Archive of Our Own

“Shua,” Jeonghan says, only to be met with total silence.

“Shua,” Jeonghan says again, louder this time, a whine in his voice. Joshua finally looks up from his phone.

“What?” he asks, voice flat.

Jeonghan doesn’t appreciate the lack of energy in his reaction — isn’t Joshua his friend? Shouldn’t he be taking Jeonghan’s problems seriously?

“Never mind,” Jeonghan sniffs, looking away. If Joshua isn’t going to give him the attention he deserves, he’ll just ask someone else. Seokmin always answers his calls.

“No, really,” Joshua says, laughing. “What is it? You can tell me.”

“Shua,” Jeonghan says again, turning his attention back towards him. He squints to make sure Joshua is really listening. It looks like he is — there’s still a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes are focused on Jeonghan’s, at least. “I think I need to like,” Jeonghan takes a deep breath, fortifying himself against the incoming humiliation. “Propose.”

There’s a moment of total silence.

“To Seungcheol,” Jeonghan adds as an afterthought, just in case that wasn’t clear.

“Wow,” Joshua drawls. “You need to propose? Very romantic.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Jeonghan warns.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Joshua says, but he’s fucking laughing as he says it, so Jeonghan doesn’t believe him for a minute. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“You’re surprised?” Jeonghan frowns. What is that supposed to mean? He and Seungcheol have been together for years now. Is it so strange that Jeonghan would want to marry him?

“Not because of that!” Joshua protests. Jeonghan glares suspiciously — he doesn’t feel very reassured. “Just. You know you can’t actually do that here, right?”

“Yes, I know that,” Jeonghan says dryly. Is that all he was worried about? Jeonghan isn’t stupid — he does things impulsively, sometimes, but not that impulsively. “We can just do it somewhere else.”

“It would still be public, though,” Joshua says slowly, looking a little more serious now. “Have you really thought about this? People would probably find out.”

“Oh, that won’t matter,” Jeonghan says, waving a hand.

“Um,” Joshua says, clearly starting to get concerned. “It’ll matter, Jeonghan. It will definitely matter.”

Whatever. Jeonghan doesn’t care about that.

“You’re focusing on all the wrong parts, here,” he says, starting to get irritated.

“What’s the right part?” Joshua asks. He’s speaking very slowly, like he’s afraid of the answer, or maybe like he thinks there’s something Jeonghan doesn’t understand. Stupid.

“How I’m supposed to do it,” Jeonghan says patiently. “Don’t I have to do something special, or whatever?”

“When you … propose?” Joshua stares at him, dead-eyed. “I think you should probably do something special, yeah.”

“Like what?” Jeonghan whines, flinging himself backwards onto the couch. “I tried to think of things, but they all seemed so … hard.”

“They all seemed so hard,” Joshua repeats, voice flat. “Really, Jeonghan?”

“Wine … flowers … ” Jeonghan trails off dramatically. “Doesn’t that all seem like a bit much?”

“Well,” Joshua says, squinting as he thinks about it. “You don’t have to do any of that, right?”

“But I need Seungcheol to know I’m taking it seriously,” Jeonghan says, poking at Joshua’s foot just to be annoying. Joshua shifts pointedly, moving his foot further away. Jeonghan shifts closer and Joshua retaliates immediately, poking Jeonghan’s shoulder with his toe.

“Stop,” Jeonghan tries to say, but he can’t hold back his laughter. Joshua takes his foot back, a warning look in his eye. Jeonghan shifts over a few centimetres — a truce.

“Seungcheol knows you take him seriously,” Joshua says, and he sounds like he means it. “Just do something sappy, he loves that shit. Recreate the place you first met, something like that.”

“Oh, god,” Jeonghan says, shooting that one down immediately. “No. Absolutely not.”

“What’s wrong with where you met?” Joshua says, and then he frowns, tilting his head to the side. “Where did you meet?”

“None of your business,” Jeonghan says, voice a little tight. Joshua squints at him suspiciously.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Well, when’s your anniversary?”

“None of your business,” Jeonghan repeats firmly.

“You’re really not gonna tell me? I’m your best friend,” Joshua says, clear from his tone that he thinks Jeonghan’s being childish.

“Especially not you,” Jeonghan says, reaching up to flick Joshua’s ear for good measure. Joshua just swats him away with a laugh. Annoying.

