Chapter Text
“Can’t sleep?” Gun flops his arm across Tinn’s chest before he can roll over again. He’s usually the restless one, but his fiancé is in fine form tonight. “You have a flight first thing tomorrow morning.”
“This morning.”
“What?”
Tinn grabs his phone from the bedside table and shows Gun the lit-up screen. “It’s past two. Hence, ‘this morning’.” After setting his phone down on the bed next to him, he turns slightly with a groan. He looks exhausted. “I know I promised to take Mom to Japan for her birthday, but I hate the idea of leaving you and Gim alone.”
“We won’t be alone,” Gun says reassuringly. He knows well enough by now to not tell Tinn not to worry or that nothing will happen. The other man will just quote some statistic about home burglaries, then cancel his plane ticket. Instead, Gun reasons, “We have my mom, Fah, and Niran. We also know almost everyone on our street. If anything happens, we’ll have plenty of people to help us.”
He only gets a hum in response. It’s the first time he and Tinn will be separated for longer than a day since they got together. Since they got engaged, Gun can’t remember a time they’ve been apart for more than the hours Tinn spends at his practice. He’s not looking forward to the separation, but he wants to prove Fah wrong after her underhanded mutterings about codependency. They can survive for two weeks while Tinn explores Japan with his mother. Also, Fah needs to stop reading Niran’s psychology magazines. Surely there’s some rule about not diagnosing people who aren’t clients.
When Tinn traces his finger down his nose, Gun blinks and returns his attention to his fiancé. “What were you thinking about?”
“That we’re going to kick this separation’s ass.”
“Don’t call it a separation,” Tinn corrects. “That makes it sound permanent. Unless you’re planning on finding someone else while I’m out of the country.”
Gun kisses Tinn’s finger before rolling over and turning on the bedside lamp. Sure enough, when he looks back at the other man, he sees traces of insecurity despite his joking tone. Fah might be onto something. “You don’t actually think I’d replace you, right? If I remember correctly,” he looks pointedly at Tinn’s chest, “I gave you that chain and that ring when I promised you forever. Or maybe you’ve already forgotten that evening.”
“No.” It comes out quickly, eagerly, and Tinn brings his hand up to clutch the ring. “How could I forget it?”
No one, not even someone devoid of romance, could forget that evening. Gun takes pride in it, still - Tinn’s surprise at the nice dinner he cooked for their combined families at the Jirawatthanakul’s home; sweet, tearful speeches from their mothers; the offer of the ring; the offer of Gim’s adoption papers. In one fell swoop, Gun gave Tinn the family he had wanted desperately for years.
“If I could, I would have married you right then. Your mom talked me into doing things properly. All this waiting had better be worth it.” Gun pushes himself up to sit against the headboard, and Tinn squirms around until his head is in his lap. “We’re not going to get any sleep, are we?”
Tinn stares up at him, then murmurs, “Not if you have something better in mind.”
__________________
Four hours later, Gun wishes desperately that they had opted for sleep.
“Dad, why are there so many people here?” Gim questions him. “You said no one with a brain wakes up this early.” She holds onto Tinn’s hand as they walk through the airport to the security area. There’s no good answer to her question, so Gun ignores it. He stands by what he said, though. Waking up before seven is always a mistake.
Tinn answers for him. “Your dad shouldn’t say things like that about people. After all, we’re awake right now, but we have brains, right?”
He gets an unconvinced hum from Gim.
“It’s best to take early flights so you enjoy more of your day at your destination. Tinn and I are going to be able to jump right into things when we land.” Photjanee smiles down at Gim, and Gun watches his daughter release Tinn’s hand to join his mother.
“What are you going to do first?”
Photjanee pauses to think, then asks, “What do you think we should do?” As though Tinn doesn’t have an itinerary already planned out to the minute.
“Ramen.” The answer is immediate. “You have to have ramen. And then you have to have this omlet our teacher showed us in class. They put it on rice and then cut it down the middle, and everything spills out.”
Over the Gim’s head, Photjanee shrugs at her son, and Gun can see the wheels turn in his fiancé’s mind as he reworks their itinerary. “We’ll send you pictures as soon as we get there.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, just ask your dad to check his phone every ten minutes for an update.”
