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It’s all Jaemin’s fault.
Jeno doesn’t know it yet, but everything that’s about to happen is all Na Jaemin’s fault.
You see, Jeno lives with Renjun and Jaemin, and that’s fine. It’s a blast even! Living with your best friends, how could it not be?
For Jeno, it has also meant he’s privy to said best friends’ habits that he didn’t know he wasn’t before. Take Jaemin for example.
Apparently, Jaemin likes to do that thing that Jeno’s only ever heard of in chick flick lore where he sits on the couch with a pint of ice cream and plays a sad movie for himself. Just, as a pastime.
Eats a considerable amount of the ice cream, too.
He doesn’t even have to be sad beforehand. It’s an experience, Jaemin had explained once. Jeno joins sometimes. Especially if he’s watching Aquamarine.
Or, Renjun, who has a watch drawer. A watch drawer that he tends to meticulously. It’s lined with velvet and every watch is cleaned every now and then. There’s a whole routine with music and ceremonial wipes Jeno was completely oblivious to before they moved in together. He and Jaemin occasionally observe.
(It’s… oddly as cathartic as Aquamarine.)
They’re not super picky about getting into each other’s stuff but it goes without saying that the watch drawer is sacred.
Help preserve the art, don’t touch.
Jeno and Jaemin listen, Renjun doesn’t break their fingers, it all works out.
Over a year in their apartment together, he’s seen it all. The good, the bad, the incredibly questionable.
Except. He hasn’t.
A habit— a development! A thing Jeno doesn’t know about… well, it starts off like this;
It’s a day that Jeno’s stuck at the library working on his group project from hell (of course it is), and Jaemin’s about to leave the apartment to pick up Jaehyun from the airport, but he’s sticking around a couple of extra minutes to make food for Renjun, who’s leaving soon after.
A late-shift lunch, because Jaemin’s a good cook and they have a system where he does the food and Renjun washes the dishes and Jeno does the laundry, for the most part. Also because, despite living with them, Jaemin is still unbelievably nice to them. Has a penchant for domesticity, believe it or not.
(Not that Jeno and Renjun are assholes, it’s just that Jaemin is unfalteringly good. Many have found it unnatural.)
So Jaemin’s whipping up that lunch and Renjun’s checking his watch, and he says, “Hey, Jaehyun’s plane lands in twenty-two.”
Jaemin says, “Oh, really? Fuck—” because it takes about half an hour to get there when traffic is light and they’re well into rush hour, “—I’m late late. Gotta blast.”
He hurriedly folds over the top of Renjun’s sack lunch, presses the bag to Renjun’s chest and a kiss to his lips, then flies out the door, crying bye! as he goes. Jaemin doesn’t even realize what he’s done until he’s in the airport's parking garage.
Maybe he tells Jaehyun about it. Maybe he just whispers shit? to himself, takes a breath, and forgets about it for the time being, focuses on hoping reception inside the terminals is better this time around even though it never is.
Maybe he thinks Renjun won’t bring it up again, that they’d just think of it as a fluke and move on.
And yet, the morning after, they’re standing quietly in the kitchen, and Jaemin keeps catching Renjun staring at his mouth.
Indiscreetly. Many times.
As the least blind out of the three of them, Jaemin can’t pretend he doesn’t see it happen. He simply can’t. Jaemin has no choice but to raise his eyebrows inquisitively, fingers twitching against the sink ledge.
“Yes?” he asks.
Renjun sips loudly at his coffee, still blatantly looking at his roommate’s mouth. He meets Jaemin’s eyes after he puts down his mug.
“You kissed me,” he says.
Jaemin blinks.
“...Yes.”
“You should take your chapstick more seriously.”
The corners of Renjun’s eyes crinkle up a bit, and Jaemin exhales. He reaches for Renjun’s mug and takes it before the other can snatch it back.
“Noted,” Jaemin winks, promptly chugging as much of the drink as he can and dashing out of the kitchen, Renjun hot on his heels.
Something like that, yeah.
That’s how it starts, and the thing is, it never really stops. Hello’s, goodbye’s, I’m bored’s—now and then, they’re said with a kiss, a gesture that neither of them really think about. And by happenstance, Jeno never finds out.
Until one day, where he kind of does.
Jeno’s unlocking the door to the apartment, wondering if maybe it would’ve been worth struggling with an extra textbook on top of the stack of three in his arms if it meant saving his shoulders from the straps of his backpack.
Then again, in an alternate reality there’s a Jeno with a too-big stack wondering if he should’ve squeezed another book in his bag to save the several extra attempts it’d take to fit his key into the lock.
It doesn’t really matter, but Jeno thinks about stuff like that pretty often.
