Archive of Our Own

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Joss is asleep on the couch when he’s shaken awake.

“Joss! Joss, wake up!” Gawin hisses, fingertips digging into his shoulder.

“Mmm, ow, th’ hurts…” Joss mumbles, swatting at him. Gawin, however, is insistent and keeps shaking him.

“Joss!”

The panic in his voice, making it go high and thready, has Joss’s eyes opening, the world blurry and out of focus until he blinks a few times. Gawin is crouched over him, much closer than he’s expecting, and his face is pale.

“G? What’s going on?” he asks, sitting up. Gawin doesn’t let go of him; if anything, his grip tightens further, as if he’s unable to break contact.

“S-something’s happened,” Gawin says. “I don’t know what to do.”

Joss grabs at him immediately, that same thread of panic working its way into him.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Joss asks urgently, patting him down, hands roaming every inch of him.

“I’m fine, it’s--” the sound of a cry from the bedroom cuts off Gawin.

Joss stills. “Is that… a baby crying?”

Gawin nods.

“Why is there a baby in my condo?” he finally asks, when it’s clear Gawin isn’t going to say anything further.

Gawin stands and heads for the bedroom, and he returns a moment later with a baby in his arms, and Joss’s jaw drops.

“Gawin, why is there a fucking baby in my house?” Joss repeats, his voice breaking. Gawin’s eyes dart between down at the kid and up to Joss, mouth tight with stress.

“I’m-- I don’t know-- I was asleep, and I woke up, and he was there, on the bed with me. I’m-- I think… I think this is Guinzly,” Gawin drops to a whisper, looking back at the baby.

Joss comes closer as Gawin bounces the little boy, trying to soothe him. He looks barely a year old, if that, little legs kicking against Gawin’s stomach, hands balled up into fists in his shirt.

He’s indiscriminate, like most kids that age are, although his skin is the same tone as Joss’s, and his hair is the same texture as Gawin’s, his eyes hooded like Joss’s, and his face shaped like Gawin’s.

He looks at Joss and smiles, reaching for him. Gawin holds the kid out, and Joss takes him on autopilot, staring down at the mochi-soft cheeks and holding his chubby little hand, pretending to bite him.

The squeals of laughter hit him deep in his chest, and Joss clutches at Guinzly, because it is Guinzly, he knows it to be, and looks at Gawin.

“We’re fucked.”

Gawin nods. “Yeah. We really fucking are.”

🐧🐻

They sit down heavily on the couch, Guinzly slapping at Joss’s shoulders and face between hysterical giggles, while Gawin scrolls through Line.

“It looks like it’s happening to everyone,” he says, showing Joss his phone.

There are endless pictures of the pairs with their mascots turned real. Joong and Dunk are with a little girl with pigtails and a huge Labubu; William and Est are with a kid hiding his face against William’s neck; Milk, blurred in motion, laughs as their baby has her hands all over her face; and Love looks on, helplessly fond… Tay and New are holding San in their arms, kissing his cheeks on either side, totally wrapped up in each other.

Gawin swallows, looking at Joss, who is staring at them as well, a beat of silence between them.

“We should take one too,” Gawin finally says, and holds his phone up and smiles cheesily, while Joss gives a somewhat more gentle one, and Guinzly blinks owlishly. The photo is sweet, the three of them leaning in together on the couch, and Joss asks Gawin to send it to him once he drops it into the chat with “Everyone, meet Guinzly Sangngern-Caskey.”

“Not Caskey-Sangngern?” Joss asks, lying back on the couch so Guinzly can climb all over him.

“Guinzly Caskey is a bit of a mouthful,” Gawin says, scrolling through more pictures. “Do you think he’s the cutest out of all the mascots?” he asks, showing Joss a photo of Nanon and a little boy with big, round glasses almost dwarfing his face.

“I think we’re biologically programmed to think our kid is the best,” Joss says, smiling as Guinzly grabs at his tank top, babbling away.

“Our kid?” Gawin splutters, something tight and unfamiliar twisting in him.

Joss shrugs. “Well, what else are we supposed to call him? Can’t really call him our mascot right now, can we?”

Gawin looks from Joss to Guinzly, and back again. “I… I guess not,” he says, voice hoarse.

“We need to go buy supplies,” Joss says, his hand patting Guinzly’s bottom, and feeling the crinkle of a diaper.

“God, what the fuck do we get a baby?” Gawin asks.

They look at each other and grin. “Kevin.”

🐧🐻

“What did you say?” Kevin’s incredulous voice rings out as the video explodes into life, leaning in so far they can only see his eyes and nose.

Joss has his phone propped up on the coffee table so Kevin can see Guinzly on his lap, with Gawin sitting next to him.

“You heard me,” Joss says, as Guinzly sticks Gawin’s fingers in his mouth, gumming on them while he winces.

“Yes, apparently your mascot has become a real child?” Kevin asks dryly.

“We know how insane it sounds. But unless someone figured out Joss’s building security code, figured out what condo he’s in, got past the extra pin on his door… all just to drop off a kid that looks like a perfect mix of us?” Gawin’s super sharp when he wants to be, and laying it out like that makes Kevin wince.

“Ow, bitchy… alright, alright.”

“Language,” Joss admonishes, putting his hands over the baby’s ears.

Kevin starts to tick items off on his fingers. “Diapers, wipes, food -- he looks old enough for puree. Clothes, toys, bath stuff, first aid--”

Gawin’s thumbs fly over his phone, the items growing faster than he can process them. He looks at Joss with a smirk. “Time for your favourite hobby.”

“Shopping,” Joss says immediately, delighted, as he starts tickling Guinzly, tiny baby giggles erupting out of him.

Kevin rolls his eyes on screen. “I’ll come by now and bring Bella’s old car seat; he can’t travel without one. And maybe some other stuff. Gimme 20 minutes to find it all,” he says, and ends the call.

Joss spends the wait researching with ruthless efficiency, building a list that makes Gawin feel both relieved and faintly inadequate. The Little Store at One Bangkok seems like the closest one-stop shop for baby supplies, from diapers to beds, car seats and clothes, and he peruses the website while Gawin keeps Guinzly occupied until Kevin’s buzzing Joss’s bell.

They head downstairs and meet him in the car park, and Joss fits the car seat while Kevin stands behind him and project-manages. “You can just keep this one until he… turns back into a bearguin, or whatever he is. Here’s a bag full of stuff as well -- some old clothes, bottles, a santisier, a hairbrush, a couple other things,” Kevin says.

“Are you coming with us?” Gawin asks.

Kevin grins wickedly.

“You know, I totally could… but I think this will be a great bonding experience for your little family. Give me a ring if you want to check anything, but the staff are very knowledgeable. I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he says, clapping Gawin on the back.

“Bye bye, baby Guinzly,” he coos, pinching Guinzly’s cheek gently.

Joss rolls his eyes and secures him in the car seat, giving him a toy Kevin shoved in the bag to keep him busy.

“You suck,” Gawin says to Kevin, who winks.

“Maybe this will be what it takes to see two become one…” Kevin whispers, nudging Gawin, who shoves him, shushing him. He waves goodbye to them and wanders back to his vehicle, leaving them alone again.

Joss looks over his shoulder, half inside the car, his ridiculous ass and thighs on display in the shorts he was wearing post-nap. “Gawin?” he calls out. “Can you drive? I might sit in the back with Little G. Keys are in my left pocket.”

“Little G, Jesus,” Gawin says, but reaches into his pocket, trying not to blush at the positioning, and avoiding groping Joss unnecessarily. “He’ll be fine, c’mon, let’s go. Don’t be a helicopter parent.”

Joss sighs loudly but backs out as Gawin climbs into the driver's seat. Joss rounds the car and gets in, looking immediately back at Guinzly.

“You ready for an adventure, baby?” Joss asks, grinning at him. Gawin pouts and puts the car into drive.

Am I seriously feeling jealous about my own kid right now?

They get to the store with minimal fussing, and Joss gets Guinzly out while Gawin grabs the backpack and slings it over his shoulder. Guinzly is stunned by all the lights and noise, his tiny little fingers clutching on to Joss’s tank top for dear life, and Gawin’s mouth has been dry ever since, having to stare at those stupid biceps flexing as they hold onto him.

Two women in the store immediately swoop on them. Khun Yoghurt and Khun Pahn buy Joss’s story about being left his nephew at short notice with zero supplies, and that they need almost everything bar a car seat, bottles and a steriliser.

Gawin expects them to absolutely bend Joss’s credit card in half and upsell him something stupid, but apparently, their kid is beyond cute and distracts the entire store. Khun Yoghurt walks them around holding Guinzly, while Khun Pahn talks to Joss about the operational benefits of one stroller over another. Gawin is lost to the musical toys, in particular a piano, his arms full of clothes.

Khun Yoghurt has Guinzly eating some packet thing when Gawin finds them again. Joss is in the diaper section, holding up two different packets, while Khun Yoghurt discusses the differences between disposable and reusable. She leans closer to Joss as she laughs, Guinzly balanced easily on her hip, and something ugly twists in Gawin’s stomach.

“We’re getting disposable,” Gawin interrupts as he gets to them -- too sharp, and too fast.

“Are we?” Joss asks.

Gawin nods. He’s not washing shitty diapers, and Guinzly won’t be here long enough to make it worth it. “Yes, we are. Grab a few packets and let’s roll,” he says. “We’ve covered their commission for the next two months by now.”

Joss frowns, and Khun Yoghurt flushes, and Gawin hands her the trolley filled to the brim with stuff, taking Guinzly back. “Thank you,” he says, as she heads off to the counter.

“G, that wasn’t nice… or necessary. What’s wrong?” Joss says softly, concern on his face.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t want to be out much longer in case the fans see us and take pictures. How the fuck are we gonna explain this?” Gawin says, pulling his cap down lower as Guinzly wriggles in his arms. Joss reaches over and plucks him out, bussing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Language,” Joss mumbles as Gawin heads to the register, bracing himself for how much Joss has spent while he was distracted.

Between the diapers, food, clothes, toys, stroller, cot, and a myriad of other random crap they picked up, Joss has racked up over 50 grand. Gawin wants to faint.

“What the fuck, J?” he hisses as Joss smiles and hands over his credit card.

“He deserves the best,” is all Joss says, Gawin feeling weak in the knees as the sale finalises and the girls stack their many, many bags back in their trolley, the cot sliding underneath in its flatpack.

