hungry every time and Yoongi wants you to sleep as long as you possibly can.
Kija settles back down and keeps sleeping and Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief. Apparently his son feels safe enough after all. Cozy. Content. It’s his most important job in the world right now to keep him that way.
But damn he’s hungry. His stomach growls so loudly he’s worried it will wake the baby. His mouth is parched and an urgent need to drink something creeps up on him. When was the last time he ate or drank? He’s actually not sure because he’s mostly been focused on making sure you eat and drink, even though whichever mom is spending the night tends to see to it first. They’ve been cooking so there’s good food present in plenty, but Yoongi keeps forgetting to eat it because there’s also laundry and dishes to do and diapers to restock and Holy to feed and walk…
He’s so hungry, his stomach cramps. This is ridiculous, he’ll just get a snack and then come right back; Kija can sleep through the whole thing.
But when he starts to stand, Kija immediately squirms and grunts. Yoongi freezes, half out of the chair, but Kija doesn’t settle back down for long enough that Yoongi’s legs start to tremble and he has to sit again. He waits a few minutes, tries it again, but the same thing happens.
Damnit, he can’t risk it. What will he say if Kija wakes up and then you have to wake up to feed him: sorry, I was just really hungry?? He won’t die from not eating but you might if you don’t get the proper rest to recover!
He settles back down, determined to wait it out.
His stomach cramps again painfully, and his mouth is so dry it itches. It makes his throat itch. Oh shit, it’s making his throat dry. He tries to suppress a cough and instead swallows funny and the sharp pain as he tries to keep still and quiet through the coughing fit is excruciating.
He needs a drink and he needs a snack because now it’s all he can think of and it’s not better if he coughs Kija awake either. In a rush, he lifts and pulls his phone from his back pocket and then goes perfectly still again, waiting as Kija yawns and stretches. Shit shit shit…
“Shhhh,” Yoongi whispers, trying to emulate the way the grandmas do it. It’s one area he’s found himself more skilled than you; he has more breath, more stamina in it, and can make the shushing sound for far longer. Long enough you’d laughed about it the first night the two of you were trying to get Kija calmed down for sleep, before your milk came in when it was impossible to get Kija settled. The two of you had wanted to try and be the kind of parents who didn’t need a grandma staying over, a grand plan that had lasted all of one night before you’d tearfully called your mom the next morning and admitted you wanted the help after all. But for that brief moment of shushing, you had laughed, and Yoongi had stupidly, naively, prematurely considered himself the baby sleepmaster!
He has dignity and a title to reclaim now. He shushes and waits and watches until Kija graciously settles back down and continues to sleep. It was risky though, grabbing the phone, and Yoongi doesn’t think Kija will be so magnanimous again.
[Yoongi]: eomma are you here in the house?
[Eomma]: No. I am doing the shopping. Did you think of something you need
Yoongi bites his tongue. He’d meant to do the shopping today but his mom must have decided to do it instead when he didn’t emerge from the nursery… how long has he been in here?! The time on his phone says 3:41 PM which means…
It’s only been twenty minutes!!
Yoongi huffs a laugh then quickly falls still again when it bounces Kija. The baby seems unbothered by it. But damnit! Only twenty minutes! It means he has not already been victorious in giving you a break. It’s crazy how only a twenty minute nap can feel like he just slept for two hours –not necessarily in restfulness, but in how quickly and deeply he fell sleep.
He has nothing to suggest to his mom for the shop. Yoongi isn’t sure he can wait long enough to eat for her to get home and cook. His stomach feels like it’s eating itself.
He debates. He can be strong enough to endure the hunger, right?
But the tickle is coming back to his throat, taunting him.
He tries one more time to rise and Kija issues the same threat, this time his little eyes even crack open to make sure Yoongi truly understands how serious this is. He will wake up and start screaming for eomma.
Yoongi sits back down and freezes, waiting, waiting, praying to the newborn gods until Kija falls still again. No, that’s not good enough, so he begins to rock, and finally Kija relaxes.
[Yoongi]: hyung are you home right now
[Seokjin]: it depends why are you asking?
[Yoongi]: I’m nap trapped
[Seokjin]: I told you that would happen!
[Yoongi]: I have nothing here, no food or drink
[Seokjin]; I told you to keep snacks everywhere!
[Yoongi]: I have to be careful or Holy gets them
[Yoongi]: y/n is sleeping
[Seokjin]: Yah ok I will be right there did you change your door code?
