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1.
“I don’t get sick,” Win says convincingly, from where he’s lying prone and listless in his bed.
“The evidence I see in front of me says otherwise,” Team counters, the bed dipping at Win’s side as he perches on the edge to look down at him.
“I feel fine,” Win insists, except his nose is completely blocked so it comes out sounding more like “I feel fibe”.
“You certainly don’t look fine, hia."
Win's eyes are glassy and a little bloodshot. He’s also lay lethargically back against the pillows instead of on his feet terrorising Team as he normally would be. As soon as Team had arrived at Win’s room, he’d taken one look at him and cancelled their date plans so that Win could rest instead.
Apparently, however, Win is kind of argumentative when he’s sick.
“You should check my temperature,” Win suggests.
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have to ‘cheb your temberature’,” Team mocks. Win glares at him, but the effect is lost from beneath all the blankets Team has piled on him. “You’re sick.”
“Do it anyway,” Win whines back.
Blowing out an exasperated breath, Team reaches out with one hand toward Win’s forehead, but Win tilts his head sideways in a neat dodge.
“Not like that. Your hand isn’t as accurate.”
“What would you like me to use, Dr Phawin?” Team says, tone laced with sarcasm.
“Your lips,” Win replies, like it’s obvious. “Everyone knows that’s the best method.”
Figuring this conversation will end quicker if he just gives in—the sooner he can force Win to rest, the sooner he’ll get better—he leans down and presses his lips to the clammy skin of Win's forehead. The skin burns hot beneath them and, in the absence of a real thermometer, he supposes that’s as good as anything at confirming he has a temperature.
As Team pulls back, Win’s eyes have fallen closed and his lips are stretched into a bleary smile. “That was nice,” he says, then promptly sneezes three times in a row.
Team slowly moves his arms down from the protective shield he’d thrown them into. He shoots Win a knowing look.
“Team,” Win says (“Teab”), “I think I might be sick.”
2.
They’re climbing up a mountainous forest, trees and huge boulders scattered all around them up a steep incline, and Team is beginning to regret letting his boyfriend convince him to come hiking. Apparently, there’s an incredible waterfall that Team just has to see—at least if you ask Win.
“How much further,” Team whines, feet almost slipping on a stray rock, “I keep almost falling because of these dumb shoes.”
Win, standing a little higher than him on a rocky outcrop, holds his hand down to him in offering. “If you hold my hand, you won’t slip,” he says pointedly.
“I’m not a child,” Team grumbles, and then, when Win wiggles his fingers insistently, takes his hand and allows Win to pull him up the steep rocks.
Eventually, they emerge from a grove of trees and out onto a flat ledge. Team is preoccupied with making sure he doesn’t trip over any loose rocks, eyes trained at the ground, so he doesn’t notice they’ve arrived anywhere until Win stops beside him.
“This is what I wanted to show you.”
Team has no idea what it is that Win wanted to show him. He’s too busy staring down at the place where the ledge they’re standing on disappears into nothingness; his insides twisting at the gaping maw of the sheer drop hundreds of feet below.
“Team,” Win’s head pops into his line of vision. At the angle he’s tilted, he looks like an inquisitive cat. “You have to actually look up to see it.”
“No thanks,” he replies mock cheerily, “I’m good.”
Win’s head disappears, but not before Team registers the look of realisation dawn across his face. Win inches closer to him in his periphery, which makes the short sleeve of his t-shirt brush against his arm. Without looking, Team’s hand comes up to desperately clutch at the material.
Win huffs a quiet laugh next to him. “You said you weren’t scared of heights,” he teases.
“I’m not,” Team replies exasperatedly, without looking away from the edge, “But I am afraid of plummeting to my death.” His hand tightens around Win’s sleeve. “There’s nothing to hold onto out here.”
He still doesn’t take his eyes off the drop below, but he can feel Win’s fond gaze warming his temple. One big hand moves into his line of vision, outstretched in offering. His eyes skim along those long fingers up to the delicate, slim bones of his wrist; then over the lines of veins and sinew until eventually, his gaze flits up to Win’s gentle smile.