Gawin follows Joss out in a daze, receipt folded in his fist, as if he squeezes hard enough it’ll disappear. He sends Kevin a photo anyway.

😂😂😂 is the response.

Of course. Bastard.

Guinzly falls asleep five minutes into the drive, the car’s hum and the aircon finally winning.

The quiet that follows feels lived-in somehow. Joss keeps one hand steady on the wheel, the other reaching back once -- just to check Guinzly’s strap, quick and gentle.

“We should stop by your place,” he says, when they’re clear of the car park. “Grab some of your stuff.”

“Why?”

Joss glances at him. “Because you’re staying with me?” Then, lightly adding, “Deadbeat dad.”

“I’m not--” Gawin cuts himself off, exhaling through his nose. “Fine.”

“Burgers?” Joss offers as a peace treaty.

Gawin’s mouth twitches. “Sure.”

Thankfully, his parents aren’t home when they get there, and Joss follows him around, Guinzly in his arms, bouncing and dancing, and being incredibly distracting. Gawin just throws random clothes into a duffel, one of his guitars on his bed, waiting to be picked up.

Surely this is only going to go on for a few days… he sighs to himself, grabbing his toiletries kit from his bathroom, still mostly packed from their last trip, topping it up and zipping it closed.

He walks back into his bedroom to see Joss sitting on the bed, Guinzly lying in his arms, as he rocks him, singing softly. Guinzly’s yawning, staring up at Joss, looking just as enchanted with him as Gawin feels on the regular.

Like father, like son.

He’s quiet as he finishes packing, closing the guitar case and slinging it over his shoulder.

Joss stands with ease, Guinzly dozing in his arms, freeing one up to pick up Gawin’s bag.

“I can do it,” Gawin says softly, and Joss smiles at him, dimple flashing.

“So can I.”

He turns and walks back upstairs. Gawin watches him go, heat pooling low and inconvenient.

Stuck playing house with Joss Way-Ar for some unknown amount of time is going to be hell on his sanity, he can tell already.

He scribbles a note and leaves it on the kitchen -- Staying with Joss for a few days, workshopping for new series, will call you later. Fluke x -- feeling weird about calling himself that, but he respects his parents, and walks outside, wincing at the wall of humidity that hits him.

Joss is already in the car, Guinzly safely tucked away, the air conditioner blasting as he gets in, readjusting his cap.

“Alright, let’s go,” he says. Joss nods, smiling again, that fucking dimple again, and Gawin sinks into the seat and stares out the window until the feeling passes, trying not to have emotions about Joss driving his car.

Guinzly keeps sleeping all the way to Bang Bang, their favourite burger place, and Joss stays in the car with him, not wanting to disturb him, holding his phone out to Gawin.

“What’s this for?” Gawin asks, and Joss waves it at him.

“Use my QR to pay. Get me something, you know what I like,” he says, reaching into the glovebox and bringing out a book he’d stashed there the last time they were together.

Gawin’s mouth opens and closes for a minute, and he feels that vicious tug in his midsection that he gets whenever Joss does something like this. He says nothing, just turns around and goes inside, sweating from the humidity.

He remembers Joss getting something with chicken last time, so he picks the Goju Gangster for him, and gets a Raging Bull for himself, and a large fries for them to share. He’s pretty sure Guinzly is too young to eat this kind of food, so he doesn’t bother with the kids' menu.

The cashier barely looks up. Gawin raises Joss’s phone to pay. He forces a smile, taps the code in, and doesn’t look again.

“Order 631,” the same bored teen calls a while later, staring Gawin down, snapping him from his freakout.

He grabs the food, some napkins, their drinks and walks back to the car, Joss deep in his book, not even registering Gawin's approach. He opens the door as quietly as he can and slides in, sighing as the air conditioning hits his face, instant bliss.

“Do you wanna eat now or back home?” Joss asks as he pulls out of the park and gets back on the road.

“Home is fine,” Gawin says, putting the bags on the floor and giving Joss his water. He got a Coke, because he needs the fucking sugar to get through whatever’s coming; he’s got enough self-awareness to know that much.

Joss hums in agreement, and the drive back to his is silent. Once he parks, he looks at Gawin.

“You wanna get him, or want me to?”

Gawin wants this to be equal, the echo of Joss, deadbeat dad, ringing in his head. “I’ll get him,” he says, and gives Joss the food.

He opens the back door and looks at Guinzly for a moment, his chubby cheeks, the long eyelashes fanning out against them, his hair so much like Gawin’s. He glances at Joss, who is watching him, with something on his face that matches the feel in Gawin’s heart.

“Fuck,” Gawin sighs, leaning in to unbuckle the belts, trying to ease Guinzly out without disturbing him. He grumbles, Gawin holding him close, nosing against his head, shushing him as he gets back out, hand rubbing against his lower back as he rocks him slowly, Joss following up the rear with their food and his bag.

“He’s probably hungry and has to be changed,” Joss says, as Guinzly continues to grumble all the way up, little whines and squawks.

“Alright,” Gawin says, and waits behind Joss as he opens the door.

“I’ll run back down for the rest,” Joss says. “There’s diapers and food in the bag -- formula too.”

He’s gone before Gawin can say anything.

For half a second, it’s quiet. Gawin looks down at Guinzly, who stares up at him, his button nose so stinking cute, Gawin just wants to pinch it.

That is, until Guinzly’s bottom lip trembles. Gawin feels the panic begin to rise.

Then Guinzly loses his goddamn mind, mouth opening in a piercing wail, his face scrunching red.

“Okay, okay, c’mon baby,” Gawin soothes, checking his diaper. It’s wet, and probably super uncomfortable for him, so he decides to change that first.

He sinks to the floor of the lounge room, lying Guinzly down, as he grabs all the shit out he vaguely remembers needing from the last time he was with a baby-- diaper, cream, wipes. There’s a mat in there as well, and Gawin tries to work quickly, wanting him changed before Joss gets back and accuses him of parental abuse.

Guinzly’s face is bright red as Gawin gets him out of the dirty diaper, wipes him down, rubs cream on him, and puts a fresh diaper on. “C’mon, baby, I’m sorry, you’ll feel so much better soon, huh?” Gawin says over the wails.

He doesn’t bother putting Guinzly’s pants back on, getting up and lifting him, grabbing a container of baby puree out of the bag and another one of those pouch things, and heading to Joss’s kitchen in search of a spoon.

He gets the lid off and finds a small enough spoon just as the front door opens, and Joss reappears, laden with shopping bags.

“What happened?” he asks as he gets inside. Gawin glares at him as he sticks a spoon full of applesauce in Guinzly’s mouth, and he stops crying immediately, tears rolling down his cheeks, gumming at the spoon.

“He was wet. And hungry, apparently,” Gawin sighs, Guinzly starting to cry again as the applesauce runs out. “Okay, sorry, here,” Gawin says hurriedly, spooning another mouthful in. It’s awkward, holding him and feeding him at the same time -- he’s pretty sure they didn’t get a high chair.

“Here,” Joss says, hands out. Gawin lets him take Guinzly, rubbing a big hand up and down his tiny back, and Gawin follows them with the jar, sitting down on the couch next to him. “At least this way you don’t have to deal with a wriggly baby and can focus on the food,” Joss says, turning Guinzly around, sitting him on his lap.

It is infinitely easier to feed him this way, and the jar is scraped clean and the yoghurt packet halfway done when Guinzly starts refusing it, apparently full.

“Kid’s a fucking machine,” Gawin says, flopping back with relief.

“Language,” Joss says, wiping applesauce off Guinzly’s mouth with the hem of his tank, abs flashing for half a second.

Gawin looks at the ceiling for a beat, hoping a meteor will hit him.

“Why are you so good with him?” he sighs, watching as Guinzly yawns, leaning against Joss, his eyes fluttering closed. Joss smiles softly, rubbing his back again, soothing him to sleep.

“Dunno. Maybe because I spent so much time with Bella? I think I’m just good with kids… they’re easy, no ulterior motives, no weirdness… just simple… either happy or sad or tired. I’d probably be a teacher if I weren’t acting,” Joss says.

“You’d be great. Have all the kids falling in love with you every day,” Gawin mumbles, and Joss laughs.

“You think so?” he asks. “What about the cute new farang music teacher who loves his guitar more than anything? Would he fall in love with me, too?” Joss grins cheekily.

Gawin blinks, wondering if he heard right. “Um…”

The moment stretches between them.

Guinzly shifts, a soft, unhappy sound leaving him, and Joss’s attention snaps down immediately. His body adjusts without thought, rocking slower, firmer, murmuring something low and soothing that Gawin can’t quite make out. Whatever it is works; Guinzly settles, cheek pressed against Joss’s shoulder, breathing evening out.

Joss clears his throat. “We,” he starts, voice low, “Should probably set something up for him to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Gawin agrees quickly. He pushes himself off the couch, then hesitates, hovering for a second. “I mean. I can. I’ll--”

Joss looks up at him. “Together?”

It’s such a simple word. It lands harder than it should.

“Yeah.” Gawin’s voice barely carries. “Together.”

They move carefully around each other. Joss carries Guinzly to the bedroom, while Gawin trails behind, collecting things without really thinking -- blanket, bottle, wipes -- grateful for the excuse to be doing something.

Joss lowers Guinzly onto the bed with a gentleness that makes Gawin burn. He doesn’t let go straight away, keeps one hand on the baby’s stomach until he’s sure he’s fully out. Only then does he straighten, rolling his shoulders.

“He doesn’t like being alone,” Gawin says quietly. He doesn’t know how he knows. He just does.

Joss hums in agreement. “Neither do I,” he says, then pauses. Glances at Gawin. “I mean-- right now. With him. Not--”

“It’s fine,” Gawin says. They stand there for a second, both staring down at Guinzly.

“I’ll grab the cot pieces,” Joss says finally. “See if I remember how to build the thing from when Bella had one.”

“Good luck,” Gawin murmurs.

Joss snorts softly and heads back toward the living room.

Left on his own in the quiet, Gawin sinks onto the edge of the bed. He watches Guinzly sleep, lashes dark against his cheeks, mouth slack and trusting, and presses his palms flat against his thighs, grounding himself. His pulse hasn’t quite slowed yet. The feeling hasn’t gone away either.

From the other room comes the clatter of plastic and metal, followed by a very clear, “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Gawin smiles despite himself. “Language,” he calls softly, not wanting to wake Guinzly.

There’s a beat. Then, “He can’t hear me.”

