Chapter Text
Tae sits with his head down, chin resting on a towel, staring at the chrome of the sink, shiny enough to reflect the kitchen lights onto his face. Hoseok hums something behind him. He’s not sure what song it is, but his voice is soft and mellow. A second towel is draped gently over his shoulders with a gentle pat. He’s warm, if a little confused.
The two of them have only been officially dating (no longer just friends) for a couple of weeks. It’s Saturday night, and they’re supposed to be out right now on a proper date. They planned it last week, dinner and a movie. And it wasn’t a very original date idea, but that was okay. It would still be nice to go out together. But then Tae got shift after shift piled on him at work, and what was supposed to be a normal week turned into some sort of hellish overtime competition by his managers to see who could make him suffer the most. And as Tae spent the week telling Hoseok about each new terrible development, Hoseok kept asking if he wanted to cancel their date, postpone it. But Tae refused. Even if he would be better off sleeping at home, he missed Hobi. He just wanted to see him. And he worried it was selfish, because he probably wouldn’t be great company, but the heart wants what it wants.
So here he is, looking into Hoseok’s sink, sitting on one of the breakfast bar stools as Hoseok runs the faucet, waiting for the water to heat up.
They were meant to meet up at Hoseok’s apartment before going out, but when Hoseok opened the door and pulled Tae into a hug, he practically collapsed into the embrace. Hoseok just laughed softly and asked if he’d rather stay in. Beneath the laugh he looked a little worried. Tae knew he looked exhausted, knew how much time he spent complaining about this week. It was just a bad week, for absolutely no good reason.
Tae assumed they would probably watch a movie on Hoseok’s couch. It would be close enough to their original plan. But Hoseok, through a lot of nervous laughter, asked if he could do something nice for Tae, something that might make him feel better. Through a little more nervous laughter, he explained that sometimes his mom used to wash his hair when he was a kid and needed something to relax him. And Tae thought it sounded nice.
Hoseok decides the water is warm enough and turns off the faucet. He puts his hand on the back of Tae’s neck, to guide him back down over the sink. He’s still humming, a different song now. Tae thinks he recognizes the tune, but he can’t quite place it.
He leans back down, head in the sink. This time his shoulders and collar bones are resting on the towel that’s folded over the edge of the sink. It’s a nice towel, softer and fluffier than the ones Tae has in his apartment, taken from his parents’ house. It’s blue. Most of Hoseok’s things are blues and greens and yellows, like the edge of a jungle on a bright day.
Hoseok pulls the faucet out (it’s attached to a retractable hose) and rests his other hand on Tae’s shoulder. “Ready?” he asks.
Tae nods, and Hoseok removes his hand so he can start the water. It’s warm, not too hot on the back of Tae’s head. Hoseok’s back to humming as he leans over Tae’s body, but he’s slightly muffled now by the running water. It drips, and then cascades down the sides of Tae’s face, falling off into the sink below before it can get into his eyes. With his head farther into the sink, he can’t see the lights reflecting anymore. It’s like gentle clouds have descended, leaving a steady stream of warm rain to wash over him.
For a while, Hoseok just lets the water run through Tae’s hair. He slowly shifts the hose back and forth over Tae’s head. It’s a nice sensation, a moving point of gentle warm pressure. Hoseok is thorough too, making sure he doesn’t miss a single spot, gently maneuvers Tae’s head with his free hand. Tae closes his eyes and just feels the warm water streaming around the sides of his face and Hoseok’s hand when it shifts to the side of his neck, thumb ever so slightly rubbing circles into the base of his skull.
Sometimes Tae worries that he gets too comfortable too quickly. Befriends people too easily, falls in love too fast. Like maybe he’s just a little too good at letting things happen to him, letting people in. But, well, this is nice. It’s easy to let himself be himself around Hoseok. It’s easy to believe that Hoseok is just as open. And with Hoseok still humming something soft and low behind him, he can’t help the way he so readily leans into his touch.
