Work Text:
Taeyong tosses a bucket of anchovies into the water, then dances out of the way as, rather than chasing breakfast like the rest of them, one of the penguins goes for his shin, right above the edge of his waders. Her name is Sally and she’s a feisty little chinstrap, the one penguin that never goes right for the food and instead feels the need to defend the tank against invaders.
Every day.
For the last six years.
Taeyong just sighs and scuttles out of the way, tossing a few extra fish he had stashed in his pockets to the ground for her. Sally isn’t terribly fond of the water, and she isn’t terribly fond of him either, but that’s okay with Taeyong. He brings her special fish with extra vitamins stuffed in the gills and always makes sure to blow a stream of bubbles her way on bubble enrichment day because someday - he knows this with certainty - she is going to remember him and love him and stop trying to gouge holes in his shins with her very pointy beak every time he tries to pressure wash her shit off the floor of the tank.
“I still love you, Sally!” Taeyong sings as he squeezes through the door to the prep room, bucket clanging against the jamb in his haste to shut it again before any of the penguins escape. He waves at the assistants currently scrubbing down the kitchen, elbows deep in suds and disinfectant, then drops his bucket into the sink for its own sanitation.
He’s about to push back his sleeves and start cleaning when Jeno comes over and shoulders him gently out of the way. “Joohyun was just here looking for you, you have a meeting in ten minutes.”
Taeyong’s features pull into a frown as he struggles to remember why, but then -
“Oh, the new jellyfish guy.”
Their previous jellyfish guy had left them quite suddenly for a larger aquarium somewhere lovely and tropical, and all of the department heads had struggled to keep the slimy things alive while Joohyun searched for a replacement. It had taken two weeks, but she had managed to steal a handler away from another aquarium a few cities over. His reputation is excellent and everyone has been very excited to meet him. Well, mostly they’re just excited to have the responsibility for the alarmingly fragile creatures taken off their hands again, but Taeyong is sure he’s lovely. He’s just not sure why he has to be pulled away from his work to meet the man.
With a tremendous sigh, Taeyong tugs his gloves off and pats Jeno on the shoulder, then makes his way to the kitchen door. The hall is bustling with people in uniform, different colored polos for different departments. He presses himself back against the wall as a harried looking man in a pink shirt - education and summer camp - hurries past, muttering to himself under his breath. A moment later, two women in purple - tropical reef - come around the corner wheeling a massive cart of 20 gallon tanks arranged tetris-style and teeming with various brightly colored fishes.
“Morning, Taeyong,” one of them greets, and he nods in response.
“Mimi, Jisoo. New friends today?”
“Headed for the reef on the second floor,” Jisoo confirms, slowing down so Taeyong can peer down at the assortment of tangs and angels, clownfish and anthias. “Just passed quarantine today.”
“Congratulations,” Taeyong coos, tapping a finger to the frame of one of the tanks. “Enjoy your new homes. Make friends and good decisions.”
“Taeyong!” A voice interrupts from down the hall, sharp and echoing, and Taeyong winces. He backs away from the cart with a bow of his head, then jogs down the hall to meet Joohyun’s stern gaze. “You’re late.”
“Sorry,” Taeyong mumbles, ducking his head. “I forgot we had a meeting, I was feeding the babies.”
Joohyun just waves him through a door and into one of the small conference rooms, used to Taeyong’s preoccupation with his birds by now. There’s already a small crowd of people in there, each one of them in a different colored shirt. Taeyong’s eyes hone in immediately on a freshly pressed, butter yellow polo with a blue jellyfish embroidered on the breast, just barely visible between the shoulders and heads of people gathered around him. Taeyong hangs back, not wanting to contribute to the overwhelming press of bodies, but as they shift and sway, a gap opens briefly and affords Taeyong a clear glimpse at the man’s face, and - wow.
“Okay!” Joohyun calls, clapping her hands together and startling Taeyong out of a wide-eyed daze. “Everyone gather around, let the man breathe.”
The crowd disperses around the small room and their new jellyfish handler makes his way over to the front of the room, slim and beautiful and smiling so widely Taeyong can see nearly all of his teeth. He listens long enough to hear jellyfish man’s name, then zones out for most of Joohyun’s introduction, more interested in the way jellyfish Yuta’s smile fluctuates in intensity the longer he stands there and the fact that he’s probably going to be late for the first enrichment activity of the day than he is Yuta’s past achievements. He glances down at his watch, then back up to Yuta’s smiling face, still beautiful but looking a little strained now.
