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All skin and no shame

...innocence is just an illusion...

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Drabbles: Jung Heirs
Title: Sleeping Beauty drabbles: Jung Heirs
Pairing: YunJae
Rating: PG
Length: Drabbles
Genre: AU, fluff, slice of life

AN1: A collection of total random drabbles of the Jungs from different period of their lives and they are not chronological at all so you might want to read it slowly. I miss them and I know I’m supposed to write other things but the kids were playing catch all around me and I had to catch them before I could move on. The photos have nothing to do with the drabbles, but I miss the Jung couple so I just wanted to stare at them while their kids wreaked havoc of sorts. They’re not always angels :O

AN2: Un-betaed and although this is from my Sleeping Beauty verse, you don't need to have read it. All my oneshots and drabbles for the Sleeping Beauty universe can be found in my Master Fic List though it hasn't been updated in a while…the tag is probably best oops.

“Complaining about it isn’t going to make the rain go away, Chunnie,” Junsu chides his older brother quietly.

Jaejoong pauses in the doorway to the boys’ room. It’s probably rather unbecoming of a parent, but he rather enjoys the conversations his children have amongst themselves. He smiles fondly, remembering another conversation a long time ago that eventually resulted in the nickname of their youngest.

“It makes me feel better.”

“Me too,” Changmin agrees.

“You should be more flexible.”

“What does gymnastics have anything to do with this?”

Junsu rolls his eyes. “I thought I was the slow one?”

Jaejoong heart aches at his son’s matter of fact words. The twins are only eight, but their cognitive abilities are disparate enough for most to notice, though Junsu has always made up for it in other ways. The boy is a gifted athlete with a heart big enough to encompass anyone who might want to take up residence. He is loved and protected by both his older and younger brothers, though they are at times, also his worst tormentors, as only siblings can be.

“What do you mean then?” Yoochun’s voice is huffy. They’d been planning this camping trip all for weeks, and while they’re only camping in the back yard, it is separate enough from the house that they can make believe that they’re in the middle of nowhere with no parents to nag at them and no sisters to spy on them. After weeks of convincing, they’d finally managed to wheedle a promise from their mama not to look in on them for one night.

One little night.

The three boys were all planning on staying up all night playing games and telling ghost stories.

Of course it’s not much different from their bedroom, and yet it is.

And now they’ve been rained out.

Yoochun is feeling rather bitter about it.

Junsu scrunches his nose, eyes taking on a faraway, vaguely empty look that his brothers recognize.

“Don’t think over it too hard.”

“You might hurt yourself.”

Jaejoong’s expression morphs into a scowl. He is going to have some words with Yoochun and Changmin. Little jibes like that are hurtful and completely unnecessary.

Junsu however, turns a blind ear. He is used to it for the most part, and for the part that isn’t, he just figures his brothers are trying to encourage him in some weird way. He cannot think ill of either of them, for he does not know how, and he knows his smarter brothers have impatient natures in general and so he leaves it alone.

“Flexible…like how we can think of how to turn a problem into something good and we will have a nice day instead of a dark and gloomy one because we’re just complaining and thinking bad things.”

Dead silence in the boys room.

Jaejoong on the outside is biting his knuckles. Junsu with his slightly husky voice trying to explain himself to his brothers in a way rather reminiscent of Jiyool. His oldest daughter has a knack of seeing to the heart of a problem, and it seems to have rubbed off on her sweet younger brother.

“Yeah,” Changmin’s voice cuts the silence. “Hyung is right. Why are we making our day gloomy when it’s already gloomy outside? We’re smart enough to think of something good, right?”

Identical smiles, one from inside the room and one from outside.

Changmin wields his “noona” and “hyung” like a weapon of mass subservience.

“What do you have in mind?” Yoochun asks.


The smile is still playing about his mouth as Jaejoong walks away before he can hear anymore. He did promise his sons he will leave them alone.”


“Mama, please!” Changmin tugs at his mama’s hand, doe eyes huge and imploring. “I’m so hungry, I think I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying, sweetie,” Jaejoong murmurs, pushing the double stroller out of the park. It is a lovely spring afternoon, and they are on their way to Jung Tower, opting to walk instead of drive. “You had a huge breakfast this morning.”

“Mama!” Changmin is flabbergasted. “That was hours ago.”

“We’ll have lunch soon, love. We’re having lunch with daddy. It’s just a short walk.”