Renjun usually says something insightful, or nihilistic depending on how his last shift at his internship treated him, about the infinite possibilities in a day, and Jaemin likes to speculate about which parallel version of them is doing things better than them-them. It only took a couple of weeks of them living together for Renjun and Jaemin to come to Jeno complaining about how he infected them with “alternate reality disease”.
It’s a good time all in all, he thinks.
What’s not a good time is walking in with achy arms and achier shoulders and stopping in his tracks at the sight of Renjun fixing some stuff strewn about the coffee table in the living room. Renjun, in their living room, flitting around their coffee table, hair all mussed up, and lips, for lack of a better way to describe them, kiss-swollen.
Kiss-swollen.
Like, red and puffy and a little shiny and in their living room.
“Oh, hey,” Renjun says.
Oh, hey, he says.
“Hi,” Jeno says back.
Renjun runs a hand through his hair and Jeno notices the wrinkles running rampant all over his shirt. He wants to squint. Oh, how he wants to squint.
“Jaemin just left, I think he went upstairs,” says Renjun, pointing vaguely upwards. He finds the remote and fiddles with it until the television fizzes on.
“Anyone else here?” Jeno asks.
“Huh?”
“Is there… or, was there anyone else here?”
He’s fidgeting.
Renjun looks at him, confused, and shakes his head. “No. Why?”
“...No reason.”
“Al...right.”
“Okay,” Jeno nods, and then he wills his feet to work again, all the way to his bedroom where he dumps everything he’s holding and stares at the little handsome man-figurine on his dresser, Brad.
(Brad was a drink marker, plastic hands curled so you can stick him on cup rims. All of Chenle’s friends got one at a party he threw a while back. All the little handsome men were supposed to be identical bar the color of their shorts, but Jeno had always thought Brad’s smile was just a tad more handsome than the others’.)
What was that? he thinks.
Brad stares back, signature smile stuck on his face.
Renjun just kissed someone, is what happened, Brad.
(Jeno never knows if it’s weirder to talk to Brad out loud or to stare at him intently as he directs his thoughts at him.)
(Brad thinks nothing at all. Must be nice.)
Who would it—? No, stop, don’t look at me like that, we don’t know. But also if it is, what the fuck?
Brad doesn’t move, as per usual, but he does give off a somewhat knowing, even smug, energy.
How would you feel if you saw Cody like that? And— you liked it?
Suddenly, nothing.
Oh yeah, Jeno’s got him now.
Except. He’s also got himself, hasn’t he?
Liked it. He liked it? Jeno supposes he liked it. Why else would the image of Renjun’s destroyed lips keep popping up in his brain? For him to think on completely objectively? No. It was nice and it was Renjun and Jeno wants.
His mouth pinches to the side, and he turns away, back to his stuff.
“We’re really in it now, Brad.”
If it’s all Jaemin’s fault (it is—and it will continue to be), Jaemin isn’t all that bothered. He’s got a mouth thing, not quite the same as Jeno’s mouth thing, because truly, no one knew what the fuck went on with Jeno’s mouth thing, but Jaemin has been told a handful of times that he stares.
Can’t really help it, doesn’t really mind it, it is what it is.
But now, there are surprise rewards to be reaped. Now, when Jaemin’s eyes linger on Renjun’s mouth, there’s a good chance he’ll get a kiss out of it. It’s as if he and Renjun have pavloved each other into accepting that kind of attention from each other without consequence, and Jaemin?
Jaemin is having the time of his life.
He’s on his phone, sitting at one of the bar stools next to the kitchen while his laptop charges on the counter. The door unlocking registers faintly in the back of his mind, but he doesn’t sit up straight until a hand trails across his back.
“Hey,” Renjun chirps.
“Hiya,” he says back, and his eyes don’t even get the chance to swoop down to Renjun’s mouth before Renjun’s up on his tiptoes to kiss him.
It’s short and off-hand, almost, but it never fails to leave a smile on Jaemin’s face. Renjun’s too. It’s just so… effortless. Easy.
It’s easy to catch Renjun’s wrist before he’s too far away and smile, to say, “Did you have a good day? Gimme one more if you had a good day.”
It’s easy for Renjun to roll his eyes, to not even think about whether his day was good or not before he leans back in, granting Jaemin his request with a careful hand under Jaemin’s jaw. A little surprised by the touch, Jaemin mumbles something incoherent into the kiss and Renjun snorts. He tilts Jaemin’s head back because he gets the sense that Jaemin likes that and sears a kiss onto his mouth before stepping away.
“I’m gonna get out of my work clothes,” he says, and he’s gone with a wink, Jaemin left on the edge of his seat.
Sneaky.
Jaemin scoots back, then quickly remembers their bar stools don’t have backrests, hands scrabbling at the lip of the countertop to keep from falling. He huffs out his exhale and glances at his phone as he taps his laptop awake.