It’s only five minutes until the scheduled penguin activity by the time Joohyun lets them out of there, and Taeyong scampers immediately. He knows Jeno and Renjun could have handled today’s activity, but he feels more comfortable about it when he’s there with them, watching them and making sure they’re all safe, that Sally doesn’t come after them, that they don’t accidentally slip and fall and squash any of his birds.
He makes it just in time, nearly bowling over one of the senior animal husbandry department heads as he dashes down the hall. Jeno watches with wide eyes as he shoves his arms into his jacket, still panting, and grabs a few of the toys without bothering to put on gloves. “I’m here,” he wheezes. “Let’s go on in.”
As expected, Sally makes a bee-line for them as soon as they squeeze through the door, but Renjun blocks her neatly with one of the play mats, grimacing at the sound her beak makes against the foam. He continues to run interference as Jeno and Taeyong set up the toys, then they all sit on one of the rocks jutting from the wall and watch, amused, as the clumsy birds toddle in and out of playhouses and tents meant for cats and small children, waddle across foamy mats that squish and squeak under their feet, and pluck at bells attached to baby toys, the ringing sounds echoing across the large room in perfect disharmony with the squawks of the delighted birds.
Taeyong loses track of how long they sit there and watch and laugh. Some of the penguins get bored quite quickly and take to the water instead, diving and splashing around and showing off for the guests peering through the windows, but most of them interact well with the toys, and it makes Taeyong happy. After a while, though, his attention starts to wander and he turns to look out the glass, realizes with a start that the new guy - Yuta - is standing at the corner of the tank, watching him. Through the water-spattered glass, Taeyong can see Joohyun standing at his side, talking and gesticulating, but when Yuta realizes that Taeyong can see him, he lifts his hand in a small wave, offers him one of his beaming smiles.
“Is that the new jellyfish guy?” Jeno asks, resting his chin on Taeyong’s shoulder. Taeyong just nods, not taking his eyes off Yuta’s smudgy face. Jeno’s voice is soft, the vibrations tickling the shell of Taeyong’s ear as he murmurs, “Wow.”
Fingertips tingling, eyes still locked on Yuta’s through the thick layer of glass, Taeyong just nods. Wow.
⚘
The thing is, Yuta is good at his job.
This isn’t a problem, per se, it’s just - well. Yuta knows he’s good at his job - his incredibly boring, sea monkey growing job - and he’s also worked at three other aquariums with varying types of creatures, so he has all of these suggestions . And Taeyong isn’t opposed to suggestions, he isn’t. It’s just that he doesn’t like being told how to do his own job. A job he’s been at, quite successfully, if you ask him or Joohyun, for six years. Which he thinks is pretty reasonable, though Jeno and Renjun just laugh at him when he complains for the fourth time in the last two weeks.
“He just keeps finding me,” he hisses, head bent over a steaming mug of tea. They’re in the breakroom between afternoon duties, scarfing down lunch and refreshments before they need to go prep for the evening feeding. It’s the biggest feeding of the day, and always draws the largest crowd of spectators. Lately, Yuta has been stopping by to watch, and it’s. Distracting. Unnerving.
“Maybe he likes you,” Renjun suggests.
Ignoring the flutter in his stomach at that suggestion, Taeyong is about to protest, but Jeno’s answering snort is frankly offensive and he forgoes the denial in favor of grasping the back of Jeno’s neck and jostling him a little.
“Hey, respect your elders, brat!”
He scowls down at Jeno, but Jeno’s face just folds up into a beaming smile and Taeyong’s entire being softens. His shoulders slump and the light pressure on Jeno’s neck turns into scratching at the short hairs there, and Jeno settles against his side comfortably as he chews on a slice of cucumber. Having Jeno at his side is rather like having a very large, very happy cat. It’s nice.
Taeyong is just lifting his tea to his mouth, one arm draped comfortably across Jeno’s shoulders, when the breakroom door swings open and in walks Yuta, followed by his own assistants.
“Hi, Jaeminnie,” Jeno calls, a smile in his voice and cheek rounding out against Taeyong’s shoulder.
Jaemin turns toward their table, and Taeyong watches, dread curdling in his stomach, as Yuta and Yukhei follow behind him, eyeing the empty chairs across from them. So much for going unnoticed. Panicking now, Taeyong stands abruptly, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste, and announces, “Well, I’m full. I’m going for a walk, I’ll see you back at the kitchen in thirty minutes.”
