BANGKOK AIRPORT

The airport was alive with movement, the constant hum of conversation and the rhythmic rolling of luggage wheels filling the air. Soft overhead lighting reflected off sleek, polished floors, casting a gentle glow on the travelers moving with tired efficiency through the terminal. It was the kind of organized chaos Alex was used to—she had navigated countless airports, countless time zones—but this time was different.

This time, she wasn't traveling alone.

She adjusted the straps of the baby carrier across her shoulders, the warm weight of Aurora pressed securely against her chest, her tiny body curled in the soft fabric, completely undisturbed by the noise around them. Alex smoothed a hand over the back of her daughter's head, ensuring the hood of the carrier shielded her from the cool draft of the air conditioning before glancing at her husband.

Chan walked beside her, his usual confident stride slightly tempered by the stiffness in his left shoulder. The black kinesiology tape peeked out from beneath the sleeve of his navy zip-up, the only visible reminder of the injury he had tried (and failed) to downplay. The medics had taped his shoulder for support, giving him just enough stability to travel without needing a full sling, but Alex still caught the occasional wince whenever he moved too quickly.

She didn't comment on it.

Yet.

Instead, she rolled their shared suitcase with her free hand, the sleek beige exterior matching the neutral aesthetic of her airport outfit—black leggings, a loose gray t-shirt, and an oversized white button-down left open for comfort. Her sneakers were worn but reliable, the kind of shoes that had carried her through security details, through late-night flights, through long walks back home when her mind refused to rest.

Chan, on the other hand, looked like he had stepped out of a photoshoot.

The burgundy windbreaker draped effortlessly over his broad frame, layered over a plaid button-up and navy sweater that fit snug against his torso. His cap, a deep wine color, sat low over his forehead, shielding most of his face from wandering eyes, but even that couldn't hide him completely.

Even dressed casually, he exuded an effortless coolness that made heads turn.

Alex smirked slightly, watching as a few fans subtly snapped photos from a respectful distance, whispering excitedly but not approaching.

"Your fan club is growing," she murmured, keeping her voice low as they continued toward the check-in counter.

Chan let out a soft huff of amusement, tilting his head slightly toward her. "Think they're more interested in the tiny human strapped to your chest," he replied, his eyes flickering down toward Aurora.

Alex's smirk softened into something more genuine. "She is pretty cute."

Chan nodded, a fond smile playing at his lips. "Yeah," he murmured. "She really is."

For a moment, they simply moved through the terminal in comfortable silence, the weight of the concert, the adrenaline, the exhaustion settling into their bones.

It wasn't until they reached the check-in counter that Alex finally addressed the thing she had been holding back.

"How's the shoulder?" she asked, casually but pointedly.

Chan shifted slightly, testing the movement before exhaling through his nose. "Tight," he admitted. "But not unbearable."

Alex narrowed her eyes, searching his expression for any hint of downplayed discomfort. "Pain level?"

"Five."

She arched a brow.

"Six," he corrected quickly. "Maybe six and a half."

Alex exhaled, shaking her head, as she handed over their passports to the flight attendant, still side-eyeing Chan as he adjusted the strap of his bag, his movements just a fraction stiffer than usual. He was holding himself together well, but she wasn't an idiot—she could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw ticked when he thought she wasn't paying attention.

She didn't push him further, not here, not now. They still had to get through TSA and the last thing she needed was to start a battle of wills in the middle of an airport.

Instead, she focused on the check-in process, answering the standard questions with practiced ease. Once their boarding passes were printed, she tucked them into her pocket and nodded toward the security checkpoint. "Come on, rockstar, time for everyone's favorite part of flying."

Chan groaned dramatically, running his uninjured hand down his face. "I swear, if they make me take my jacket off, I'm going to cry."

Alex smirked, nudging him gently with her elbow. "Better not. Don't want your fans seeing you weep at the conveyor belt."

He huffed but didn't argue, following her lead as they approached the TSA line. The crowd around them was a mix of travelers—businessmen scrolling through their phones, families wrangling overexcited kids, and, of course, a handful of fans who had spotted them and were doing their best to contain their excitement.

At first, the whispers were quiet, little bursts of recognition rippling through the queue. But then, someone had the audacity to say it out loud.

"Oh my God, he's so cute."

Chan stiffened.

Alex, who had been focused on adjusting Aurora's position in the carrier, barely held back a laugh as she caught the immediate reaction. Chan's entire body tensed, his shoulders bunching slightly beneath his windbreaker as his hand shot up to his face, fingers curling over his mouth in a clear attempt to hide. He scratched absently at the side of his head, a nervous habit he'd never quite shaken, as if doing so would somehow make him invisible.