Everything’s always been easy between them.
Between the three of them.
His fingers work on autopilot to send Jeno a message—hi! how’s the project going? I can come by with food if you’re hungry (ㅅ´ ˘ `)—his brain otherwise struck by a moment of pure, random, unadulterated curiosity.
He wonders. Does Jeno’s mouth thing extend to other people’s mouths like Jaemin’s does?
The message bubble pops up in the chat, then disappears, then comes back and Jaemin finds himself watching it with his head on his fist, thinking about a million other things (one or two, really) as Jeno tries to find his words.
Does Jaemin’s mouth thing extend to Jeno’s mouth?
His phone dings, and the message reads if I say yes I am succumbing to the idea that I’m going to be here longer than another half hour n I’d rather lick junie’s 3rd favorite watch.
Jaemin smiles and digs through his kaomoji keyboard with a practiced thumb.
And about his mouth thing… he doesn’t see why not.
The group project from hell finally comes to an end, thank god, which means Jeno uses the following Saturday to try and morph, face first, into the couch while he washes some bed sheets. Jaemin has so generously decided to keep him company, stating that no, it had nothing to do with the fact that his bed was stripped bare too. Can’t a guy relish in some quality time spent with his best friend?
Quality time is Jeno becoming one with the couch (as previously mentioned) and Jaemin sitting cross-legged in whatever space is left on the end cushion. He bobs his head and taps away at his phone, invested in whatever game has his attention as of late.
Sometimes his foot knocks into Jeno’s leg.
Quality time.
Except. Jeno’s eyes keep getting stuck on the coffee table, not even two whole feet away from his face.
All he can think about is his conversation with Brad. About the utter chaos Renjun’s kiss-swollen lips have wreaked on his brain since then.
He sighs wistfully, face squished against the faux leather of the couch.
“Oh, to be a handsome little man devoid of mortal woes and carnal desires.”
“What’s that?”
He looks up to see Jaemin already looking at him—airpod out and eyebrow up. Watching. Waiting.
Jeno’s gotta think fast. He opens his mouth, thinking, thinking, thinking. Full composure, straight face.
Jeno says, “I didn’t say anything.”
He swallows down a sigh.
“I definitely heard… literally all of that. Mortal woes? And carnal— carnal desires. Like, okay, thank you, Edgar Allan Poe.” Jaemin leans forward, eyes shiny, and asks, “Who’s the handsome little man? Is it me?”
Jeno flops his head back down onto the couch in resignation. Jaemin tuts at him—“Maybe not though. I’m not little, am I? Oh, ha. No, I am not. Wink. Haha.”—kneading at the back of Jeno’s leg until he flips over. Like this, Jeno can see the stupid little grin Jaemin’s sending him from between his feet, and he regrets. Just… regrets.
“I was talking about Brad,” Jeno mutters, folding his arms loosely over his chest.
“Brad? Brad…” Jaemin thinks for a second, mouth at a slant as he tries to place the name, then— “Wait. Brad, like Cody?”
He looks up at that.
“Cody’s your handsome little man? I thought Renjun got Cody.”
“Bro, no. Cody’s my guy. Renjun almost got him but Chenle said he ‘was meant for Ryan’, and I ended up with Cody instead. Also, I think they’re Drinking Buddies. Like, the brand or whatever. I remember reading it on the packaging before Chenle demolished it.”
A dim light goes off in the back of Jeno’s brain, ah, yes, that sounds right. He would have snapped his fingers even, but he knows in his heart no a-ha! moment will completely throw Jaemin off his scent.
“Forgot,” he offers lamely instead.
“You sound so defeated,” Jaemin says, pushing his bottom lip out in a pout.
“Can we just forget everything? Here, I’ll go first,” Jeno says, and then he closes his eyes.
The couch shifts and Jeno opens his eyes back up, too wary of Jaemin on the move to keep playing dead, but he’s only tucked his feet under himself to lean closer to Jeno, eyes glimmering as he does.
“But that’s no fun, Jen. Here, let’s play word association, I go and you respond. Lightning round, yeah?”
“No.”
“Carnal—”
Jeno’s instantly feels his cheeks warm over.
“I don’t want to play,” he warns.
As he should have foreseen, Jaemin ignores him.
“—desires. Carnal desires! Go, go~”
Even mid-protest, even at his insistence that no he did not, even knowing Renjun isn’t in the room, Jeno glances in his direction, at his door, a faint humming slipping through the threshold as Renjun gets ready to head out.
It’s not even two whole seconds, a reflexive movement more than anything, but it’s more than enough for Jaemin who, when Jeno corrects his gaze, is already grinning down at him with too many teeth, lips stretched wide in triumph.
“I see,” he says.