Ignoring the five sets of wide eyes following him, he power walks toward the door and escapes out into the hall, heart pounding in his throat. He presses his back to the wall and takes a deep breath, cursing himself when he realizes he left his tea at the table. Oh, well, he shouldn’t be drinking it as he walks through the exhibits, anyway.
It only takes a few minutes to navigate the maze-like halls behind the scenes, and then Taeyong is pushing through a latched door and out into the rotunda. He stops in his tracks, takes a moment to tip his head back and look up at the glass ceiling, light streaming in through the window panes and illuminating the figures of various sea creatures suspended from the frames. Guests and workers bustle around him, pushing strollers and pointing at the lobby displays, small, flashy tanks that are just a small taste of what they’ll get to see once they pass the ticketing booths.
Taeyong slips past the booths with ease, his blue polo with the penguin stitched into the corner and the badge clipped by his hip earning him a nod and a greeting from the employees stationed there. Once past the turnstiles, he pauses for a few minutes and watches, satisfied, as the majority of the people pouring in behind him immediately turn left toward the penguins. It makes him happy to know that his little corner of the aquarium is such a big draw, and he gives the archway leading to the exhibit a satisfied little nod, then turns right.
The first stop on his calming tour is the seahorses, tiny and fragile, clinging to blades of seagrass and spindly fingers of Madrepora . A few of them drift around the tank, their transparent fins working madly against the weak current from the filters, and he sighs as two of the pot-bellied seahorses bump each other, then drift apart, tails grasping at nothing. He watches them for a few more minutes, waiting to see if they’ll make it back to each other, then moves on when one of them finds a reed to cling to instead. The pygmy seahorses are his favorite, no larger than his pinky fingernail, and he has to resist smashing his face against the glass to get a closer look at them, barely discernible against the pink corals in their tank. Sighing wistfully, Taeyong touches the tip of a finger to the glass and marvels at how that is enough to completely obscure the closest seahorse from view.
“They’re cute, aren’t they?”
The voice startles Taeyong out of his reverie and he stumbles back with a yelp, foot twisting awkwardly underneath him. A hand shoots out and catches him around the elbow before he can fall, and Taeyong’s face burns as another hand settles on his hip to steady him, warm and firm. “Oh my god,” he wheezes, pressing a trembling palm over his racing heart.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the voice says with a laugh, and Taeyong freezes. He knows that laugh.
Turning his head slowly, Taeyong is met with a blinding grin, sheepish and amused, and he barely manages to suppress a groan. “Are you following me?” he demands, then immediately bites his tongue.
Looking puzzled, Yuta says, voice slow and confused, “No? I was just going to check on one of my displays and saw you looking. We haven’t had very much time to talk yet, so I was trying to say hi.”
Embarrassment crawls up the back of Taeyong’s throat as he realizes the jellyfish are just past the seahorses and Yuta was, indeed, just passing through. It takes him a minute of awkward silence, heart slowing back down to its normal rate, to realize that Yuta’s hand is still on his hip, and his face flushes even redder. He takes one big step back, breathes out an imperceptible sigh of relief as Yuta’s hand falls to his side.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, but Yuta just waves it off.
“Actually, now that you’re here, can I ask you a question? I changed the lighting in some of the tanks and I want someone’s opinion on it. Yukhei and Jaemin just agree with everything I say, so I don’t trust them to be honest with me.”
Unable to say no, Taeyong nods and follows Yuta through the arch to the jellyfish exhibit. It’s a beautiful room, dark but for the glowing columns of water scattered around the space and the dimly lit plaques bearing information about the tanks inhabitants. It’s been a while since Taeyong has been in here - it’s pretty, sure, but he just doesn’t get jellyfish, what do they even do ? - but he can tell that the ambience has changed. It’s softer, more whimsical and enchanting. It’s nice.
“It’s pretty,” he whispers, feeling as if he’s in some secret place, hidden and holy. “Better than what was here before, I think.”
“Thank you,” Yuta whispers back, sounding pleased. “I wanted to mimic the wavelengths of light the moon gives off. Hopefully it will trigger the jellyfish to spawn, Jaemin says the previous handler was never able to get them to breed. If they do, I have some ideas for some educational signs we could put up -“
“You sure have a lot of ideas,” Taeyong murmurs, stepping forward to splay his fingers against the curved glass of one of the columns. The jellies inside of it - sea nettles, the lighted sign tells him - drift around aimlessly, their long tentacles streaming behind them like dangerous, beautiful webs.
