Work Text:
Xiao Zhan is quite literally, vibrating out of his passenger seat. Yibo will chance a glance at him every now and then, and each time, Xiao Zhan will meet his eyes and return it with a smile so bright it almost feels like it’s daytime. He knows that he’s trying to contain himself as much as possible— the keyword there is ‘try’, as Yibo patiently answers the same question Xiao Zhan has been asking him since they left their place earlier.
“Is he really going to be there?”
He should be jealous. Yibo thinks that no one can fault him for being jealous if Xiao Zhan is acting like this— excited and giddy at the prospect of meeting another man, but he’s not. Yibo feels settled, relaxed behind the wheel, an amused smile gracing his features.
“Yes, ge. Yixing-ge said they’ll arrive together.”
He hears a muffled “Oh my god” from Xiao Zhan, and Yibo chuckles, absolutely endeared.
*
He knows that Xiao Zhan is a good-looking man. He knows he’s coveted by many. He knows this and yet. And yet Yibo stares at him like he’s only seeing him for the first time. Like he’s a dumbstruck fool whose heart got taken so effortlessly, and it will baffle him— being so enamored he can hardly look anywhere else, if he isn’t ready to offer it to this gorgeous man himself. Xiao Zhan is beautiful, so beautiful even more so when he’s incandescently happy.
Yibo knows the kind of faces he’s making whenever he’s with Xiao Zhan. He’s been told one too many times to keep it cool— keep it on the minimum, that it already became a familiar jab whenever they meet their common trusted friends. It does not deter Yibo one bit, however, pacified by Xiao Zhan’s warm and steady presence pressed against his side. If Xiao Zhan has no problems with it then why will he listen to others?
So, Yibo continues to love freely. He continues to be Xiao Zhan’s gǒu zǎizǎi, continues to be the disgustingly sweet couple in their circle. When a man eventually finds his home after spending most of his life wandering—trying to survive in this world he had traded his childhood for, he’s pretty sure they’ll all act the same.
Yibo does not say that out loud. He also doesn’t say it to Xiao Zhan, but sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, when it breaks dawn and orange hues start to seep through their curtains, Xiao Zhan kisses him like he already knows.
Their server leaves their table. Yibo only notices because Xiao Zhan leans in to whisper— effectively breaking his train of thoughts, to say that he took the liberty to order food for him. Yibo does not ask what it is, just reaches out to squeeze his thigh in lieu of a reply.
Yixing, who is sitting across them, pointedly takes his glass, clearing his throat as if his message isn’t clear enough. Yibo does not take his hand back. The glass is empty though, but Yixing still brings it to his lips, sipping the imaginary liquid, hiding his smile behind the rim of his glass.
Beside him, Xiao Zhan remains oblivious to the exchange, blissfully unaware as he fidgets on his seat.
Right. They are gathered here today because of this. Xiao Zhan has been preparing for this dinner ever since Yixing agreed.
Yibo gives him a gentle shove. He nods towards the man that Yixing has brought with him, encouraging him to start speaking.
Xiao Zhan takes a deep breath. He does not laugh at this, does not flick his pinkish ears. He knows just how nerve-wracking it is for him, and he isn’t going to be an asshole about it. Instead, he caresses Xiao Zhan's thigh in what he hopes is a soothing motion.
Yixing finally puts the glass down, his attention piqued.
“You are my bias. I love my man but I also love your dance. Your dance line is amazing.” Xiao Zhan says in his heavily accented Korean, taught by Yibo himself. It takes him a beat to recover before he beams, only grinning wider when Yixing turns to him, cocking his eyebrow in question. Yep, he did that. Xiao Zhan seems to remember himself right after so he shifts back in Mandarin to address Yixing. “I’m sorry. You know I also love your works, right?”
Yixing waves him off, but not without giving Yibo a look that promises a lot of ribbing on WeChat later. Yibo can hardly care, he had taught Xiao Zhan two versions— one with the his man part and one without it. If Xiao Zhan only remembers the first version, then Yibo can’t really do anything about it.
“But I’m not your bias.” Yixing replies easily. “I know you like him, it’s okay.”
Xiao Zhan ducks his head, embarrassed. Yibo curbs his desire to land a solid kiss on that familiar lips by saying, “Careful there, ge. Zhan-ge likes me best.”
