Work Text:
Finally. Smoothie.
Now to find a place to sit.
Yeosang walks through the food court mindlessly, eyes skimming over full tables in pursuit of a place to sit, and hopefully, some peace for the remainder of his break. It’s going on 5:30, the dinner rush pouring in, and it looks like his chances of finding a whole empty table are dwindling. It’s not like he needs a table, this smoothie is his whole dinner after all, but it would be nice to rest his feet.
“Yeosangie!” calls a voice that is unmistakably Wooyoung’s, startling Yeosang into poking himself in the lip with his smoothie straw.
Bewildered, he glances around for a second before zeroing in on the pretzel stand Wooyoung works at, closing the distance to have a civil conversation without blowing anyone’s ears off. There’s a long line, because of course there is, and as he approaches some of the customers eye him warily, as if he were about to yell right back.
“Didn’t think you were working today,” Yeosang comments in lieu of a greeting, eyeing the perfectly smooth dough balls at Wooyoung’s work station.
“Traded with Jun-hyung,” Wooyoung hums, deft fingers kneading and shaping them into cylinders, then perfect pretzels. Yeosang finds himself mesmerized, not for the first time, as each one twists midair and hits the counter with a wet slap.
“You on your thirty?” Wooyoung asks distractedly, glancing up at the smoothie in Yeosang’s hand and pursing his lips a little. Ah, jealousy.
“Yeah, got an eight hour shift today,” he sighs, wishing it were closing time already.
“Rough,” Wooyoung returns, dragging out the ‘o’ sound for the slightest hint of sarcasm. “I only get a short break today,” he starts, a nagging feeling growing in Yeosang’s mind that he’s about to ask for something. Slap.
“So could you get me something from the new fry place? I’ll venmo you on my break,” he gets out all in one breath, shooting Yeosang that adorable smile that makes him melt and also want to strangle him.
“Get it yourself,” Yeosang bristles, knowing full well he’s about to cave and get Wooyoung anything he wants.
“Please?” Wooyoung pouts at him. “Fifteen minutes isn’t long enough to buy and eat something, and I didn’t eat this morning ‘cause I was in a rush— ”
“O kay, fine, what do you want?” Yeosang asks, faux-annoyance radiating out of every pore.
Wooyoung shoots him a dazzling smile, then his gaze slides right past to something behind him.
“Hey, isn’t that your Seonghwa?” Wooyoung asks, peeking around Yeosang to get a better look at the figures walking past. Leave it to him to have the attention span of a walnut.
Yeosang hurriedly shushes him, even though it seems no one’s paying attention to their conversation. “He’s not my Seonghwa,” he hisses, ears flushing pink as he makes a valiant effort not to turn around and stare.
Because he’s certain he would; Yeosang’s been crushing on the undeniably gorgeous makeup store employee for far too long, shy glances stolen whenever he and Seonghwa coincidentally take their breaks at the same time, or when Seonghwa walks by his Pacsun on the way in for his afternoon shift at 2:30. Not that Yeosang is counting.
“Yet!” Wooyoung chirps happily from behind the glass partition, the last perfect pretzel twisting down with a final smack. He wasn’t even looking.
Yeosang makes what could be considered an oral keysmash. “Don’t say that,” he laments. “He’d never be interested in me like that anyway.”
“Fine, just Sephora Seonghwa for now,” Wooyoung pouts, something a little off about his expression. Like he knows something Yeosang doesn’t.
“Oh please, I don’t call you Wetzel’s Pretzels Wooyoung,” Yeosang mutters, deciding to ask him about it later. A beat, then, “Wetzel Wooyoung.”
“Ew, shut up, you rascal—Oh, he’s going to the potato place! It’s fate, go Yeosangie, go!”
So Yeosang goes, not without a fair amount of grumbling, because apparently he’s Wooyoung’s slave first and a human being second. He joins Seonghwa at the end of the line, trying to calm the butterflies knocking against his ribcage.
“Hi hyung,” Yeosang greets nervously, and when Seonghwa turns, the breath is knocked from his lungs.
Seonghwa doesn’t do outrageous makeup looks for work often, but when he does, Yeosang tends to avoid him like the plague. Not because they’re outrageously bad, no, but because they make him look so outrageously hot that it sends Yeosang down a horrible gay spiral for the remainder of the day. He’ll spend the working hours daydreaming, and his break furiously refreshing Instagram in case Seonghwa has posted photos.