“I’m not trying to step on any toes,” Yuta mumbles, his chin tucked down against his chest, and Taeyong immediately feels bad, wonders if someone else has said something to him.
A memory suddenly sparks, though, and, sympathy forgotten, Taeyong whirls around and says, “You told me my activities were boring!”
“Some of them are boring, though! I’ll admit that the penguins like them more than I expected, but the beach balls are a pretty terrible idea, you have to admit to that one.” At Taeyong’s doubtful pout, Yuta says, eyebrows raised, “They have beaks . And I’ve seen that little one go after you, they know how to use them.”
Defensive now, Taeyong folds his arms across his chest and grumbles, “She likes me, she just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Sure,” Yuta laughs, bright and airy. “Whatever makes you feel better.”
Taeyong scowls at him, but it’s hard to maintain in the face of that brilliant grin, all teeth and glittering eyes reflecting the blue and purple LEDs back at him.
Still smiling, Yuta shifts a bit closer, says conversationally, “So, at one of the aquariums I worked at, they had a little rainforest section, too and they had this program where they let some of the animals paint pictures. What if you somehow put paint on the penguin’s feet and let them walk on a canvas? You could sell the art and like, give the money to conservation charities, or something.”
Ignoring the fact that Yuta has just overstepped again , and only moments after being called out for doing just that, Taeyong leans a hip against the base of the tank and tips his head against the glass as he actually considers the suggestion. Just this once.
He can feel Yuta’s gaze on him, the same way he can feel it every time Yuta comes to watch during feedings or enrichment, and it makes something itch under his skin.
“I think it could work...” he says slowly, stomach twisting at the way a pleased grin spreads across Yuta’s face again. He’s beautiful, ethereally so in this strange, soft lighting, and it makes Taeyong’s throat hurt. “It just couldn’t replace an enrichment activity. We don’t have enough hands to deal with all of the penguins at the same time.”
“I want to help with it,” Yuta says, straightening up from his slouch. “I’ll find a break and ask Joohyun if she minds. It sounds really fun, and I can lend an extra set of hands.”
“Maybe we could create a pen inside the tank and do a few at a time,” Taeyong muses, warming up to the idea. It’s an admittedly good one, and when he tells Yuta as much, the smile he gets in response is the brightest yet, leaves him breathless and jittery.
Maybe Yuta and his ideas aren’t so bad, after all. He’s not going to tell him that, though.
⚘
The next day, Yuta seeks Taeyong out during their lunch break to show him some paint he’d found that will be easy to clean off the penguin’s feet after they’ve walked across the canvas. After they’ve chosen some colors and sent the request to Joohyun, Taeyong asks him about the sea nettles’ long tentacles, the tangle of them still stuck in his mind, and before he knows it, Taeyong is spending his breaks watching Yuta scrub the sides of the cylinders, his arms sheathed in shoulder-length gloves; is observing, quietly fascinated, as Yuta drops containers of wriggling planktonic critters and tiny darting fish into the water that get entangled in the jellies’ traps like flies in a web. He still doesn’t particularly care for the jellyfish, but Yuta has beautiful hands and he explains even the most mundane of topics with such enthusiasm, smile lighting up his face, and it’s just. Hard to stay away.
Now, awareness of Yuta’s gaze burns on the back of his neck as he blows bubbles for the penguins and laughs at their clumsy attempts at chasing them, or watches them fumble across toy mats and through cat tunnels like bumbling toddlers. He feels too small in his jacket, too big for his skin, and when Yuta catches his eye and smiles at him through the blurry glass, his cheeks burn despite the chill in the room, his thoughts going spangled at the edges like he’s swallowed a firework.
It adds a brilliant sheen to a job Taeyong already loves, makes his nerves spark and glow when he gets to the aquarium early in the morning and sees Yuta’s bag already in his cubby, both of their mugs already missing from the rack by the coffee pot.
It’s become a tradition, now - Taeyong sets his own bag down and tucks his lunch into the refrigerator, then heads out to the empty lobby, makes his way through the dark ticketing turnstiles, and turns left. It’s early yet, the lights still off - they don’t open for another hour and a half, and even though there’s cleaning and prep-work to do, Jeno and Renjun don’t arrive for another twenty minutes. This is their time.
As expected, Taeyong finds Yuta sitting on a bench in front of the penguin exhibit, his own mug clutched in both hands and Taeyong’s waiting on the seat beside him. Some of the penguins are still sleeping, huddled together against the walls of the enclosure, but there’s enough natural light streaming in through the glass ceiling overhead that a few are already up, splashing about and aerating their feathers.