Predictably, Xiao Zhan hisses and pinches his side. Yibo yelps but he's still smirking, unrepentant as he picks up his own empty glass— mirroring Yixing from earlier, just so he can do something with his mouth that isn’t flirting or kissing Xiao Zhan. He doesn’t even know if Yixing had told their guest about their relationship beforehand. He’s going to find out about it tonight, one way or another. Subtlety isn’t really Yibo’s strong suit.
Yibo makes the mistake of making eye contact with Yixing. The man looks like he’s having the time of his life.
Sehun, who has said nothing aside from his introduction earlier, laughs good-naturedly, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “I also love your dramas, Xiao Zhan-laoshi. You’re amazing. You did well in covering ‘Call me Baby’. We filmed a VCR for you, didn’t we?”
Xiao Zhan gapes at him, nonplussed. Yibo isn’t sure if it’s because Sehun replied in near-perfect Mandarin, or because his work has been acknowledged, or because the decade-old group cover has been brought up. Yixing finally gives up on holding his laughter in, throwing his head backwards Yibo is almost afraid he’ll fall and hurt himself. He has never seen him laugh this much, not when they’re still recording SDOC Season 3 and 4, not when he’d see him interact with his members whenever they are on the same event. Sehun is chuckling too, hunched over himself as his shoulders shake in laughter.
Xiao Zhan doesn’t quite whimper— the sort of helpless sound he’ll unconsciously let out that never fails to trigger Yibo into his peak protective mode, but he looks like he’s only containing (and barely managing) himself not to because they’re in public. He doesn’t look particularly upset at being laughed at, just mortified.
When Xiao Zhan looks at him with those eyes of his, Yibo caves in.
“What food did you guys order?”
Xiao Zhan sighs heavily, but says nothing. If possible, Yixing laughs even louder, and Sehun wipes a stray tear from his eyes.
He’s still shit at starting conversations, but it does what it’s intended for since they stopped teasing Xiao Zhan after they have calmed down enough to talk properly.
Xiao Zhan reaches out for his hand from under the table, tapping him in a way to say his thanks. Yibo doesn’t let his hand go, just fits them together, his thumb tracing idle patterns on the back of Xiao Zhan’s hand as Sehun begins to talk about his projects in China.
*
“I have Sehun’s WeChat contact.” Xiao Zhan says when Yibo emerges from the shower, hair already dry and a towel wrapped securely around his waist. He is looking for his hoodie that he’s sure he had already gotten out before entering the bathroom, but it’s missing where he left it.
"Look, we even took a picture together!" Yibo hums, preoccupied in finding the lost clothes. It's not on the counter or the chair. He walks to their closet to check but it's also not there. "Bo-ge, you're not looking! Look at our picture!"
"Ge, I was the one who took—" Xiao Zhan is on their bed— hair mussed and features soft under the artificial light from their lampshade, wearing the same hoodie Yibo has been looking for. He has his phone up facing him, his grin effervescent.
Yibo loves him.
"You're really happy." Yibo breathes out, fondness coating each word.
Xiao Zhan nods enthusiastically, as if Yibo needs any confirmation. He goes back to staring at his phone, still in awe despite hours had already passed since they parted with them at the restaurant.
Yibo grabs the nearest available shirt in his reach and slips it on, eager to join Xiao Zhan in their bed.
“I’m jealous.” He says when he finally has Xiao Zhan in his space. His arm is thrown across Xiao Zhan’s middle, his face buried at the junction of his neck.
Xiao Zhan tries to move away after Yibo noses on his neck, breathing his smell in. He smells so good like this. Like Yibo’s body wash, like the detergent he’s advised to be used on their clothes because trust me, this one works wonders.
Compared to everything that Yibo trusts him with, what goes on with their laundry is just a small matter.
Yibo is tired, something that he doesn’t even notice until he’s in the shower, alone, because Xiao Zhan refused to have shower sex when they’re both clearly tired. Yibo had argued that he isn't, but now with Xiao Zhan in his arms, surrounded by his smell and the softness of their duvet, he thinks he can fall asleep within five minutes.
Yibo doesn’t want to sleep yet. So he presses his lips against Xiao Zhan’s pulse, moves a little to the side and licks the mole that resides there. It’s his favorite mole, next to the one directly under Xiao Zhan’s lips.