The tall young boy groans, bending over theatrically, hunching over and curling into himself. “Don’t lie, mama. It’ll be at least another fifteen minutes. I can’t survive that long. My tummy is making so much noise. It’s saying food food food and it hurts, mama. I don’t think I can wait till we get to daddy. I might be dead by then.”

“Hush, you’re not dying. Don’t be a silly billy.”

“But mamaaaaaa,” Changmin drops to his knees on the sidewalk, and proceeds to keel over rather melodramatically onto the grass verge. His eyes are scrunched up tight and he is really doing a rather good job of sounding like he’s in the final throes.

“Maybe I should write to your school and get you switched from the choir to the drama club,” Jaejoong murmurs, eyeing his prone son.

A brand new mama of another set of twins, the thirty-two year old is only just finding his equilibrium. He does not remember the first three months with the boys being as emotionally and physically exhausting as it has been with his little girls, despite having the help of his older daughters. Perhaps it’s an age thing for he had the boys a decade ago. Though to be fair, he was confined to the bed for most of those three months, with his family surrounding him constantly.

The current age gap between his older children and the new additions hasn’t caused him to forget some of the lower moments of parenthood. He still has a rather healthy dislike for eating out when his children are nursing.

“Mama, please!” Jaejoong looks down, his son’s hands wrapped around one ankle and he sighs, banishing the thoughts from his mind. He looks back up and sees the fried chicken store he knows probably set off Changmin’s theatrics. It’s a favorite of the Jung family and any one of them would be hard pressed to walk past without stopping in for a quick bite, or purchasing a larger amount to take home.

“Get off the ground, Changmin. You’re almost nine and too old for this type of carrying on,” Jaejoong berates softly, hauling his son to his feet and brushing the boy off. “You’ve got younger sisters to look after now. You need to be a big boy ok? No rolling in the grass when you don’t get your way.”

Changmin turns to look into the stroller, two pairs of identical eyes look back up at him. He imagines them silently judging him as he knows he does sometimes with JJ especially when she gets into trouble and he feels a smidgen of glee because he knows she ought to have known better being the older sibling.

The youngest male Jung helps his mama brush his jackets and pants off, feeling just a mite bad. His tummy does hurt but his mama is right. He needs to be a good example.

“I’m sorry, mama. May I please have one piece of chicken to tide me over till we get to the Tower?”

Jaejoong smiles and ruffles his son’s hair, bending to kiss the boy’s wind-chilled cheek. It says a lot that the nine year old doesn’t pull away and rub his cheek, scowling at his mama for embarrassing him in public as he did just the previous week. His children are growing up too fast, but Changmin will always be his baby boy.

“Come on then.”

Mimi is fretting something chronic and Jaejoong knows if he doesn’t do something, she’ll wake Nana and then all hell will break loose.

He keeps his head down, freeing the older twin from her side of the stroller, he grabs a feeding blanket and throws it over his shoulder slipping his eleven week old baby under it. Mimi finds her food quickly enough, and the strong pulls relax his tense body as he settles into his chair, watching his son across from him finish his plate of chicken.

One piece of chicken became two, but that was totally expected.

Jaejoong absentmindedly rubs his daughter’s tiny little foot, just about the only thing that can be seen from under the voluminous blanket.

“This is not a feeding area. Go to the bathroom.”

Jaejoong freezes at the censorious voice behind him.

Before he can react, Changmin is standing up, his expression serious, food forgotten as he wipes his hands in one of the napkins.

“What do you mean this is not a feeding area? There are seats and people are having their food. Nobody eats in the bathroom. It’s dirty and has germs.”

“How rude. Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”

Jaejoong honestly cannot move as memories assail him. There have been far too many occasions when, without Yunho by his side, he has sought refuge in his car, tears streaming slowly down his cheeks as he feeds a hungry infant. Being a new parent is difficult enough without hurtful words from adults who really ought to know better.

“I’m not being rude.”

And Changmin truly isn’t. His voice is measured and controlled, calm even. In that moment, he resembles his father more than anyone else and the man would have been proud of his youngest son had he seen him.

“I’m just asking what you mean,” Changmin continues. He gestures towards the other patrons who quickly look away and back down at their own plates of food. “Everyone is eating here.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m talking about the baby.”

Changmin stiffens instantly, eyes flashing dangerously. He has a hand on his mama’s shoulder and he squeezes it before letting go and moving towards the nasty patron two tables over speaking to him.