“Yeah, but I can,” Gawin says.

Another pause. Then Joss laughs, and it makes Gawin feel fuzzy all over.

He stays where he is, listening to Joss wrestle with the cot, to the steady rhythm of Guinzly’s breathing, to the new shape of the space they’re in together.

🐧🐻

In the other room, Joss doesn’t mean to notice the shift.

It’s not like there’s a moment where something happens -- no line crossed, no confession, no sudden clarity. It’s quieter than that. Worse, maybe.

He’s got the cot instructions upside down in his hands, listening to the soft sounds from the bedroom -- Guinzly’s faint rustle of movement -- and he realises, with a jolt, that he knows exactly where Gawin is. Knows the shape of him sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders curved forward, attention fixed entirely on the baby, like the rest of the world has narrowed down to that one small, fragile thing.

Joss exhales slowly, steadying himself.

How he’s feeling isn’t new. Not really. He’s known Gawin is beautiful and extremely talented for years now. Knows the pull of him, the gravity, knows the way pairing has rewired something fundamental in his soul, like all the nuts and bolts of who he is are rebuilding themselves around Gawin.

What isn’t familiar is this sharp, unsettling certainty that keeps settling in deeper every time he looks at him holding Guinzly, every time he hears himself say we without thinking, every time the idea of Gawin leaving makes something in his ribs ache like a bruise.

He presses his thumb into the crease of the instruction manual, grounding himself.

Get it together.

This is temporary. Guinzly will turn back. Things will go back to normal. They always do.

Except, Joss thinks, distantly, that’s the problem.

Normal doesn’t feel like it fits anymore, or like it will ever fit again.

He tries to focus on the cot, on the pieces laid out across the floor, but his attention keeps slipping sideways… to the bedroom… to the way Gawin said together earlier, like it was the most natural answer in the world… to the fact that Joss didn’t even question it.

When Gawin calls out about the language, Joss snorts before he can stop himself. The sound surprises him -- too real, too unguarded. It feels good. That scares him a little.

By the time he gives up on the cot and heads back down the hall, manual in hand, ready to beg for help and the teasing that will follow, he’s already decided without quite naming it.

Not about them. Not yet.

But about this.

He’ll keep things steady and safe. For Guinzly. For Gawin. For himself.

When Gawin takes the instructions from him, fingers brushing his, Joss feels the contact deep in his bones -- and this time, he doesn’t pretend it’s nothing.

He lets it be what it is.

Just this, for now.

“Give it here,” he says. “You’re holding it wrong.”

Joss smiles ruefully at him, but lets him.

Their shoulders press as Joss sits down next to him, careful not to jostle the baby, and neither of them moves away.

The cot, once built and with only two Band-Aids, is placed in the corner of Joss’s room, narrowing the space, and Gawin defers to Joss to get him off his bed and into the cot. They stand there, still, as they watch Guinzly squirm, before he exhales and goes back to sleep.

Joss disappears and returns with a monitor that he clips to the edge of the cot, aiming it at Guinzly, a larger screen in his hands for them to watch their kid without getting up.

“So, uh…” Gawin says, staring at Joss’s bed. “I can take the couch.”

Joss frowns. “What? Couch?”

Gawin rubs a hand at the back of his head, shy with it. “I didn’t wanna assume you’d share your bed or whatever…”

Joss rolls his eyes. “Dude, c’mon. We’ve shared before, it’s fine. We can play rock, paper, scissors to see who gets up with him in the night if he wakes up.”

Gawin grins. “It’ll be you. You always lose to me.”

Sighing, Joss nods. He really does. “I’ll get to sleep first then so I can get ahead.”

Gawin should have realised sharing a bed tonight was going to be different from any other time they had, given the tension currently settled between them like a third person.

He stares at Joss’s ceiling, feeling the minutes tick by to the rise and fall of Joss’s chest next to him. A glance at the monitor shows Guinzly spreadeagled on his back, mouth open, dead asleep as well.

Joss sighs in his sleep, sniffling, and rolling over, bringing him closer to Gawin. Gawin inhales as Joss’s hand collides with his arm, and his fingers wrap around him, moving closer still. His face settles against Gawin’s neck, humming softly.

Fuck. Fuck, this is-- fuck.

Gawin swallows, wondering if he can untangle them, but the thought makes him violently annoyed, desperately craving this intimacy from Joss.

His eyes flutter closed.

🐧🐻

Waaaaaaaaah!

Gawin jerks upright. “W-what’s that?”

Joss groans from somewhere beside him.

Guinzly.

“Rock,” Joss says, holding out a hand, and Gawin rolls his eyes and stumbles out of bed, hitting his foot on something in the darkness. “Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing it and hopping a few steps, before getting to the crib.

He picks Guinzly up, shushing him, checks his diaper -- full. “Okay, baby, we’ve got you.”

He lays him on the foot of the bed and works fast with the supplies Joss left out -- wipes, cream, fresh diapers.

“You okay?” Joss yawns, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, as Gawin frees Guinzly from his soiled diaper. He holds it out to Joss, who sighs, but takes it and reaches over them for a rubbish bag, while Gawin wipes Guinzly down.

By the time Gawin’s got his new diaper on, he picks him up and rubs his back, holding him close, and crawls into bed. He settles in the middle somewhere, Joss returning from the kitchen. He stops in the doorway, memorising the sight.

Gawin -- hair wild, eyes half-closed -- humming softly to their… to their Guinzly, who is also half asleep against him, tiny fist clutching at his t-shirt, in the middle of Joss’s bed.

“Joss?” Gawin says, and Joss nods, startling into motion, and comes to sit in bed next to him, arms and legs tangling. Everything is soft skin and baby cream. He leans into Gawin’s side, his head settling against Gawin’s neck, and he sighs, inhaling him in.

Guinzly yawns, his little foot kicking against Joss’s bicep, and he smiles. He’s so tired. He’s so happy.

“Being a parent is fucking rough,” he rumbles, and Gawin agrees, his cheek resting against Joss’s head. He feels Gawin inhale, the sensation tickling. His hand settles on Gawin’s thigh, thumb tracing slow patterns while they wait.

“I don’t wanna move,” Gawin whispers after what feels like an hour passes by. Joss doesn’t either.

He shifts back as Gawin gets up, puts Guinzly down, and readjusts the camera before he goes to the bathroom. Joss lies on his side, hand resting where Gawin still lingers.

“I’m right here, ya big goof,” Gawin says, sliding into bed, Joss’s hand gliding across his midsection. Joss goes to move, because it's inappropriate and weird, but Gawin’s turning and shuffling backwards into the cage of Joss’s body, his back and ass pressed against Joss’s front in one long, warm line, and he holds Joss’s arm around him, tangling their legs together. He’s so fucking tired, too tired to question why this feels holy.

“Hold me?”

Joss lets out a shuddering sigh and tightens his grip. “Of course.”

As if it were ever a question that he wasn’t going to.

🐧🐻

The next morning, Joss wakes up to a mouthful of Gawin’s hair, his skin slick from where they are sealed together, chest to ankle, and a persistent hardness pressing right into the soft curve of Gawin’s ass.

“Fuck,” he whispers, loath to untangle himself from this, wanting to stay wrapped up in Gawin forever, but they haven’t had a conversation about this, about the gradual adjustment to their relationship, or the thickening intimacy that’s changing him at his core.

He slides out from Gawin’s grip, soothing the disgruntled sound Gawin makes as Joss’s arm eases out from under his hand, running a palm up and down his bicep, unable to help himself from the small liberty he takes, dropping a barely there kiss against it.

Guinzly is cooing in his crib, and Joss leans down, picks him up, holds him close, then slips out and shuts the door quietly behind him.

“Hey, Little G. Good morning,” Joss says with a smile, laughing as Guinzly slaps at his cheek.

Joss puts Guinzly in a bouncer they were convinced to buy yesterday while he prepared their breakfast, laughing as Guinzly bats at the toys and jumps around like a jackrabbit.

Breakfast is a sweet affair, Joss with Guinzly on his knee, feeding him whatever pureed jar he reached for first-- sweet potato, it seems-- while he makes his way through eggs, avocado and a small steak, a black coffee steaming next to him.

Guinzly finishes his food, and Joss wipes his face with a tissue, wondering aloud how sweet potato had somehow ended up in his ear, when the bedroom door opens, and Gawin appears. His bed hair is legendary, he has a line on his face from where the sheets creased his skin, and he’s pouting.

“Good morning,” Joss says as Gawin drifts over and comes to a stop next to them.

“You didn’t wake me up,” Gawin says, reaching for Guinzly, pulling him up into his arms and kissing his cheek, pucking the tissue from Joss’s fingers and dabbing at Guinzly’s ear.

“I wanted you to get more sleep,” Joss says, and Gawin shakes his head.

“We do this as a team. Wake me next time, okay?” he says, reaching out a hand to squeeze Joss’s shoulder, before moving to palm his cheek, thumbing along his jaw. Joss’s eyelids flutter.

“O-okay.”

P’Tha sends a message out to all the pairs not long after they finish breakfast and decide they should bathe Guinzly.

Joss sits in his underwear in the bath with a wriggling baby in his arms, trying his best not to drown them in a few centimetres of water as he struggles to wash Guinzly’s hair. Gawin appears with his phone. “P’Tha wants us to come in with the kid; they want doctors to look over them all and make sure we’re okay,” he says.

Joss grunts in agreement, as Guinzly shrieks, throwing his head back and almost knocking Joss the fuck out. “G, a little help would be nice.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Gawin says, putting his phone down and leaning over to rub the shampoo in Guinzly’s hair, reaching for the protein shaker Joss has fashioned as a jug to pour water over him.

The ear-piercing wail he lets out as Gawin trickles the water to wash the shampoo out almost blows their eardrums out.

“Fuck,” Gawin winces, and Joss glares up at him.

“Language.”

Gawin rolls his eyes and grabs the washcloth and the baby body wash they got talked into, rubbing it along Guinzly as he struggles to escape Joss’s grip, crying loudly.

Guinzly is clean and happily munching on some kind of baby breadstick, while they’re both traumatised and half-deaf. Joss holds him in one arm, shoving diapers, wipes, and food into a backpack, diaper bag somewhere unfathomable, as Gawin rushes through a shower.

“G, hurry up!” Joss yells, deciding to put in a spare change of clothes, another diaper, and the Sudocrem, frazzled as they rack their brain for anything they might need.