But now, he doesn’t need to refresh Instagram as the real thing is right in front of him donned in a gorgeous red and black smoky eye, his eyeliner almost reaching to the outer tips of his eyebrows. Yeosang stares, stunned, for a solid ten seconds before Seonghwa is chuckling and closing Yeosang’s mouth for him with a gentle finger under his chin. Heat blooms under his skin, and he looks away, clearing his throat.
“Do you like it?” Seonghwa asks somewhat redundantly, brushing his hair back to hit Yeosang with the full visual.
“Yeah, amazing, I mean sure, it looks...” Yeosang trails off, wracking his brain for the best adjective he can muster. Unfortunately, that just means he flounders for a few seconds before squeaking out a “pretty!” and averting his eyes in shame. He hears a fond chuckle, and a murmured thanks before they’re both staring at the menu in silence, the line inching along slowly.
Yeosang tries his hardest to concentrate on choosing a potato variant for Wooyoung, which surprisingly becomes a snap as his eyes zero in on the most amazing thing he’s ever seen: a whole potato, skewered and spiraled into a beautiful starchy masterpiece.
“Have you ever had one of those?” Seonghwa asks from his right, nodding at the picture. Potato tornado. Heh.
“Uh, no, can’t say I have,” Yeosang blinks, squinting a bit at the price.
“They’re like, super difficult to eat,” Seonghwa frowns, “especially if you’re trying not to get your hands dirty. Sometimes the center of the potato ring doesn’t come off the stick so you have to really go at it with your teeth,” he muses, and Yeosang has to bite the inside of his cheek to forcefully banish the image of Seonghwa really going at it with his teeth.
“I-I’ll keep that in mind,” Yeosang stutters, feeling red creep up his face again. Is it hot in here or is it just Seonghwa? “It’s for Wooyoung anyway,” he tacks on to fill the space.
“Oh, Wetzel Wooyoung?” Seonghwa asks, glancing over to where Wooyoung is likely staring holes in their interaction.
“That’s the one,” Yeosang laughs, beaming up at Seonghwa for having the same shit sense of humor.
Seonghwa makes an odd strangled sort of noise, cooing and placing a hand over his heart.
“You’re too cute, Yeosangie, what am I going to do with you?” He asks, and Yeosang really has no answer for that that isn’t something wildly gay and at least a little inappropriate, so he lets the question hang.
In the end, Yeosang chooses a potato tornado for Wooyoung. Fun, whimsical, yet difficult, which is oddly fitting for Wooyoung on the whole. If he’s going out of his way to get his friend something on his precious break, Wooyoung can spend his whole fifteen minutes eating the damn thing. Or fourteen to eat, and one to cry about it.
Seonghwa orders, then Yeosang, who nearly elbows Seonghwa in the ribs as the older swoops in with his credit card faster than Yeosang can blink.
“I’m your hyung, Yeosangie, let me treat you,” Seonghwa pouts. And Yeosang secretly pouts right back because it isn’t really him being treated, it’s Wooyoung.
Except, when Seonghwa collects his order, he hands over a basket of curly fries to Yeosang, smiling shyly.
“For my favorite dongsaeng,” he says as Yeosang takes it. When he opens his mouth to protest, Seonghwa cuts in again. “I know you were only planning on having that smoothie for dinner,” he says in warning.
Yeosang flushes and nods, head stuck somewhere around favorite dongsaeng, rendering him incapable of intelligent thought. He thanks Seonghwa profusely anyway, and by the time he gets his order, his break is almost over.
“Thank you again, hyung,” Yeosang smiles, one basket of fries richer. That’s like, double the dinner he thought he was going to have today. Booyah.
Seonghwa just waves him off with a smile, and he rushes back to complete the work day with a skip in his step.
~~~~~
By the time he’s off the clock, Yeosang has spent close to three hours daydreaming about Seonghwa, and about… thirty minutes concentrating on work-related things. To his credit, he only had to restart one return.
He decides to stop by Sephora on the way out to say thanks again, following a middle-aged couple into the store. He feels pretty out of place here in his oversized Santa Cruz hoodie and ripped jeans, but at least he put on some light face makeup today. He wanders through lipstick, foundation, brushes, yet no sign of Seonghwa. He’s about to turn around to leave and just text Seonghwa his thanks when finally, all the way back in the hair product corner, Yeosang spots him. His sharp side profile is gorgeous, Yeosang thinks as he approaches, taking in the slope of his jaw, his full lips, and the way his face animates when he talks. He looks beautiful. He looks… uncomfortable.