Gun could throttle Tinn, but they’re in an airport with scary guards around. Instead, he gives the other man his best ‘watch your back in your sleep’ smile and hoists Photjanee’s bag higher on his shoulder. Gim seems content with the answer and peppers them with more questions about their plans. Taking the chance to relax his mind after the hellish drive through Bangkok traffic, Gun tunes out. The noise of the crowds around him lulls him into a fugue state until he stops short to avoid slamming into his daughter’s back.
Tinn looks at him questioningly, then motions at the security station. “This is us.” When Gim whines, he pulls her into a hug. “You can’t go in with us, but we’ll wave before we head to the gate.” Crouching, Tinn looks Gim in the eye. “Now, I need you to promise me something.”
“What is it?”
“You have to say yes first.”
Skeptically, Gim ventures, “Sure, I might do it.” Ten-year-olds have a lot of attitude. Gun fights to keep the smile off his face.
“Okay, good enough. Promise me you’ll look out for your dad, alright? If you don’t he might forget to do the laundry or eat real meals. Ah, no rolling your eyes at me. You don’t want your own father to waste away, do you?”
Gun wants to tell Tinn that he can take care of himself just fine, but he sees the way Photjanee watches their interaction and stops himself. Each time she looks at Tinn and Gim, her smiles seems softer, more hopeful. Like she’s seeing a future she never thought would come. Photjanee catches Gun’s eye and winks. He grins back.
__________________
Traffic on the way back is even worse, and Gun considers it a personal victory that he only swears twice.
“When do I get to say those words?”
“When you start driving and understand the pain of being on the road with people who can’t drive.”
Gim tilts her head and asks, “Doesn’t everyone have to take a test before they can drive? I heard about it in a movie.”
A car merges in front of them, leaving just a few centimeters of space, and Gun leans on his horn. “As you can see,” he gestures at the car, “a lot of people are either able to lie or pay their way through. Believe your old dad when I tell you that most people are just out here trying to murder us with their vehicles like it’s a sport.” He pauses. “Don’t tell your mom I said that.”
“Mom says you’re a bad driver.”
What a betrayal. A truck honks furiously as he changes lanes to exit the highway.
“See?”
Gun ignores his daughter’s smirk and fixes his eyes on the road. He’s a good driver - better than most. It’s not his fault some people can’t keep up.
When they arrive at home, Gim jumps out of the car and races upstairs to grab her backpack while Gun accepts a mug of coffee from his mom. The third one of the morning always hits the spot.
“Did Tinn and Photjanee get on their flight safely?” Gim Sr. settles in the seat across from him with her own mug of tea.
“Yeah. Tinn will text me when they land. Get ready for lots of pictures and videos.”
Gim stampedes down the stairs before her grandmother can reply, interrupting their moment of peace. “I have to get to school, Dad.” She holds out her hand, and Gun deposits her usual snack money in it. “Can I have some of your coffee?” She asks even as she reaches for the mug on the table.
Chuckling, Gun pulls it away just in time. “Absolutely not. What if you turn out short?”
“Like you?”
With that, his daughter dances away and out the door to meet her friends at the bus stop. Gun shares a look with his mom, and she just shrugs. “You’re not exactly tall.”
__________________
“Don’t you dare tell anyone.” Chakan’s voice comes through Gun’s phone, strained and impatient.
Gun pulls the phone away from his ear and checks the screen. Yes, it’s definitely Tinn’s father. “Don’t tell anyone what ?” He asks carefully. While they’re on mostly good terms, Gun still walks on eggshells around Chakan.
There’s a huff on the other end, then, “I need you to come over.”
“Over. Like to the house?”
“Yes, what other ‘over’ would there be?” Gun hears labored breathing. “Just, come over, and I’ll explain when you get here.”
The shop is mostly empty, and a glance at the clock tells him that there are two hours left until closing time. Fah has Gim at her place, and Gun’s mom is at a community dance class with the other older women on their street.
“I can be over by eight thirty.”
Chakan grits out, “Gun, I need you to come here now.”