Gawin appears, hair wet and in clothes that look oddly familiar. Joss blinks and watches Gawin rush past him, pulling his phone off charge and grabbing his stuff.

That’s… that’s definitely his t-shirt and his shorts, the Underarmour logo silken on his left leg. Joss is pretty sure they were on the stack of clean clothes on his desk, not yet put away.

Gawin notices Joss noticing, and flushes. “I didn’t have anything clean, sorry.”

Joss stammers something unintelligible, and Gawin waves the car keys, and Joss snaps out of it, slinging on his backpack, as Gawin passes him his own phone, wallet and sunglasses.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, half-forgetful, half-meaningful. Gawin grumbles and pushes him gently, following up the rear, locking Joss’s door and hustling down the hallway after them.

Guinzly decides he doesn’t want to go in the car seat and starts wailing again, and it takes two biscuits and Gawin singing to calm him down enough for Joss to strap him in.

He flops into the passenger seat, beyond rattled, and Gawin starts up the car and peels out of the car park. Thankfully, Joss doesn’t live far from the building, but Gawin’s grip on the steering wheel is nothing short of white-knuckled, and Joss feels his eye twitching from stress.

Guinzly stays quiet and occupied as they get to the building, find a park, and get all their shit out, Gawin holding him as Joss slings his bag over his shoulder and picks up the rest of their stuff. He trails behind Gawin, sunglasses firmly on his face, and wondering how the fuck everyone else is managing this.

As the elevator dings on their floor, it opens to a wall of noise. At least two babies are crying, Bluey or some cartoon is blaring somewhere, with screaming and laughter layered on top, and a general buzz of chatter.

“Jesus Christ,” Joss says, and Gawin’s mouth tugs downward.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll get him seen by the doctor and bail out,” Gawin mutters as they round the corner and immediately run into Doc Jimmy, chasing after a moon-faced toddler with a bowl haircut, clutching something, moving rather fast for such a small person. “Cean, come back!”

Joss snorts, and Gawin elbows him. “Bath?” Joss’s smile slides off his face, and they continue walking, picking around toys and a pair of wayward sneakers, cute in their smallness, a handprint smeared along the wall in some kind of jam.

Joss shudders -- so much disorganisation -- and Gawin smiles and waves as Dunk appears, holding a juice box and looking equally as frazzled as they feel.

“Ah, Gawin! JWR!” He waves back, rushing over to hug them both. “Is this little Guinzly? Hi there, big man,” Dunk coos, tickling his leg, as Guinzly ducks and hides his face against Gawin’s neck.

“Just like his Papas,” Dunk laughs, face creasing, and Joss looks around.

“Where’s Joong?”

“He’s in the boardroom with Jaidee; they’re seeing the doctor now. I was going to the toilet. There’s a list posted at the door, you can see your slot,” Dunk says, thumbing over his shoulder.

Joss nods and moves past him, patting his shoulder, as Dunk chats with Gawin.

He finds the list, spots “GUINZLY + JOSSGAWIN” about six names down, with the top two already crossed off. Not too long a wait then.

He sways a bit as a weight leans on the back of his legs. Looking down, he sees a little girl peering between, holding them to steady herself.

She has a thick fringe and round, reddened cheeks, dressed in a Manchester United jersey and black shorts. Joss has absolutely no idea whose mascot this is.

“Uh… hello,” he says, waving and smiling. She grins and waves at him, holding her arms up.

“Okay…” Joss says, leaning down to pick her up.

“Pa!” she says, pointing at absolutely nowhere in particular.

“You want your Pa?” he asks, and she nods.

“Pa!”

“Um… okay, let’s go find your Pa. Whoever that is…”

He walks over to the manager's area, which, by the looks of it, has been turned into a pseudo-daycare and is the source of the overwhelming noise.

Most of the couples are in here with their children, the managers moving from couple to couple, checking in and tapping away at their iPads. He can see P’Somsom with Earth and Mix, holding a boy with a shaved head and glasses, and P’Koko is dancing around with WilliamEst’s boy.

“Ah, P’Joss!” he hears P’Palm say, and he turns to see her, pushing her glasses up her nose, hair up in a clip, two tablets in her arms. “Why are you holding Tomafox?”

“Oh, this is Tomafox? I had no idea. She just found me and wanted me to find her Pa.”

“Force is downstairs getting food, and Book’s getting something from storage. Sea was watching her, but she got away; he’s gone looking for her.”

Book reappears at that moment, heading over. Tomafox spots her father and squeals, reaching for him as he gets close enough to Joss. “Ah, thank you for taking care of her, P’Joss,” Book says softly, hugging her and kissing her cheek.

“No problem,” Joss says, smiling.

“Where’s Guinzly?” Palm asks, and Joss points back the way he came.

“G has him; he’s talking to Dunk. We’re up in a few, we’ve got time,” Joss says.

“Mmm, I have to take a picture of him and record some basic information for the doctor ahead of the appointment, so I’ll come with you.”

Joss nods, waving goodbye to Tomafox, who grins and waves back, Book waving with her.

Gawin’s still there, Pond having replaced Dunk, a tiny backpack slung over his wide shoulders, Guinzly in his arms as Gawin takes photos.

“Ah, P’Joss, hi,” Pond says, grinning widely at him. Joss nods, coming to stand next to Gawin.

“Palm needs Guinzly to take some measurements before our appointment,” he says in English to Gawin, and Pond holds Guinzly out.

Joss takes him, rubbing his back, and they bid goodbye to Pond and follow P’Palm to a meeting room that’s been cleared and set up with a makeshift medical station.

A somewhat nerve-racking twenty minutes later, and they emerge, Gawin red-faced, and Joss feeling like he’s pulled a muscle in his neck from how tense he was.

Guinzly cried the entire time P’Palm tried anything-- Joss ended up having to hold him still so she could measure him, and his little arms and legs were kicking out wildly to escape.

Gawin had managed to calm him down enough, and Joss apologised with two more baby breadsticks, the kid double-fisting them as they headed back to where the doctor was set up. The doors opened to reveal Bonnie, holding a little girl who was whimpering softly, while Emi was thanking the doctor behind her.

“Good luck,” Bonnie whispers as she walks past, patting Ani’s hair, Emi pulling a face as she moves out of their way.

The doctor is fine as he reviews Guinzly’s chart. He does some tests on him that Guinzly adamantly dislikes, but whatever he sees is good enough for him to deem their kid healthy, within normal parameters for his age. He ends the appointment by pricking Guinzly’s foot for a blood test, which makes him start screaming all over again.

They exit, Guinzly in Joss’s arms this time, as he rocks him back and forth, trying to soothe the hiccoughing cough that is mildly terrifying, as Gawin trails behind, backpack, half-eaten breadsticks and toys in hand.

“How long do we have to stay here?” Joss asks P’Palm once she finds them again, sitting at a desk somewhat removed from the rest of the group, Guinzly yawning and burrowing against him. Gawin drapes a blanket over him, rubbing his little back, and all Joss can feel is the warm line of Gawin pressed against his bicep.

Now is not the time for that.

“I think P’Tha wants to talk to you all… let me just check and see if we can get you guys first,” she says, wandering off to go find him.

“This has been a traumatising second day as parents,” Joss says to Gawin, who nods in agreement.

“Fucking terrible. 0/10, would not do again.”

Joss snorts, holding his breath as Guinzly stirs, before falling back asleep. They sit there in silence, too nervous to speak or move, until P’Palm reappears and waves at them to join her.

Joss rises slowly and walks even slower, Gawin trailing behind, as they get to P’Tha’s office. There’s a makeshift cot near the door, and Joss lowers Guinzly into it, sighing as he stays asleep, eyelids fluttering as he dreams. P’Tha hugs them both, and they go to his desk, sitting down in front of it. He perches on the edge, smiling at them.

“So, how’s it been?” he asks softly.

Joss looks at Gawin, who nods. “It’s… hard. Having to take care of a baby so suddenly. Luckily, Joss’s friends have kids and have given us stuff and advice to help.”

“Do we know what happened, or why this happened?” Gawin asks.

P’Tha shakes his head. “The police are going through a list of our former employees, because this feels targeted, and it’s not just one person. But we have no more information at this stage. We’ll give you a pack with the paediatrician you saw today, you can take the children to see them if they get sick, and we have kits, but it sounds like you two are organised. I should’ve expected that.”

Joss nods, and Gawin shifts in his seat, his shoulder pressing against Joss’s.

They don’t stay much longer, P’Tha with an overwhelming amount of pairs to get through, and they pick Guinzly up, Gawin holding him this time, humming softly to keep him asleep.

First and Khaotung are at the elevators, both holding the tiny hand of a toddler wearing a massive, fluffy bunny hat.

“Ah, is that Guinzly?” First asks softly, and Gawin nods, turning slowly to show him off.

“He’s so sweet,” Khaotung smiles.

“Thank you. And this is Yuzu Mumu?” Joss waves at him and ducks behind First’s leg, slipping from Khaotung’s hand.

“Yes. He’s very shy, sorry,” Khaotung says.

“So’s Guinzly. Takes after his parents,” Joss murmurs, putting a hand low on Gawin’s back as the doors open.

They pile in, First picking Yuzu Mumu up, and they stand in an easy silence, watching the numbers tick by to the basement.

On exit, Joss is the last to leave, Khaotung chatting with Gawin about Only Friends Dream on.

“You two look good together,” First says, somewhat suddenly. Joss isn’t really sure what to do with that.

“Thanks,” he settles on. And then he remembers-- First was paired with Gawin for Not Me. “I mean, thank you for taking care of him before we found each other. I appreciate it a lot.”

First’s eyes widen, and he just looks at Joss for a beat.

“Gawin was fine. He was very independent. Very quiet. Always with his guitar, sitting back, watching everyone, smiling and happy to be there, but withdrawn. It’s really nice to see him participating now. That we get to see, anyway. I’m sure he’s always had a thriving social life. But the fact he’s willing to share, willing to do things with us, saying yes to more things, taking risks, being present… I know we have you to thank for that.”

Joss is so happy he’s not holding Guinzly, because First’s words are touching a place inside of him that he doesn’t usually allow to be affected so easily, as he crosses his arms to hold himself from flying apart.

But hearing it from someone who knew Gawin like that before him, saying that he has affected Gawin in such a way, is almost too much for him to bear.

“It was hard, but the result is worth it,” Joss says. Gawin reappears in the distance, waving at him, and Joss waves back. “He’s worth it.”