“Come here,” he says, “I’ll hold onto you.”
Tentatively, Team makes tiny shuffling steps sideways until he’s closer to him. Win steps behind and slides his arms around his waist like a safety belt, holding him firm against his chest. Win is a warm and solid line at his back, anchoring him safely to the surface, and he relaxes instantly.
“I won’t let you fall,” Win places a delicate kiss to the shell of his ear, “You’re safe with me.” Team’s hands come up to cradle his arms in response. Win rests his chin in the dip of one shoulder. “Now, look up.”
Team does, and feels his breath catch in his throat.
Across from them, white frothed water cascades down a series of rocky outcrops, giving the effect of multiple waterfalls rather than just one. The water tumbles down the moss-covered rocks and into a deep, azure-hued plunge pool, with legions of wildflowers sprouting all around its bank. The sun blazing overhead shines through the plume of water vapour as the falls crash into the pool, setting it aglow with a rainbow, like something out of a fairytale.
There was power and brilliance within it; tumultuous yet tranquil at the same time.
Team lets out a noise of awe, and Win squeezes his waist in agreement.
Okay, maybe the hiking was worth it.
3.
The mall is relatively quiet considering the time of day. Standing outside a clothing store, Team scrolls aimlessly on his phone as he and Win wait for Dean and Pharm to finish buying whatever it is they wanted from inside.
Win pipes up from beside him. “I’m cold.”
“You should have brought a jacket,” Team replies, pocketing his phone in his own zip-up hoodie.
“We live in Thailand,” Win reasons, “It’s supposed to be warm here.”
“We’re in a mall,” Team counters, “The air conditioning is always freezing here.”
Win falls silent next to him. Team is about to feel smug about winning the argument until he notices that Win genuinely is cold, hunching down around himself and running his hands up and down his arms. He’s wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, and Team can track the goosebumps that have erupted across his skin, raising the hair on his arms.
Glancing around warily, and then, before he can change his mind, he unzips his jacket and holds the sides of it open in offering, which kind of makes him look like a bat about to take flight.
Win stares at him uncomprehendingly.
Team looks down at the jacket, then back at Win expectantly, says, “Well?” and this time Win finally gets a clue, looking absolutely delighted, before he comes forward to tuck himself into Team’s body.
He pulls the sides of his jacket around Win’s arms, encasing him in it as best as he can, in what he can only describe as a mockery of a hug. Win happily snuggles in as close as he can get, arms gliding to wrap around his waist, thankfully hidden from view by the jacket.
The jacket isn’t big enough to fit them both but the combination of his partially covered arms and their shared body heat stops Win from shivering.
The corner of the mall they’re in is relatively quiet, but Team can’t help but notice a couple of passers-by do a double take as they spot them.
“Hia, people are looking,” Team says quietly.
Win rests the side of his head on Team’s shoulder, nose softly brushing Team’s neck. “They’re looking because you’re so cute,” he mumbles.
Just as Team is winding up to complain, he spots a pretty student looking in their direction.
Well, looking in Win’s direction.
Her eyes linger on the tribal tattoo covering his left shoulder, then flick up to the piercings in his ear. Her gaze is keen with interest—until she catches Team’s menacing look and hastily looks away.
Team tugs his jacket higher to cover Win’s shoulder. “No, they’re not,” he says darkly.
Win lifts his head to shoot him a puzzled look, but Team is saved from explaining by Dean and Pharm emerging from the shop behind them. Dean is holding two bags in his hand but pauses when he catches sight of them.
“Do you two need some time alone?”
“No,” Team answers, at the same time as Win says “Yes”.
Team pulls back, causing Win to let out a tiny noise of protest at the sudden loss of his heat source. Team is so reluctantly endeared that he shrugs his jacket off completely and hands it to Win, who immediately puts it on and snuggles down happily into its warmth. Team watches in amusement as Win zips it to his neck and buries his nose in the material.