He’s talking with that same middle aged man from earlier, his wife nowhere to be found as he shuffles further into Seonghwa’s space. Seonghwa keeps talking about the product he’s holding, shifting back ever so slowly until there’s a respectable space between them again, which the man closes again right away. Yeosang frowns, unsure if he should step in or if there’s really a claim here for harassment, but when the man reaches for Seonghwa’s ass, Yeosang sees red.
“Hey!” He barks, louder than intended, closing the distance and slapping the guy’s arm back down. When he rounds on Yeosang, though, his courage starts to fizzle out, so he spits the first excuse he can think of.
“I mean. Hey! I-I have an appointment, should we start?” He asks Seonghwa directly, giving him the option to leave on his own terms, if he wants. Thankfully, Seonghwa plays along.
“Ah, yes, follow me please,” he says, visibly relieved, though still looking a bit confused at Yeosang’s outburst. He turns to address the man once more, shoving a product into his hands.
“I recommend the Bumble and bumble, it does wonders for grease, and it’s volumizing,” he smiles, bowing out to lead Yeosang away.
“Sorry about that, hyung, I just—” Yeosang starts, unsure what to even say about that.
“No, it’s okay,” Seonghwa rushes to assure him, “I just didn’t expect to see you again today, yelling in my store no less,” he says, shooting Yeosang a lopsided grin in an attempt at lightening the mood.
“He was about to grope you,” Yeosang mumbles, and that stops Seonghwa in his tracks.
“Shit,” he mutters, pulling the walkie from his belt and turning back to scan the store, tugging Yeosang a bit closer as if he were the one in danger.
He has a short conversation with whom Yeosang assumes is his manager, and when he’s done he pushes Yeosang toward a vanity chair.
“Security will handle the rest,” he says, tone clipped. “Now sit.”
Yeosang blanches. “Hyung, I wasn’t actually expecting you to do my makeup. That was just an excuse for you to leave,” he argues, concerned. Seonghwa waves him off.
“It’s the least I can do,” he says, lining up products and brushes. “My last appointment cancelled anyway… Unless you’d rather I didn’t?” He asks, suddenly unsure.
The thought that he doesn’t really have the money to be spending on makeovers floats by, but Yeosang squashes it. If Seonghwa wants to do this as some sort of stress relief, then he’ll pay without complaint.
“Yeah, no, go for it,” Yeosang allows, giving what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
So he sits as still as he can while Seonghwa builds layers of product on his face, which he quickly comes to regret as Seonghwa leans in to apply delicate liner to his eyes. Thanking the heavens that there’s already foundation on his face, he feels himself flush as Seonghwa’s breath fans gently across his cheek, heart thudding an unsteady rhythm at having the other so close.
“You’re squirming,” Seonghwa whispers, from right there against his face, and Yeosang can’t help the shiver that runs through him.
“Sor—sorry,” he says, having to try again after his voice cracked the first time.
“It’s okay,” Seonghwa returns, only this time there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. “You can open your eyes.”
And when he does, Yeosang doesn’t miss the soft intake of breath from Seonghwa as he turns his face this way and that, admiring the soft pinks and neutrals adorning his face in a subtle, dewy look. He lets a small smile slip onto his face.
“Wow, hyung, you made me look so cute,” he laughs, cupping his face and batting his eyelashes up at Seonghwa.
“No, that’s all you,” Seonghwa teases, expression incredibly fond, and Yeosang huffs an embarrassed laugh.
They finish Yeosang’s look with pink lip gloss, the stickiness feeling heavy and unfamiliar. He feels hot once again with Seonghwa’s concentrated gaze on his lips, and if he only tries a little, he can imagine Seonghwa staring at them intensely for a different reason—
Which he cuts off violently, because Seonghwa is right here and that’s a thought best left to tonight, after he’s tucked himself away in bed and can dream all he wants. It must be a product of that trail of thought, then, when Seonghwa’s hand seems to linger on his lips longer than necessary, slowing his brush strokes until they’re hardly moving at all. Yeosang catches his eye curiously, hopefully, and neither breathes.
Then Seonghwa seems to come back to himself, pulling away with nervous laughter. Yeosang’s heart pounds in his chest, simultaneously relieved and disappointed that the moment is broken.
“And you’re done,” Seonghwa smiles, a bit of that nervousness lingering in his gaze.
“Thank you,” Yeosang says sincerely, shooting Seonghwa his brightest smile and admiring the finished look. “How much do I owe you?”
