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The thing about prom is, it’s only fun if you’re off your ass drunk. And fortunately for Mark, Jeno’s pulled through for once in his life, and Mark’s not the designated driver tonight.
(Anything for a chance to drive Mark’s car, he figures from how easily the younger boy had agreed. Mark takes the keys and tells him firmly that he can’t have them until the end of the night, when they’re ready to go home.)
So, while usually being trapped in a dark ballroom with a couple hundred kids he doesn’t really even like that much with bad music blasting over the speakers isn’t exactly Mark’s idea of a good Saturday night, he’s having the time of his life. Even if his suit jacket’s a bit too tight around his shoulders and his shoes haven’t been broke in yet.
But then again, maybe the way Donghyuck spins so they’re pressed back to front, winds a hand around Mark’s neck and sways down against him to a low dirty bass beat has something to do with that.
Donghyuck’s slick with sweat-then again, so’s Mark, because the school couldn’t shell out enough money to find a place with decent air conditioning, but Donghyuck’s head is tipped back onto Mark’s shoulder, and he groans, “It’s way too hot in here.”
Mark blows against the perspiration-shiny length of Donghyuck’s neck, and Donghyuck shudders at the feeling, throws an elbow back and rams it into his ribs. “You’re the one complaining,” Mark mumbles into his ear. He pinches Donghyuck’s hip with one of the hands he has resting on the curve of it.
Donghyuck tilts his head back a little more, says just loud enough for him to hear, “Don’t make me step on those shiny new shoes.”
“Empty threat,” Mark says serenely, but he presses a kiss behind Donghyuck’s ear, licks his lips and tastes salt. Gross.
The music changes then, and Donghyuck steps away. Mark bites back the “don’t stop” at the tip of his tongue.
Some lowkey indie garbage song starts, and Mark swallows hard. “You don’t want to slow dance?”
Donghyuck blinks at him through the dark, the fluorescent spotlight falling over his face briefly, washing his features lurid red. Mark blinks, a drunken haze still over his eyes. Donghyuck looks so pretty tonight, liner smeared a bit over his eyes, lips glossy with strawberry balm that he’s pretty sure the younger boy had stolen out of his car, hair dyed some dark color between orange and brown that makes his skin gleam like polished gold.
“Okay,” he says, and winds his arms around Mark’s neck.
Mark blinks. He’s used to much more bite in Donghyuck’s responses, more teasing instead of this easy agreement.
“How much did you drink again?”
Donghyuck scoffs, leans in to whisper into Mark’s ear, “Definitely less than you.” He lets his head fall onto Mark’s shoulder and adds, “I’m pretty sure your hands go around my waist.”
Mark puts his hands on Donghyuck’s waist, feels the curve where they taper from his hips, and slides his palm up the line through Donghyuck’s black dress shirt. “You’re drenched,” he comments, fingers coming away clammy.
“I’m sorry we can’t all be passive awkward dancers.”
Mark flushes. “No,” he says slowly, “No, I kind of like it. Not to be gross or anything.”
Donghyuck squints at him. “You’re more drunk than I thought.”
Mark’s not that drunk. He’s just buzzed enough to be heady on the feeling of Donghyuck’s hips under his hands, to lean in and miss Donghyuck’s mouth, pressing a kiss to the corner of his puffy lips instead, tasting waxy strawberry flavoring.
Donghyuck makes a tiny surprised noise, says against his mouth, “I told you so,” and tilts his face into the kiss. His lips taste like strawberries and salt and Mark groans, tightens his grip on the younger boy’s waist, pulls him closer.
Donghyuck’s hands slide up into his carefully styled hair, and Mark doesn’t even care that the fingers threading through the dark strands are ruining the all the hard work his brother’s boyfriend Ten put into it.
It’s just getting interesting, Mark’s hands slipping into Donghyuck’s back pockets when a voice interrupts them.
“I hope you’ll both keep in mind that this is a school sanctioned event.”
Mark steps back immediately, eyes falling on their chemistry teacher and the bane of Donghyuck’s existence, Lee Taeyong, standing tight-lipped in front of them.
Donghyuck crosses his arms over his chest, unimpressed, and Mark takes a quick step between him and professor Lee. “Sorry,” he says, inclining his head a little.
“Uh huh,” he says slowly, staring with wide unblinking eyes at Donghyuck. “Just keep it in mind.”
Mark only lets out the breath in his lungs when the professor’s gone to harass Yerim for something trivial. Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “This is lame,” he whines, “I wanna make out.”
Mark bites his lip, too inebriated to think lucidly. “My car,” he says finally, feeling around his pockets for the key. He fumbles with it a little but manages to fish it out of his pocket.
Donghyuck’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Excellent idea,” he grins, grabbing the key from Mark’s hand and wading through the crowd of people towards the exit. He grabs Mark’s hand right before he becomes out of reach and pulls him along, and Mark follows as best he can.
Getting from the building the school had rented to the parking lot is more work than it needs to be, but Mark can’t walk very straight and Donghyuck’s giggling, trying his best to support his weight.
(And there’s the fact that Mark keeps stopping to push Donghyuck against random cars and press kisses all over his mouth and neck, pulling his tie undone and struggling with the buttons of the collar of his shirt.)
Finally, they make it to Mark’s little car, and Donghyuck pulls one of the doors open and shoves Mark into the backseat. Mark’s head spins from the movement, and he finds himself flat on his back, one foot bent to rest on the seat, the other on the floor of the car. He takes a second to stare at the roof, try to stop the chaos in his head.
Then Donghyuck’s crawling over him, straddling his hips as best he can in the tiny cramped space, and it doesn’t even matter, because Mark’s mind falls to simply sensation, the way Donghyuck’s weight feels on his hips, the warmth of his hands when he cups Mark’s face and leans down, pressing their mouths together again.
