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The door shuts behind Seokmin as he steps into Jeonghan and Seungkwan’s apartment, playing a little tune before the lock slides shut. He’s too tired to take off his shoes nicely, so he just kicks them to the side and follows the other two into the main room.
Seungkwan promptly flops onto the couch, letting out a long sigh. “I need to sleep for three days.”
They’ve had practically every type of schedule today—Going Seventeen filming in the morning, interviews for the upcoming album in the afternoon, and hours of dance practice late into the night. It’s grueling but unfortunately typical for the weeks leading up to a comeback, and it makes them appreciate every extra minute of sleep a bit more. They’ve got a day off tomorrow, thank god, and Seokmin plans to do nothing but rest.
“That sounds nice,” Seokmin agrees, already feeling his eyes droop with exhaustion as he turns to where Jeonghan has disappeared into the kitchen. “Doesn’t it, hyung?”
Jeonghan hums loud enough for them both to hear, then reappears around the corner with a glass of water.
Their stomachs are comfortably full, thanks to Jeonghan treating the two of them to dinner at one of their favorite open-late restaurants after practice, but eating and hanging around for over an hour means it’s already past 3 in the morning. The beer they’d washed it all down with is part of the reason Seokmin’s here instead of in his own apartment.
Jeonghan offers the glass of water to Seokmin. “Drink.”
Jeonghan thinks Seokmin is too tipsy to send him home on his own, but secretly, Seokmin’s just playing it up a bit so Jeonghan lets him stay. Seungkwan is in on it, and he thinks Jeonghan’s started to catch on the last few times he’s pulled this stunt, but if he has, he doesn’t make it obvious.
Seokmin accepts the water and chugs it, humming his thanks as Jeonghan takes the empty glass back. “Do you need any water, Seungkwan?” he asks.
Seokmin considers him, trying to remember if he saw Jeonghan drinking anything either, but he can’t. He can barely remember what he ate or drank today, let alone what the others have.
“That’s okay, think I’m just gonna—” Seungkwan starts, but Jeonghan is already heading back to the sink to fill it up again. “...Go to bed.”
Seokmin doesn’t miss the way Seungkwan rolls his eyes at Jeonghan’s back, and he stifles a chuckle.
“He’s always like this,” Seungkwan remarks lightly. “Just one time I want to see him go to sleep drunk, in his clothes, no skin care, no toothbrush.”
“Hyung would never,” Seokmin laughs.
“I know,” Seungkwan whines. “But sometimes I want to! Is that a crime?”
Seokmin gives his arm a playful shove just as Jeonghan comes back, pushing a glass into Seungkwan’s hand. “Drink. You’ll be puffy tomorrow.”
“Hyu-ung,” Seungkwan groans in response. “We ate every fried food item on the menu for dinner, you think I’m worried about being puffy tomorrow? It’s a day off!”
Seokmin turns Seungkwan around by the shoulders and pushes him towards his bedroom. “Go to bed already,” he teases.
“At least drink some of it!” Jeonghan calls after him.
“Goodnight, hyungs,” Seungkwan responds pointedly, and then his door shuts.
Seokmin turns to Jeonghan, just the two of them left in the living room. He steps forward, a dopey smile forming on his lips, ready for Jeonghan’s arms around his waist and his lips on his, but then Jeonghan spins around again, his shaggy permed hair whipping against Seokmin’s nose in the sudden movement.
“Hyung,” Seokmin whines, catching Jeonghan by the elbow, “let’s go to bed. I’m tired.”
Jeonghan looks conflicted, like he has important things to be doing. “I should wash the dishes first, Seungkwan didn’t—”
“Tomorrow,” Seokmin assures him. “There’s time tomorrow. I want to sleep, please.”
Jeonghan holds his gaze for a moment, registers the exhaustion in Seokmin’s eyes, and finally nods. He reaches up to pet the back of Seokmin’s head, down to the base of his neck, in one slow, gentle stroke. Seokmin knows him, knows how to play on Jeonghan’s weaknesses, and he can never say no to Seokmin when he asks nicely.