It didn't.

The fans only giggled louder.

Alex, thoroughly entertained, bit her lip to keep from teasing him outright. Instead, she let out an amused hum, glancing at him with a knowing look. "Oh, you're cute, huh?"

Chan groaned under his breath, shooting her a quick, desperate glare before mumbling, "I hate this."

She grinned. "No, you don't."

Before he could argue, he suddenly turned and bolted toward the TSA agent like his life depended on it, shoving his passport forward as if that would expedite the process.

Alex full-on laughed then, shaking her head at his absolute inability to handle compliments. He could stand in front of tens of thousands of people, command a stage with the force of a storm, but the moment someone called him cute in public, he folded like a cheap lawn chair.

Still chuckling, she turned toward the handful of fans who were still giggling, their eyes wide with excitement. She didn't say anything—she didn't have to. Instead, she simply lifted her hand and formed the small Korean heart gesture, her thumb and index finger pinching together in a tiny, silent thank-you.

The fans practically melted on the spot.

Satisfied, Alex turned back toward security, rolling their shared suitcase behind her as she stepped forward to join her flustered husband.

Chan, now standing at the conveyor belt, still looked vaguely traumatized.

"You, my love, are so adorable." She said, chuckling as she leaned in and kissed him.

Chan groaned dramatically, his ears turning an impressive shade of pink beneath his burgundy cap. He swayed slightly as Alex pressed the quick kiss to his cheek, blinking like he wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or delighted. Judging by the way his lips twitched upward despite himself, she had her answer.

"Stop," he muttered, voice muffled against his palm as he rubbed his face. "You're making it worse."

Alex grinned, thoroughly unrepentant. "Oh, no, I'm making it better."

Chan exhaled through his nose, glaring at her without any real heat before refocusing on the TSA process. He kicked off his sneakers with practiced ease, rolling his shoulders to loosen them—only to immediately wince when his left side protested.

Alex's amusement faded.

Her teasing had been lighthearted, but now, as she watched him shake out his fingers, jaw tightening from the lingering ache, the protective part of her kicked in again. The medic had assured them his shoulder wasn't seriously injured, but the partial separation still meant a slow, frustrating recovery, and she knew him—knew how stubborn he could be when it came to pain.

Still, she let him be for now. If she fussed too much, he'd just downplay it more.

Instead, she adjusted Aurora's position in the carrier and began placing their items onto the conveyor belt—her bag first, then Chan's, followed by their shared suitcase. She moved efficiently, her years of security work making the routine second nature.

Chan, meanwhile, stood there for a second, looking entirely too put upon.

Alex arched a brow at him. "What now?"

Chan sighed dramatically, motioning to his cap. "Do I have to take it off?"

The TSA agent, a middle-aged woman who looked like she had zero patience for nonsense, gave him a pointed look. "Sir, if you want to get through security today, yes."

Chan mumbled something under his breath but did as instructed, tugging off the cap and ruffling his dark curls into something vaguely presentable. As expected, the moment his hat was gone, another ripple of excitement spread through the nearby fans.

"Oh my God, his hair."

"Why is he so cute?"

"I can't do this."

Chan visibly tensed, immediately lifting a hand to his forehead as if to shield himself from the attention. Alex, who had absolutely had enough of his dramatics, let out a quiet snicker. "Babe, they're just complimenting you."

"That's the problem," he hissed under his breath, running his fingers through his hair like he was trying to fix what was already perfect.

Alex rolled her eyes, shaking her head at his eternal inability to handle attention that wasn't on stage. With an amused hum, she reached for the hem of his windbreaker. "Alright, let's get this off before you combust from secondhand embarrassment."

Chan blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise, but he didn't argue as she carefully eased the jacket down his arms. He flinched slightly when the fabric shifted over his taped shoulder, and Alex immediately slowed her movements, her touch gentler, more deliberate.

"Easy," she murmured, keeping her voice low, just for him. "I've got you."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his good hand gripping the strap of his bag tightly to keep himself steady as she finished peeling the jacket away.

The moment it was off, she folded it over her arm, taking an extra second to scan his expression. His jaw was tight, his brows slightly pinched, but he wasn't in unbearable pain—just uncomfortable. Still, she could see the way he kept his left arm tucked closer to his body, the subtle hesitation in his posture that told her moving too much was going to be a problem.

And then, as if right on cue, the TSA agent motioned toward the body scanner.

"Alright, sir, arms up."

Chan hesitated.

It was subtle—barely even noticeable to anyone who wasn't paying close attention—but Alex caught it instantly. The way his shoulders stiffened, the way his fingers curled against his palms like he was bracing himself.