“Wait, I—”
“No, no,” Jaemin inisists, waving a hand between them, “I see you, I hear you, I understand you. Baby, you have no idea how hard I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”
Jeno throws his arm over his face and groans, tempted to shove Jaemin with his foot. He’d probably just get an uncomfortably damp sock for his troubles though so he goes back to the melty couch thing.
He knows peace for precisely three mediocre inhales before Jaemin’s slapping his hand down on the plane of Jeno’s stomach, the smack ringing loud and clear in the apartment. Jeno finds himself groaning again, this time as he clutches his middle, frowning at Jaemin, and perhaps thinking not very nice things as he does.
“What’s your deal?”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Tell who what,” he snips.
“Oh you know… that… well, you know.”
There’s a moment where Jeno and Jaemin just blink at each other, letting the you-know-you-know’s soak in. Eventually, Jeno sighs and sits up, wincing at the dull echo in his stomach from Jaemin’s assault.
“That I want to kiss him?”
There. Jeno says it, he’s said it, it’s been said.
Jaemin makes a face.
“You used the words carnal desires and you were talking about a kiss? God, you really are from the 1800’s.”
Jeno doesn’t whine, no. He does not.
“I was being dramatic and thought no one could hear me.”
“I’m sorry I’m not the Brad you so badly want me to be,” Jaemin is quick to lament.
Jeno can’t help but roll his eyes.
“Bro, whatever,” he scoffs, and then he’s laughing because what the fuck are they saying? He sinks against the back of the couch, hiccups hurting because of Jaemin. A thought strikes him, and he looks up with a jolt. “Do you ever talk to Cody?”
Jaemin’s phone is back in his hand, but Jeno doesn’t miss the way his eyes dart up to meet Jeno’s, a complicated ditch appearing between his eyebrows before it’s gone.
“Right, anyway—”
“Oh my god, you do! You do. We need to ask Renjun if he—”
“Speaking of!” Jaemin interjects.
He stops short. Oh. Oh, he’d done this to himself. Oh no.
Jaemin’s leaning forward again, hand clamped over Jeno’s shin for balance (but also probably to keep him from running, which, fair).
“So you just want a kiss? Kissing for kissing’s sake?”
Jeno shrugs, feeling some heat go to his ears.
“But you want it to be Renjun.”
He stalls, swallows, thinks.
That was… not it. Well, it was, but it wasn’t. But it was?
“I’m curious,” he says, to keep it neat.
Both he and Jaemin narrow their eyes at each other at the same time.
“Just ask him,” says Jaemin, all nonchalantly.
“What?” Jeno asks, because what?
“Renjun. Ask him for a kiss. He’ll probably do it.”
He says it so simply, like Jeno isn't ready to find a big rock and live under it for the rest of his life at the mere suggestion. Like he wasn’t dying when Jaemin started hounding him, from the very beginning! Why— how would he even muster up the courage to just… ask? Won’t that bring up questions? Questions that Jeno hasn’t even asked himself, at that, because that’s not something you just do with your friends. Right?
Jaemin hums and turns slightly, calls out, “Renjun!” and Jeno swears his heart and stomach try to switch places.
“Dude.”
“One second,” Renjun calls back. Fuck. Jeno does not have enough time to find a big rock. Fuck, fuck. Fuck.
Renjun shuffles around some more and then he’s strolling out of his room, jacket folded over his arm and bag bumping into his side. He runs a hand through his hair as he walks, stopping at Jaemin’s shoulder with a small smile.
“What’s up?”
Jeno watches the soft strands fall back down over Renjun’s forehead, is more or less trying to distract himself from whatever Jaemin’s about to propose when Jaemin says—
“Can I get a kiss?”
Renjun glances over at Jeno before looking down at Jaemin, evidently not expecting that to be why he was called over.
“Right now?”
“Yes, please,” Jaemin chirps.
Renjun’s fingers feather over the creased lines that run down the front of his slacks, lips pursed for a second before he shrugs, laughs a small ha, and leans down to meet him.
He complies, as in he kisses Jaemin. Just like that.
“Wh— h. Uh,” is all Jeno manages to say—is all he manages to think.
When they part, Jaemin turns to Jeno looking fairly smug. Renjun also turns to Jeno; straightens up, looks, tilts his head at whatever it is he sees.
“What, you want one too? Is that what this is?”
Jeno can’t tell—well. No. First, Jeno wonders if it’s possible for every neuron in his body to misfire at the exact same time. Then, he refocuses, and he can’t tell if he’s that obvious, or if Renjun is overwhelmingly sure of himself, or if kissing every remaining friend in the room after kissing one is just the natural progression for someone who just does that. But somehow (somehow!) he finds it in himself to nod before he’s consumed by his instinct to perish on the spot.