First laughs and nods, and rubs his cheek against Yuzu Mumu. “They really are.”

At the car, Gawin decides he’s going on strike from driving and sits in the passenger seat. Joss pulls a face and climbs into the driver's side, frowning as he puts on his seatbelt and adjusts the mirror.

“I hate driving,” he mutters, putting the car in reverse and frowning even harder as he remembers Gawin doesn’t have driving assist or any kind of cameras.

“I love seeing you mad about driving,” Gawin grins, and Joss flips him the bird as he navigates his way out of the car park.

They keep Guinzly asleep for an hour and a half, after consulting Google on appropriate nap times for children of the age they’re hazarding he is, and Joss tackles cleaning the kitchen. At the same time, Gawin puts a load of washing on and picks up clothes and random crap from around the condo.

Going from accommodating one man to two, plus a child, has definitely increased the clutter and mess, but somehow it doesn’t bother Joss at all. It just makes the place feel lived-in and alive in a way it hasn’t before.

Gawin brings Guinzly from his cot to the playmat in the living room, lays him down on his tummy, rattles toys at him, including the little stuffed penguin that’s becoming a fast favourite, and laughs, snapping pictures as he goes.

🐧🐻

The rest of the day passes calmly in comparison -- Joss leaves Gawin with Guinzly to grab dinner ingredients from nearby shops, and Gawin nervously tries to keep Guinzly occupied, putting Bluey on the television and singing along, Guinzly laughing wildly.

Joss frowns when he returns and mumbles something about screen time, Gawin rolling his eyes. “He’s a mascot, J, he’ll be fine with a bit of television.”

“Still…” Joss sighs, and Gawin flaps a hand, making him laugh.

Guinzly amuses himself with his toys and the television. At the same time, Gawin watches Joss prepare some kind of curry for dinner, the casual flex and flow of his biceps as he chops, alternating Gawin’s swinging gaze between the two.

A bottle and Gawin cutting laps around the condo to get Guinzly asleep for the night, sees Joss serving their dinner as Gawin puts him down in the bedroom, aims the monitor at him, and shuts the door quietly behind him.

Yawning, he sits down next to Joss, smelling the food, his mouth watering.

“This smells fucking amazing, thank you,” he says, and Joss flushes.

“It’s just curry,” he says, and Gawin rolls his eyes and grabs his fork and spoon, the meat falling apart with barely a prod.

They eat in silence, enjoying the quiet and each other’s company, Gawin’s knee resting against Joss’s thigh, the touch point somehow enhancing the taste of the food.

Gawin’s throat clicks, suddenly aware of where they’re connected, and tries not to blush.

“You okay?” Joss asks, pulling Gawin from his spiral.

“Yeah, why?” Gawin says.

Joss raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring at your fork for the past minute.”

“Just thinking about how good the food is,” Gawin sniffs, making Joss laugh and shake his head.

He manages to get through the rest of the meal without making a fool of himself, and by then, Guinzly is stirring, ready for a diaper change.

“It’s okay, little guy,” Joss coos as they head into the bedroom, Gawin grabbing a spare diaper and wipes as Joss reaches into the crib and picks him up.

Lying him down on the bed, his little face scrunched up and red, they move around each other seamlessly-- Gawin handing across supplies, taking the dirty diaper, as Joss makes quick work of cleaning him up. Gawin roots around for another romper, Joss’s fingers snapping each button closed.

“We make a good team,” Gawin murmurs as Joss picks Guinzly up, shushing him, his big hand almost covering his entire back as he rubs up and down, humming something soft and sweet.

Joss smiles at him, his dimple flashing, cheek resting against Guinzly’s head.

Gawin’s knees buckle a little with the image of this man, holding their… their mascot, fingers gripping the diaper bag tightly.

It’s been two days, and he can’t call Guinzly his son. Not for what it would mean if he did.

He puts the bag in the bin and leans against the counter, eyes closed.

Joss, back in his room, smiles as Guinzly’s breathing evens out and he holds on a little longer, until he’s sure he’s asleep. Lowering him down in the crib, he adjusts the monitor and picks up the portable one, heading back out into the living room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Gawin’s in the kitchen, washing off the plates and stacking the dishwasher, as Joss wanders over.

“You don’t have to do that, you’re a guest,” Joss says, and Gawin huffs a laugh.

“I stopped being a guest a long time ago,” he says, halting as soon as he finishes, darting a weird look at Joss. “U-uh, I mean, um--”

The nervousness is strange-- why is Gawin falling over his words like that? He wonders if it has to do with something Joss has been doing, if he’s been making Gawin uncomfortable with his touch, or if something else is bothering him.

“You’re right. You haven’t been a guest for a while. I want you to be comfortable here.”

Gawin blinks at him, mouth open a little. “Y-you what?”

“You heard me. I want you to be comfortable here. It should be a place of calm and happiness.”

“O-oh.”

Joss takes the plate from his hands, almost slipping between his wet fingers, and puts it in the dishwasher.

“He’s almost out of applesauce; we need to get more tomorrow. Probably some more diapers, too.”

“Yeah, I noticed. We can go on an adventure. Maybe not back to that store… I think we traumatised the staff,” Gawin says. Joss flushes.

He’s pretty sure Gawin was jealous, given how he was acting. The overly familiar staff bothered him. It didn’t even register on Joss’s radar, so he was used to people being like that around him, but now, with Gawin… it seems he’ll have to be careful.

Unable to stop smiling, he continues the easy domestic rhythm with Gawin, stacking the dishwasher and wiping down the kitchen, cleansing it of oil splatters and the smell of sizzling meat.

“Wanna watch the Lakers rerun?” Gawin asks, tapping at his phone. Joss hasn’t seen the game, just saw the score, and is reluctant to watch his precious Lakers lose, but the thought of sitting on the couch with Gawin, chatting about the plays, wanting to try them next time they’re on court together, sounds… real fucking nice.

“Sure,” he says, and Gawin squeezes his shoulder, his smile warm and wide, and wanders off to the lounge, picking up the remote and throwing himself into the pillows, long limbs rearranging themselves into something comfortable.

“Did you wash his rompers?” Gawin asks as Joss joins him, settling beside him. Joss nods.

“Put a load on before, P’Palm gave me some stuff when we were at the office, too, so I’m washing that. He puked on his penguin before as well, so that’s in there.”

“Gross,” Gawin says, wrinkling his nose.

“Mm, it wasn’t nice.”

Guinzly wakes up sometime during the third quarter, when Gawin’s on the phone to his sister in his room, having ducked away during halftime to answer her. Trying to explain that his mascot is now a baby and he’s been playing house with Joss for the last two days is somehow harder and easier than he’d expected.

“Sounds like someone’s put a curse on you,” Tala says, and Gawin hums. It doesn’t feel negative. If anything, it feels like a gift.

Gawin cracks the bathroom door when he hears Guinzly crying and sees Joss moving in the darkened room, opening his bedroom door, his voice a low hum.

“I guess. I don’t know what it is, sis. It’s… it’s been weird, being here, like this.”

“Weird how?”

“I just… I feel weird whenever I see Joss, now. Like it’s… opening a new door, or a new level to us.” He cups his hand around the phone, as if he’s worried Joss will hear his confession.

Tala laughs softly. “No shit. You’re seeing what life would be like if you built a family with that hot Southern prime beefcake who somehow puts up with your diva behaviour and takes care of you better than even your own parents.”

“I’m not a diva!” Gawin exclaims. She laughs harder.

“I love you, baby bro, but you’re hard work. And you’re now raising a kid with this guy and seeing him in husband and dad mode. No wonder your heart is kicking into overdrive. I’d fall in love with him too.”

“L-love,” Gawin splutters.

He can almost hear her eyeroll down the line. “I don’t know how someone so smart and talented can be so stupid. G, tell that man you love him and want to have real babies with him someday. I guarantee you he’ll get down and whip out a ring that he’s had since you guys signed the contracts to film MGB.”

“You’re insane,” Gawin hisses, but his traitorous heart beats too fast, and his palms are sweaty at the thought. Joss, proposing?

He ends his call and stands up, shaking a little. He walks back through the kitchen, coming to a standstill as he takes in the sight ahead of him.

Joss is back on the couch, Guinzly splayed out on his bare chest, t-shirt tossed to the side, big hand rhythmically patting his bottom, as he hums a lullaby, watching the basketball as he yawns. Guinzly’s little cheek is pillowed against his pec, eyes fluttering closed as he is unable to fight the pull of Joss.

He stands there, unable to move, stricken, taking in the sight of the man he’s fast realising he feels anything but platonic about, cuddling their-- their mascot to sleep.

Gawin swallows, painfully, around the lump in his throat. Because fuck if Tala isn’t right, and he can see it. He can see the life they could have.

Not the fantasy, not the ship, not the lie… but them, together, for real. With a real family. Joss would be there, strong and solid, like an oak tree, protecting and loving them all.

“Fuck,” he says.

Joss yawns again, peering down at Guinzly and smiling at him, zonked the fuck out, and Gawin moves, one foot in front of the other. He’ll be stuck here forever, watching.

“I can put him to bed,” he offers, and Joss nods, letting Gawin take Guinzly, as gently as he can, back into the bedroom.

He gets him down, rubbing his stomach, keeping the rhythm as he settles back, and the light from the living room dies, plunging everything into pitch darkness.

Gawin straightens up as Joss comes into the bedroom, sighing, almost stumbling over the box of diapers.

“Time for bed, man, I’m exhausted,” he whispers, hands on Gawin’s hips as he navigates around him to the ensuite.

Gawin follows him in, and they brush their teeth, Gawin’s cheeks red the entire time as Joss leans against him, sleepy and soft, forehead pressing against his shoulder.

“Between me being a night owl and you being an early bird, we’re adjusting our schedules to each other to be normal people,” Gawin says, rinsing his mouth out. Joss frowns.

“I like waking up early, though,” he says.

“You wake up too early. And you go to bed too early. All the fun stuff happens late at night.”

Joss pouts, and Gawin chuckles, rubbing Joss’s shoulder, the breath knocking out of him a bit as Joss crowds into his embrace, insisting on a hug. Gawin gives it to him because what else is he to do?

“You’re perfect as you are, Joss Way-Ar. Never change,” Gawin mumbles against his head. He knows he doesn’t imagine Joss hugging him a little tighter.