Victorious, Seokmin leads the way to Jeonghan’s bedroom. He’s ready to steal some of Jeonghan’s pyjamas, wash up, then curl up together and sleep until at least midday. They’ll do absolutely nothing tomorrow and it will be glorious.
Jeonghan turns on a lamp that casts the room in a warm, orangey hue as Seokmin wanders into the attached bathroom, flipping the lights on and finding the toothbrush he’s started keeping there. He used to keep a spare one in his bag, but then he left it there one day, and then it just sort of… stayed.
Jeonghan drags a hand along Seokmin’s waist as he comes in behind him, shuffling around to the sink. Seokmin leans against the wall and watches Jeonghan push his hair back with a headband before he feels the temperature of the water.
So pretty, Seokmin finds himself thinking. He’s always thought it, since long before he’d ever considered acting on it. It still feels like a dream sometimes, that they’re here, like this. He’s not sure what exactly this is, but it’s comfortable and easy and he doesn’t feel like they need to ask those questions yet.
Just as Seokmin reaches out to ghost his fingers up Jeonghan’s spine, Seokmin watches him bend down to wash his face and wince. It’s slight, and Jeonghan corrects himself quickly, but Seokmin sees it.
He wants to ask, but his mouth is full of toothpaste, so he rests a hand on Jeonghan’s lower back gently. Jeonghan scoots to the side to let him spit but continues washing his face.
“Your back,” Seokmin starts after he’s wiped his mouth. “Are you hurt?”
“Just a shiver,” Jeonghan answers, leaving no room for Seokmin to press. “How are you feeling about the comeback?”
“Ah,” Seokmin hums, trying to recall their practice earlier. “Honestly, I think I feel prepared. The choreography isn’t that difficult this time. How do you feel?”
“Good, yeah,” Jeonghan agrees.
He rinses his face with warm water, then stands straight again to grab a towel. He’s stiff, Seokmin notes silently.
“I hope we get through it with no injuries,” Seokmin comments, watching Jeonghan pat his face dry before reaching for his moisturizer. “It’s been a while since we’ve all been together and healthy. It’d be nice for that to last.”
Jeonghan hums, staring intently at himself in the mirror. He rubs the product in with slow circles, up his cheeks and down his jaw, letting his eyes flutter closed. The smile he’s had on all day is weary, his energy used up from filming and practice and keeping track of everyone.
“Need to make sure everyone takes care of themselves,” Jeonghan murmurs, more to himself. “Eat and drink well, take breaks, rest enough.”
Seokmin presses against him, his nose at the base of Jeonghan’s neck, breathing him in. “Someone needs to make sure you’re taken care of,” he whispers, smiling as Jeonghan’s breath hitches, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.
Jeonghan twists around, and Seokmin backs him up against the sink, nosing against his cheek.
Just before he can connect their lips, Jeonghan breathes, “Patience, Seokminie. I need to brush my teeth, and you still need to wash your face.”
Seokmin groans, letting his head fall back as he allows Jeonghan to finish his routine, but he catches the faint smile on Jeonghan’s face as he spreads toothpaste on his toothbrush.
They finish washing up in comfortable silence, and Jeonghan loiters nearby until Seokmin’s face is clean and moisturized. A pleased feeling thrums in his heart as he looks at Jeonghan through the mirror.
They’ve spent every second of a very long day together, and still, Jeonghan stays right there, elbows bumping in the little bathroom.
Seokmin cares for him so deeply it aches sometimes.
When he’s finished, his limbs are heavy with exhaustion and Jeonghan’s soft, fluffy duvet calls to him. They wander back into the main room to change. Seokmin pulls his top over his head and accepts the loose t-shirt Jeonghan offers him, and then the shorts he hands over.
Seokmin debates crawling under the covers already, but he sits on the edge of the bed and waits patiently for Jeonghan to choose his pyjamas.
“Ah, Seokmin,” Jeonghan says then, glancing over at him. “Can you do me a favour before we go to bed?”