Seungcheol chooses that precise moment to walk in the front door, timing excellent as always, the beeping of the lock the only warning they get before he comes in from the walkway. Jeonghan shoots a meaningful glare at Joshua, who scoffs in response.

“What — oh, hey,” Seungcheol stops when he sees Joshua on their couch, Jeonghan sitting on the floor near his legs. He nods at the two of them in greeting.

Seungcheol’s clearly just come back from the gym, sweaty and flushed, and Jeonghan rakes his gaze up and down slowly, making sure Seungcheol sees him do it. Seungcheol flushes even redder.

“Wow,” Jeonghan drawls. “You look disgusting.” Next to him, Joshua snorts quietly.

“Thanks, babe,” Seungcheol rolls his eyes as he drops his gym bag on the floor and moves towards the kitchen for a glass of water.

“I bet you could really use a shower right now,” Jeonghan continues undeterred, and Seungcheol’s eyes flick up where he’s standing at the sink.

“Yeah,” he says slowly, bringing his glass up to take a drink. Jeonghan watches the line of his throat, eyes caught.

“I could help you with that,” Jeonghan says, and Joshua makes a quietly revolted sound next to him.

“Wow,” he says. “That’s my cue to go, then.”

“Great,” Jeonghan responds, not taking his eyes off of Seungcheol as he flails a hand in Joshua’s direction, stopping when he gets his knee and slapping it once dismissively.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Joshua says quietly, and then, much louder and aimed in Seungcheol’s direction, “See you later!”

“What? Yeah,” Seungcheol agrees, dragging his gaze towards Joshua for a brief nod, then immediately snapping it back to Jeonghan. Jeonghan smirks, delighted.

When Seungcheol presses him into the bed after their shower they’re both damp and flushed and laughing, Jeonghan so pleased he’s dizzy with it.

“This’ll be even better when we’re married,” he breathes out, pulling Seungcheol down to press a kiss against his mouth, open and a little sloppy.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol breathes, and then he freezes and pulls back, eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Wait, what?” he asks, pulling back to sit up on his heels, still breathing hard. Jeonghan lets out a disappointed whine, reaching out to try to pull him back.

“What?” he repeats, hands on Seungcheol’s hips, trying to pull him closer.

“When we’re married?” Seungcheol asks, looking equal parts turned on and confused.

“Five-year plan,” Jeonghan bluffs, tugging hard enough that Seungcheol finally leans forward again, elbows braced on either side of Jeonghan’s head, Jeonghan bracketed in between.

“Oh,” Seungcheol breathes, so close Jeonghan can feel it against his face. It should be gross but instead it just makes him feel crazier. The desperation never seems to go away, so intense Jeonghan never quite knows what to do with it.

He grabs Seungcheol by the jaw and pulls their mouths back together roughly, lets his body say what his mouth can’t.

Later, with Seungcheol crashed out next to him for an impromptu afternoon nap, Jeonghan stares at his phone screen, biting his lip.

might have done something stupid, he sends Joshua, then, after thinking about it for a second, but maybe not?

The eye-roll emoji Joshua sends in response comes immediately, like he was waiting for it.

Whatever. Jeonghan tosses the phone to the side and scoots over towards Seungcheol instead, pressing his forehead to the back of Seungcheol’s neck. Seungcheol murmurs something in his sleep, but he doesn’t stir.

Jeonghan’s heart feels so full it’s terrifying.

The real story of how they met is humiliating, and it makes him feel small, and Jeonghan knows he’ll never tell it to anyone — not even Joshua.

Seungcheol was still working his first gig as an idol manager, trying to keep track of seven kids too young to understand the strain their exuberance put on the adults around them, when one of them had gone missing backstage at an awards show.

He’d burst into the bathroom hoping to find an unruly teenager and found Jeonghan heaving into a toilet instead, loud enough to be unmistakeable as soon as the bathroom door shut behind him.

Jeonghan’s own manager had been conspicuously absent, something Seungcheol later grumbled about at length. It was sweet, how he missed the point completely — Jeonghan had wanted it that way, had deliberately chosen his staff for their indifference. He wanted to be adored in public, sure, but once the doors closed behind him he didn’t want anyone to care.

At the time he’d been unsettled by how much Seungcheol had fretted over him, helping Jeonghan up from the floor and forcing him to take Seungcheol’s phone number, urging Jeonghan to call if he needed anything even though he had to have known Jeonghan wouldn’t. It wasn’t what Jeonghan wanted, and the kindness was so stark it burned, sharp and startling.