And then, Renjun is walking up to him and he’s sliding his bag down onto the couch next to where Jeno is sitting and Renjun’s first two fingers are curling under his chin oh-so gently. Jeno can’t help but hold his breath, eyes wide as Renjun tilts his face up and he’s forced to see just how close they are.
Renjun’s mouth quirks up into a smile before he moves.
He moves, and he’s kissing Jeno, and Jeno considers the whole dying thing again because god Renjun’s lips were so soft and real, as in, this was really happening, holy fuck.
Jeno remembers that day in the living room, remembers Renjun from that fated day, the picture that hasn’t left him alone since. Honestly, he thinks he can do it, make the picture again.
But should he? Renjun has to go to his internship relatively soon, so maybe not. Still, Jeno can seize the moment. While he has him.
He holds Renjun’s forearm so he can lean up into the kiss, tilts his head to press closer. Really savors the feel of his friend’s lips against his. Renjun makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat, but it’s a little appreciative, too, and he breathes hard enough to tickle Jeno a bit (which he ignores in favor of continuing the kiss). His chest bumps into Renjun’s as he rises up in his seat even more, trying to get as close as he can, teetering a little when one of his knees creeps over the edge of the couch cushion.
(There comes a moment where Jeno realizes he’s kneeling, literally kneeling, for this kiss and he can’t be bothered to think anything of it right now, but wow.)
Renjun steps forward and that restores the balance, mostly. Jeno settles a hand on Renjun’s hip for his good deed, adores the feel of him, his warmth, his lines. He takes a chance with his teeth, burning to try everything he knows how to do, going for the swell of Renjun’s lower lip. His fingers flex involuntarily, heart jumping when Renjun leans into his palm.
Jeno’s still working on Renjun’s mouth, really doing his best to lay one on him when he slides his other hand down Renjun’s arm and bumps into something cool. He’s half-heartedly trying to guess what exactly it is he touched as Renjun smooths the hand he has on Jeno’s shoulder over his chest, goosebumps following his touch.
He sucks in a breath and opens his eyes, sees Renjun’s grin (lips significantly more red than before, so, a win in Jeno’s book) before he flicks his wrist and frowns, bringing the face of his watch up to his to see it better.
“Oh, wow, I really have to go,” he says, already walking backwards, bag in tow. “This was nice though Jeno, thanks. Why don’t, uh…” Renjun squints and waves a finger between Jeno and Jaemin. “Yeah, you two should keep it up while I’m gone, if you want more of that. I seriously need to leave right now though, so. Later!”
He waves goodbye, pats his pockets, scoops up his keys, and runs out the door, closing it behind him with a whoosh.
Gone. Just like that.
Jeno sits back and blinks.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
He turns to Jaemin, half-offended he’s expected to exist successfully after that.
“Dude… shut up?”
Jaemin laughs and shifts in his seat. Jeno is wary once more.
“So. What did you think?”
Jeno makes a face and says, “Why the post-kiss interview?” for which he immediately gets a foot to the thigh.
“I’m curious! You said you were curious, and now I’m curious about your curious.”
Jeno’s first thought is that if their band name was the you-know-you-know’s, their first single could be ‘curious (about your curious)’. Jeno’s second thought as he touches his bottom lip with his fingers is that—
“You guys do that a lot, don’t you?”
He watches, sees the question give him pause.
“Um, yeah, I guess. We don’t think much of it though, or I don’t know,” says Jaemin, shrugging, “we haven’t really talked about it.”
Jeno hums, drags the pad of his finger over the edge of his bottom teeth. Jaemin’s eyes dart down to follow it and Jeno remembers what Renjun said.
You two should keep it up while I’m gone.
Huh.
How about that?
“You just do it?” Jeno asks.
Jaemin nods. He’s still not looking Jeno in the eye, mouth slightly open, relaxed.
“So. Since w—”
“Were you ever curious about me?”
Now Jaemin’s looking Jeno in the eye, dark brown unrelenting even as Jeno hugs his knees, hiding how his toes curl at the question.
“I don’t… not specifically,” he says truthfully, watching as Jaemin puts his hands in the space between them and shifts his weight over them. Leans closer.
“And now?”
His own hand is frozen, stuck where it’d been fidgeting at the seam of his mouth.
And now?
“Now…” he says, heart in his throat as Jaemin stops in front of him.
Waiting.
Listening.
“...now I can’t say that I’m not.”
Jaemin’s smile reappears and the rooms sighs, tension unfurling. Jeno tilts his head back against the top of the couch, eyes following his friend.
“Excellent,” says Jaemin.
“Is it?” he asks.
“Mm,” Jaemin hums, canting forward so his face is right in front of Jeno’s, “yes, I do think this a win for me.”