“Better?”
“Better,” Win replies happily.
Shaking his head, they follow Dean and Pharm to the next store.
As they wait for Pharm outside one of the changing rooms, standing underneath the ice-cold air conditioning, Team has to suppress a shiver.
Great, now he’s the one who’s cold. He notices Win’s head turn his way in his periphery, so he forces himself to stand still. It would be embarrassing if he gave Win his jacket only to need it back no less than fifteen minutes later.
A few stores later, he turns to the side to see Win has completely vanished. He ends up twirling in a circle to try and catch a glimpse of him around the vast mall, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Hia?” he calls out tentatively.
Just when he’s wondering if he’s going to end up on the news reporting a missing person’s case, someone sidles up behind him and deposits something warm and soft over his shoulders.
Team jumps only slightly until he recognises the flash of blonde hair.
Win silently turns him by the shoulder until he’s facing him and helps Team push his arms through the sleeves of what is, apparently, Team’s new jacket. Team watches as Win focuses intently on ensuring it settles comfortably around his body.
The new jacket is almost the same as the one Win is wearing but in a bright red that matches his university backpack. Team can immediately feel the difference in the quality of the material; it’s soft and plush and, knowing Win, he likely paid a fair amount for it.
Team allows Win to brush imaginary fluff off his shoulders. “Why didn’t you just buy this one for yourself instead of keeping mine?”
Win shrugs, busies himself zipping the jacket up, then snaps the tag off and pockets it.
“Because the one I’m wearing smells like you.”
And then he turns to catch up with Dean and Pharm, while Team is left to stare blankly after him, the warmth flooding through him no longer just due to the jacket.
4.
“Ten more laps each,” Win calls out over the pool, “Then you can all go home.”
There’s a varied collection of noises, ranging from relief to groans of pain, and Win aims a good-natured laugh down at them.
“Come on, I went way easier on you than Dean would have.” He points a finger down at them threateningly. “If any of you don’t complete the laps, I’ll know.” And then he turns and heads toward the office.
Team watches him go, then goes back to floating peacefully on his back. He’s tired, and the coach of the current session is his boyfriend, he’s pretty sure he’s allowed to slack off this once.
There’s the sounds of splashing around him as the others focus on completing their laps. Team lets his mind drift, and only turns himself upright once the pool falls silent, signalling Win’s return.
Team chances a look at him. Win’s expression is unreadable.
“Everybody out, practice is over,” Win orders, and then, as Team moves to swim to the ledge with the others, he calls out, “Not you, Team. I said ten more laps.”
Team stares at him in disbelief, cheeks flooding with heat, but Win just folds his arms over his chest and looks down at him impassively. The other members shoot him sympathetic looks but otherwise do absolutely nothing to help; all of them heaving themselves out of the pool and filing to the locker room without looking back.
Win stands there and watches silently until he’s halfway through his eighth lap, then turns and disappears into the locker room.
By the time Team slams open the locker room door, dripping wet and furious, the other members have already hastily changed and left. Irritation buzzing under his skin, he throws his cap onto the bench and follows the sound of running water to the team showers.
The cubicles are private, separated out side by side with their own individual doors, and the only one currently occupied is on the far left. He registers the towel draped over the wall as Win’s, and shoves loudly into the cubicle next door without even removing his swim shorts.
“You sound mad,” Win’s voice echoes off the tiles toward his left, but Team is too annoyed to reply, so he just angrily turns the shower on. The ice cold water that hits his chest does nothing to cool his irritation.
“You ordered me not to treat you any differently at practice just because we’re dating,” Win says into the angry silence, “I was only honouring my promise. If any of the juniors had defied Dean like that, they would have been facing fifteen laps at least.” Team can hear the amusement in his voice. “You should count yourself lucky it was only ten.”
Logically, Team knows that’s true, but the combination of his guilt at undermining Win and the embarrassment at Win calling him out so publicly has something he can’t place buzzing under his skin, something vexed and irritated that he needs an outlet for.