“Sure, hyung,” Seokmin says through a yawn.
“Would you mind taking off my KT tape?” Jeonghan asks, almost hesitantly.
Seokmin tilts his head, standing up. “Of course,” he obliges, easily, happily. “Always, hyung. I’d never mind that.”
“Thanks, Seokminie.” Jeonghan walks over to him, and Seokmin’s hands land on both sides of his waist out of habit. “It’s just hard to do by myself, is all.”
“It’s no problem, hyung, really. You’d do this for me.” He fists the fabric of Jeonghan’s top, meeting his gaze again. “Should I…?”
Jeonghan gives him a shy nod, then lifts his arms as Seokmin slowly pulls his shirt over his head. When he turns around, Seokmin has to swallow a gasp.
He knows Jeonghan uses the tape for pain and muscle support sometimes—many of them do, it’s not uncommon during periods of heavy practice like this one—but he’s not prepared to see how much covers Jeonghan’s bare skin.
Stripes of the beige tape crisscross all over his shoulders, upper back, and base of his spine. It’s more than Seokmin’s ever needed to use, more than he’s ever seen on any of the members, and it’s been on him for so long that it’s starting to peel back at the edges.
“Oh, hyung,” Seokmin sighs, running his hands over the rough tape. He’s been hurting, and for longer than just today.
Seokmin starts working at the edge of the first strip, pulling it as slowly and gently as possible. Jeonghan stands silently, flinching occasionally when Seokmin hits a pain point.
“Did you get hurt, hyung?” Seokmin asks again, not trusting Jeonghan’s answer from earlier. “In the gym? Or were you practicing alone?”
“I didn’t get hurt,” Jeonghan says. “I’m just sore, and this helps.”
“But is it getting worse? The pain? You’ve never needed it like this. Is it from an old injury?”
Seokmin pulls on a large T-shape of overlapped tape that stretches from the base of Jeonghan’s neck out over his shoulders and Jeonghan hisses, reaching back to massage the parts he can reach.
“Why is it getting worse?” Seokmin mutters, his brows drawing together in worry.
Jeonghan gives him half of a shrug before he winces again. “We all have pain, Seokminie,” he reasons.
“You should’ve told someone.” Me, Seokmin thinks. At least me.
“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing,” Jeonghan sighs.
Seokmin works the last of the tape from his upper back, moving down to the base of his spine where multiple strips stretch tightly from his pelvis up his back in curved slants.
“Are you going to physio?”
“When I have the time,” is all Jeonghan says.
Seokmin knows that means he isn’t going enough. “Hyung, I…”
“I’m fine, Seokmin,” Jeonghan tells him, firm. He looks to the side, speaking to him over his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
Seokmin bites the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to react with the obstinance he feels this needs. He doesn’t want to be told how to feel about his hyung’s health, he wants to be stubborn and argue and force Jeonghan to care about his own body as much as Seokmin cares.
But Jeonghan is Jeonghan, and trying to persuade him will only make him dig his heels further into the ground. Seokmin needs to choose his words carefully.
“I won’t tell you what to do, hyung,” Seokmin starts, hands still working over Jeonghan’s warm skin, “I won’t tell you what to do with your time, or with your body, but you can’t tell me not to worry about you. You’re hurting, hyung. I can’t watch you hurt and not want to help.”
Jeonghan’s shoulders sag, and his head hangs down weakly. “Don’t pity me, Seokmin-ah,” he pleads, the confidence in his own answer crumbling with each word. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
The last of the tape peels from Jeonghan’s back, and Seokmin smoothes his hands over the newly exposed skin. A blank canvas, and Seokmin’s the painter.
“It’s not pity,” Seokmin states. “You’re allowed to say when you’re hurting, hyung. You’re allowed to be taken care of sometimes. Whenever you need or want it. You don’t always have to be strong.” He turns Jeonghan by the waist so they’re facing each other. “Okay?”
Jeonghan, his eyes soft and wide, gives him a slight nod. “Okay.”
Seokmin’s fingers ghost over his cheekbones, his jaw, and then his collarbones.