That’s that. Gun throws out his few customers as politely as possible and closes up shop. With the doors shuttered and the light-up sign turned off, he makes the drive to the Jirawatthanakul house in record time. No one honks at him, and he, surprisingly, honks at no one either. He’s too focused on what Chakan could possibly want on a Wednesday evening. Does he need help moving something? Has he finally remembered he hates Gun, and now he’s called him over to yell at him? That one’s not as likely, but Gun’s nervous mind latches onto the idea. Maybe he really should have just eloped and married Tinn on the beach months ago before anyone could break them up.
The walk to the front door takes longer than usual, but when Gun knocks nervously on the door, Chakan doesn’t open it. In fact, there’s no sound from inside the house, and the lights appear to be off. He knocks again, louder, and waits.
“Come in,” the call comes so faintly that Gun thinks he imagined it.
Sure enough, though, the knob twists easily in Gun’s hand, and he only hesitates for a moment before he enters the house. After his one visit to Chakan a couple of years ago, he’s never been here without Tinn. It feels strange to walk alone down the short hallway to the kitchen. Gun assumes the other man will be there; Chakan’s always cooking something up when he visits. However, when he steps into the room, he’s met with the pristine marble countertops he envies deeply, but no Chakan.
“Where are you? I’m in the kitchen,” Gun yells as politely as he can.
“In the study.”
No wonder he can barely hear the man - he’s upstairs on the other side of the huge house. Sighing, Gun runs a hand over the beautiful counters in farewell and makes his way through the living room to the stairs. The second floor is unlit, just like the first, with only the dim evening light filtering through the windows to guide his way.
The door to the study stands open, and Gun pokes his head around the doorframe. No Chakan. “Where are you?”
“Right here.” There’s shifting from behind the desk, then a groan as a hand flops into view and waves.
Before he can think, Gun is crouching beside the prone form of his fiancé’s father. “What happened? Are you okay? Are you dying? Are you bleeding?” The questions come out in the wrong order. Gun takes a moment to breathe as he looks Chakan over. There are no obvious wounds, but the man is clearly in pain. “Why didn’t you tell me something happened?”
Chakan glares at him and says sharply, “So sorry I wasn’t thinking clearly with a broken leg . Now, help me up. We need to go to the hospital.”
Again, Gun doesn’t think, just helps the other man stand. They both sag to the side before Gun rearranges himself to accommodate the extra weight. “Is it really broken?”
“I heard a crack.”
Gun fights back the desire to throw up. “Okay, yep, sounds like it’s broken. Why didn’t you call an ambulance? They would have gotten here much faster.”
“And have them contact Photjanee? She’d be on the next flight back from Japan. At least if you take me, they’ll count you as my emergency contact.” The look the other man throws him shuts down any argument from Gun.
They stay silent as they descend the stairs, Chakan focusing on walking on one leg and Gun focusing on not dropping his future father-in-law. He thinks vaguely that the future of his relationship with Tinn is balanced on a knife-edge. When they reach the bottom, Gun steers them toward the living room and sets Chakan in one of the chairs. They both breathe heavily.
“You know Photjanee and Tinn are going to find out as soon as they get back, right? You can’t exactly hide a cast on your leg.”
Chakan shrugs. “That’s a problem for future me. You and I are going to go to the hospital now, and you’re going to keep this to yourself. No telling Tinn.”
“Bu-”
“I’ll let you choose what song I play at your wedding if you keep your mouth shut.”
It’s the first time Chakan has voluntarily brought up Gun and Tinn’s engagement, and the implication of his words hangs in the air. The allure of Chakan’s approval is too much for Gun to resist. “Deal. But if they try to get mad at me for hiding this, you have to talk them down. I got mad at Tinn years ago for hiding my mom’s condition, so this feels a bit hypocritical.”
“Fine, I’ll make sure they don’t blame you.” Chakan braces himself on the arm of this chair. “Now, if you’ve caught your breath, let’s get to the hospital.”
__________________
Gun fluffs the pillow before helping Chakan into bed. When the man settles completely, he places the hospital-issued crutches in easy reach. “I’ll go get you some water.”