Seonghwa seems downright affronted. “Absolutely nothing, Kang Yeosang, think of it as a thank you for earlier,” he answers, wringing his hands a little. And while he’d love to dwell more on how great his full name sounds coming out of Seonghwa’s mouth, there are more important things to focus on.
“Ah, are you really okay, hyung?” He asks. Seonghwa deflates.
“Yeah, I mean, I guess. We get creeps occasionally but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy that it comes with the territory,” he sighs.
"I'm sorry," Yeosang winces. "If it's any consolation, I think you handled it really well. I, ah, I admire you a lot," he mumbles, shy, and Seonghwa's fond chuckle fills the space between them.
"You were really cool, too, Yeosangie," he says, and despite how decidedly uncool Yeosang feels, somehow it doesn't sound like a jab.
Then Yeosang gets an idea, and blurts it out before he loses his nerve.
“Did you drive here?”
Perhaps that didn’t come out quite as intended. But Seonghwa answers anyway, furrowing his brow.
“No, I took the bus, why?”
“Would you let me take you out for dessert? You know, to cheer you up? And I could drop you off after,” he tapers off, quickly losing steam and confidence in the face of Seonghwa’s unreadable expression.
“Yeosangie,” he starts, then breaks out into a wide grin. “That’s so sweet of you, yeah, I’d love to. Just let me help close up here,” he says, the hammering in Yeosang’s chest returning with a vengeance.
“Okay,” Yeosang breathes, trying not to sound too eager. “Just meet me at the parking garage when you’re done here, no rush. Uh, level three,” he smiles, standing from the vanity chair.
“The parking structure by the Cheesecake Factory?” Seonhwa asks, also seemingly unable to stop smiling.
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
~~~~~
After Yeosang walks through the mostly empty mall to his car, he sits inside, locks the doors, and panic-calls Wooyoung.
“Hey, where’ve you been?” Wooyoung asks upon pickup. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I mean yes but no, I’m taking Seonghwa-hyung out,” he says, and immediately holds the phone away from his ear at the resulting screech from his best friend.
“You finally grew a pair and did it!” Wooyoung cheers. “See? I knew he’d say yes. With the way he looks at you—”
“Woo, wait, I don’t know if it’s officially a date,” he hisses before Wooyoung can get too carried away.
“Wait, what exactly did you say?”
“I said, will you let me take you out for dessert later,” Yeosang stressedly parrots, picking at the loose threads of his jeans.
“And how did he seem?”
“Um, happy, I think,” Yeosang frowns. Wooyoung sighs.
“Stop doubting yourself Yeosangie, I really think he wants it to be a date. And if he doesn’t, if we’ve collectively misread every fucking green light, then I’ll be here with cuddles and hot cocoa, okay?”
Sometimes, occasionally, rarely, Yeosang does not regret being friends with Wooyoung.
“Love you, Woo,” he sighs, then tries to calm his nerves by talking about other things.
(“How was the potato tornado?”
“Oh, it was delicious.” A pause. “That thing was so hard to eat though I had to take a break halfway through.”)
And by the time he sees Seonghwa approach his car, donned in a soft hoodie and bag slung over his shoulder, Yeosang feels better. Confident. Assured.
“Hey,” he greets as Seonghwa situates himself in the front seat.
“Hey yourself,” Seonghwa teases, flashing Yeosang a smile. “Where are we going?”
And so Yeosang drives them to his favorite late-night ice cream shop, laughing when Seonghwa sings along to old NSYNC on the radio, then singing back twice as loud.
It isn’t until they’ve collected their cones and sat on the roof of Yeosang’s car in the parking lot looking up at the stars, that Yeosang dares to ask,
“Is this a date?”
And Seonghwa just smiles. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch or freeze, only stares at Yeosang with the same earnest openness he always does.
“I don’t know if that was your intention when you asked,” he starts, voice low, “but if you want it to be… I wouldn’t mind,” he breathes, soft and sweet.
“Then would you mind this?” Yeosang asks, leaning in to close the distance between them.
Seonghwa sucks in a breath, but shakes his head, and Yeosang takes the plunge—
—literally, swooping down to steal a lick of Seonghwa’s ice cream to a squawk of indignance.
“You brat!” Seonghwa laughs, stealing a lick of Yeosang’s in turn. Yeosang is laughing too hard to properly clean up the mess his mouth must be, but apparently Seonghwa doesn’t care as their mouths finally meet in a kiss, all smiles and sticky and sweet, and Yeosang can’t help but feel like this is the start of something good.