Shit.

He couldn't lift his arms.

Not fully.

The TSA agent, clearly not realizing his predicament, just waved again. "Sir?"

Chan inhaled, his gaze flickering toward Alex, reluctant but resigned.

But before he could even try to struggle through it, she was already stepping forward, shifting into wife mode without a second thought.

"He can't lift his arms right now," she said smoothly, her voice firm but polite. "Shoulder injury. Can you do a manual scan instead?"

The agent's brows lifted slightly, her gaze flickering to Chan's arm, likely noting the kinesiology tape for the first time. She hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Alright, we'll do a pat-down. Step aside, sir."

Chan let out a small breath of relief, his shoulders sagging slightly as he nodded. "Thank you."

Alex didn't move as he stepped aside, her eyes tracking his every movement, watching for any signs of discomfort.

He caught her staring.

"I'm fine," he muttered under his breath as the security officer waved over another agent for the manual check.

Alex just arched a brow, unimpressed. "Sure you are."

Chan sighed, his lips twitching slightly despite himself.

The new TSA agent, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a professional but neutral expression, motioned for Chan to stand with his feet apart. "Alright, sir, I'll walk you through this. Let me know if anything is painful."

Chan nodded, shifting his weight slightly as the agent began the pat-down.

Alex kept a careful eye on Chan as the TSA agent worked, her fingers absently smoothing over the fabric of Aurora's carrier as she balanced between mother mode and security mode. She had gone through hundreds of airport checkpoints, but this time, standing here as a wife watching her husband get patted down because he was too injured to go through the scanner properly—it was different.

Chan held himself still, his posture slightly tense but compliant as the agent ran gloved hands down his torso, across his lower back, then around his waist. The moment the agent reached his left shoulder, however, Chan's jaw locked, his lips parting slightly in a sharp inhale.

Alex clocked the reaction instantly.

She shifted forward a half-step, her instinct to intervene flaring, but before she could say anything, Chan exhaled through his nose, visibly forcing himself to relax.

He was fine.

Or, at least, fine enough to get through this without drawing attention.

Still, her gaze lingered on his face, watching as the agent completed the check, moving lower to his legs before finally straightening with a nod.

"You're clear," the agent said, stepping back and motioning toward the conveyor belt. "You can collect your belongings."

Chan nodded, rolling his good shoulder slightly as he turned toward Alex. The moment their eyes met, he huffed out a small, knowing laugh.

"You can stop glaring at me now," he murmured as he stepped closer.

Alex narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. "I wasn't glaring."

Chan smirked, leaning in just enough that his voice rumbled right against her ear. "You so were."

Alex huffed, reaching out to swat his good arm, but he dodged at the last second, grinning as he moved toward the conveyor belt to grab their belongings.

She shook her head, exasperated but amused, before stepping forward to approach the body scanner.

The TSA agent glanced at her and then down at Aurora, still snuggled securely in the carrier against her chest. "You can keep her in the carrier," the woman said. "You'll just need to go through the metal detector instead of the full-body scanner."

Alex nodded, already expecting that. TSA regulations generally allowed parents to keep their infants strapped in during security checks, provided they underwent additional screening. She adjusted Aurora's position slightly, ensuring the baby was comfortable, before stepping through the metal detector with practiced ease.

The machine beeped softly as she passed through, and the agent motioned for her to step aside. "Just a quick swab for explosives residue," she explained, already pulling out a small testing strip.

Alex stood still as the agent swiped the strip along her hands, then lightly across the carrier fabric before inserting it into a nearby machine. A few seconds later, the screen blinked green, and the agent nodded. "You're all set. You can grab your things."

"Thanks," Alex said, stepping toward the conveyor belt just as Chan was shrugging back into his windbreaker—painfully, awkwardly, and with far more difficulty than he wanted to admit.

She sighed, shaking her head. "Seriously?"

Chan grunted, still struggling with his sleeve. "I got it."

Alex huffed, already stepping forward before he could protest. "No, you don't."

Chan groaned as she reached for his sleeve, her fingers brushing against his wrist as she carefully guided his injured arm into the jacket. His shoulder twitched beneath her touch, his muscles instinctively resisting the movement, but he let her help, his pride barely holding on by a thread.

"Y'know," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with mild defeat, "I used to be able to dress myself just fine."

Alex arched a brow, smirking as she eased the jacket up his arm, smoothing the fabric across his back before shifting to adjust his collar. "Yeah? And I used to have ovaries. Life's full of surprises."