“Are you saying that my baby sister should have her meal in the bathroom?”

Changmin’s voice is quiet, but in the silence of the eatery, it carries enough to everyone around, including the owner who is hurriedly washing his hands, praying he isn’t too late to salvage the situation.


The young boy smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, moving to pick up the laden tray of food from the vile person, stepping skillfully out of reach as the person protests loudly.

“How dare you take my food! Where are you going!”

“To the bathroom,” Changmin calls out over his shoulder. “Come and get your food since you insist it’s a suitable place for even a baby to eat. Which cubicle would you like?”

The owner intervenes just then, catching Changmin before he enters the bathroom. Bending over, he speaks to the young boy who is holding in his anger by a very thin thread.

Changmin nods once and relinquishes his hold of the tray, head held high, he returns to his mama’s side. However, he doesn’t sit to finish his food, standing by Jaejoong’s side instead, his hand finding his mama’s face blindly and cupping the man’s jaw. His thumb feels wetness on his mama’s cheek, and the anger within him burns, but he doesn’t show his discovery outwardly.

He stares coolly at the abusive customer who smirks at him.

“Please leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“I do not want a customer such as you in my shop. Please leave.”

“How dare—“

“This is my shop and that boy’s father owns the building. You are now trespassing. If you do not leave quietly, he has given me permission to call the police and you really don’t want that.”

Jaejoong can hear what sounds like a bit of a scuffle, but the person eventually leaves. His eyes are closed, and he is done with the handful of tears. He can hear the blood roaring in his ears and he feels numb. He knows he reacted badly, but it’s as if all the historic instances of this happening to him came crashing back and he is paralyzed from both the memories and how it made him feel.

“I’m sorry, mama.”

Jaejoong opens his eyes to look into the serious eyes of his youngest son. He can see the sheen of tears in the boy’s eyes, but the young Jung’s jaw is set grimly, as if determined to keep the tears at bay.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jaejoong’s voice is but a whisper.

Changmin bites his lip, but he does not apologize again. His eyes are searching, roaming over his mama’s face as if checking that the man is truly ok.

“I called daddy to come pick us up. I told him you weren’t feeling well and we’d like to go home.”

“Thank you.”

Changmin pauses a few more seconds before speaking. “Do you want me to tell him what happened?”

Jaejoong shakes his head.


Changmin huffs at his mama, exceedingly cross with the man as only a teenager can be with their parent.

“Come on, mama!” his tone is long-suffering. “I’ve explained this to you so many times, why can’t you get it right?”

“There are too many buttons,” Jaejoong frowns, turning over the controls in his hand. “And it really isn’t intuitive at all.” He presses experimentally at a button and sighs when the character on screen runs instead of jumps. “See?” He gestures towards the screen. “Shouldn’t the top button be jump instead of run and the bottom button be run? Jump should be on top.”

“That’s just how it is. All games are like that. You’re just too—“

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you,” Yoochun warns, walking into the game room and shaking his head at his exasperated younger brother. He sits next to his mama on the couch and takes the gaming controls from the man gently. “Here, mama, why don’t you watch us play.”

“He’s watched a million times!” Changmin’s retorts grumpily, stomping to the television to pick up another controller. “It’s so easy, mama, why can’t you get it?” He questions belligerently, turning to glare at his mama who intruded on his game half an hour earlier, asking to be taught.

Jaejoong stares down his youngest son steadily. His youngest is at that awkward age where he is on the cusp of manhood but still too child-like to be taken seriously. Overreactions like this don’t help one bit of course. Jaejoong has survived four other children at this stage and he has lived through it relatively unscathed so his son’s little digs don’t find evil little hooks in his flesh. The barbs still sting, but they are easy to wash away. They only get like this with him of course, none of them daring to be even half as cheeky with their father who has a zero tolerance policy.

That zero tolerance extends to his wife of course, but then Jung Yunho cannot be with his wife 24/7.

“Well?” Changmin asks, tapping his foot, waiting for an answer.

Jaejoong cocks his head at his son before smiling softly. “Son, I taught you how to use a spoon.”


JJ storms into the bedroom she shares with her sister, flinging herself on the bed, wiping angry tears from her eyes.

“What happened now?”


“What’s wrong with daddy?”

“He won’t let me go on the choir tour to Jeju.”