The sound of water splashing against the tiles increases. Team can imagine it—Win pushing his wet hair off his face, slicked back, naked and wet save for his tattoos. God, he’s infuriating. And stupidly good looking.
And a very convenient outlet.
Without pausing to think, he switches the shower off and flings open the door, immediately moving to try the handle on Win’s cubicle. It’s unlocked, swinging open with a turn of his hand.
Team barges in and locks the door behind him. As he turns, he tries not to get distracted by his boyfriend in all his wet, naked glory. His annoyance has him crowding closer to Win.
“Did you have to do it in front of them?” Team demands.
“I’m the vice president of the swim team,” Win replies, raising a condescending eyebrow at Team. Team’s blood boils. “I was just doing my job.”
Team steps closer, and Win’s eyes flash with amusement even as he lets his back hit the wall.
“You are the most infuriating human being on this planet,” Team says darkly.
Despite Team having backed him against the shower wall, Win doesn’t look even the slightest bit worried. In fact, he looks more relaxed now than he’s ever seen him, like Team is exactly where he wants him to be.
“Ooooh,” Win teases lowly, “you wanna kiss me so bad right now.”
Team’s eyes dart down to his lips, which doesn’t exactly help his argument. With difficulty, he manages to focus back on Win’s eyes. “Shut up,” he says, voice hard.
The space between their faces shrinks to a mere inch, the air between them crackling with charged tension. Win leans in to speak into his ear, and Team goes rigid as his lips brush the shell of it.
“Make me.”
Before he has a chance to pull back, Team is gripping him by the nape of his neck and sealing their lips together in a hot, desperate slide. Win wastes no time pulling him closer, then flips their positions until Team’s back hits the wall, hand cradling the back of his head to cushion the impact.
Team pulls back with a gasp, hands moving to clutch helplessly at Win’s waist, as Win speaks into the skin of his neck.
“If you want boyfriend privileges so badly.” He presses a line of open mouth kisses down his throat; Team’s head drops back to the wall. “There is something I can do for you that I don’t do for anyone else.”
“Will it get you to stop talking?” Team asks the ceiling, only a little bit breathless.
When he chances a look down, Win has already dropped to his knees, thumbs hooking in the waistband of Team’s swim shorts. Team makes a noise in his throat as Win smirks up at him.
“Let’s find out.”
5.
Team honestly doesn’t remember which one of them started the conversation. All he knows is that one minute they’re sprawled on Win’s bed for a tutoring session, their textbooks and notes scattered around in various places, and the next they’re having a discussion about hidden talents.
“I can wiggle my ears,” Win claims. He’s lay on his tummy with a book open but forgotten in front of him, swinging his feet in the air.
Team tilts his head to look at him from his position on his back. “Prove it." When Win only shoots him a look, he pokes the closest ear. “Do a little dance for me.”
Win huffs, but his face immediately turns to concentration as he studies the bedspread intently. Just as Team is about to ask if he’s okay, he notices the slight back and forth wiggle of his ear, his dangling piercings shimmering with the movement.
Team sends him an impressed oooooh until Win looks suitably pleased. “That’s talent.”
Win sits up then and peers down at him in interest. “Can you roll your tongue?”
Team shakes his head in denial.
“Me neither,” Win replies, then gazes down at Team contemplatively. “Do you know how to whistle?”
Team’s face twists into disbelief as he sits up to face him. “Of course I know how to whistle, hia," he says, like it’s the silliest question he’s ever heard.
Win shrugs unrepentantly. “Maybe I don’t believe you.”
“I’m pretty sure everyone knows how to whistle."
“Almost eight billion people in the world, and you think all of them can whistle?” Win makes an overexaggerated noise of wonder. “That’s really a bold statement.”
“You’re being deliberately annoying,” Team replies, suddenly suspicious. “Maybe not everyone in the world knows how to whistle, but I can.”
“Prove it,” Win replies simply.
Team rolls his eyes at his antics, but obligingly purses his lips together to do so. Win darts in, quick as a flash, and captures his lips in a kiss.
