Chapter Text
Seulgi had always been very good at not thinking about certain things.
Like how she and Jaeyi kept ending up pressed against each other in empty supply rooms instead of eating lunch. Or how they scheduled their shifts so precisely around each other that their shared calendar looked like a surgical plan. Or how Jaeyi, despite being the hospital director’s daughter, still stole pudding cups from the nurses’ fridge like a criminal.
Children belonged in that same mental drawer: things she simply did not have time to consider.
She and Jaeyi were newly married, absurdly in love, and drowning in twelve-hour shifts at Yoo Hospital. Their apartment was basically a glorified crash pad with one very well-used bed and a growing collection of forgotten coffee cups.
And when Jaeyi grew up in this hospital, she also knew all the secret corners.
The radiology storage room that locked from the inside.
The old staff stairwell no one used since the west wing renovation.
The on-call room behind cardiology that always smelled faintly like antiseptic and bad decisions.
Five minutes between rounds was enough for Jaeyi to push Seulgi against a wall and kiss her like they were still freshly dating instead of legally married.
“Your dad is literally down the hall,” Seulgi had once whispered.
Jaeyi had grinned. “He raised me here. He knows when not to bother.”
Which was horrifying, but also weirdly true.
Jaeyi’s father, Director Yoo, had always been a little too invested in their lives. He loved Seulgi like a daughter already, and when they married, he’d upgraded to full intensity. Especially on the topic of reproduction.
“You two have excellent genetic material,” he had said over dinner one night, sipping his tea like this was a normal thing to say. “It doesn’t even matter which of you carries the child. Both of you are healthy, intelligent, physically compatible-”
“Appa,” Jaeyi had groaned, slumping in her chair.
Seulgi had nearly choked on her rice.
“It’s just science,” he had insisted. “Yoo Hospital could use more doctors with your brains.”
“We are not a breeding program,” Jaeyi had snapped.
“Yet,” Yeri had added helpfully, after they retold the story the day after.
Yeri, unfortunately, had taken the idea and run with it. She had started sending pictures.
At first it was AI-generated babies with Seulgi’s eyes and Jaeyi’s smirk. Or toddlers wearing tiny lab coats. After Seulgi had cornered her and delivered a fifteen-minute lecture on art theft, environmental cost, and why generative AI was ethically questionable, Yeri had stopped. Sort of.
Now she only sent badly photoshopped images of Seulgi and Jaeyi holding stock-photo children. Or herself and Kyung labeled as “Cool Aunts.” Or an extremely cursed picture of Jaeyi with a baby that was clearly just a scaled-down version of Kyung.
“This is worse,” Seulgi had muttered, staring at her phone, replying exactly that.
Yeri had replied: You made me learn Photoshop. This is on you.
So children remained a joke. A theoretical future problem. Until the toddler situation.
Seulgi was walking down the pediatric wing, half asleep, running on cold coffee, when she saw Jaeyi first. Jaeyi stood near the nurses’ station, one hand holding a small sneaker, the other steadying a tiny human perched on her shoulders.
The kid was maybe three, with big round eyes as snotty nose and one sock missing. They clutched Jaeyi’s hair in their tiny fist like it was a safety rope.
“It’s okay,” Jaeyi was murmuring softly. “We’ll find your parent. I promise.”
The toddler sniffled, pressed their cheek against Jaeyi’s head, and immediately calmed down.
Seulgi stopped walking. Her brain, which usually loved facts and logic and scheduling, simply stalled.
Jaeyi looked different like this. Still in her white coat, with that sharp, confident posture. But her voice was gentle, and she had one arm wrapped securely around the child’s legs, completely natural, and unbothered by the drool slowly soaking into her shoulder.
The kid giggled when Jaeyi adjusted them.
Seulgi felt something strange and sudden in her chest.
Oh no.
Jaeyi glanced up and caught Seulgi staring.
“Hey,” she said, smiling. “Found a lost one.”
Seulgi opened her mouth but nothing came out.
The toddler waved at her. Seulgi waved back, weakly.
And suddenly, without warning, the thought hit her: Oh. I would like one of those. With her.
The realization was so sharp it almost physically hurt.
Shit.
The next evening found them exactly where Seulgi had known they would be.
Jaeyi had come home from another board meeting wearing one of those sharply cut blazers that made her look like she owned not only the building but the entire city around it. Her hair was neat, her posture smug, her confidence radiating in a way that always made Seulgi’s brain short-circuit.
It was frankly unfair.
By the time they stumbled into their bedroom, Jaeyi had already shed the blazer. Seulgi had lost track of who kissed who first somewhere between the door and the bed. All she knew was that now they were tangled together in warm sheets, limbs heavy, hearts still racing, Jaeyi’s hand lazily tracing patterns against her side.
This was always how it went on board-meeting days.
Jaeyi came home sharp and powerful, and Seulgi somehow ended up feeling like the only person allowed to touch that power.
Which was exactly why Seulgi knew she had to talk now, before Jaeyi distracted her again.
“Baby,” she murmured, still breathless, staring at the ceiling because looking at Jaeyi’s face right now felt dangerous. “I saw you with that kid yesterday.”
Jaeyi chuckled against her shoulder, warm and pleased. “I know. He was cute, wasn’t he. We have a lot in common.”
Seulgi turned her head, trying and failing to catch Jaeyi’s eyes. “Like what?”
“He said he liked that cute doctor he waved to.” Jaeyi lifted her hand and gave a little exaggerated wave in front of Seulgi’s face. “Also, our hands are apparently always sticky.”
Seulgi snorted and swatted her away. “Jaeyi!”
Jaeyi just laughed and, as always, took it as a personal challenge. She rolled over until she was straddling Seulgi, poking at her sides, tickling her until Seulgi squirmed helplessly in the sheets.
“You didn’t mind my sticky hands just now,” Jaeyi teased.
“Jaeyi-ah!” Seulgi tried to sound stern and failed spectacularly, laughter shaking her voice.
The playful fight dissolved into something slower, all soft touches and familiar heat. Jaeyi leaned down, brushing her forehead against Seulgi’s, smiling in that way that always made Seulgi feel like she was the luckiest person alive.
Somehow, through the fog of it all, Seulgi managed to hold onto the one thought that mattered.
“Hey,” she said, quieter now. “You wanna have kids?”
Jaeyi smiled up at her, stopping her slow descent. “Sure. Okay.”
Just like that.
Seulgi stared at her. “That was easy.”
Jaeyi shrugged. “You’re my wife, I'd love to start a family with you. You want a kid, we can do that.”
A beat passed. “Who should carry?” Jaeyi added, thoughtful. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“Same,” Seulgi replied immediately.
Jaeyi’s eyes lit up. “Rock, paper, scissors?”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
They played, Seulgi lost.
Jaeyi gasped dramatically. “How do you always lose? I always go with scissors.” She wiggled her fingers. “Speaking of…”
“Jaeyi,” Seulgi warned weakly, even as she smiled.
But it was already decided and immediatly celebrated accrodingly.