Eyes on the glass wall where a gentoo named Minji is cleaning her feathers, Taeyong smooths a hand across Yuta’s shoulders as he rounds the bench and takes his seat, just this side of too close on an otherwise empty bench.
“That’s Minji,” he says, forcedly casual as he takes a sip of his steaming coffee. His palm still tingles from the brief contact with Yuta’s shoulder. “She hatched at the zoo two years ago, but her parents rejected her. They sent her here and Jeno and I hand-raised her. We had to swaddle her against our chests for the first few weeks, just like the parents would do in the wild.”
Yuta leans into his side, warm and comforting, as Taeyong recounts stories of bird shit in unmentionable places and too many bandaged fingers, the softness of his voice and wistful expression belying his claim that he doesn’t miss those days.
“Let’s do the first painting with her,” Yuta says once Taeyong’s stories taper off. They watch Minji together for a few minutes, her body pressed against the glass as she tries to stabilize herself so she can reach the feathers on her back. “Pink, orange, black, pink, black.”
It takes Taeyong a minute to realize that Yuta is reciting the order of the markers on Minji’s identification band, murmuring them repeatedly under his breath as he tries to commit them to memory. Warmth blooms in his chest and he takes a hasty sip of his coffee, keeps his face buried in his mug so Yuta can’t see the pink tinging his cheeks as he nods his agreement.
They sit there for a while longer, shoulders and thighs pressed together, talking aimlessly about anything and nothing as the aquarium slowly wakes up around them. They don’t move until the familiar sounds of Jeno and Jaemin’s voices approach, bickering and laughing. Only then does Taeyong pull away from Yuta with great reluctance, just in time for the two of them to round the corner. He stands and stretches with a groan, fingers curling into the sleeves of his sweater. As always, he can feel Yuta’s eyes on him, playing over his skin like a live wire, and it makes him shiver.
“Okay,” he sighs as Jeno arrives at his side, looking down at Yuta where he’s still perched on the bench. “See you later?”
“Later,” Yuta says with a nod and a smile, and then he’s up, following Jaemin across to the seahorses and through the archway to the jellyfish. Taeyong tries not to watch him leave, but he can feel Jeno’s knowing eyes on him as he fails.
“What’s later?” Jeno asks as he unlocks the door that leads behind the scenes.
The narrow hall is already bustling with people rushing to get ready for opening and the various morning feedings. Taeyong needs to drop his mug off in the kitchen before they can go prep the penguins’ breakfast, so he leads him there first, shoots Jeno a confused look as he sets his mug in the sink to be washed later.
“Lunch? What else would I -“ he breaks off at the look Jeno aims at him and just shakes his head, pushes the door to the breakroom open and waves Jeno out of the room. ”Come on, troublemaker. Let’s go make the babies their breakfast.”
⚘
Their first attempt at penguin painting goes about how Taeyong had expected it to go.
It isn’t too difficult to figure out how to lure a penguin into the pen they’ve constructed, and it makes something warm and sugary bubble in Taeyong’s chest when Yuta immediately singles out Minji and draws her in with the promise of a tasty sardine.
No, getting a penguin to them is the easy part. What isn’t so easy is directing the penguin toward the pans of paint, and then onto the canvas. The pans are shallow enough that Minji shouldn’t have any trouble just walking into them, but it’s like her sharp birdie senses can just tell that it’s not something she should be walking in. None of the curiosity that she shows when Taeyong lays out the children’s toys or blows bubbles at her is present. Normally, Minji would be clambering awkwardly all over the surprises Taeyong has set out, but today she won’t budge, not even for a second sardine.
In the end, Jeno and Renjun kneel on the floor and hold the paint pan and canvas down while Taeyong and Yuta crowd behind Minji and try to gently urge her forward, sardine bait long forgotten. She resists them at first, her tiny body surprisingly sturdy, but after a few minutes of gentle pushing, they manage to get her to step over the little ledge and into a dish of blue paint. The honk she lets out has Taeyong’s ears ringing, but she waddles forward immediately in an effort to get out of the sticky paint and walks right onto the canvas, leaving behind an impressive set of footprints.