“So…?”
“So,” he blinks hard at Jeno, eyelashes casting wispy shadows over his cheeks, pretty, “can I get a kiss, Jeno?”
Just ask.
This opportunity… it is simply too opportune. For several reasons. A little handsome one stands out in particular.
Jeno nods, whispers, “For Brad.”
Jaemin’s shoulders wilt, disbelief evident on his features.
“What does Brad have to do—”
“He totally likes Cody.”
“—with. Really?”
“Oh, for sure.”
“Woah.”
“…Yeah.”
They look at each other for a beat, and then Jeno’s closing the distance between them, shifting his legs to accommodate Jaemin’s torso as they meet somewhere in the middle.
To his surprise, Jaemin’s lips are relatively smooth. As if he’s actually been using his chapstick.
The dots here aren’t hard to connect.
Good for him, Jeno thinks.
Good for Renjun, too, his brain adds unbidden.
Thank you, brain.
Their kiss stays simple, to Jeno’s surprise. It’s nice though, how their lips slot together so easily, the shallow give and take they pick up almost immediately. Maybe that’s one of the perks to kissing your friends. The preexisting rhythm there.
If kissing Renjun sent Jeno’s heart racing, kissing Jaemin mellowed him out. Calmed him. (It probably had more to do with how much he’d built up Renjun’s kiss in his head, rather than the who of it all. Regardless, the change of pace was nice.)
Jeno pulls back after a moment but keeps his eyes closed. Everything feels… quiet. It feels—
“Nice.”
“Yeah?” Jaemin asks, eyebrows up.
He shoves at his shoulder and scoffs, “Yeah.”
“Well, that’s… the whole point. I know I said we’ve never talked about it, but I think that’s it. It’s just, nice. You know?”
Jeno rolls his lips together, says, “I think so?”
This has certainly given him a lot to ponder on. A lot to bring up to Brad later.
“Jeno, how often do you talk to your buddy?”
“Wh—”
Two sizable hands come down on either side of Jeno’s face, Jaemin tilting their heads forward so he has nowhere else to look but into his eyes.
“You’ve got Brad on the brain,” he says.
“I do?” Jeno whispers, thinking. Did he?
“Maybe,” says Jaemin.
Jeno nods slowly.
“Noted,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
It’s an odd moment. Leaves Jeno with even more to ponder on. He’ll probably go on a walk outside of their complex after this.
Jaemin’s gaze travels over Jeno’s face, he feels it, he sees it, so he’s not surprised when his friend’s hands slide down his face and fit themselves near his jaw, fingers tickling up into the ends of his hair.
“Wanna go again?” he asks.
“Yeah,” he breathes, feeling vaguely like a stomped on whoopee cushion at the question.
Jaemin smiles, says, “Bet,” and proceeds to push every other thought out of Jeno’s head, which he appreciates.
When he goes back to his room, after his walk, he pointedly does not relay the day’s events to a certain man-figurine.
If, at least, for Jaemin.
Because he made a note of it.
Hello’s, goodbye’s, and I’m bored’s—Jeno doesn’t know what it is about them, but they really are the most opportune moments to squeeze a smooch out of someone(s). More often than not, he finds himself being someone.
Jaemin is a big squeezer, but Renjun does it too.
He supposes that means they’re all guilty.
Is anyone truly innocent in an apartment of unadulterated indulgence?
Uh.
Alright.
Anway.
The point is, going off Jaemin’s timeline, he probably could have started doing this a lot sooner if it wasn’t for his group project from hell, and that’s just one more thing he was robbed of in that five week period.
“You good?”
Jeno jumps at the voice, glances back to see Renjun leaning against his doorframe.
“Hm?” he intonates.
“You looked mad for a second there.”
He looks down at the shirt he was folding, how he’s holding the tee a little too tight. He forcibly relaxes his hands. “Ah, no, yeah. I’m good. What’s up?”
The soft thuds of Renjun’s footsteps on their wooden paneling stop behind Jeno. His hands still altogether, anticipation in his blood.
“I think some of my clothes snuck into your pile,” says Renjun.
Oh.
“Oh,” he says.
“Oh?” Renjun echoes.
Jeno shakes his head and starts folding again, says, “Didn’t say anything.”
Ah, yes. Because it certainly worked out the last time.
Renjun slides next to him with a laugh, relaxed as he sifts through the clothes on Jeno’s bed, on the hunt for his own. He doesn’t pester Jeno (like another roommate who will not be named), and they work side by side as Renjun pulls out socks and shirts and a pair of sweats, Jeno silently asking himself how he missed all of them as he goes.
After a couple of minutes, Renjun leans back with a small pile of clothes in his arms. He scans Jeno’s things once more then nods to himself, says, “Alright, I think that’s it. Thanks!”