In the room, Joss strips down to his boxers, and Gawin does the same, both of them too tired to find clothes, crawling into Joss’s bed. Joss sets up the monitor on Gawin’s side, leaning over him, Gawin taking in his smell, his cologne, the heat rolling off him as their skin touches, his bicep against Gawin’s pec, his knee pressing along Gawin’s thigh.

He yawns again, settling back down on his side, and Gawin misses the touch desperately. This is fucking insane, Tala’s broken me, Gawin thinks hysterically as he plugs his phone in and wonders what tomorrow is going to hold for them.

Surely--

“Can…” Joss’s voice disturbs the still evening air, and Gawin’s spiral.

“Can what?” Gawin asks.

Joss turns on his side, the outline of his shoulders barely visible, and his hand fumbles across the bed to find Gawin’s, tugging at his fingers.

“Can we…” His voice cracks at the end, and he falls silent, embarrassed. He doesn’t let go of Gawin’s hand, though.

“Do you want to hug?” Gawin says, because it has to be this. Why else would Joss, who is usually so sure of himself and everything about them, stumble at this?

“Mm, yeah. If that’s okay?”

Gawin huffs out a laugh as Joss burrows his way into Gawin’s arms, his face pressing against Gawin’s neck, hot heat and smooth curves pressing against every centimetre of him.

“Feels good,” Joss rumbles, each inhale and exhale syncing with Gawin’s.

“Good night, J,” Gawin says, eyelashes fluttering closed.

“G’night, G,” Joss murmurs back.

🐧🐻

The morning breaks, and Guinzly doesn’t wake them screaming, lets them sleep until well past eight before a soiled diaper and a rumbling belly lead him to whimper and squirm.

Joss comes to first, blinking awake, not having moved at all overnight, still buried in Gawin’s embrace. Their skin is sticky from where they’ve stayed close, and he can’t bring himself to move, the happiness humming through him.

Gawin stirs as Guinzly’s grizzling gets louder, and Joss sighs, rubbing his nose against Gawin’s neck, before withdrawing, padding over to Guinzly’s cot and picking him up.

He grabs a change of clothes, some supplies and breezes out into the lounge, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Just some Pops-and-Guinzly time,” Joss says unsnapping Guinzly’s romper.

He gets him clean and dry, holding him in one arm while he prepares breakfast with the other, Guinzly mouthing his favourite toy penguin, babbling in his baby language, making Joss laugh.

The sun rises slowly above Bangkok as he feeds Guinzly on the couch, pops him onto his back on his playmat, keeping him in sight as he heads back into the kitchen to clean up the mess.

The bedroom door opens, and Gawin staggers out, hair crazy, rubbing his eyes.

“Wha’time issit?”

Joss snorts, shaking his head.

“It's like eight thirty... go back to bed.”

Gawin frowns grumpily and comes to stand next to Joss, squinting at him.

“Fine. I’ll make you a coffee and some breakfast for us,” Joss acquiesces, and Gawin nods, remaining there until Joss presses a hot cup into his hands, and he goes to sit on the floor by Guinzly as Joss cooks them breakfast, humming away in the kitchen.

I want this forever.

Gawin takes picture after picture of Guinzly between bites of breakfast, Joss lying next to him, eyes crinkled and face fond, Gawin seizing with need.

Their phones buzz at the same time, and Joss get to his first, finding it hard to take his eyes off Gawin, busy housing a piece of toast covered in scrambled egg, avocado, and two kinds of hot sauce.

When he does look, he frowns, re-reading the message twice.

“G,” he starts, and Gawin looks up.

“Hmm?”

“The company just sent a message to everyone. Apparently, they found the culprit for the mascots turning into kids. It was a disgruntled former employee. They’re in custody now and will be performing the spell to turn them back soon.”

Gawin looks at Joss, eyes wide. “Turn him back?” He looks over at Guinzly, who giggles, kicking at the toys hanging over him, tugging at him, spinning a wheel and making a ball squeak.

“Yeah, apparently.”

“Shit,” Gawin says.

“Yeah,” Joss echoes.

🐧🐻

In the end, Guinzly’s reversal is as undramatic as his arrival was dramatic. They put him down for a post-lunch nap, deciding to make sandwiches of their own at a more reasonable time, and when they head back in to check on him, instead of finding a soft, sleeping bundle, the plush mascot is lying in the crib, staring up at them with his unseeing red eyes.

Gawin grips the edge of the crib, and Joss stands next to him, grief becoming a physical thing, wrapping around them.

He wasn’t here for long, but his impact on them both was profound.

“I miss him,” Gawin says wetly.

“I do too,” Joss rasps.

Gawin turns and pushes his way into Joss’s arms, Joss holding him, pressing his face into Gawin’s shoulder. His eyes sting.

Focus.

“I guess I should go home, then,” Gawin says, as he pulls back.

Joss frowns. He never… “If that’s what you want.”

“Well, we’ve got no kid to keep me here anymore, so…” Gawin says.

Joss expels a breath, frustrated, in ways he doesn’t know how to explain. But Gawin seems to want to go, despite how much Joss doesn’t want him to.

So he watches Gawin shove his shit back into his bag, zip up his guitar, and wave goodbye, slipping out Joss’s front door, shutting quietly behind him, leaving him with a pile of baby gear strewn around his condo, and a plush toy lying in a crib.

“Fuck.”

🐧🐻

The silence is the worst, he thinks.

The lack of baby babble, of tears, of Gawin plucking away at his guitar or on Joss’s keyboard, writing and learning, the noise of connection, of family.

He wakes up too early and stares at the blank monitor, expecting to see Guinzly awake and wanting attention, or to roll over to an empty, cold bed, with no matching lump lying there, warming his sheets and his heart.

He has no routine anymore, not like it used to be, and feels adrift and unmoored.

He opens his Line chat with Gawin, the cursor blinking accusatorily at him, demanding to be utilised. But he finds he doesn’t know the words to use, what would be right or good, in this instance. Begging Gawin to come back and fill the void opening wider inside him.

But he can’t, because things are weird between them.

Weird in a way Joss doesn’t know how to fix, and he always knows how to fix Gawin.

But not this.

Because Gawin is still the same -- he smiles, he laughs, he plays guitar, he teases Joss in gentle service-but-not-service ways. But Joss knows. He can smell it on Gawin, the undercurrent of… something not quite right. Because it smells like Joss’s not quite right. The same feeling in the same font.

And if Joss doesn’t know how to fix his issue, how the hell is he going to fix Gawin’s?

Sighing, he goes to the cafe at work on the 28th floor and stands in line, hands in his pockets, a million miles away, until someone bumps him. Eyebrow raised, he looks over his shoulder and sees Joong.

“Joong,” he says, at Joong’s wide, grinning face, laughing as Joong hugs him tightly, rubbing his face against Joss.

“Pa, I’ve missed you. How have you been?” he asks, tucking himself into Joss’s side.

“Alright. Tired. Preparing for LOL. I’m nervous,” he sighs.

“The great Joss Way-Ar, nervous? Pssh.”

Joss laughs, because it’s all he can do, and they order their coffees and sit in a corner, sunlight streaming into the double-glazed windows, taking all the sting but leaving the shine.

“So, how did you guys go when they turned back?” Joong asks, sipping on his drink.

Joss tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Joong sighs, tipping his head back. “Man, Dunk and I were so fucked up when Jaidee turned back. We’d spent almost three days raising this kid, y’know? Felt almost like a death or something. We cried for like, the entire first day.”

Oh my God… was that it? Were they both grieving the loss of Guinzly, but not doing it together?

“By day three, we were mostly back to normal. Lots of deep talks in the middle of the night tucked up in bed. Made us stronger as a pair, though, I think. We love Jaidee so much more now. Our baby.” Joong gets a dreamy look on his face, and Joss… Joss has to find Gawin.

“I think we fucked up,” Joss murmurs. Joong raises an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“We didn’t… we just… Gawin went home.” Joss remembers how he’d sat in his room, in the dark, staring at the ceiling for hours, after packing away all of the baby stuff, planning to take it to a women’s shelter the next morning to donate.

He wasn’t entirely able to get rid of everything, though, and kept one toy, the little penguin Guinzly had loved so much. It’s in his wardrobe, on the top shelf, almost entirely out of sight.

Joss’s chest throbs as he thinks of Guinzly, and mildly horrified, he feels his eyes begin to moisten.

“Fuck,” he whispers, quickly swiping at them.

Joong gives him a look -- not of pity, but of understanding and empathy -- and sits next to Joss, hugging him. Joss hugs back, clinging far too tightly, probably crushing his nong, but Joong holds on, steadfastly bearing Joss’s emotions, until he calms down enough to pull back, rubbing at his face.

“Do I look horrible?” he asks, and Joong shakes his head, reaching for a napkin and handing it to his phi. He is not a pretty crier, not like Gawin, and is embarrassed by his emotions getting the better of him like this.

“You look like a man who lost his kid and his partner in one afternoon.”

“I didn’t lose Gawin,” Joss denies. Joong pats his knee.

“You kind of did. You let him go. Or he let you go. Either way, you should be with each other right now and process your grief. You were parents, and now you’re not, and there’s a hole there that you have to acknowledge and take care of.”

Joss stares at Joong. “When did you become so grown up?” he asks.

Joong shrugs. “Dunk and I almost broke up last year. It was bad, phi. Real bad. P’Aof, P’Tha and P’X had to give us therapy pretty much. I was so angry. Dunk was resentful. But we talked a lot and eventually cleared the air. You don’t come through that kind of shit together without learning a thing or two.”

Joss nods. “Very true. I’m glad you two found your way back to each other again,” he says, and sincerely means it. He probably loves Joong and Dunk the most among all his nongs.

“You guys will get there too,” Joong says, just as sincerely.

Joss hums, in what he hopes is agreement.

🐧🐻

Gawin is in the building for a fitting, and Joss messages him.

Let’s talk when you’re done

I’ll bring you back to my place

Gawin sends him a 😦 and a bunch of question marks.

Joss just leaves him on read.

P’Palm texts him when they’re done, and Joss waits outside the studio, Gawin trundling out a few moments later.

He glances at Joss, who stares at him, until he sighs and nods, waving a hand. “Lead the way.”

Joss is quiet in the elevator down to the ground floor, and the walk to his condo, which is only a few minutes away. Joss is turning it over and over in his head, trying to figure out what to say. He’s come up with nothing, his head a blank slate.

Once they get inside, Joss gets them water and drifts to the lounge, sitting on the long part of his couch. Gawin eases himself onto the couch and bites his lip.