“Let me,” he says, and Jeonghan, without another word or a hint of resistance, lets him.
Seokmin guides him over to the bed, scooting towards the middle and patting the spot in front of him to invite Jeonghan to sit between his legs. He starts gently, working his fingers into the knots in Jeonghan’s neck, remembering how their physiotherapist taught him to do it.
“Tell me if it hurts,” Seokmin says, listening to Jeonghan’s short breaths that get more high-pitched each time he reaches a tender spot. He works broadly, using the palm of his hand to glide from his neck out to his shoulders, and then applies pressure where he sees Jeonghan react.
Seokmin’s always admired Jeonghan’s slim, slender body, but having him here like this makes his head spin a little. Jeonghan’s built like a dancer—all lithe and lean muscle, firm in Seokmin’s hands but pliant when he squeezes. He savours the little noises Jeonghan makes as the tension finally starts to ease.
Jeonghan’s hands grip Seokmin’s bare thighs as he kneads the muscles in his back, his nails digging in like a cat every so often.
“Ah,” Jeonghan groans softly, letting his head tip forward to stretch out the sore muscles even more.
“Too much, hyung?” Seokmin asks, pulling back for a moment. “I can go gentler.”
“No,” Jeonghan grits out, squeezing Seokmin’s thigh harder. “It’s okay—it hurts, but, in a good way. Keep going, please.”
The obvious pain Jeonghan’s in gives his voice a whiny pitch that makes him sound like he’s begging—like if Seokmin didn’t listen, he might cry. Blood pounds through Seokmin’s veins as he whispers, “Okay.” He could never say no to Jeonghan, but especially not here, like this.
Jeonghan’s upper body rocks forward and back in a slow, rhythmic motion in time with Seokmin’s kneading hands. He works all the way down Jeonghan’s back, wherever the tape had been, and grips his waist to hold him still as Seokmin digs his thumbs into the muscle at the base of his spine.
At first, Jeonghan squirms, arching his back and letting out sinful little whines as Seokmin works out the knots, but he always urges Seokmin to continue whenever he slows.
“I’m sorry it hurts, hyung,” Seokmin murmurs against Jeonghan’s shoulder, listening to him panting.
“It’s… it’s okay,” Jeonghan gets out, his head lolling around with each press of Seokmin’s palm. His smaller hand rests over the one Seokmin has splayed across his waist, fingers slipping into the gaps where he holds Jeonghan still. It feels oddly intimate—like Jeonghan is pressing an imprint into his own skin. Like Seokmin’s hand should stay there for a long time.
So his hand does stay, even as Seokmin works the rest of his muscles on the other side of his back. He works until Jeonghan no longer hisses when he touches a sore spot, until all the tension is loosened and melted away, and Seokmin’s hands and arms ache from the exertion.
Seokmin’s touch lightens and he smoothes over the reddened skin, warm under his fingers. He feels over each ridge of Jeonghan’s spine, watching the shiver that travels up it in response.
“Does that feel better?” Seokmin asks softly.
Jeonghan’s body had been slumped forward, but now he leans back, his shoulder hitting Seokmin’s solid chest and his nose brushing Seokmin’s jaw. He makes an incomprehensible sound, somewhere between a grunt and a whine.
“I know it’s probably still sore, but it’ll get better,” Seokmin tries to comfort him, hands running up his sides. Jeonghan is limp in his arms, so he holds him close for a moment, letting him decide if they’re done for the night.
“It feels good,” Jeonghan mumbles, yawns, then continues, “I feel boneless, like jelly. It’s nice.”
A chuckle rumbles through Seokmin’s chest. “Good, I’m glad.”
“Thanks for taking care of your hyung, Seokminie,” Jeonghan croons, breath tickling the column of Seokmin’s throat.
“I take care of you because you matter to me, hyung. It’s never a chore or a hassle. I want to, just like you always take care of us.”
“You want to,” Jeonghan breathes, low and rough, like a purr.