“You don’t need to fuss so much, Gun. Now that I have crutches and these,” Chakan shakes a bottle of painkillers, “I can move around and get whatever I need. It’s late. You can stay here in Tinn’s old room if you’d like.” Now, in less pain, he seems much friendlier. He even smiles a bit when Gun moves him forward to re-fluff his pillow.
“I’ll get you water anyway. You heard the doctor - you’re supposed to keep walking to a minimum. When you shower, wrap the cast in plastic. I’ll get you a trash bag and tape when I’m in the kitchen. Do you have something to sit on in the shower? I can go out to see if any stores are open.” Gun can feel himself rambling.
Thankfully, Chakan takes mercy on him. “We have a bench in the shower, and I’m sure a trash bag will work just fine.”
Gun scurries off to find what they need. The fracture isn’t as bad as he imagined, but the doctor said that at Chakan’s age, recovery time is longer. He’ll need help around the house, and Gun prepares a mental checklist of everything he needs to do tonight. First, get water, tape, and a trash bag. Second, call Fah and bring her up to speed on the evening’s events. Third, worry about lying convincingly to Tinn.
He lasts about ten minutes into his nightly call with his fiancé before Tinn asks, “What’s going on? You’re acting really strange.”
“I’m strange. Didn’t you know that? We’ve known each other for more than ten years, and you don’t know I’m strange?” He’s rambling again.
Tinn, less than impressed with his diversion tactic, chooses to ignore it in favor of asking again, “What’s going on? Seriously.”
Freezing, Gun debates trying to lie to Tinn’s sweet, trusting face before he sighs and drops his head in his hands. “Honestly, I’m not allowed to tell you.”
“And what does that mean?”
“It means I’ve been sworn to secrecy, and I could mess up our whole relationship if I break my promise.” He’s being a bit dramatic, but Gun isn’t sure Chakan will accept him as a son-in-law if he leaks the secret to Tinn.
“You’re worrying me, Gun. How about this - you tell me if this is an emergency situation. Is anyone in danger?”
Gun shakes his head.
“Good. Are you in any emotional danger? Is someone bothering you?”
Again, he shakes his head. Gun is so grateful his fiancé can break things down so well.
“Then you can wait to tell me if you can’t tell me now. Whatever it is, it won’t ruin our relationship. Unless you cheated. Which I’m one hundred percent sure you didn’t do.” There’s a vaguely threatening tone to the statement.
“Never. You’ve been gone for a whole three days. You think I’d find someone else that fast?”
Tinn rolls his eyes and says, “Apparently you’ve gotten yourself into some other sort of trouble in that little time. The point is, you can tell me whenever you’re ready.”
“It’s not my information to share, but-”
The phone loses traction where it’s propped up on the dining table and falls, giving Tinn a nice view of the dining room’s wallpapered ceiling instead of the generic sheet Gun hung up behind him. “Wait, is that my dining room? Why are you in my house at night? Actually, why are you at my house at all?”
Gun doesn’t answer as he struggles to set up the phone again.
“Did you seriously hang up a white sheet to keep me from knowing where you are?”
In hindsight, it seems pretty stupid, but Gun’s too tired to explain himself. “I thought you weren’t going to ask any more questions.”
“Fine. Last question, I promise. Did something happen with my dad? Just nod your head yes or shake no.”
Gun nods.
“And he doesn’t want us to know because Mom will insist on coming back from her birthday trip. Typical.” Tinn pauses, collecting his thoughts, before he smiles tightly at Gun. “I’m not mad at you for hiding it, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know what it feels like for your future in-law to ask you to hide something.”
“My mom wasn’t your future in-law back then.”
“She was in my mind. Anyway, is Dad really okay?”
The way Tinn glosses over his ridiculously romantic statement doesn’t escape Gun, but he allows it. It’s not always easy for his fiancé to talk about their past. “We have everything under control. Just enjoy your time with your mom. Who knows, your dad might break first and tell your mom before you come back. I have a feeling he’s not great at hiding things from her.”
“Just like you.” Gun feels himself flush. When he doesn’t try to defend himself, Tinn smiles fondly and says, “I love you. Japan is great so far, but I miss you. And Gim and Fah. I’ll send you more pictures tomorrow. We’re going to a kabuki show.”