Xiao Zhan’s elbow connects to his ribs, and Yibo feels instantly awake, jolting a little at the sharp pain. He had miscalculated. This is not part of his plan. Xiao Zhan is only supposed to slap his arm.
“Ge, that hurts.” Yibo gruffs, biting on Xiao Zhan’s covered shoulder in retaliation. “I’m jealous, you should indulge me, not hurt me more.”
Xiao Zhan only turns his head to land a soft kiss on his forehead as an apology, but he says nothing more as he immediately goes back to scroll on his phone.
“Lao-Xiao doesn’t care that I’m jealous.” Yibo continues, slinging his leg over so he’s really clinging onto the man now. “Lao-Xiao met a handsome man today, so he doesn’t care about me anymore.”
He thinks he hears Xiao Zhan mutter something under his breath, and then he’s tapping on his limbs, asking to be released. He scoots a little lower, and then, he kisses him.
Yibo sighs happily into the kiss, their lips moving seamlessly against each other in an all too familiar rhythm. He can kiss Xiao Zhan for hours—in fact, he had already tested that, only to find out that it’s possible to be kiss-drunk— but the man clearly has other ideas.
He chases his lips but Xiao Zhan only gives him a peck before he scoots back up as he settles in his earlier position. He picks his phone up and opens it once again, acting as if nothing has happened.
“You’re not jealous.”
Yibo hums. He puts his limbs back on Xiao Zhan, accepting defeat for the time being. He can still collect more kisses later. For now, he’ll get cuddles. “Yes, I’m not.”
Xiao Zhan pauses. “Now that’s more suspicious. Why are you agreeing so easily?”
“Do you want me to be jealous?”
In the same wary voice, Xiao Zhan immediately answers, “No.”
Amused, Yibo only kisses his jaw.
“No, look. I took a picture with him.” Xiao Zhan says, pushing his screen near his face to show said picture. Yibo hides away, partly because the bright screen hurts his eyes, and partly because he has seen it so much he’s afraid he’ll dream about it too. “He’s still so handsome and cool and he’s so so nice. Since when did he become fluent in Chinese?”
“I might get jealous if you keep on talking about another man when you’re in bed with me.” His words are a bit muffled, but Yibo refuses to unearth his face from the sweet heaven that is Xiao Zhan’s neck.
“But you’re not jealous.”
Yibo hums against Xiao Zhan’s warm skin. The man tries to shy away, but thankfully, doesn’t cause him more injuries. “I’m not.”
“Why?”
“We look much better together.”
A beat of silence, and then Xiao Zhan starts to shake badly. Worried, Yibo moves back, detaching himself from the man, and because he doesn’t want to sit up, props himself up on his elbows to get a better look.
Xiao Zhan’s eyes are twinkling, though it’s not from unshed tears. His expression is bright and open, his lips rolled inward.
Yibo meets his eyes and the first of his giggles finally spills out.
“Can you hear what you’re saying?” Xiao Zhan says in between his giggles, gasping a little because apparently, what he had just said sounds too funny. Yibo leans down to kiss him, muffling his laughter between their mouths, tasting happiness in his lips.
“Hey, husband.” Yibo says when they parted a moment later, and because he can’t help himself, he steals another kiss. Xiao Zhan appears dazed, much softer now that he’s kissed silly, his phone forgotten somewhere.
Yibo knows the kind of faces he’s making when he’s with Xiao Zhan, only because he can see it reflected on Xiao Zhan too. Yibo loves him. He loves him so much and he knows he’s loved just as much.
Home is a penthouse they both chose to buy a couple of years earlier. Home is the hotel rooms they spent some nights in on different cities when the gaps on their schedules finally aligned. Home is their dressing rooms on the programs and events they were invited in. Home is at the backseat of their company cars, tinted windows pulled up high and their combined playlist filling in the silence after a rough day of work.
Home can be anywhere as long as he’s with Xiao Zhan. Home is Xiao Zhan.
Xiao Zhan surprises him when he kisses him on his cheek, lingering a second too long.
Ah. Of course. They are each other’s home.
“Hey, husband.” Yibo repeats, just because he can, just because he’s allowed to. He points to their wall where a huge, simple frame hangs and watches as the flush rises on the apple of Xiao Zhan’s cheeks. “Look at our wedding photo and say we don’t look much better.”