“You’re very quiet today,” he says.

Joss nods, eyebrows knitted. “We need to talk.”

“I saw your text. What’s this about?” Gawin asks.

Joss looks at him, really looks at him. He takes in the slump of Gawin’s shoulders, the nervous dart of his gaze, how he’s barely able to make eye contact, the downturn of his lips.

Gawin is suffering just as much as he is.

“Why did you leave me when Guinzly turned back?” Joss asks.

Gawin blinks. “...huh?”

“I said, why did you leave me when Guinzly turned back?” he repeats.

It’s Gawin’s turn to frown. “Because… he was back to being a toy? Why would I stay?”

“Because we just lost our kid.”

Gawin’s jaw snaps shut. “He was a toy, Joss.”

“But he wasn’t. He was our baby. For three days.”

Gawin’s staring at him now, his face slack, listening to Joss.

“He was a toy, Joss…” he says again, but weaker this time.

“No,” Joss says quietly. “He wasn’t.”

The words settle heavily between them. Joss rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself, with how impossible this is to explain without coming across insane.

“I know how it sounds,” he says. “Trust me, I know. But for three days, we woke up with him. We fed him. We carried him around. We built a fucking cot and took turns getting up with him in the middle of the night.”

Gawin’s face is blown wide open, hurt and fear painting his features.

Joss pushes on anyway. “And then he was just… gone.” His voice roughens. “And you left too.”

Something in Gawin’s expression breaks at that. “I thought you wanted me to go,” he rasps.

Joss can’t believe what he’s hearing. “What?”

“You said, ‘if that’s what you want.’” Gawin laughs, thin and miserable. “You didn’t ask me to stay.”

Joss stares at him… because he’s right. God, he’s right. “I didn’t know I could,” Joss admits.

The honesty of his confession feels like it strips the air from the room.

“I was trying so hard not to make things worse that I just…” He shakes his head. “I shut down.”

Gawin looks away sharply, blinking too much. “I don’t think I could’ve stayed here, even if I wanted to,” Gawin says quietly. “Everything smelled like him. There was baby stuff everywhere, and your room still looked like…” He steels himself. “Like ours.”

The city hums faintly outside. The air conditioner rattles softly overhead as the gravity of Gawin’s pain sits between them, layering itself over Joss’s.

“I keep expecting to hear him crying,” Gawin says, breaking the silence.

Joss lets out a shaky breath. “Me too.”

Gawin presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I hated going home,” he admits. “I kept reaching for my phone because I wanted to send you things and then remembering there wasn’t…” His voice cracks. “There wasn’t a reason anymore.”

“There was a reason,” Joss says immediately.

Gawin looks up.

Joss leans forward slowly, elbows on his knees. “There still is.”

Gawin scrubs at his face. “Did someone get in your head?”

Joss huffs out something halfway to a laugh. “Yeah,” he admits. “A little. I talked to Joong.”

“What did he say?”

Joss looks at him for a long moment before answering. “He said we lost our kid and our partner in the same afternoon.”

Gawin goes very still, then his bottom lip wobbles. “Oh,” he whispers.

Joss moves before he fully thinks about it and crosses the space between them.

Gawin folds into him instantly, as though he’s been holding himself together by force for days now. Joss wraps both arms around him hard enough to hurt, pressing his face into Gawin’s hair as Gawin shakes apart against him.

“It’s okay,” Joss murmurs, even though he’s crying a bit now, too. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

And for the first time since Guinzly disappeared, the grief stops feeling so goddamn lonely.

🐧🐻

That night, Gawin doesn’t leave.

It’s late by the time they stop talking. Late enough that Bangkok outside the windows has softened into scattered headlights and distant noise.

Joss hurts from crying, from talking, from trying to fit something enormous and strange into words small enough to survive outside his own head.

Gawin sits beside him on the couch, curled slightly into the corner cushion, one of Joss’s hoodies wrapped around him.

Guinzly is between them.

The television plays softly in the background, unwatched. Some cooking competition. Bright colours flashing over the walls of the condo while neither of them pays attention.

Gawin rubs at his eyes again.

“You’re gonna make them all irritated if you keep that up,” Joss murmurs.

Gawin snorts. “They already are.”

“Yeah,” Joss says softly. “Mine too.”

Gawin reaches for the mascot eventually, thumb brushing over one of the stitched ears. His expression wavers before he smooths it out again.

Joss notices anyway.

“He used to do this thing,” Gawin says suddenly, voice rough, “where he’d grab my fingers when he was falling asleep after he ate.”

Joss lets out an exhale through his nose. “Yeah.”

“And if I tried to move, he’d wake up immediately.”

“Yeah,” Joss repeats, quieter this time.

Gawin laughs, a little, broken thing, eyes fixed downward. “God. We sound insane.”

“We are insane.”

That gets a real smile out of him. Small, but real.

Joss watches it for too long. He’s becoming frighteningly aware lately of how much relief lives inside him whenever Gawin smiles.

The episode on the television ends, and another starts automatically. Neither of them moves to turn it off.

Gawin yawns eventually, his shoulders curling inward afterwards like he’s embarrassed to be tired.

“You should sleep,” Joss says.

Gawin nods vaguely, but doesn’t stand.

“You can stay, if you want,” he hears himself say.

Gawin looks over immediately. Joss shrugs one shoulder, trying to make it feel casual, when it’s anything but. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, okay,” Gawin says. Neither of them mentions that they really don't want him to go.

Joss stands first, stretching slowly. “I’ll get you a towel.”

The relief that flashes across Gawin’s face is fast. But Joss sees it, and something inside him aches in response.

He disappears into the bathroom and comes back with fresh towels, one of his t-shirts, and a pair of sleep shorts. Gawin takes them carefully, fingers brushing Joss’s.

“Thanks,” he says softly.

Joss nods once. “Yeah.”

The bathroom door closes behind him. Water starts running a few seconds later.

Joss stands alone in the lounge room for a moment, staring at the closed door. Then he looks down at the mascot still sitting on the couch. A horrible feeling swells suddenly in his heart. Not grief this time, but something else. Something terrifyingly close to longing.

He sinks down beside the toy and drags both hands over his face. This is getting bad.

Because Gawin is still the same. He still smiles at him the same, steals fries off his plate, curls toward his presence in sleep… says Joss’s name as if it matters. But now there’s all this emotion wrapped around it too, peeled open and raw and impossible to ignore.

Joss hears the shower turn off. His pulse kicks hard. Get it fucking together bro.

The bathroom door opens a minute later, steam curling out around Gawin as he steps into the hallway barefoot, damp-haired, swamped in Joss’s clothes.

Joss forgets how to breathe for a second. Because there’s something so painfully intimate about seeing someone you want so badly wearing your clothes after midnight.

Especially here. Especially now.

Gawin rubs at his hair with the towel. “What?” he asks, catching Joss staring.

“Nothing,” Joss says.

Gawin’s mouth twitches. Liar, the expression says, but he lets it go.

Joss gets up, smoothing sweaty palms along his shorts. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Okay.”

Their shoulders brush as they pass each other, and neither moves away, the contact brief. Joss still feels it all the way down his fucking spine.

The shower doesn’t help, either. If anything, standing under the water just gives him too much time to think.

About Gawin crying to him earlier.

About the way he said ours.

About him staying.

About the terrifying, aching relief of not being alone in this anymore.

Joss presses both hands against the tiled wall and exhales shakily. He’s in trouble.

By the time he comes back out, Gawin is already in bed, on Joss’s side, fast asleep.

Joss stops in the doorway, unable to stop looking. The bedside lamp is still on, casting everything in gold and soft light. Gawin is curled toward the space beside him, one arm tucked under the pillow, Joss’s shirt riding up enough to expose a strip of skin at his waist, Guinzly tucked against him.

“Oh,” he whispers to the empty room.

Not because of the toy. But because suddenly, devastatingly, he understands. Home stopped feeling like home when Gawin left it. And it only feels right again now that he’s back.

Joss stands there for a long moment before finally switching off the lamp and climbing carefully into bed beside him.

The mattress shifts, and Gawin makes a soft sound in his sleep and immediately rolls closer.

The instinctual, gravitational pull, guiding him to Joss.

Joss lies there in the dark, staring at the ceiling while Gawin presses warm and solid against his side. He should move. He doesn’t.

A few minutes later, Gawin’s fingers loosen around the mascot in sleep. Joss leans over and takes his hand instead. And sometime before dawn, still holding onto each other, he finally falls asleep.

🐧🐻

Joss wakes slowly. There’s weight pressed against him-- legs tangled, an arm heavy across his waist, breath against the underside of his jaw.

Gawin.

Joss keeps his eyes closed for a second longer, because moving will change everything, and right now, in this blurry stretch between sleeping and waking, everything feels painfully easy.

The room is pale with early morning light, thin gold slipping through the curtains. Somewhere outside, Bangkok traffic hums softly awake.

Gawin shifts against him with a sleepy sound. Joss’s heartbeat kicks.

Fuck.

Carefully, he opens his eyes. Gawin is tucked into him completely now, face half hidden against Joss’s shoulder, hair a mess from sleep. At some point during the night, their hands found each other again. Their fingers are still loosely linked between them.

Guinzly sits near the pillows. Joss smiles, the pain now a dull throb.

Then Gawin blinks awake. There’s a tiny moment of confusion before awareness settles back over his face. Neither of them moves.

“Morning,” Joss says softly.

Gawin’s eyes flick downward briefly, probably noticing the hand thing too. “Morning,” he mumbles.

Still, neither of them lets go.

Joss can feel the exact moment Gawin becomes self-conscious about how close they are. His shoulders tense, his body stiffening.

Joss starts to loosen his grip, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Gawin tightens his fingers instead.

The movement is small, but it feels enormous. Joss looks at him properly then.

Gawin’s eyes are still heavy with sleep, but there’s something else underneath now, too-- something raw and terrified and determined all at once. “Joss,” he says quietly.

Joss’s stomach flips. “Yeah?”

“I think…” Gawin stops, pulling a face. “Fuck, okay, this is gonna sound insane.”

Joss huffs a laugh. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

That gets a smile out of him. Gawin looks down at their joined hands. “I think losing him made me realise something,” he says quietly.

Joss doesn’t dare to move. “Which is?”

Gawin’s laugh this time is miserable and fond all at once. “That I wasn’t just upset because of him.”

The room goes very still. Joss feels every inch of his own body suddenly, acutely aware of the heat between them, the bed beneath them, the shape of Gawin curled into his side, belonging there.