“I can’t wait to hear all about it tomorrow. It’s getting late here which means it’s really late there. Get some sleep.” He blows Tinn a kiss. “I love you, too. I’ll be sleeping in your bed thinking of you.”
Tinn’s spluttering continues until Gun ends the call with a victorious smirk.
__________________
It takes all of two days before Gim figures out something is wrong. Between her staying at Fah’s place on a Thursday (that’s a ‘dad night’) and Gun closing the store early each evening, she realizes something’s up and corners Gun before he can make the drive out to the Jirawatthanakul’s house.
“Anything I can help with?” Gun asks innocently as he tries to sidestep his daughter and get to his car. He receives a miniature replica of Fah’s raised eyebrow.
“Where are you going, Dad?”
Refraining from stuttering, Gun motions vaguely at the car and says, “Out,” like a teenager being questioned by his parents. Except this is his ten-year-old daughter. He adds, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to help Tinn’s dad with a project at the house.”
“What kind of project is it? Is it a secret? Are you going to surprise Grandma Photjanee when she gets back?”
There are so many questions that Gun almost misses the way Gim casually refers to Photjanee as ‘Grandma.’ When did that happen? “Is Photjanee alright with you calling her that?”
“Yeah, she told me to call her that when we talked yesterday. Papa said it’s okay, too.”
Grandma. Papa. Gun’s mind almost shuts down from sheer happiness, but he pulls himself together. Of course, Tinn will legally be Gim’s father soon. There’s no reason to feel so gleeful about it. Still - “So it’s ‘Papa’ now? Last I heard, he was Uncle Tinn.”
For the first time in a long time, Gim looks away. It’s a habit from her shyer years. Gun decides to tread carefully.
“When did you decide to call him ‘Papa’?”
“I don’t know.” That’s a lie. Gun can tell. “I guess I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Like, which name sounds the best. You’re already Dad, so he can’t be that. Grandma Gim said I should try out a few names in my head to figure out which one fits.”
When Gim looks up at him hopefully, he’s struck by how young she is. Despite her best attempts to assert herself as a wise, mature kid, she’s learning to navigate their changing family as much as he is. “I think that’s great advice. Not that I’m surprised - your Grandma Gim kept me alive through middle and high school, so she knows what she’s talking about. What does Tinn think of his name?”
“I haven’t called him that yet. Do you think it’s okay?” Again, Gim’s voice wavers slightly, like she’s truly not sure how Tinn will react.
“How about this - while Tinn is in Japan, you get used to using ‘Papa’ when you talk about him with me and Grandma Gim? Then, when he gets back, you can call him that and see what he thinks.” Gun knows exactly what Tinn will think. He’ll bring a pack of tissues with him to the airport just in case. “Now, you head over to your mom’s to help get ready for dinner. Chakan is probably wondering where I am.”
Gun watches as his daughter skips away, loudly singing the lyrics to some pop song she’s learning in music class.
__________________
“I’m coming with you,” Gim announces. Behind her, Gim Sr. nods in agreement. “Mom finally told me what’s going on with Tinn’s dad. We’re going with you to help him.”
Gun briefly considers sitting on the ground and refusing to move in protest. The last thing he needs to add to the stress of his visits to Chakan is his daughter. He and Fah will have a long talk later.
“That poor man probably isn’t getting good meals,” his mother adds. “I made some dishes that he can warm up, and I’ll make something fresh for him this evening at the house.”
“Neither of you are coming with me. Chakan is doing just fine by himself. I’m helping with the things he can’t handle, but I doubt he wants two extra people crowding in the house.”
Gim huffs. “That’s not true. I already called him to ask if we can come over. He said it’s okay.”
Can someone die of mortification? If there are no recorded cases yet, Gun decides he’ll be the first. He’s spent the last week trying desperately to get Chakan to like him - he’s cooked, he’s cleaned, he’s picked the man up off the shower floor when he fell (he is somehow still able to look the other man in the face). “You can’t just call someone and invite yourself over. It’s rude.”