Relief floods Yoongi. Seokjin will probably gloat about this for days but it feels like a small price to pay. He didn’t even make Yoongi beg! Yoongi knew Seokjin would understand. Also he lives the closest.
The minutes tick by and Yoongi gets more annoyed with his own body because he feels like he should be enjoying this time of just holding his tiny sleeping newborn son but all he can think about is how hungry and thirsty he is. Maybe he’s being ridiculous, maybe Kija will settle back down if he just moves confidently through the apartment to get a snack and then comes back.
Just as he’s about to try standing again, the nursery door slowly opens. For a breath Yoongi worries it’s you, that you aren’t sleeping, or that something he’s done somehow sent a signal that woke you up. But then Seokjin’s face peeks comically through the opening, at an angle, as if he’s nothing but a head and a hand holding a bag. He pauses then tiptoes in, whole body hunched over as if that gives him the ability to move more quietly. Both men watch Kija but the baby doesn’t have any reaction. The ocean waves from the noise machine muffle the light patter of Seokjin’s slippered tiptoes.
The reusable shopping bag is absolutely bulging as Seokjin hands it to Yoongi and whispers, “I brought you what I had.” Yoongi would have guessed Seokjin went by the store, there are so many packaged treats and drinks in boxes and cans shoved into the bright floral bag. It almost brings a tear to Yoongi’s sleep deprived eye –not yet Seokjin’s generosity, but the promise of quenched thirst and a full belly.
“Thank you, hyung,” he manages to get out.
Seokjin pauses another moment, gazing fondly at Kija, before whispering, “I warned you about nap-traps.” He gives Yoongi finger funs, then turns and tiptoes out as quickly and quietly as he came before Yoongi can think of a response with his newborn-addled brain.
Kija remains blissfully asleep as Yoongi rustles through the bag as quietly as he can with one hand reaching over the edge of the rocking chair. He has to just eat what’s on top, digging will make too much noise and movement. The crinkling food bags –chips and gummy candy and mango bread and red bean buns– make Yoongi hold his breath to compensate, which makes his throat tickle again, so first he pulls out a boxed drink, thinking it’ll be quieter than a can. He doesn’t even see what it is in the dark, just carefully unwraps the straw around Kija’s back and punctures it into the box on the third try. Shit, it makes more noise than he expected.
But Kija slumbers on as Yoongi practically inhales the taro milk.
Throat no longer threatening a cough, Yoongi creeps his hand back into the bag of treasure and pulls up the first thing his hand closes on: a bag he thinks is turtle chips based on what he can make out of the colors. Perfect.
Kija moves on his chest and Yoongi presses a hand to his back, holding him stable and steady until he settles back down, then carefully grips the bag with both hands in the air so he can carefully, gently ease the bag open.
How did it happen? He’ll never know. The bag bursts open like a bomb reaching the end of its countdown. The loud pop startles Yoongi and Kija both as turtle chips rain down on Kija’s head and back and across Yoongi’s stomach. Holy is suddenly scratching at the nursery door, possibly already lured by the crinkle of the snack back and now certain there is a delicious mess inside.
Kija’s startle turns into a stretch and then a deep frown. Yoongi freezes, hopeful, waiting. He can just make out the changing expressions on Kija’s face, a roller coaster of muscle fluctuations that don’t mean much yet.
Sadly, Yoongi’s luck has run out. Kija lets out a testing cry, then decides that yes, crying does sound like the right thing to do. He cries out in earnest, whole body arching, mouth open and bobbing around seeking a nipple on Yoongi’s chest that, even should he find it, won’t give him what he’s looking for.
“Shh shhh shhh,” Yoongi tries while shoveling turtle chips into his mouth. “Shhhh.” He realizes he can’t make the noise while eating, crumbs fly out at the helpless baby.
That’s how you find him when you open the door around Holy and flick the light on: stroking Kija’s soft little head, murmuring sweet nothings that are lost on the hungry crying baby, eating turtle chip crumbs out of the folds of the baby’s blanket. Which explains what Holy is so eager to get to, trying to sneak around your legs.
Yoongi looks immediately apologetic and tries, “Um… go back to sleep?”
“I think he’s hungry.”
Yoongi sighs and admits defeat with a nod.
“The baby’s hungry too,” you add, mouth twitching into a grin. Despite the briefness of your nap, you do feel a little better. You slept so soundly you woke up unsure what day it was, where you were, what your name even is.
“Ah… Seokjin brought snacks, want some?”
“Absolutely.”