“It’s not really a choir tour, is it? It’s just an excuse to go to Jeju. Your choir is singing at a few hotels just so they can call it a tour but you and I both know it’s a trip for the seniors to have fun.”

“It’s school sanctioned! How can anyone say no to something school sanctioned? It’s not like we’re all going to go wild and go skinny dipping or something.”

Jiyool drops her book in her lap and pushes up the glasses teetering on the edge of her nose. “The fact that you even mentioned that means you gave it some thought.”

“You’re such a prude.”

“Mama…” JJ’s tone is wheedling. “Can’t you help?”

“I’m sorry, love,” Jaejoong turns his attention back to his laptop. “He’s already said no. You know how this works.”

“He didn’t even listen when I tried to explain,” the teenager fumes, staring daggers at her father’s back.

The man is standing with her siblings in the kitchen, supervising his other less rebellious children making patbingsoo factory-line style. Yoochun is in charge of the ice shaving machine, then Changmin who follows the bowl of ice with a giant scoop of vanilla or green tea ice cream dead centre. He is in turn followed by Nana and Mimi, each arranging a heaped spoonful of red bean paste and chopped fruit around the scoop of dairy before passing it along to Jiyool who squirts colorful syrup artfully over the bowl. They end with Junsu who is in charge of nuts and whipped cream before taking it carefully to the table their mama is at for the final touch by Jaejoong of a single maraschino cherry.

JJ was supposed to do the honours of the nuts and cream, with Junsu merely being the delivery boy, but she is still sulking and her younger brother had taken her place without complaint, more than happy to help out.

“He always listens,” Jaejoong corrects his daughter.

“But he never changes his mind, does he?”

JJ’s bitter wallowing tone makes her mama roll his eyes before he pulls his daughter to his side and stands, hugging the willowy teenager.

“Not very often — but he does listen.”


“Mama, I want to learn the guitar.”

Jaejoong puts his pen down, staring across the vast study at his husband sitting at an identical desk opposite him. They both exchange looks, before turning to their son standing in the doorway. All the children know not to run in anymore without permission, though the twins still need to figure that out. But then again, they’re still young, and even the hardest of hearts would smile at having their teleconference calls interrupted by two giggling two year olds.

“Why the guitar? Why not the piano like JJ and Yoochun?”

Changmin wrinkles his nose, folding his arms across his chest and shakes his head.

“Pianos are boring. I like guitars. Guitars are exciting.”


“May I come in?”

Jaejoong’s eyebrow goes up even more. Their bratty youngest son is only painfully polite when he wants something, and he clearly wants something real bad.

Yunho smiles as his son asks the question of his wife, but it is he who answers. “Of course, Minnie.”

Changmin runs in immediately, hurtling straight into Jaejoong’s open arms, making the office chair skid across the floor, almost crashing into a bookcase. Before Yunho can get up, Changmin is already pushing his Mama back to his desk, apologising profusely, much to the amusement of the man.

Jaejoong’s giggles as his son pushes him back into his place behind his desk makes Yunho smile. His wife may be 34 in a few months, but he looks a decade younger, and sounds like the teenager he met in that creche all those years ago.


He sounds like the beautiful toddler he met 31 years ago.

The ten year old settles himself on his Mama’s lap as he appropriates the man’s laptop, bringing up YouTube.

Soon the rather loud sounds of a rock concert can be heard.


"What am I going to do?" Yoochun asks dully as he glares out at the rain, his expression showing exactly how affronted he is at their outing being washed out with no notice.

"Watch a movie?" JJ suggests lightly, ruffling her brother's hair. She can see his expression in the reflection of the window. She drops down on her elbows next to him and nudges his shoulder with hers. "Come on, grumpy pants. Jimin eonnie will understand. I doubt the park is even open with this downpour. I've never seen raindrops this big ever!"

"But I don't even have her number! I can't even tell her I won't be coming," Yoochun pouts, straightening up in the bay window of the penthouse suite. He can barely make out the fantasy castle that is the focal point of Disneyland.

He folds his arms crossly, his pout so pronounced it causes his sister to laugh and flick at his jutting bottom lip.

"It's not like you warned her in advance that you were going to stalk her all week anyway," Changmin points out matter of factly, between mouthfuls of potato crisps that he is shoveling by the fistful into his mouth. "She's probably grateful for the break from the weirdo Korean kid with the shaved head. Imagine if you had given her lice? How---"

What happens next is rather predictable, as JJ finds herself covered in potato crisps from the bag that landed the wrong way up on her head.