Still, they all load into the car, Gim Sr. holding her containers of food securely on her lap.
When they arrive at the Jirawatthanakul’s house, Chakan opens the door before they even knock, a huge smile on his face. Gun wonders if he accidentally took twice his dose of pain meds again. “Come on in. I’m so glad to see you both.” He glances at Gun. “And you, of course.” Somehow, the addition doesn’t make Gun feel great.
The kitchen light is on, and a tray of hors d'oeuvres sits in wait for them. “I didn’t have much in the fridge to work with, but I hope you like cheese.”
Gim loves cheese, and she has one of the appetizers in her mouth before Chakan finishes. She chews thoughtfully, eyes closed in a way that she claims helps the flavors come out, then declares, “These are great, Grandpa Chakan. You and Grandma Gim should start a restaurant together.”
No one reminds her that Grandma Gim already started a restaurant; they’re too busy wrapping their minds around the first bit. Gun opens his mouth, ready to apologize to Chakan for the overstep on his daughter’s part, but he sees the other man turn away and remove his glasses to wipe quickly at his eyes.
“Grandpa?” Gim ventures, when she realizes something’s wrong. “Did you get something in your eye? Papa says it’s allergy season and you have them really bad.”
This time, Gun watches panic flash across his mother’s face in a reflection of his own. It’s been cute when Gim refers to Tinn as ‘Papa’ around them. Now, though, he feels like they’ve been caught playing house: Gim with her Dad and Papa and Grandma Gim. It’s one thing for his daughter to call Photjanee ‘Grandma’ at her request, but Chakan has always kept more of an emotional distance from Gun’s family.
Before Gun can spiral further, Chakan puts his glasses back on and faces them. His damp eyes shine as he crouches down in front of Gim and takes her hand. “Thank you for your concern. Your Papa is right - I’ve always had terrible allergies.” He looks up at Gun. “Could you get me a tissue?”
Gun knows where the nearest tissue box is. At this point, he feels like he knows where everything in the house is. Still, he takes his time, allowing himself an extra thirty seconds to sort out his feelings. When Gun rejoins the others in the kitchen, his mom smiles at him wetly. Chakan thanks him for the tissues before returning his attention to the pictures Gim is showing him on her grandmother’s phone.
“This one is from last week when Dad was trying a new recipe. It was really bad, but Papa didn’t want to tell him.” She scrolls to the next picture. “But you can see him in the background spitting it out. See? Right there.”
Chakan gamely allows Gim to continue until Gun notices him leaning heavily on the counter. “Alright, time to go sit in the living room. Gim, do you want to help Grandma carry the tray?”
Before his daughter can complain or offer to help Chakan walk, Gun grabs the man’s crutches for him and steers him toward the living room. “So,” Chakan says as he drops heavily into his chair, “Papa? That’s new.”
Gun isn’t sure if it’s a question, so he grunts in response and sits across from the other man.
“Grandpa is new, too. I can’t say I don’t like it.”
“Photjanee told Gim to call her Grandma, so I guess she extended that to you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay wi-”
“You know, I never thought I’d have a grandchild. Before you two got together, I thought working with kids might be enough for Tinn. I’m sure he would have been content seeing his patients every day.” Chakan blinks at the ceiling a few times before looking tearfully at Gun. “When you were in high school, you and Tinn getting married wasn’t even a possibility. Tinn adopting Gim would have been out of the question. And now,” he pauses and brushes at a tear, “we’re months away from your wedding. I keep fighting this fear that one day, you’ll just leave Tinn.”
Gun has to jump in. “I wouldn’t. You have to know that by now.”
“I do. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t keep me up at night. It’s what we fathers do, isn’t it? Worry about everything terrible that can happen to our kids?” At Gun’s wobbly smile, Chakan continues, “Of course, now that Gim is calling us Grandma and Grandpa and Papa, you can’t take it back, right?”
“Never. We’re family. If anything, it’s going to be you who tries to get rid of me.” Gun says it jokingly, as though he doesn’t live in constant fear that his father-in-law will reject him. To his credit, Chakan snorts and rolls his eyes, ignoring the vulnerability in his voice.