Mark’s suit jacket is too small for his shoulders, so Donghyuck unbuttons that first, pushes it down his shoulders and down his arms, and Mark manages to sit up enough for him to be able to pull it off all the way, throwing it over the seats to the passenger’s seat.
Donghyuck isn’t paying attention when he turns back to kiss him again. His hand’s in the pocket behind the driver’s seat, and he holds up Jaemin’s flask triumphantly. “It’s still half full,” he says with some delight, twisting open the cap.
“It’s probably warm,” Mark says with a frown.
“Why don’t you taste it and let me know?” Donghyuck grins, taking a long swig. Mark knows exactly what he’s going to do before he even moves to do it, and screws his eyes shut.
Donghyuck kisses him sloppy and openmouthed, and yeah, it’s kind of disgusting because Donghyuck’s got a mouthful of jack and it’s warm, but Mark swallows with some difficulty, wincing at the taste. It goes down like fire, and Mark has to clear his throat afterwards.
Unfortunately, some of it goes spilling around his mouth and down his chin, pooling stickily at his throat, and Donghyuck chases the stream with his tongue, sucking it up and leaving a bruise where Mark’s jaw meets his neck.
“Gross,” Mark says, squirming as Donghyuck finishes licking up the liquid.
“You’re gross,” Donghyuck replies easily, “And hot. Very hot.”
“So was that whiskey,” Mark frowns.
“Poor baby,” Donghyuck mocks, rubbing a hand over Mark’s stomach. The warmth of his palm bleeds through Mark’s shirt, and Mark thinks the way he feels right now is probably pretty akin to being burned from the inside out. Donghyuck doesn’t take his hand away, raising an eyebrow. “Poor baby who’s been hitting the gym with Jeno?”
Mark flushes from his chest to his ears, shrugs slightly. Maybe he’s been going to work out with Jeno once or twice a week just in case, but he would rather die than admit he wants to look good for Donghyuck.
Donghyuck finally stops rubbing Mark’s stomach and takes another drink from the flask, this time swallowing it down himself. He screws his face up at the taste, and Mark says, “At least I don’t need a chaser.”
“Fuck you,” Donghyuck mumbles, dropping down to press their mouths together again. His mouth’s still miraculously slick and strawberry flavored, though the inside’s all jack.
Mark doesn’t even really like whiskey, but Donghyuck’s making a pretty good case for it right now, his tongue dragging across the seam of Mark’s lips, working them open and licking into Mark’s mouth. It’s filthy; it makes Mark’s fingers curl into Donghyuck’s shirt to hold him closer, makes Donghyuck have to press a hand to the condensation-blurred window for balance when he breaks away panting for air.
Donghyuck looks down at him with hazy eyes, one hand still braced on the window over Mark’s head. For a second, Donghyuck just stares at him, eyes a million miles away.
“What?” Mark says softly, reaching up to curl a hand over his soft cheek.
“I don’t know,” Donghyuck says after a second. His voice has gone all quiet, soft around the edges. “I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Us,” Donghyuck fiddles with Mark’s tie, working two fingers into the loosened band around his neck. “How we’re not going to be able to do this kind of stuff anymore next year.”
Mark’s been putting some thought towards this as well. “You know,” he says gently, pulling Donghyuck’s face down to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead, “It’s not going to be that different. Yeah, we won’t have Jisung to bully anymore, and we’re not going to be able to drive around the neighborhood at night, but think about it like this; you, me, and one room to share. One bed, if you want. We don’t have to sneak around anymore.”
Donghyuck’s mouth twists into a half smile. “What if I like sneaking around? Pissing off professor Lee is the only thing that gets me going.”
“Exhibitionist.”
“Exhibitionist that you’re dating,” Donghyuck fires back.
Mark pouts up at him, and Donghyuck leans down, can’t help but press a kiss to the swell of his bottom lip.
“Seriously,” Mark says after a second, “I’m worried too, but the good may outweigh the bad.”
Donghyuck sighs noisily, blowing out an exhale over Mark’s forehead. His breath smells like liquor and it’s kind of disgusting, but Mark bets his own isn’t much better, so he keeps his mouth shut.
“We’re going to be fine,” he reassures, catching Donghyuck’s hand. He brings it to his hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles, and to his delight, Donghyuck’s cheeks flush a lovely shade darker than usual. “I promise.”
Donghyuck nuzzles into his neck, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. Their legs are tangled uncomfortably in the tiny space available and prom’s going to end soon, meaning Jaemin and Jeno are going to show up any minute now to probably tease them for not being able to keep their hands off each other, but Mark strokes a hand through Donghyuck’s soft hair, takes a second to appreciate what he has in his arms.
“I love you,” he whispers after a moment of silence.
Mark takes a deep breath, holds it in as he waits for a response.
A second passes. Then another. “Hyuck, are you- of course you are.” Donghyuck’s eyes are shut, his breath evened out against Mark’s neck. He’s most definitely passed out.
Taking care not to jostle the younger boy, Mark shifts so Donghyuck’s legs are more comfortably splayed over him. He takes the keys from his pocket carefully, tosses them towards the cup holder, hoping that Jeno takes the time to check in it.
Half of him wants to wake Donghyuck up and repeat the words, but the other half is still filled with nerves from the first time he’d dared to say them. He decides it’s for the best that he try later and lets the subject drop.
Donghyuck mumbles something in his sleep, twisting restlessly on top of him, and Mark curls a hand into his sweaty hair, stroking his fingers through it, and Donghyuck settles, warm face pressing closer into Mark’s shoulder.
Mark drinks in the quiet sound of Donghyuck’s breathing, the distance thump of music, and he smiles to himself. They don’t have much time left like this, but they’re making the most of what they do have.