Chan snorted at that, his head tilting slightly as he let her fuss over him, his amusement barely contained. "That's not the same thing."

Alex patted his chest, stepping back with a satisfied nod. "Feels the same."

Chan rolled his eyes but didn't argue, shifting his bag onto his good shoulder before grabbing the suitcase handle. Before Alex could protest, he simply shot her a look—one that clearly said let me do this.

She sighed, but relented, shifting her focus to Aurora as she made sure her daughter was still settled in comfortably. "Alright," she murmured, adjusting the straps of the carrier. "Let's get to our gate before something else happens."

Chan hummed in agreement, reaching up to tug the brim of his cap lower over his face as they started moving.

The walk to their gate was uneventful—at least, as uneventful as it could be when traveling with a globally recognized idol and a newborn. A few fans lingered at a respectful distance, some snapping photos, others whispering excitedly but not approaching. A handful of staff and passengers gave them lingering glances, their curiosity evident, but most people were preoccupied with their own flights.

Alex appreciated that. She had dealt with far more chaotic airport situations in the past, but today, at least, things seemed to be running smoothly.

They reached their gate with time to spare, settling into a quieter section near the large floor-to-ceiling windows. The Bangkok skyline stretched in the distance beyond the tarmac, the early morning haze softening the city's edges.

Alex sighed as she lowered herself into a chair, rolling her shoulders as she adjusted Aurora's position slightly. The baby was still sleeping soundly, her tiny face relaxed, her soft breaths even against Alex's chest.

Chan settled beside her, his injured shoulder slightly stiff as he eased into the seat. He exhaled slowly, leaning his head back against the headrest, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

For a while, they just sat there, the exhaustion finally catching up to them. The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind—performances, security chaos, injuries, and now, travel. It was a lot.

Alex glanced sideways at her husband, her gaze softening as she took him in. Even beneath the cap, the exhaustion was evident—the slight dark circles under his eyes, the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed, his fingers absently rubbing at the band of his wedding ring.

"You good?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

Chan cracked one eye open, his gaze finding hers. He offered a small, tired smile. "Yeah," he murmured. "Just...ready to get home to Jinnie. I hate that he had to take the earlier flight because the doctor wouldn't clear me to fly for 48hrs."

Alex exhaled, shifting slightly in her seat as she reached over, threading her fingers through his uninjured hand. His palm was warm against hers, fingers rough from years of producing and performing, but they fit together like they always had—like they were meant to.

"I know," she murmured, squeezing gently. "But he'll be waiting for us when we land. Probably pouting because you weren't there to cuddle him to sleep last night."

Chan huffed a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand in slow, absentminded strokes. "Yeah," he sighed. "Minho and Jisung stayed with him last night."

"Then he was probably more than fine, sweetheart."

Chan scoffed, shaking his head as he laced their fingers together. "Oh, I know he was fine. That's the problem," he muttered, lips twitching at the thought. "You just know he spent all night being dramatic about it."

Alex hummed, her grin turning sly as she leaned back into her seat, adjusting Aurora's hood to shield her face from the harsh airport lights. "I mean... Minho was there. And Jisung. And they did say it was fine to—y'know—help him relax."

Chan's eyes snapped open, and she didn't even need to look at him to know she had his full attention.

"Alex," he started, his voice low with warning.

She feigned innocence, tilting her head slightly as she toyed with the zipper of her button-down. "I'm just saying, Minho and Jisung have always been very good at... keeping Jinnie company."

Chan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh my God."

Alex smirked, her grip on his hand tightening as she chuckled. "Come on, you know he loves a little extra attention when you're not there. And they're more than happy to give it to him."

Chan exhaled sharply, tipping his head back against the seat again. "I swear, if I call him and he answers sounding all blissed out, I'm going to lose my mind."

Alex laughed under her breath, thoroughly enjoying how easy it was to fluster him. "Babe, it's within our boundaries. You said it was fine. I said it was fine. He definitely said it was fine."

Chan groaned again, shaking his head but not pulling away. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered. "It's not that. It's just—ugh, now I'm picturing it."

Alex bit down on her lower lip, barely holding back a wicked grin. "I mean, if you really wanna picture it—"

"Alexandra," Chan cut in sharply, eyes dark as he turned to face her. "Stop."

She laughed, shifting slightly so she could press a kiss to his knuckles. "They could always stay over tonight, baby. Give you a little extra attention."

Chan groaned, letting his head loll to the side as he shot her the flattest, most exasperated look he could muster. "Alex."

She grinned, absolutely reveling in his reaction. "What?" she said, feigning innocence as she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, her voice dipping just enough to make it clear she wasn't done teasing him. "I just think you deserve a little TLC after that performance—and, you know, nearly dislocating your shoulder."