Jeno quirks his mouth up at the ends. It’s no problem. It’s his chore, after all.
“Sorry for mixing—”
A warm touch on his face, his cheek, and Renjun’s dancing away with a laugh, delighted. Jeno touches the spot. Was that—? Did he— did Renjun kiss him on the cheek?
How… cheeky… of him.
(The crowd boos.)
“What—”
“Just expressing my gratitude, Great Jeno of the Wash,” says Renjun.
“Right, well, no problem, Great Renjun of… the… Sink.”
Renjun considers Jeno’s reply then shrugs, humming as he comes back to Jeno’s side. He turns his head and glances at Jeno out of the corner of his eye, smile barely contained as he taps his cheek with his finger.
Was he— now, he. Was Jeno supposed to—
“Huh?”
He doesn’t get any help through words, Renjun keeping quiet as he taps his cheek faster. The wires in Jeno’s brain get crossed a little bit, as always, so he stares some more before it clicks and he decides to go for it? I guess? He bends a little at the knee to plant one on Renjun.
It’s like a mission, almost.
Target: locked.
Distance: shrinking.
Renjun: turning.
Focus: s— wait. Renjun turning?
Oh, god.
Oh, fuck.
Jeno’s lips smack right into Renjun’s and he startles, dropping the joggers he’d been clutching the entire time. Maybe he makes a funny sound because Renjun’s laughing again, head tilted back and everything.
“I’m so glad Jaemin talked you into this,” Renjun says as he pinches at the front of Jeno’s shirt.
“Are you?” he asks in lieu of actual critical thought.
Renjun nods, mindlessly catching his own lip under what was once his snaggletooth. He pauses, a small crease starting between his brows.
“Is that… okay? I guess I should’ve asked to make sure first—if you wanted to, I mean.”
Jeno makes the mistake of looking past Renjun’s shoulder to Brad’s spot on his dresser. He (Brad) is facing the wall right now. As an experiment. It evokes weird feelings in Jeno. But, that’s not the point! The point is, this is all okay, and if he were to ask for Brad’s advice right now (which he’s not, because Jeno is exercising some space between them) he’s sure Brad would agree.
More importantly, he should be letting Renjun know it’s all okay because the silence probably isn’t super reassuring and Jeno doesn’t want this to stop before it’s even begun. He breathes in and says, “Yeah. Hell yeah. Super okay. All good,” you know, to make his point. And Renjun snorts at him because that was, what, four whole affirmatives? He pops one more peck on Jeno’s mouth and Renjun’s dancing away again.
“What’s up with you?” Jeno asks, can’t help the note of laughter in his voice.
“I don’t know!” Renjun says, shrugs. “In a good mood I guess.”
“Well, alright.”
“Yeah, alright,” he says, giving Jeno a once over before he waves. “Thanks again, Jeno.”
He shimmies out of the room and Jeno’s left kind of just standing there wondering, truly, what went on in Renjun’s mind.
There’s comfort in the thought that not many will ever know. He turns back to his laundry, relatively unbothered.
Jeno adds thank you’s to the list in his head of sentiments said just as well with a kiss.
It’s Friday morning, Jaemin’s cooking up some eggs for them, and Jeno decides he’ll try doling out his own thank-you kiss. Might as well give it a shot. Dip all of his toes into this thing.
Renjun’s not in the kitchen yet, probably fighting and losing against the comfort of his bed as he was wont to do in his free mornings. That leaves Jeno ambling about while Jaemin watches the frying pan, peering through the fogged up lid every few seconds to make sure everything was just right.
So, plan of action. Jeno will walk up, maybe touch Jaemin’s back so he doesn’t jump and send hot eggs flying, and then he’ll kiss him. It’ll probably be on the cheek, simple, like Renjun’s. And bam! Thank-you kiss.
Eggs crackling on in the background, Jeno nears until he’s at Jaemin’s side, careful not to press any of the stove dials from where he settles. Jaemin’s eyes dart to the side, probably checking for the same thing.
He sucks in a breath and darts forward, pressing a kiss to Jaemin’s cheek, fast and light, face immediately on fire, good god—how are these worse than actual kisses?
Jaemin turns to him slowly, spatula in hand. He quirks an eyebrow at Jeno, a small grin crawling onto his face.
Jeno kind of wants to run, but Jaemin’s already seen his face and they live in the same apartment so it’s not like he would get very far anyway.
No, he doesn’t run. Instead he stays put and gestures at the frying pan, says, “Thank you.” And when Jaemin lets his smile widen, big and fast, Jeno can’t help but stare.
Jaemin stares back.
He’s so close.
They’re always so close.
“All good, Jen,” Jaemin says lowly, gaze flicking up and down and back up.