For a moment, nothing happens.
Win draws back, mouth upturned by smugness alone, while Team stares at him in utter disbelief.
“I can’t believe you fell for that,” Win says, then laughs at his expression.
Team grabs the nearest thing to hand—his pen—and launches it at him at full pelt. Somehow, Win manages to dodge the projectile, laughing freely now, as Team frantically looks around for more ammunition.
Just as he grabs a highlighter, he feels his face stretched wide around a ridiculous smile, and Win catches his wrist when he lifts it. The highlighter falls back to the bed, forgotten.
“You’re smiling,” Win teases.
“I am not,” he insists, shaking his wrist free to hide the bottom half of his face with his hands.
“In that case, I don’t think your face got the memo.”
And then Win shoves Team flat, digging his fingers into the ticklish skin of his ribs over and over, as Team shrieks out a laugh and desperately tries to beat him away with a pillow.
+1
Team has been wound up into a ball of stress the entire day. He’d slept badly, anxious about his looming deadline that he’d had to submit today, and then he’d forgotten his wallet and was unable to buy breakfast on the way to the university. On top of that, his car had gotten a flat on the way home, which he’d have to pay to get changed at some point this week.
As he arrives at Win’s room, sighing tiredly, he hears movement from inside, along with the clatter of plates and utensils. A delicious smell wafts through the closed door, and he quickly lets himself in with the key Win had given him.
Win is meticulously laying out trays of take out containers filled with a vast range of dishes, surrounding the two plates set out opposite each other at the low coffee table.
Team watches the fluid way he moves, the little furrow of concentration between his eyes, and feels his limbs gradually relax for the first time since he’d woken up.
Win glances up, face splitting into a blinding smile, and the stress from the whole day suddenly seems inconsequential in the face of his affection.
“Welcome back,” Win calls warmly, then gestures down to the food. “You sounded tired on the phone, so I ordered from your favourite place.”
It’s such a simple, mundane thing. A small act of kindness that instantly settles his bones back into place.
Kindness comes to Win as easy as breathing. It comes to him just as easy as loving does.
He knows Win loves him—that was something he no longer doubted, even if they haven’t said it out loud yet. It’s been months since Win told him to be brave about his feelings. Months since they made the tentative thing growing between them into something official. Months and months of learning Win, loving Win, being loved by Win.
Team knows without a doubt that Win is his first love. Just as he knows that every time he woke, Win would always be next to him; a protective light against the things in the dark that still haunt him.
Loving Win was a privilege he’d never grow tired of.
Team thinks all of this as he settles cross-legged opposite from him at the low table.
As Win hands him his favourite crispy pork dish, he says, “Thanks,” and then, because he wants to, “I love you.”
Win doesn’t move for a couple of beats, arm still outstretched, face completely frozen in shock. His eyes go a little glassy, and he looks almost like he’s about to cry, and then he buries his face into his hands with a tiny noise of distress.
Team is quick to crawl around the table and settle himself over Win’s lap, knees bracketed either side of him. Win only removes his hands from his face long enough to press his forehead against his chest. The grip that winds around his waist is tight, squeezing like he wants to disappear into him. Team gently rests his temple against the top of his head, arms wrapped securely over his shoulders.
“I can’t believe you just confessed your love to me for the first time ever because I got you food,” he says, voice tight with disbelief.
“Really?” Team asks the top of his head, an amused slant to his mouth. “How else did you think I would do it?”
Win finally lifts his head from his chest. His eyes are still a little wet, but the overwhelmed pink flush is fading from his face. Team smooths down the fly-away hairs that have come loose from his ponytail and waits for him to gather himself.
“You’re right,” Win manages eventually, “I should have known this is how it would go.”
Team shrugs, but he’s smiling. “Probably.”
Win stares at him for a few beats more, eyes searching back and forth between his own, almost like he’s waiting for Team to yell just kidding! and reveal he’s been pranking him the whole time.