Chan let out a long, suffering sigh, tipping his head back against the seat. "You're evil."

"I can show you evil, sweetheart."

Chan groaned, his free hand dragging down his face as he shifted in his seat, his entire body language screaming why did I marry this woman? But the problem was—he knew why. He loved her. Every smart-mouthed, teasing, infuriating bit of her. And she knew exactly how to get under his skin, to push him to the edge of flustered and thoroughly wrecked, especially when she used that voice—low, teasing, with just enough heat to make his pulse stutter.

"You," he muttered, finally dropping his hand and fixing her with a flat glare, "are a menace."

Alex just smirked, completely unrepentant. "You love it."

Chan exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he turned his gaze back toward the tarmac, watching the planes taxi along the runway. "I swear, if I call Jinnie and he's still in bed with them—"

"Oh, he's definitely still in bed," Alex murmured, shifting slightly in her seat to get more comfortable, adjusting Aurora's tiny form against her chest. "He's probably still wrapped up in both of them totally blissed out. They probably didn't even sleep, knowing Minho."

Chan made a strangled noise low in his throat, his entire body going stiff as if the very thought had physically struck him. His fingers clenched around Alex's hand, his grip tightening just enough to convey his exasperation—maybe even a little desperation.

"Why—" he started, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual, "why would you say that?"

Alex bit her lip, trying—and failing—to suppress the laugh bubbling up in her chest. "Because, sweetheart," she purred, her tone drenched in playful wickedness, "you know I'm right."

Chan inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenching as he turned his gaze toward the ceiling, clearly summoning whatever patience he had left. "I really don't need to be thinking about this right now."

Alex hummed in mock sympathy, reaching up to rub soothing circles over the back of his hand. "But it's so much fun watching you suffer."

He exhaled, long and slow, before tilting his head to the side to glare at her. "You do realize I'm injured, right? I can't even properly retaliate."

Alex's smirk widened. "So, what I'm hearing is, I should let the boy know to clear their schedules tonight so you have some extra attention tonight?"

Chan's nostrils flared, his jaw tightening as he slowly, deliberately turned to face her, his eyes darkening in that way that sent a shiver straight down her spine. The kind of look that said you're playing a dangerous game. And oh, she knew she was. She was pushing his buttons, winding him up, knowing damn well there was only so much teasing he'd tolerate before he reminded her exactly who was in charge.

She just didn't expect him to reach that limit in the middle of an airport.

His fingers tightened around hers, his grip deceptively gentle as he leaned in, voice dropping so low that it sent goosebumps skittering down her arms. "I'd tread carefully, baby girl," he murmured, slow and deliberate, the barely restrained dominance lacing his words making her pulse stutter. "Because if you keep running that pretty little mouth of yours, I'm going to have to do something about it."

Alex's breath caught, her stomach flipping violently at the sheer weight of his tone. There was no teasing now, no playful banter. He was serious. And suddenly, it didn't matter that they were in a crowded airport, that there were hundreds of people around them, that she was supposed to be the one in control of this situation.

Because she wasn't.

She never was.

Not with him.

Chan tilted his head, his lips barely brushing her ear as he continued, voice nothing but a slow, taunting whisper. "And considering I can't properly remind you of your place right now, you really shouldn't be pushing me."

Alex swallowed hard, her grip tightening around his hand as heat coiled in her stomach, spreading like wildfire. She knew she should back off—should stop before she really got herself in trouble—but the rush of adrenaline, the thrill of toeing the line, had her leaning in instead.

"I don't know what you mean, sir," she murmured, her voice just as quiet but laced with unmistakable challenge. "I'm just trying to make sure you're taken care of."

Chan's exhale was sharp, his fingers flexing against hers before his grip turned firm, possessive. His gaze flickered down to Aurora, ensuring their daughter was still sound asleep, before his lips curled into something slow, something dark, something that made her stomach twist in anticipation.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart," he murmured, dragging his thumb over her knuckles in a slow, deliberate stroke. "I will be taken care of. But you?" His eyes flicked up to hers, burning with something dangerous, something downright predatory. "You're going to be in so much fucking trouble when we get home."

Alex sucked in a sharp breath, her entire body tensing at the sheer weight of his promise. Not a threat—a promise.

And suddenly, teasing didn't seem like such a good idea anymore.

Chan must have seen the realization hit, because his smirk deepened, his satisfaction rolling off him in waves. He gave her hand one last squeeze before leaning back in his seat, exhaling slowly as if he hadn't just turned her entire world upside down in a matter of seconds.