Yoochun's tackle of their tactless baby brother didn't hurt either of them as they roll around on the thick Aubusson carpet, rough housing more than trying to do actual harm to each other.


The teenagers sit up instantly, eyes darting around the room to find the source of the bellow.

Jiyool is standing in the doorway to the expansive sitting area, hand in hand with two identical seven year old girls, matching from their plaid yellow headbands, their full (unnaturally) rosy red pouts, to their pink Mickey and Minnie dresses, right down to their purple socks and green Mary Janes.

"Why are they wearing shoes in here?" JJ asks, brushing away at the crumbs in her hair.

"They're new!"

"I know that, baby girl, but we don't wear shoes in the house."

"This isn't a house."

"It's a hotel."

"We wanted to try our shoes."

"They're our shoes so we can wear them if we want."

JJ and Jiyool exchange silent looks.

"Why do they look like their Crayola box just vomited all over them."

Changmin's bug eyed expression, unable to quite take in his sisters' horridly clashing outfit, also means that he doesn't quite tamp his tone for the sensitive ears of the twin girls.

Jiyool closes her eyes as both girls burst into VERY LOUD sobs.

"Now you've gone and done it." Yoochun shoves Changmin, who shoves back, and naturally, it once again devolves into entangled limbs rolling about on the floor.

Jiyool doesn't bother with them this time, taking her sobbing sisters to the bay window where JJ is sitting.

She side-steps the rolling duo.

Mimi's crying stops abruptly as she has to skip over a flailing leg, her sobs turning into a choked giggle as she eyes the peculiar sight of her brothers grappling at each other. With one twin down, the other quietens instantly, taking the lead from the older one.

"Is it just me or are their lips a little too red?" JJ leans closer to get a better look.

Twin squeaks as both girls bury their faces in Jiyool's white blouse.

Red streaks.

"Oh dear."

JJ looks up at her older sister, a crease in her brow as she asks a silent question.

Jiyool nods.

"Which one?" JJ's question is almost breathless but she knows...oh she knows. The shade is so vivid, but she still holds a hope that---

"Peggy Carter."

JJ bites her lip to keep from yelling at her baby sisters.

Her favourite lipstick.

Her limited edition, impossible as hell to get Besame Red Velvet, the exact same shade that Agent Carter wore.


"It broke off but I can help you re-pot it. I found a plastic container in mama's bag so it's safe. It's even the right shape but a little bigger."

JJ face palms.

Yoochun's laughter distracts Jiyool, the three standing Jung girls turning to the disheveled and totally hysterical oldest Jung boy sitting cross legged on the floor.


"Don't say it, Chunnie." Changmin warns, wanting to laugh himself but his jaw and shoulder are aching from their tangling and he doesn't want anyone to know.

"She---oh god---" Yoochun loses it completely, falling on his back and clutching his belly as he practically howls with laughter.

"Nana, Mimi, go and find the pack of wipes in your bag and bring it to me."

The girls scurry out instantly, their steps easing to an extraordinarily slow walk once they’ve left their older siblings. They have no intention of returning sooner than expected for they know Yoolie will likely be rubbing their faces raw and they’d rather put it off for as long as possible.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Yoolie…” JJ shakes her head, looking across at her brothers. She’s thankful Junsu isn’t there because explaining to her older sister is going to be bad enough without having to explain it to Junsu who will require far more details before he finally gets it and she’s not really in the mood to provide him with a long-winded PG version. “I don’t want that lipstick back. You might want to throw it out and wash then put the container back in mama’s bag.”

Changmin lets out a huge guffaw. He cannot help it. Yoochun is actually crying from laughter on the floor and he joins his brother, helpless against the utterly clueless expression on his oldest sister’s face and the resigned expression on JJ’s. Teenaged boys find amusement in a lot of things and both of them especially know very well their parents’ appetite for each other. The fact that Jiyool still remains blissfully unaware or purposefully ignorant is hilarious to him.

“But it’s your favorite lipstick. I can—“

“I don’t want it, Yoolie! Don’t make me explain to you why.”

Jiyool puts her hands on her hips and gives her younger sister that look.