After a long while, the water is turned off. Hoseok is leaning right above him to slide the faucet back into place, before reaching to the side to pick up a bottle of shampoo.
Tae keeps his head down so the water still dripping off his hair doesn’t get in his eyes. “You know, when they do this at hair salons people usually lean back instead of keeping their head down in the sink. Not a very professional setup you’ve got here.”
Hoseok chuckles. “Yeah, sorry. But this is how my mom always did it.” Tae can hear the click as he opens the shampoo. “And I’ve never done this before, so you’ll have to bear with me. You doing okay down there?”
“Yep, peachy keen.” It comes out sounding a little facetious but Tae means it.
Hoseok snorts at this and sets the shampoo back down. Then there are hands gently massaging into Tae’s scalp and suddenly everything is wonderful. His fingers work slowly, starting from the top of his head and working down. Tae can feel as the shampoo starts to lather, and inhales deeply, trying to identify the scent. It’s a little bit sweet, sort of flowery. Maybe almost a little citrusy. Like a warm breeze. A grove of citrus out of season when there isn’t any fruit quite yet. Or the wild patch of land next to the grove. He gives up trying to identify the scent. “What kind of shampoo is this?”
“White grapefruit and gardenia. It’s kinda weird, right? I like it though.”
Oh. Tae sniffs again, enjoying the lightness of it. “I like it too.”
Hoseok’s fingers are working deeper into his scalp now. He finds himself leaning his head back into the touch. The tips of his fingers are rubbing little circles that spiral down Tae’s scalp, and Tae unconsciously mirrors the motion with his own fingers from their spot in his lap. As Hoseok gets down to his neck again, he starts stroking through the longer hairs there, playing with them.
“It’s getting really long back here. You growing a mullet or something?”
Tae can feel his face heating up and he hopes Hoseok doesn’t notice. He had started growing out his hair, and he usually likes it until he remembers that other people can see it too. Hoseok just keeps stroking through his hair though, and murmurs “cute” to himself. Tae’s blush gets worse, but for a different reason now. He can’t stop smiling into the sink.
Hoseok sort of ruffles his fingers through Tae’s foamy hair one last time before he turns the water on again. “Keep your hands around your face so you don’t get any shampoo in your eyes, okay?” Tae does, cupping around his hands around his eyes, and Hoseok rinses his hair out. He watches as the water running down into the drain turns from soapy to clear.
Hoseok switches off the water again and for a minute lets the excess stream out of Tae’s hair until the streams turn to drips. Tae wiggles around a bit on his barstool before bringing his hands back down and wiping them off on the towel beneath him. It’s nice to just sit and let the whole world disappear for a minute. All that remains is the chrome sink and warm water and the faint smell of grapefruit. And Hoseok’s hands resting gently on his shoulders.
He’d adjusted the towel around Tae’s shoulders where it had started slipping off and then left his hands there. And it’s nice. This whole thing is so nice. It’s kind of stupid, how nice it is. They were supposed to go out on a date. They should be talking and eating or watching some movie together. This is, maybe, a little bit weirdly intimate. But, well, Tae feels something from Hoseok, and he wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. And he feels kind of dumb for it, to let himself feel so affected by something as small and quiet and weird as his boyfriend washing his hair in a kitchen sink. But he is. And he doesn’t really know how to deal with it.
He takes a few deep breaths, and Hoseok must notice. “How are you doing now?” He’s leaned over Tae’s back again as he grabs the bottle of conditioner. Tae can feel his breath, cool on his ear after the warm water.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to go out on a proper date.”
“You are? I’m really happy right now, with you, here.”
“You are?” And when Hoseok answers by gently squeezing his shoulder, he adds a quiet “me too.”
“I’m glad. If you want to know, I was worried you would hate this idea. I’m glad you don’t.”
And it means the world to Tae. It makes all the difference to know that Hoseok slips into that same easy openness with him as Tae does.