It’s easy to lean forward and catch Jaemin’s mouth with his. To put a hand on the side of Jaemin’s face and the other at his waist.
The handle of the spatula bumps into Jeno’s shoulder when Jaemin puts his hand there, the flat part carefully pointed away from his skin. He huffs loudly through his nose as Jeno presses him into the bit of counter next to the stove, teeth slipping through before he reins in his smile.
Jeno’s eyes are closed, yet it’s as if he can see everything. The strands of hair on the back of Jaemin’s that stand up unbidden in the morning, the way Jaemin’s shirt hangs loosely on his shoulders, crinkled up where Jeno’s touching him, their profile when Jaemin wraps an arm around his lower back and pulls him closer, Jaemin’s wince when Jeno’s glasses almost poke him in the eye.
“Omf, ‘orry,” he says.
(Or, tries to say? He’s actually not sure what that first word’s supposed to be.)
Jaemin moves his head back just enough to slide Jeno’s glasses off his face and put them somewhere behind him. Meaning they aren’t done, apparently, which. Yeah, okay.
The hand with the spatula winds around Jeno’s neck and he’s pulled back in. It’s practically a hug, they’re so tangled up together.
Feels good.
Warm.
Jeno woke up less than an hour ago, the sunlight’s hitting the kitchen just right, and both his and Jaemin’s sleep shirts are pretty thin. Jaemin opens his mouth, Jeno follows, and it’s hot.
Teeth come down lightly on Jeno’s lip, and he moves the hand he has on Jaemin’s face so he can circle both of his arms around Jaemin’s middle. In doing so, he accidentally rucks Jaemin’s shirt up a bit, and he hums as the warmth of the freed sliver of skin seeps onto Jeno’s stomach even through his own shirt. With that and Jaemin’s tongue in his mouth, Jeno simply cannot hold on to a single train of thought, much less pay attention to anything outside the two of them, so when a cooler third hand splays across the back of his neck Jeno just about flies, he jumps so high.
“What the fuck—”
“Good morning.”
They turn and Renjun’s there, eyes sleepy and hungry at the same time.
Hungry.
Hun...gry.
Jeno mutters shit right as Jaemin gasps. “My eggs!”
“The eggs,” Jeno whispers, chancing a look at the frying pan.
He’ll be straight.
(Just this once.)
They’re unideal.
“My bad,” he says, a tad guilty.
Jaemin waves him off, but is evidently done with what they were doing, eggs in the bin before Jeno can volunteer to eat them. He blinks at them where they lie over discarded shredded envelopes and bad fruit before the lid swings down and shuts him out.
“At least the fire alarm didn’t go off,” Renjun says, shaking Jeno out of his reverie.
He didn’t think they’d let it get that bad, but… the eggs had certainly been charred… a bit.
Jaemin’s too far gone playing Master Chef with himself in his head to contribute to the conversation, so Jeno just watches Renjun shuffle to the fridge and look for the orange juice to the tune of freshly cracked eggs sizzling away on the pan.
“How’d you sleep?” he asks.
Renjun smiles, features going soft as he sighs. “Good. Really, really good, thank you. The office kicked my ass this week for some reason.”
Jeno hums sympathetically and gets Renjun’s cup from the drying rack. He hears Renjun move around behind him and he turns, offers to take the orange juice off his hands when Renjun adds, “You two were interesting to wake up to.”
He squints and Renjun smirks.
Behind them Jaemin mumbles something about distractions and do not kiss the chef, please, and thank you.
Jeno and Renjun meet eyes once more, and this time they’re on the exact same page.
Jeno doubted he’d ever get to a point where kissing Renjun and Jaemin was something he didn’t think much of, but he does eventually, he thinks.
Hello kisses, goodbye kisses, thank you kisses, I’m bored kisses (the most fun, Jeno finds); they’re easy. Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno. Easy.
Sometimes he kisses Jaemin at the end of Aquamarine, and sometimes he watches Jaemin try to distract Renjun during his watch-cleaning, and sometimes they get the laundry all wrong so they bump elbows too much and the chore devolves into something else.
Sometimes it’s Renjun that catches Jeno before he has to run to class, or it’s the two of them teaming up against Jaemin because he has it coming.
Sometimes, they don’t kiss at all, and it’s easy.
Jeno loves it.
Jeno loves them.
One day, Brad goes missing, and Jeno immediately recalls seeing Jaemin sneaking out of his (Jeno’s) room at some point. Connectable dots.
Maybe it’s better this way, he thinks.
And some other day, a different day than that, when it’s time to at least try dusting the apartment, Jeno finds him (Brad) along with Cody and Ryan on the very top of the entertainment system in the living room.
They’re holding hands.
As much as they can anway.
The point is that they look content.
Jeno leaves them be.