Fully expecting it, JJ straightens and meets her sister’s level gaze. “You found an empty case that fits my broken lipstick with room to spare in mama’s bag.” She places heavy emphasis on the word. “Think long and hard… Yoolie.”

Changmin chokes, smothering his face with a cushion because it’s really too much for his poor teenaged mind, hormones gone wild and all.

Yoochun can’t take it anymore, words spilling forth before he can stop them. “Pretty damn sure that is a bullet casing, noona. Just put it back where you found it before you have to explain to mama what happened to it.”

Crimson blooms across the pale cheeks of the eldest Jung when she finally realizes what her younger siblings have been alluding to.

“Oh god, I need a drink,” she shakes her head, hands cupping her heated face.

“Water?” JJ asks helpfully.

“I’m thirsty, not dirty.”

“Clearly,” Yoochun snorts.


The skies opened up without warning.

“Suie, come on. I have to carry you.”

The little boy shakes his head, looking up at his father, his hand over his forehead trying to stop the wind-blown drops from running into his eyes, but it is a futile effort.

“Your back hurts. If you carry me, it’ll hurt more.”

Yunho crouches down, umbrella over his head and sheltering his son as well. The rain is heavy, almost monsoon-like and the thundering on the material over their heads is loud.

“You heard me talking to mama?”

Junsu nods solemnly, reaching out a small hand, placing it on his father’s cheek. He is the tiniest little player in the boys’ football league, but he is most assuredly the fastest and most skillful. He had a game that afternoon and his daddy had come to watch him because his mama had to take Changminnie and Yoochunnie to the doctor. Junsu’s heart hadn’t been in the game, worried about not just his daddy’s sore back but his siblings’ sniffles. His team won, but he hadn’t scored a goal. All he wanted was to get home and be with everyone.

Yunho smiles, taking his son’s hand and kissing his palm, causing the five year old to giggle at the tickle his whiskers give his smooth palm.

“I’ll be ok. I won’t carry you, but you must hold the umbrella ok? We don’t want you to fall sick too.”

“I’m strong, daddy!” And as if to prove it, Junsu whips up his arm, almost clocking his daddy in the jaw, eager to show his best hwaiting stance.

Yunho laughs, hugging the cherub to his chest, kissing the rain damp face of his middle son.

His back is already drenched from the torrential downpour, but he barely feels it, the summer shower not chilling him in the least for his son’s love is warm enough for him.

He stands in the rain, his white shirt plastered to his back, his front soaking so rapidly that in a mere seconds, it is as if he was never under an umbrella. Several people turn to watch the utterly drenched father carrying a briefcase in one hand and guiding a little boy with an oversized umbrella to navigate the short walk from the park to their home with the other.

A father’s love in the simplest of things.


“Can you cook?”

Jiyool’s eyes narrow at the smirking boy asking her the question. “Can you build me house?”


“You asked if I can cook. Naturally, you should be able to provide me with something in return for my cooking.”

“A house?” he scoffs.

“Where were you planning on living then?”

“I’d just buy a house.”

“And you can buy your own dinner too,” the beautiful girl smiles sweetly, before spinning around and stalking off.


“They’re thinking of stripping you of being class president, you know? And suspending both of us.”

Yoochun shrugs, leaning back in his chair fair enough that the front legs go off the ground as he balances easily on the remaining two legs, regarding his brother calmly.

“How are you so calm?”

“I am not calm. I’m just choosing not to show it.”

“What are we going to tell mama and daddy?”

“I’m sure they would’ve called them by now, Minnie.”

Changmin ignores the nickname, sitting across from his brother. “They haven’t. I heard them. They said calling our parents just causes more problems. Did you know mama berated the principal so thoroughly the man was apparently trying to hide behind his filing cabinet?”

A ghost of a smile flits across Yoochun’s mouth.

“It’s not funny, Chunnie. The whole school is talking about us, you especially, because apparently I’m the younger brother and you should’ve known better.”

“I’m not very concerned about the opinions of others as long as I know my motives were pure.”

“Were they pure, hyung? Really? He was so scared he soiled himself.”

Yoochun shrugs again, ignoring the rapid thudding of his heart. “He hurt Junsu. You know that’s all that matters.”

Changmin stares at his older brother for a long few seconds, before nodding resolutely.

That really is all that matters.

AN: I think my brain broke today…nothing to do with this drabble drop though...

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:') I'll never get enough of this family T-T
Gosh I love Changmin!!!!

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