Work Text:
it happens like they’ve always happened: randomly.
it’s a rare, lazy mid-afternoon at the dorm and jooheon had been laying on the couch dozing off for the past hour when minhyuk comes out of his room, hair damp and pouty, and scoots him over, trying to make room for himself.
“hyung, i’m so comfy, the other couch is free,” jooheon whines sleepily, out of habit more than anything, but he doesn’t resist when minhyuk pushes him around enough to sit with jooheon’s head on his lap.
“is this not comfier?” minhyuk asks, and there is a hint of challenge is his voice that means if you say no, hyung will hit you, which is enough for jooheon, who just wants peace, to drop it with a hum.
(also, yes, it was way comfier. no, he is not going to admit it).
jooheon goes back to closing his eyes, turning on his side and maybe he nuzzles his face a bit on minhyuk’s thighs. they are soft and warm and, indeed, very comfy. he can just tell there’s a shit-eating grin on minhyuk’s face as he cards through jooheon’s hair lightly, but whatever.
“jooheonie,” minhyuk singsongs, “—tell me it’s comfier now~”
jooheon frowns, eyes still closed, but he can feel a treacherous smile trying to sneak it’s way from his lips, “—it’s not.”
“no? what is this, then?” jooheon feels minhyuk poking on his dimple softly and then he can’t keep himself from breaking into a full smile. he has to purse his lips to try to make it disappear, which he knows is not very effective, but it sends a message.
“nothing,” he mutters, biting on his cheek to keep himself from smiling.
“if you don’t admit it i’m gonna smooch this dimple.”
jooheon opens his eyes, squirms a bit on minhyuk’s lap so he can look at him properly. his eyes have that mischievous glint jooheon knows he means it, even though his face is bright with his pretty smile. it’s a dare, so of course jooheon says “—no,” putting up the most insolent face he can muster because, yes, he can take on that challenge, thank you very much.
so much for peace today, huh.
“you asked for it,” minhyuk laughs and holds jooheon’s face with both his hands, leaning down. jooheon squirms and fights it, even though the idea of minhyuk’s lips on his face is always brilliant. more than brilliant, perfect, even. perhaps a bit too great, if jooheon allows himself to be honest. it’s just that, since minhyuk makes things so hard for him with his pretty lips and his soft skin, his husky laugh and his messy hair, it would be unfair if jooheon didn’t try to make things a just bit hard for him.
minhyuk does, indeed, smooch his dimple. it’s loud and playful, and he gives jooheon’s dimple a few other small, rapid-fire kisses before jooheon can break himself free from minhyuk’s grip. he sits up and pretends to be mad. pretends minhyuk’s kisses don’t leave his skin burning on the aftermath. pretends he is not gradually going mad because he can’t stop himself from feeling all these stupid, confusing things that make his skin tingle from the inside when minhyuk smiles at him—that smile jooheon knows is for him.
he takes a deep breath and is very proud of himself when he manages to groan and push minhyuk’s grabby hands away for a few seconds as he starts whining, “—ah, hyung,” but the feeling of pride goes away really quickly as minhyuk hums and assaults his cheek with tiny kisses again.
it shouldn’t be a big deal. it’s not a big deal. they do this all the time, minhyuk’s hands on him, jooheon’s random hugs, the cuddling, the way minhyuk’s chin fits over jooheon’s shoulder just right, the soothing touches, their fleeting love declarations, the kisses on the cheek.
(sometimes around the earlobe, casually, or on the neck).
normally jooheon would just add kisses on the dimples to the list of minhyuk things that are not a big deal and move on with his life, but there is something about minhyuk today that is just overwhelming. he is so soft, and he smells so good, and he is always so pretty, and jooheon is so, so tired. there is a monster of a feeling clawing its way from jooheon’s ribs up his throat and he is having trouble keeping it in.
so jooheon is not at fault when, on what feels like the twentieth dimple smooch, he can’t stop himself from turning his head just a bit, his hand working on instinct as it holds minhyuk’s chin, and bringing their lips together in a kiss.
it is soft and chaste, just a bit more than a graze. it ignites jooheon all the same, and they both pull back startled, like they were both struck by lightning. they stare at each other for seconds or years, jooheon can’t keep up, his face and ears burning with shame as what he did starts sinking in. he kissed minhyuk. his group member. his friend. he kissed minhyuk, he ruined everything.
jooheon doesn’t even process what is happening when he closes his eyes, head down, and says, “—i’m sorry, hyung, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to—”
minhyuk’s hand closes around jooheon’s wrist and it’s only then he realizes he was ready to actually get up and leave. he can feel his face burning and he doesn’t know how he is going to look at minhyuk again without things being awkward. minhyuk, who is kind and loving and perfect in every way, and who is now going to avoid jooheon forever. or be condescending, which would be so much worse. jooheon doesn’t know what he was thinking. he can’t breathe.