Taeyong straightens up with an excited shout and throws his hands in the air, ecstatic over their success. It looks awesome , a curving path of blue penguin prints making their way across the white background. They should have the next penguin step in some yellow, he thinks, see how their paths cross and blend on the same canvas. But first, they have to clean Minji up. Frowning, Taeyong looks at Minji where she’s huddled against the rock wall, eyeing them warily, then looks toward the pan of warm water. The paint is water soluble, all she’ll really need to do is slosh around in the water for a moment, but he has a feeling that getting her into it is going to prove difficult, now that she knows what pan number one felt like.
“Why don’t you just pick her up?” Yuta asks, watching Minji watch them.
“And let that beak near my face?” Taeyong asks, his voice shrill. Minji is small, barely more than 5 kilos, but it’s been a long time since Taeyong has swaddled her and, despite the bond they had shared when she was just a chick, he doubts she remembers those times. Also, her beak is bigger now, and he rather likes his face as it is.
“Just do what you did before,” Jeno suggests. “Herd her. Renjun and I will block the path on each side so this is the only way she can go.”
Taeyong thinks it through for a minute, but he’s unable to come up with a viable alternative. Nodding, he mumbles, “Okay, we can do this.” He glances at Yuta, asks, “Ready? We should try to get to her at the same time, so she can’t veer off to the side.”
For some strange reason, Yuta looks like he’s having the time of his life, eyes bright and cheeks pink with excitement. It’s a beautiful look on him, enchanting, and Taeyong is transfixed for a moment, staring helplessly before he’s brought back down to earth by Jeno clearing his throat loudly. Snapping out of it, Taeyong shakes his head and looks down at his feet. Right. Focus.
He feels ridiculous as he shuffles across the damp stone floor, squeaking boots adding to the cacophony of noise in the room. Minji seems to understand what’s happening, but there’s nowhere for her to go and, to Taeyong’s surprise, she zooms right along the path they’ve created, straight into the tray of water. She stops to splash around for a moment when she realizes that this feels familiar, and Taeyong lets out a long sigh as he watches the water around her feet turn blue, nods in satisfaction when she waddles out with clean feet and a flutter of her stubby tail.
Yuta cheers for her, clapping excitedly, then offers her another sardine before letting her out of the little pen. They all watch as she heads immediately for the water, slipping in on her belly, and begins to clean and aerate her feathers. She lets out a few indignant honks, presumably warning the rest of her friends not to go anywhere near them, but Taeyong is determined to get at least one more today to complete their painting.
“Okay,” he nods at Yuta. “You’re the mastermind here, choose your next victim.”
He watches Yuta tap a finger against his lips as he scans the room, like this is a big, important decision that requires thorough consideration. It’s cute. In the end, Yuta points silently to a penguin near the little fence they’ve put up, and Taeyong freezes. Jeno lets out a howling laugh and Renjun shouts, “ Yes , go get her, Yuta!” and before Taeyong can stop him, Yuta has pushed the little gate open and is offering Sally the chinstrap a sardine.
Taeyong can pinpoint the exact moment that Sally notices Yuta next to her. Her entire body goes rigid and her eye locks onto the fish in his hand, and - Taeyong’s jaw drops. Rather than going right for Yuta’s shins, like Sally does to him every damned day, she lunges for the sardine, honking angrily when Yuta jerks it out of her reach and starts to back toward the open gate.
To Taeyong’s amazement, Sally follows after him like a puppy following a treat, beak clacking eagerly as she reaches for the little fish. He only gives it to her once he’s got her inside the pen and has the gate shut, and she gobbles it down in seconds, then turns to eye him, like she’s waiting for more.
“Yuta,” Taeyong whispers as he shuffles over to the pail of fish to grab another lure. “How...”
Confused, Yuta looks from Taeyong to Sally, then down to the fish he’s now clutching in his hand. “Does this one usually not like sardines?”
“No, she - ”
“That’s the little devil who tries to bite Taeyong every day,” Renjun supplies helpfully, sending himself and Jeno into a fit of giggles. Taeyong doesn’t even have the presence of mind to be annoyed with them. He just can’t believe that Sally is standing there calmly, waiting for Yuta to offer her another fish.
“I guess I’m the penguin whisperer,” Yuta says with a shrug, and he throws a wink at Taeyong as he moves to crouch down on the other side of the canvas, now lined up behind a pan of yellow paint.
Dumbfounded, Taeyong just watches as Sally goes right for the fish, not caring about the obstacles in her path. She walks right through the paint and straight across the canvas, leaving behind splotchy yellow prints that run into Minji’s blue at the corners and leave behind neat looking swirls of green. Sally plucks the second sardine from Yuta’s hand and swallows it, then leans back on her tail and waits patiently for more. Unbelievable.