Gawin keeps going before he loses courage. “When I left…” He swallows hard. “I missed him, obviously, but mostly I just…” His voice cracks softly. “I missed you so much I felt sick.”

Joss closes his eyes. Jesus Christ. “G…”

“I know this is fucked,” Gawin rushes onward, words tumbling out now. “And maybe it’s because everything got weird really fast and we basically played house for three days and traumatised ourselves, but I don’t think it’s only that.”

Joss is filled with a throbbing misery.

“Because even before all this,” Gawin whispers, “you already felt like home to me.”

Joss stares at him. Gawin finally looks up again, eyes red-rimmed already, like he’s bracing for impact. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says quickly. “I just… after yesterday I didn’t wanna keep pretending I wasn’t feeling something, because I am, and I think maybe I have been for a while now--”

Joss kisses him before he can keep spiralling.

Gawin makes a startled sound against his mouth. Joss’s free hand comes up to cradle the side of his face automatically, thumb brushing warm skin as he kisses him again, slower this time.

When they finally separate, Gawin is staring at him, the world tilted sideways.

“Idiot,” Joss murmurs, forehead falling against his. “You really thought you were alone in this?”

“How was I supposed to know? You keep everything locked away in here, even from me, sometimes…” Gawin mumbles, tapping a fingertip against his clavicle.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to be strong for you,” Joss apologises.

Gawin smiles ruefully up at him. “You showing your emotions… good, bad or otherwise, isn’t weakness, J. Makes you human. You don’t have to be cool and perfect all the time. I like it when you’re weird and make mistakes. Means I’m not alone in being weird and imperfect.”

Joss groans, hiding his face against Gawin’s neck, hugging him tightly.

“Stop it,” he says, and Gawin laughs.

“So… are we really doing this?” Gawin asks, after a beat, his hand rubbing up and down Joss’s back.

“Doing what?” Joss asks, thumb gliding along the cut of Gawin’s jaw.

“Us… making a life together, even though we don’t have to?” Gawin asks.

Joss’s inhale catches, and he nods. “I want that. I really fucking want that.”

Gawin smiles and nods. “Awesome. Me too. Then let's do it. Together.”

Joss smiles, a golden, shining, overwhelming thing, and Gawin laughs, as Joss leans in and kisses him, lush and deep. Gawin’s arms wrap around him, pulling him close, feral for it. Desiring to have every particle of their bodies pressed, no space, no air, no nothing.

“Joss,” Gawin says as they break apart, Joss nosing along to his neck, dropping sweet kisses wherever he can reach. “Joss, I need you.”

Joss hums in agreement and kisses him again, Gawin’s hips rubbing against his. It makes Joss stutter, catching in his chest, as he begins to thicken.

“G, what do you wanna do?” Joss asks, and Gawin just kisses him harder, slinging a leg over his hips.

“I wanna see you, all of you… touch you, touch me… do something,” Gawin begs.

Joss can do that.

He pulls back enough to tug at his t-shirt, throwing it behind him somewhere, smirking as Gawin’s eyes trace the muscle, his hands coming to press at Joss’s pecs, squeezing. “Fuck.”

“Like what you see?” Joss asks, flexing, and Gawin nods, too far gone to make jokes.

The early morning sunshine hits Joss’s beautiful, tanned skin, turning it caramel, and Gawin wants to eat him alive.

How has he lucked out with someone this perfect, inside and out?

“Uh huh,” he says, sitting up and lifting his arms as Joss pulls off his t-shirt, Gawin falling into his embrace, kissing him like he’s drowning, fingers digging into Joss’s traps.

Joss lays Gawin down and gets his pants and boxers off, palming the hot, thick heat, making Gawin moan. “Joss.”

“I know, I know,” Joss soothes, hand moving up and down his cock, his own thrusting against Gawin’s hip, sliding along the crease.

He fumbles behind him in his bedside drawer and emerges with a half-used tube of lube, and flips the cap open.

“That better be going in my ass,” Gawin says, and Joss flushes.

He coats his fingers with it and moves to circle Gawin’s rim, pressing one slowly inside. He takes it as incrementally as he can, not wanting to hurt Gawin, mouthing along his shoulders, trying to distract him.

“Fuck yeah,” Gawin grits out, a flush spreading down his neck and midsection, and Joss kisses his way along it, breathing him in. He’s so perfect, he’s so fucking perfect.

Gawin’s hands roam, unable to stop touching, and Joss shivers as they dance along his shoulder blades, squeezing as Joss adds another finger.

“God, I can’t s-stop touching- f-fuck--” Gawin chokes on it, eyes hazed across with desire, with pure lust. Joss lets him grope as he focuses on getting a third finger inside Gawin, spreading him as gently as he can, watching as Gawin’s eyes roll back in his head.

“You want it to burn a little, or you wanna be wide open for me?”

Gawin looks up at him, jaw slack, as he considers. “U-uh… fuck, burn, I guess?” His smile goes liquid, cheeky and determined, and he surges up to kiss Joss, sloppy with it. “You wanna stretch me around your fat cock, big boy?”

“Fucking hell,” Joss says. He shouldn’t be surprised Gawin can come up with filth, but hearing it and the way it stokes his fire is unreal.

He almost sends the lube flying as he shakes, squeezing more into his hand, jerking himself a few times to get coated.

He figures asking if Gawin’s ready is a moot point, something in him telling him Gawin would want him just to take, and do so. He trusts his instincts and kisses Gawin to distract him, then lines up and presses in.

The initial breach is tight, tighter than anything he’s experienced before, and the ragged gasp Gawin makes against his mouth reaffirms his decision.

“Joss--” Gawin says, fingertips digging into his biceps, legs pressing against his hips, hitching higher, as Joss continues to push in, forcing Gawin to make space for him. “Joss.”

“You can take it, baby. I know you can. Open wide for me.”

Gawin whimpers, honest to God whimpers. “F-fuck, okay, for you, okay.”

“Only for me. Nobody else ever again.”

Gawin nods madly, kissing him, wrapping his arms and legs around Joss as he sinks in deep. “No one else ever again, I don’t want anyone else.”

“I got you, sweetheart,” Joss murmurs into his hair as he gets his knees underneath him, spreading Gawin even wider, and begins to thrust, desperately slowly, Gawin shuddering around him, holding on for dear life.

“I’ve been dreaming about this, I can’t believe it’s h-happening,” Gawin says, as Joss begins to pick up speed, the slick tightness sucking him in, molten and wet and begging him to blow his load.

“Have you? And what do I do in your dreams? Do I say that I’m gonna come in you, fill you up? Make you keep me inside you?” Joss rumbles, biting down gently on Gawin’s earlobe, relishing the feel of his nails digging into his back, scraping down it as Joss’s thrusts find their intended target, nailing his prostate.

Gawin arches in his arms, the sounds punching out of him, unbidden, their chests pressed against each other, completely overwhelmed with Joss. Joss ducks his head to suck at a nipple, rolling it between his teeth, Gawin tugging at his hair, demanding a kiss, sloppy and all tongue.

“Joss, Joss, Joss,” Gawin begs, almost like a prayer, Joss completely covering him, owning him, always and forever.

“I can’t hold it, I can’t,” Gawin says, a few minutes later, a sheen of sweat across his face and arms, stained red with exertion. “I gotta come on you.”

“What if I don’t want you to, hmm? What if I want to draw--”

thrust

“It--”

thrust

“Out?”

Gawin bites down on his lip, squeezing around Joss, making his eyes close for a beat.

“Please.”

“Please, what?” Joss teases. He doesn’t even know what he wants to hear from Gawin, just interested to see what he’ll come up with.

“Please, P’Joss. Khun Joss. Best basketball player Joss. Biggest dick in the entire fucking world Joss.”

Joss grunts, speeding up, getting a hand on Gawin, matching each undulation to his wrist, Gawin wailing as he comes, fluttering around Joss, milking him for it, sending Joss toppling over after him.

He empties deep inside Gawin, breath heavy, sweat coating what feels like every part of his body, as the aftershocks ripple, gasping for air as they come down.

“Holy shit,” Gawin rasps as Joss withdraws slowly, sitting back, before reaching for the tissues. He cleans Gawin up as best he can, wiping off his own cock, tossing the used ones in the bin nearby and collapsing next to Gawin.

“That was intense,” Joss says.

Gawin agrees with an uh huh, and Joss laughs, trying to hide his happiness in his pillow.

They cool down, finding their baseline again, and Gawin exhales, staring up at the ceiling.

Joss turns to look at him, blinking slowly in the dawn.

“Come home, G.”

Gawin stills and looks at him, after what feels like a century. “W-what?”

“You heard me.”

Joss sounds all of the bravado he absolutely does not feel. He hopes this is the right move.

“Come… home?” Gawin repeats.

Joss nods. “Mm. Come home. Stay with me.”

“You’re just saying that,” Gawin scoffs, and Joss shakes his head.

“I’m not. I miss you so fucking much. Things feel wrong here without you. I miss waking up with you. I miss having breakfast with each other. I miss just being. So come home. Please.”

Joss’s fingers find his, lacing them, and he pulls them to his mouth, bussing a kiss along each knuckle.

Gawin’s bottom lip wobbles, and he looks away, trying his best not to cry. Because fuck if this isn’t everything he’s been wanting to hear and more.

Joss telling him he’s needed, that he isn’t an inconvenience or a space filler, that his personality is desired and not off-putting… that everything about him is wanted.

“I’ve been wanting to hear that for a while now, I think,” Gawin finally says once he trusts his voice not to waver.

Joss just noses against his hand and waits.

“I didn’t want to ask in case it was too early, or… if I was misreading this,” Gawin continues.

“You never have to ask, G. Wherever I am, you’re always welcome. You’re my family now.”

“Oh, fuck,” Gawin chokes out, tears spilling over, and he rolls over, burrowing into Joss’s embrace, trying to hold it together. “Fuck you.”

“Why?” Joss asks, his own eyes suspiciously wet.

“Fuck you for making me fall in love with you,” Gawin says, and Joss laughs, squeezing him tighter.

“Stay,” Joss says.

Gawin looks up and kisses him, holding his face, desperate for it. “You stay. With me, forever.”

“Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else,” Joss says, and Gawin sighs, clinging to him.

They curl around each other, tangled completely, falling back asleep, sunshine rays glowing on their skin.

High up on the shelf, the stuffed penguin watches over them.