The door between the kitchen and living room swings open before either of them can embarrass themselves further. Gun watches his mom hold the door while his daughter carries the tray of hors d'oeuvres carefully with both hands. As Gim sets the food down, he asks, “What were you two doing back there?”
“Hopefully not stealing all the good silver,” Chakan adds with a laugh.
“You have silver?” Gim’s eyes widen as her head practically swivels on her neck, searching the room.
Gim Sr. offers her a cracker and cheese to distract her, and Chakan laughs even louder at their antics. He looks happier than Gun imagined possible.
__________________
The driver in front of Gun stomps on their brakes. Again.
“Dad, why do you keep stopping so much? It’s making me feel sick.”
Gun fights his urge to yell that he’s not to blame for the stop-and-go traffic, but one look at Gim’s face shuts him up. “Are you actually going to be sick? If you are, tell me now. I think we have a bag somewhere in here.” He keeps one eye on the road while rifling through the glove compartment. “Here.”
His daughter accepts the plastic shopping bag he passes her and dumps out the contents. Gun desperately hopes it doesn’t have a hole in it. The cars ahead move, and he follows. They stop. He stops. A whine comes from the back seat, but so far, no sounds of sickness.
“Just a few more minutes before we get there.” Gun guesses his daughter must really be suffering since he doesn’t receive a bratty comment in return.
Eventually, they reach their exit, and Gun gets off the highway with a wave of relief. The airport looms ahead. He’s twenty minutes late, but Tinn already predicted that before he and his mother took off in Japan. ‘Don’t drive too quickly. We’ll wait with our luggage until you get here.’ Somehow, even over text, Tinn manages to sound caring and not condescending.
“Do you think Grandma Photjanee already knows about Grandpa’s leg? Is she going to be mad?” Gim, sickness now forgotten, bounces excitedly in her seat at the prospect of family drama.
“For all our sakes, you’d better hope she’s not mad.”
The bouncing stops for a millisecond, then, “I’ve never seen her mad. Have you? Is she scary?”
“She used to be my principal in high school.” Gim makes a noise of surprise and wonder. “So, yes, I’ve seen her angry. More specifically, I’ve seen her angry at me for messing around and leading Tinn into trouble.”
Gun allows his daughter to process the idea of her father as a trouble-making kid as he pulls into the airport parking lot.
“We’re here. Remember, they’re probably going to be very tired after their flight, so go easy on them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He sighs and gets out of the car, then opens Gim’s door to let her out. “It means that the volume you’re using right now needs to be reduced by fifty percent. And don’t ask too many questions. Understand?”
Gim hums, and Gun accepts the non-answer. He’s learned to pick his battles. They cross the small road to the airport hand in hand, then walk through the automated doors into the air conditioned arrivals area. The cool air blows against Gun’s sticky skin, and he briefly fixes his limp hair. Tinn has seen him looking worse, but he still wants to make a good impression after a couple of weeks apart.
“Look.” Gim pulls his arm. “There they are.” She jumps up and down, waving at Tinn and Photjanee who are sitting in a couple of uncomfortable plastic chairs.
Tinn’s face brightens when he sees them, and he nudges his mother lightly. She looks up from her book and seeks Gim and Gun in the crowd of bodies.
“Grandma Photjanee, we’re here,” Gim calls even as she drags Gun toward the pair.
Gun allows himself to be dragged, as gleeful as his daughter to see his fiancé. The other man’s hair is equally limp, and the bags under his eyes are darker than when he left. He looks amazing. Their gazes don’t separate, even when Gim throws her arms around Tinn’s middle.
“It’s good to see you,” Gun says, suddenly shy, and Tinn grins.
“Did you miss me?”
Switching over to hugging Photjanee, Gim smirks at them. “Dad missed you so much. He cried every night.” The accusation is entirely untrue, but Gun lets her continue. “He wrote a lot of poems, too.”
“I think Tinn wrote a few poems of his own,” Photjanee adds. The two of them really shouldn’t be allowed in the same room.