Determined now, Taeyong says, “Okay, let me try.”
He grabs his own fish and positions himself on the other side of the water pan, then waves the fish in Sally’s direction, trying to capture her attention. She turns her head slowly to look at him, body held completely still, and it’s so perfectly reminiscent of something out of a horror film that it sends a shudder down Taeyong’s spine.
In hindsight, he should have known that was an omen.
He only has a matter of seconds to process what’s happening before Sally lets out a honk, then charges him, beak snapping as she goes. Shrieking, Taeyong drops the sardine and tries to scramble back, but his boots lose traction on the wet floor and he starts to fall, arms pinwheeling in an effort to stabilize himself. It’s futile, though, the floor is too slippery and his balance is shot and he’s about to knock himself out on the rock wall while dozens of spectators watch from behind the blurry glass. He squeezes his eyes shut and tenses his body, trying to brace himself, but before he can even feel himself beginning to drop toward the floor, two hands circle his waist and pull him upright, holding onto him while his feet find purchase again.
When Taeyong opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Yuta’s face, eyes wide and mouth stretched into one of his characteristic, beautiful grins.
“Why are you always falling around me?” he asks, grip tightening on Taeyong’s waist briefly before he lets go and steps back.
Embarrassed, flustered, Taeyong moves to brush his hair out of his face, stops short when he remembers that he’s been handling dead fish and oily birds all morning. Instead, he lets his hands flutter uselessly to his sides and looks around awkwardly, unable to come up with a witty answer.
Someone - Jeno, he thinks - lets out an awkward cough, then Renjun says, just a shade too loud and falsely enthusiastic, “Okay! Well, we’ve got our painting, why don’t we let Yuta clean Sally up, then get out of here so we can clean ourselves up?”
The three of them nod in agreement, and while Yuta lures Sally into the water pan, Renjun opens the gate and Jeno and Taeyong start to tidy up. They toss the remaining sardines into the water in the enclosure, put the canvas up on a shelf in the kitchen to dry, then scrub everything down and disinfect. Once they’ve finished tidying up and have changed out of their waders and washed their hands thoroughly, they head to the breakroom for coffee and a short rest.
“That was fun,” Yuta enthuses, bringing his mug up to his face so he can breathe in the bitter smell. “Maybe I should transfer departments, work with you in the penguin enclosure.”
The idea of working closely with Yuta every day makes Taeyong’s stomach twist pleasantly, but he musters up a weak smirk, asks, “But if you did that, who would look after the useless blobs?”
⚘
“Tell me why you hate the jellyfish so much.”
“I don’t hate the jellyfish,” Taeyong protests, but Yuta just raises an eyebrow at him and Taeyong thinks to himself that he’s been hanging around with Jeno and Renjun too much.
Frowning, Taeyong leans back against the wall and stares across at the glowing columns of water. It’s late, the aquarium long since closed, but there’s an overnight party tonight and someone had to stay and give the presentation, keep an eye on the tanks and make sure no one got into any mischief before they fell asleep. It’s been years since Joohyun has trusted just the education department to handle everything, after a mysterious incident with the stingray pool and a bottle of soda. Taeyong had drawn the short straw this time, and Yuta had stayed behind under the guise of wanting to adjust some of the overnight lighting. The kids are all asleep now, guarded closely by the counselors, and Taeyong and Yuta are eating some of the leftover pizza under the fluorescent glow of the jellies in question.
“You don’t like them,” Yuta says. It isn’t a question.
Still considering the creatures, their bells pulsating gently as they drift through the water column, Taeyong admits, ”I didn’t like them - no, that’s not right. I didn’t understand them. What is their point? What do they do besides float aimlessly through the water their entire lives? They don’t even choose where they go - they don’t even have brains . But then you kind of...” Taeyong trails off, a bit embarrassed to admit this part. He purses his lips and looks around the room, thinking about what he wants to say. “You always sound so passionate when you talk about them. It made me curious, so I watched some things. Documentaries and videos.”
Yuta’s eyes are on his face when Taeyong turns to look at him, wide and a little bit awed. Taeyong fights down a blush, grateful for the darkness of the room.