As Hoseok starts working the conditioner into his hair, Tae tries to guess the scent again. It keeps him awake, present. He’s not sure what this one is either. It’s a warm smell though. Oddly familiar. “Is it cinnamon?”
Hoseok laughs. “It’s coconut and hibiscus. You know, I have cinnamon somewhere in this kitchen though. Want me to just add some in?”
Tae laughs too. “Maybe? I like cinnamon.”
“I bet it would smell really good. You could be my little cinnamon prince.”
Tae tries hard to fight back the reawakening blush. “Next time.”
“I’ll hold you to it, don’t worry.”
And just like that they’ve apparently planned to do this again.
Hoseok isn’t really working the conditioner in anymore. Now he’s just gently massaging Tae’s head, fingertips spread, rubbing circles into his scalp starting from his temples and working in to the center, down to his neck. And at first it’s nice, and then Tae starts to wonder how long Hoseok’s going to keep doing it. He can’t really keep track of time like this but it feels like it’s been quite a while? And then it starts to feel really nice. He keeps alternating between soft and deep, working almost methodically, and it’s like he’s broken through the last remnants of Tae’s consciousness and discomfort, and Tae finally starts to let go.
Now he’s floating. The air smells like cinnamon (although he knows that’s not really what it is). He feels warm and fluffy, wrapped up in these soft blue towels. It’s quiet, but not silent. The only sounds come from the refrigerator running and Hoseok’s occasional hums. He no longer has the energy to even lean his head back into Hoseok’s hands as they massage him. He just stays there, face pressed into the towel on the edge of the sink, eyes closed. Gone is all the stress of his week and now he’s just tired, and everything around him feels warm, and comforting, and like home.
And even as one of Hoseok’s hands leaves him to turn the water on, the other stays, combing through his hair as the conditioner is rinsed out. And under the water, Tae murmurs a very quiet “I love you.”
Under normal circumstances, he would feel embarrassed, or worried, about such an admission, so early. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have said it. But he is too tired, and feels so loved, that he cannot fathom not telling the truth about his feelings. So he let them out quietly. He’s not really sure if Hoseok even heard. Maybe he didn’t, and that’s why the moment remains unbroken.
But then the water is turned off. The last of the conditioner is finally rinsed away, and Hoseok’s hands drop to Tae’s shoulders. He presses a gentle kiss to the back of Tae’s still wet head, and murmurs into the hair “I love you too.”
And neither of them say anything else as Hoseok lifts the towel from Tae’s shoulders to ruffle it through his hair until it’s nearly dry. Tae’s eyes are only half open. Hoseok sets the towel down on the counter and turns Tae around to face him. He scoops Tae up, the way someone would carry a toddler, and Tae wraps his arms around his neck and drops his head onto his shoulders. With some slight huffing, Hoseok manages to carry him down the hall and into his bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light. The light from the hallway is enough to illuminate them as he gently sets Tae on the bed and helps him pull off his jeans. Then he pulls the covers back so that Tae can crawl under them, and shuffle around until he’s settled.
When Hoseok doesn’t immediately follow him into the bed, instead starting to walk away, Tae whines quietly and reaches out his hands, trying to grab on and pull him in. But Hoseok just laughs softly and says “I’m only turning out the light, I’m not going anywhere.”
Once the hallway light is off Hoseok scoots under the covers with him and Tae immediately latches on, wrapping both his arms and legs around Hoseok as he attempts to get comfortable. And then Tae falls asleep, clinging to Hobi, too tired and cozy to do anything else.
He wakes up to sunlight on his face, and his face on Hoseok’s shoulder. Last night comes back to him slowly, like a dream, and he smiles. It’s almost ridiculous, how happy he feels, how much better the world is now than it was last night before he came over. Hoseok must feel him stir, because he tilts his head to kiss Tae’s forehead and whisper a quiet good morning.