The warmth of Seungcheol’s hands had been just as much of a relief as their absence was, once he’d left Jeonghan alone in the bathroom. Jeonghan was so used to indifference, carefully cultivated, that it felt kinder for Seungcheol to leave him alone.

He’d thought that was the end of it; had washed his trembling hands and rinsed his mouth and dabbed his face clean with paper towels before he went out to meet his manager, letting himself be guided to wherever he needed to go next.

But of course the universe doesn’t work like that, and when he arrived for a radio interview the next week, Seungcheol’s idol boys were at the studio too, their schedules overlapping so perfectly that it felt like Jeonghan was being mocked.

“I was supposed to debut as an idol,” Seungcheol admitted later over drinks, his big doe eyes looking glum.

Jeonghan laughed, dry and ugly.

“Me too,” he said, and downed another shot. Seungcheol blinked, startled.

“You do have the face for it,” he said after a moment, contemplative, and Jeonghan laughed again.

“That and nothing else,” he said. Seungcheol looked like he wanted to apologize — or worse, say something encouraging — so Jeonghan was quick to wave an airy hand. “It was for the best, don't worry. This worked out much better.”

He wasn’t precisely sure that was the truth, but it was easy enough to lie about it — it did work out for him, technically. Jeonghan has always been very good at technicalities.

“Are you sure?” Seungcheol had asked, completely ignoring Jeonghan’s attempts to minimize it. Later, Jeonghan will think maybe that’s where he’d been caught — by Seungcheol’s wide eyes, somehow cutting straight through Jeonghan’s bullshit without even trying.

“Cheol-ah? You’d still love me if I quit my job, right?” Jeonghan calls from where he’s lying starfished on the living room floor — he’d slid down off the couch at some point during the baseball game they were watching and never bothered to push himself back up, and now he’s too tired to get up and wash his face.

“What? Yeah,” Seungcheol calls back, voice a little muffled through the bathroom door.

“What about when I’m old and ugly? You’ll still love me then, right?”

“You’ll never be ugly,” Seungcheol calls immediately, not even pausing to think about it.

Jeonghan sits up, overwhelmed.

“Oh my god,” he says, faintly.

“Babe?” The door opens to reveal Seungcheol, looking a little concerned as he wipes his hands dry on his basketball shorts. For a moment Jeonghan just stares at him — the furrowed set of his eyebrows, the way his mouth is hanging in an open-mouthed pout. If Jeonghan doesn’t say anything he’s going to start whining any second now.

“What?” Seungcheol laughs self-consciously, as if on cue. Fuck. Jeonghan loves him so much.

“We need to get married,” he says decisively. Seungcheol’s eyes widen.

“Like, right now?”

It’s past midnight on a Wednesday night, and even if they lived in a country where marriage was an actual option Jeonghan’s pretty sure there would be some sort of … paperwork … involved. Probably.

“Yes,” Jeonghan says firmly, pushing those thoughts aside. Details are for boring people, and for people who file their own taxes. Fancy proposals are for people like Joshua, who find genuine enjoyment in strumming their guitar uselessly in public places. “Let’s be married. Starting right now.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows are still knit together in confusion, but he nods slowly anyway — either he’s getting it, or he wants Jeonghan to think he’s getting it. Jeonghan will take either option, as long as it gets him where he wants.

“You’d be my husband, right? You’d do anything for me?” Jeonghan pushes himself up so he’s lounging on one elbow, as seductive as he can manage while wearing ratty sweatpants and sporting what he knows from experience to be a pretty impressive cowlick.

It seems to work for Seungcheol, who smiles like they’re sharing a secret as he comes closer. Jeonghan feels a thrill of anticipation.

“I would,” Seungcheol says, crouching down on his hands and knees. He leans forward to press a kiss against Jeonghan’s mouth. “Do anything for you.”

Jeonghan lets out a wild laugh, delighted, and rolls to his back, pulling Seungcheol until he’s fully on top of him, barely any space between them at all.

“Then you’re my husband,” Jeonghan breathes against Seungcheol’s mouth, smiling so wide he can’t even kiss him properly. Seungcheol pulls back and kisses his nose instead, and then his cheek. The tender skin under his eye.

“Okay,” Seungcheol agrees, voice gravelly and serious. “I’m your husband.”

Jeonghan’s traitorous heart swells in his chest, joy rising and rising and rising until he thinks he’ll burst.