“I learned some interesting things.” He holds up his hand and ticks them off on his fingers as he speaks. “Jellyfish are 95% water. They don’t have brains or hearts, they just have digestive cells and reproductive organs and a rudimentary nerve network, but they can sense light and dark, they can tell which way they’re oriented in the water column, and some of them can even propel themselves. That one,” he says, pointing at the sea nettles, “is a major player in top-down population control. Some really clever crabs use those little guys,” he points at the upside-down jellyfish, “as bodyguards. There’s a species of comb jelly that has evolved to the point that it’s digestive tract is red to hide the bioluminescent copepods it eats from other predators while it digests them. And the immortal jellyfish has the ability to revert back to its juvenile form and prolong its own life. Scientists are trying to study that process and figure out how it works for medical purposes, although honestly, I think the idea of humans knowing how to recreate that process is kind of scary. Plus, they’re all really pretty to look at, but I think you’re prettier.”
When Taeyong stops and wiggles his raised fingers, then drops his hands to his lap, Yuta leans back slowly and sets his pizza down, wipes his palms on his jeans without saying a word. Taeyong just watches him quietly, nerves building the longer the silence persists. He’s about to say something, anything to break the weird tension spinning out into the room, when Yuta shoves the pizza box aside, scoots closer so he can cup Taeyong’s face in both of his hands, and kisses him.
Taeyong’s heart stutters in his chest and the world stops spinning, everything perfectly quiet and still and dark as they sit there, mouths pressed together, for several long, breathless moments. And then Yuta sucks in a breath, lips parting with it, and Taeyong’s heart jump-starts, Earth lurches back into motion. His hands shoot up to clutch at Yuta’s shoulders and his mouth falls open with a gasp and everything clicks into place. Within seconds, Taeyong is clambering up and onto Yuta’s lap, knees braced on either side of his hips, and his hands are buried in Yuta’s hair as he tips his head back, runs his tongue along Yuta’s plush bottom lip.
“I can’t believe,” Taeyong murmurs, pausing between words to steal another kiss, two kisses, three, “that talking about jellyfish is what gets you going.”
It takes a second for Taeyong’s words to register, but when they do, Yuta lets out a strangled noise of protest, wrenching away from Taeyong’s grinning mouth so he can hiss, “It does not ! You just - for me -”
His words come out in bursts, nearly nonsensical, but Taeyong understands. He knew Yuta cared about them, and so he learned to appreciate them, made an effort to show interest in Yuta’s passions. He can’t quite help the teasing little grin, though, when he leans back in, fingers linked behind Yuta’s neck, and murmurs, “If I promise to watch a video about jellyfish spawning with you, will you come home with me tonight?”
“What -”
Taeyong wiggles his eyebrows and a giggle slips out as he whispers, “A little jellyfish porn to get you in the mood?”
Yuta blinks, fingertips digging into Taeyong’s hips, and deadpans, “I hate you.”
“You do not,” Taeyong says confidently, leaning in to nip at Yuta’s bottom lip. He curls his fingers into the hair at the nape of Yuta’s neck, scratches lightly at his scalp.
“I really don’t,” Yuta confirms with a sigh as a shiver ripples down his back.
“Well, what do you say?”
Yuta looks around pointlessly, like he’s forgotten that it’s the middle of the night and there’s no one else around. “Do you think they’ll notice if we leave now?”
Amused, Taeyong tilts his head, asks, “Who, the jellyfish? I don’t think they’ll mind. In fact,” he cups a hand around his ear and leans back, eyes squinted in false concentration, “I think I can hear them cheering you on.”
Yuta rolls his eyes, but he gathers his things once Taeyong climbs off of him, pats down his pockets and stuffs all of their trash into the pizza box to toss on their way out. Taeyong watches him as he tidies up, movements jerky and hurried, and doesn’t bother to hide the smile that spreads across his face when Yuta waves him over and hisses, “Come on, let’s go. Before any of the monsters wake up or someone comes to ask us a question.”
Taeyong nods and reaches a hand out, warmth settling in the pit of his stomach when Yuta takes it and laces their fingers together. As Yuta uses that grip to propel them out of the room, Taeyong takes a second to look back, take one last glimpse at the pale purple glow of the dark room, the pulsating bells of the sea nettles just barely visible from this distance. Even though they don’t have eyes, Taeyong blows them a thank you kiss with his free hand, then turns back around, wraps his hand around Yuta’s bicep and rubs his cheek against his shoulder. Yuta smells like pizza and saltwater and something light and fruity, and anticipation hums in Taeyong’s veins.
As they squeeze through the main doors and make their way to Yuta’s car, Taeyong runs a thumb across the embroidered logo on Yuta’s chest, thinks that after everything, the jellyfish just might become his favorite exhibit in the aquarium.