“hey,” he says, quietly, and jooheon can’t look at him, too scared to see disgust or pity in his always kind, playful eyes, “—don’t leave?”
there’s something about minhyuk’s voice that sounds almost alien. it’s small and hesitant, like he is afraid of something, and jooheon can’t deal with that. his own voice is raw, like his throat suddenly forgot how to make sounds, when he says again, “—i’m really sorry.”
“shut up. just—” minhyuk takes a deep breath, and that makes jooheon finally raise his eyes to look at him. minhyuk’s looks like he is also having trouble thinking. it is almost like jooheon can see the cogs working inside his brain, watches the very moment something clicks and his eyes light up, like he has decided on something. jooheon feels the need to brace himself from freefalling.
minhyuk’s hands go back to jooheon’s face hesitantly, framing his chin and cheek carefully. jooheon can only focus on the feeling of absolute dread taking over his body, like he is drowning. like he ruined something beautiful. minhyuk says, “honey,” and then softly, fonder: “—jooheonie. just. i’m gonna kiss your dimple.”
jooheon is sure he is going to spontaneously combust — confusion, fear and years of denial coming together inside his chest like torrent, heart ready to burst his ribs out. minhyuk’s lips touch his cheek delicately again, but it’s a slower, warmer kiss. and then one of his hands is sneaking to jooheon’s nape as he kisses jooheon’s cheek again, and again, and a bit more to the side, and suddenly his lips are so close to jooheon’s he is sure he could die. it’s cruel and perfect and his brain can’t quite follow what is happening.
minhyuk kisses jooheon’s chin, and then the corner of his lips. it’s only when he finally, finally brushes against his lips that jooheon’s brain catches up and goes oh.
oh.
the kiss is clumsy at first. jooheon doesn’t care: the hungry part of him that has been repressed and hidden for years was now awake and starving, ready to melt his whole core into the kiss. minhyuk’s lips feel so soft and sure against his, jooheon can only yield up his mouth for him with a small hum, dazed. and then, just like that, it’s not clumsy anymore: it’s slow, light and teasing, minhyuk’s lips capturing his in small movements — a lazy peck at the center of jooheon’s mouth, and then a fluttering kiss in his top lip, a shy lick at his bottom one.
when they part, jooheon’s whole body is tingling. minhyuk’s lips are very red and wet and pretty, and what jooheon feels overwhelming his chest can only be described as holy fervor. he raises a hand and traces minhyuk’s cheek with his thumb reverently, feeling high, and minhyuk laughs, shy, looping his arms over jooheon’s shoulders and hiding his face in the crook of his neck.
“i’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmurs, and jooheon sneaks a hand around his waist without thinking. his brain doesn’t know how to process things anymore.
“what?” jooheon asks very eloquently because that is not something he would have ever considered. he has yearned for minhyuk for such a long time his own desire is the only thing he knows, it cannot be matched. to think minhyuk could have been alight in the same way—
“yeah.”
“no,” jooheon starts, but then doesn’t really know what to say. it just makes no sense, so he settles for: “—for how long?”
“i don’t know,” minhyuk says, raising himself from jooheon’s neck and looking at him shyly. his lower lip is trapped between his teeth for a distracting number of seconds before he continues, “—i would have kissed you when we were trainees.”
jooheon squints at him, suspicious, “—really?”
“easily.”
jooheon scoffs, “—shut up.”
“it’s true!” he laughs and punches jooheon’s shoulder with no strength, then he teases, “—you were a really hot trainee.”
“hyung,” jooheon whines, “—please shut up.”
minhyuk grins, dangerous and cocky, and raises his chin to watch jooheon, “—make me.”
normally, that would be impossible. this much jooheon knows. but when he kisses minhyuk again — harder, hungry and with purpose, electricity running through them when their tongues touch, hand on minhyuk’s hair, the other on his jaw, five years of denial shoved into a messy kiss—
they part, breathless and a bit startled. minhyuk opens his mouth to say something, and then he closes it, speechless.
jooheon smiles. he can get used to that.