Something in the air shifts, blanketing them both in a growing heat. Seokmin’s throat is suddenly very dry, and his throat bobs as he swallows. Jeonghan’s breath is hot and sticky as his tongue laves Seokmin’s larynx.
It makes Seokmin’s heart thunder in his chest. “I do,” he repeats, almost shaky with want.
Jeonghan kisses his neck properly, his lips curved into a smile. “Always so sweet and eager.” Then, he sits up, twisting around to set his dark, flaming eyes on Seokmin.
Jeonghan looks like he wants to devour him. “You’re so pretty like this,” he hums.
Seokmin feels like treasure, like a prize to be won at the fair, and he basks in Jeonghan wanting to win him. This one, he imagines Jeonghan deciding. He could probably win any of them, but he wants this one.
Jeonghan grabs him by the collar of his top and drags Seokmin down until they’re lying upside down on the bed. Seokmin’s buff arms—he’s so glad he’s been working out with Mingyu lately—hold him up as he hovers over Jeonghan, caging him in on both sides of his chest. Jeonghan’s eyes glint up at him, and a wolfish grin pulls at his mouth.
“So willing,” Jeonghan continues, running his hands over Seokmin’s flexed biceps, teasing him with feather-light touches. His skin is practically glowing in the dim orange light, and Seokmin thinks briefly that this might be what the gates of Heaven look like. Jeonghan waiting there, welcoming him with open arms, purring compliments in his ear, tugging him to bed.
Maybe Seokmin actually is dying. He hopes he isn’t, but if there’s any way to go, it’d be like this.
Seokmin drops to his elbows to press kisses to Jeonghan’s sternum, smiling as he squirms under the attention. He wants to take his time—to lick and nip and leave marks—but Jeonghan’s mouth is too hard to resist, and so he trails up between his ribs, over his collarbone, and then Jeonghan is there to meet him.
He lets out a strained noise when Seokmin breathes him in, rising up to press even closer and wrapping his arms around Seokmin’s shoulders to keep him there.
It’s messy and feverish at first, and Jeonghan’s bare skin is hot when Seokmin grips his side, feeling the ridges and valleys of his ribs. He returns Jeonghan’s fervent kisses, leaving gentle pecks on his cheeks and jaw when they separate to breathe.
“Hyung,” Seokmin says after a few minutes, pressing their foreheads together as Jeonghan pants below him. He’s already noticing Jeonghan’s movements slowing, his enthusiasm mellowing.
He’s exhausted. It’s late, and after the day they’ve had, even Seokmin is running on fumes at this point. He can’t imagine how tired Jeonghan is.
“Mm,” Jeonghan hums through spit-slick lips. His arms are loose around Seokmin, and he looks up at him with puffy, half-closed eyes.
Beautiful, Seokmin thinks before anything else, and the adoration that swells in him is all-consuming. He could die here happily.
He leans down, burying his nose in the crook beneath Jeonghan’s ear. “Bedtime,” Seokmin whispers into his skin, before he wiggles both arms under Jeonghan to flip them over.
He manhandles Jeonghan just the way he likes until they’re back at the top of the bed, their bodies flush and warm where they connect. Seokmin holds him as Jeonghan tucks his head under Seokmin’s chin and settles. He feels molten and malleable in Seokmin’s arms, like they might both melt into a puddle of limbs on the bed.
“Do you want a shirt?” Seokmin asks him, realizing it’s too late to manuveur them under the covers. It’s not cold right now, but he could get cold overnight.
“You’ll keep me warm,” Jeonghan murmurs back, and Seokmin feels himself flush with pride. If Jeonghan keeps saying things like that to him, he may never cool down to a normal body temperature again.
“I will,” he promises.
Seokmin reaches out to turn the lamp off, blanketing them in darkness, and settles his hand on the back of Jeonghan’s head. He scratches his scalp, running his fingers through Jeonghan’s long hair soothingly.
At his neck, Jeonghan twists his fingers into the material of Seokmin’s top and sighs, satisfied. Seokmin tightens his free arm around him and lets his eyes drift close.
“I’ll always take care of you, hyung.”