Team soothes his thumb gently over one of his cheekbones. “I’m serious, hia,” he says quietly, “I love you.”
This time, those three little words wash over Win like a soothing balm; his eyes fall shut, breath shuddering out in one peaceful exhale. When his eyes flutter back open, the light in them warms Team from the inside out.
“I love you too,” Win says in wonder, and then it’s like a weight has been lifted from his chest. Win smiles at him so wide his cheeks must hurt, and Team can’t help but answer it with a beaming one of his own.
Team leans down to kiss him and Win meets him halfway, tugging him impossibly closer. When they separate, they’re both still smiling.
“Were you ever going to say it first?” Team teases.
Win pouts at him a little. “I didn’t want to freak you out,” he whines.
Team coos at him. “You’re so thoughtful, hia.”
“The amount of times it’s almost slipped out before now is astronomical,” Win stresses. “Remember the other day at the bar when Manaow called you a dick, but you were both kinda drunk, and you responded with ‘you are what you eat’?” Team drops his head into his hands in embarrassment, but Win tugs them away. “Team, I swear to all that is good and holy in this world, I almost asked you to marry me on the spot.”
Team laughs incredulously at that, but a thought has him sobering fairly quickly. Win cocks his head in question, picking up on the sudden change.
“If I never said it first, what would you have done?”
“I have no idea.” Win laughs a little desperately at the thought. “I’m sure I would have had some tricks up my sleeve to get you to confess.”
“Is that your engagement plan for us?” Team asks, only half joking. “Tricking me into saying yes?”
Win goes still beneath him, waits warily for Team to squirm away or take back his words, but when he just looks down at him calmly, if not a little flushed, his face relaxes into a smile.
“Actually, I wasn’t going to trick you into saying yes,” Win states matter-of-factly. “I was going to trick you into proposing.”
Team’s eyebrows fly up. “Oh, really? ”
Win nods once, decidedly. “Really. I want to be practically swooning when that day comes, Team Teerayu.”
Team laughs softly, leaning down to rest his forehead against Win’s.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
*
Bonus Content 1:
Still riding his high from Team’s confession, Win pulls out his phone and texts Dean.
winniethepool: when did pharm first say he loved you?
Dean: at some point after the traumatic flashbacks from our past lives
winniethepool: cool
Dean: when did team first say it?
winniethepool: today
Dean: congrats! what brought on the confession?
winniethepool: I bought him food
Dean: …
winniethepool: i’m going to marry him
Bonus Content 2:
“Team, you’re leaning on my hair,” Manaow whines, pushing him sideways. He makes a vague noise that sounds like a grunt, then flops back against her, no doubt tugging her hair again. “P’Win, your boyfriend is being a dick,” she says huffily, eyes a little bleary from the alcohol.
Team immediately springs up, turning to point at her triumphantly, cheeks flushed from the single drink he’s consumed. “You are what you eat,” he claims, a little too enthusiastically.
On his other side, Win promptly chokes around his drink as he begins to laugh. Team, being the best boyfriend he is, helps him out by slapping him on the back a few times. Even Dean is fighting a smile as he shakes his head at them from across the table.
Team suddenly freezes. “Wait,” he says solemnly, looking around at their entire gang, “wouldn’t that make us all dicks?”
Manaow and Team proceed to stare blankly at the table like they’re having an existential crisis. Pharm, who can hold his alcohol better than any of them, looks up toward the ceiling in fond exasperation. Win is laughing even harder now, wrapping an arm consolingly over Team’s shoulder, who lists towards him gratefully.
Opposite Manaow, Pruk looks vaguely terrified. “Um,” he starts, “what does that make me?”
The world itself seems to stop as everyone turns to peer at him.
It’s Team who moves first; glancing first at Manaow, squinting intently, then back toward Pruk. His mouth opens in a loud, preparatory inhale, and Win immediately claps his hand over his mouth. Across from them, Pruk, Pharm, and Dean practically deflate in relief.
“Time to go home,” Win says quickly.