Tinn grabs Gun’s hand as he hefts his bag onto his shoulder. Gun takes Photjanee’s bag, and she smiles gratefully before Gim latches herself to her grandmother’s side. It isn’t until they’re alone, loading the bags into the trunk, that Tinn takes the opportunity to kiss Gun. It’s sweet and slightly desperate, and Gun adds his own desperation to the mix. They stand like that, taking their time to greet each other properly, until Phojanee coughs loudly from the back seat.
“So, I hear I have some poetry to look forward to at home?” Tinn asks as he rests his forehead against Gun’s. Even his smirk is endearing.
“Just get in the car.”
When they’re all inside and buckled up, Gun makes sure Gim has her plastic bag before pulling out of the parking lot and onto the highway. Photjanee strokes the girl's hair comfortingly, and Tinn offers to sing to distract her. He’s half-way through the third song when Gim says softly, “I’m really glad you’re back, Papa.”
Gun hands over a tissue wordlessly.
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Gim falls asleep during their wedding reception, and her Grandma Photjanee carries her out while Grandpa Chakan pulls the car around. Gun suspects they’re all tired from the rush of the day, so he doesn’t tease them for leaving early.
“You have all her things in the back, right?” Tinn asks, one arm wrapped around Gun.
Photjanee rolls her eyes. “Yes. And don’t forget that your father and I raised you. We can handle Gim for a week.” She takes Gun’s hand and says, “You two have fun in Ko Lanta. We’ll be right here when you get back. And don’t let my poor boy think too much. You know how bad that is for him.”
Gun laughs in agreement and squeezes her hand. “I promise I’ll take care of Tinn.”
“Oh, he’ll take care of Tinn, alright.” Tiw pops up at Gun’s elbow with a cocktail in hand. “Great wedding, by the way.”
“Tiw, it’s nice to see you again. Gun, Tinn, this was a lovely wedding. Let me know before you leave tomorrow morning.” Photjanee gives them a final smile before taking Gim to the car. Gun holds himself back from running after her to say goodbye to his daughter. He knows from experience that it’s better to let her sleep.
The reception continues into the evening, Gun and Tinn orbiting each other as they greet guests. Gun wants nothing more than to go home and fall into bed with his husband. The thought stops him short. He marches up to Tinn where he’s talking to Fah and Niran by the bar. “Sorry, I have to borrow him for a moment.” Gun isn’t sorry at all as he drags Tinn behind him, heading straight for a single bathroom down the hall.
“What are you do-”
Gun pushes him against the door as soon as it closes behind them and stops him mid-question with a kiss. Needing no time to catch up, Tinn kisses back, hands roaming Gun’s body over his suit. Their breath mingles as they break apart, only for Tinn to lean in again for a slower, deeper kiss.
They only stop when Gun goes for Tinn’s belt, and his husband catches his hands. “What are the chances of no one noticing if we leave right now?”
“Who cares? I only care what my husband thinks.” Tinn’s eyes glaze over at the words. “And right now, I think my husband wants to take me home.”
It takes them less than two minutes to find Tiw and ask him to cover for them. Gun can tell from his grin that he will use this against them at a later date, but it’s completely worth it when Tinn takes his hand and leads him to the exit. They take a taxi home, just as they planned, and the driver receives a large tip as an apology for their behavior in the back seat. The store is dark and empty as they make their way to the stairs and up to the bedroom.
“I can’t believe we actually made it up here,” Gun pants against Tinn’s neck.
“We can’t destroy the shop. Your mom actually has to work there tomorrow.”
“Let’s not talk about my mom.”
Their suit jackets and shirts land somewhere, as do their pants. “We’ll put them away later,” Gun soothes Tinn. “For now, I want my husband to focus on me.”
“Your husband,” Tinn breathes in wonder. His gaze locks on Gun’s lips and his hand gently cups his cheek. “My husband.”
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Gim is, in fact, still there when they come back from their honeymoon. She pesters them for souvenirs and stories as they sit around the Jirawatthanakul’s house and eat a delicious dinner cooked by Chakan in celebration of their return. It's wonderful and overwhelming and exactly as Gun predicted, and as the evening continues, Tinn happily answers all their daughter’s questions while Gun leans his head against his husband’s shoulder. For the first time in years, he feels at rest.