Archive of Our Own ^beta

It's not often that Doyoung gets to sleep with both halves of their bed full and warm. So when his arms grasp at empty blanket space and he hears faint shuffling in the room, he rubs his eyes and turns with a low, sleepy noise.

"Oh, babe, I'm sorry," is whispered from a few feet away. The room is dark—digital clock reads an absolutely wonderful 3:28AM—and through bleary eyes he can't see shit. But he hears more shuffling, louder, then a cold hand sweeping his messy bangs to the side. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Doyoung grumbles an inaudible complaint under his breath. In the haze of early morning and drowsiness, he'd be hardly able to tell if his eyes are actually open—if not for Taeyong's red gaze casted onto him, that is.

Like a ruby fire, Taeyong's eyes light his way through the dark, and it's the most gentle glow when Doyoung struggles to find the rest of his handsome features.

Doyoung's voice fights through his throat's congestion. "You've got work at this hour?" he asks, though with his pouty lips—which he knows Taeyong can see nice and clear—it's mostly just a displeased whine.

"I know," Taeyong sighs. He attempts to smooth out Doyoung's discontent with an apologetic kiss to his forehead. "It's Second Flame over there right now so it's a bit… busy. My boss was frantic when he called. I think he's about to lose a horn or two."

Doyoung huffs, tasting his own nasty morning breath. This is the norm for him and Taeyong. He knows this well. After years of spontaneous portal-opening and lingering hellfire burning Taeyong's suits—which is always upsetting, to say the least, because Doyoung goes through the trouble of ironing them all—he's accepted this as their cadence of life. But acceptance doesn't necessarily mean satisfaction.

The sentiment is especially true, Doyoung now learns, on certain days.

A quiet thought makes itself known when he glances at the digital clock sitting innocently on the nightstand. A tiny voice raising but what about… that he tucks away into the furthest corner of his mind.

"Okay," Doyoung whispers. His hand searches the darkness and clamps around what it seeks: Taeyong's bony wrist. Taeyong reciprocates the hold. "Good luck. Don't do anything too crazy." He pauses. The drowsiness is slowly taking over. "Be careful, Taeyong."

Taeyong's reply is what keeps Doyoung together in these times—invariable. "I will. For you."

Doyoung is left with a pat on his arm. There's a sharp tink on the full-length mirror resting next to the closet. It's Taeyong tapping the glass. The summoned portal swirls into life, crackling in sparks of hellfire, illuminating the room in an explosion of fiery splashes that Doyoung's much too used to.

Doyoung watches the moment that Taeyong's body morphs into a black hound as he's swallowed by the flames—and as soon as it happens, the portal vacuums itself out of existence like it never was there.

Quiet. Dark. The breath he'd been withholding spills out.

He doesn't even count ten seconds before sleep takes over.

Doyoung doesn't really appreciate the barrage of red and pink heart stickers slapped onto the walls nor Donghyuck dropping a mini KitKat in the pocket of his cardigan as soon as he walks in. Despite Donghyuck insisting that Dr. Huang had approved of the little candy gifts, Doyoung still questions its implications considering they work at a children's dental care center.

A small Valentine's themed rubber duck greets Doyoung at his desk, sitting patiently on his mousepad. Donghyuck's egregious wink that passes by him, with latex gloves being stretched onto his wriggling fingers, is honestly the least of his annoyances of the day. And that's saying a lot considering this is Donghyuck—Donghyuck, a recent loud-mouthed graduate whom Doyoung believes is an actual spawn of Satan.

Though Taeyong calmly told him that Donghyuck is just "like that", it didn't stop Doyoung from convincing himself that he'd been cursed to be haunted by Hellish creatures in an otherwise mundane life.

Well—both cursed (Donghyuck) and blessed (Taeyong).

Valentine's Day as a concept is fine. Tolerable. Doyoung isn't the type to indulge in holiday antics (unlike his particular coworker helping himself to another one of Doyoung's mint tablets) but he can appreciate a day of loving and being loved.

He had plans, in fact. Recipes and a shopping list were preemptively prepared the previous night and they're still folded neatly in his bag. But these plans depended on the hope that Taeyong wouldn't be reporting for duty—because Doyoung is well aware that once Taeyong's out and running, he won't return for a while.

Two lukewarm servings of coffee into his shift, hold the milk please, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Luckily business is slow today—no one wants to be reminded of the dentist on Valentine's Day, probably, which Doyoung can totally relate to—so he can unlock his phone and squint at Taeyong's messages.

taeyong 11:07AM
these chain beasts r crazyy

taeyong 11:08AM
nasty thing took my leg almost hhaha

taeyong 11:09AM
LOL ik babe 'm srry

taeyong 11:10AM
omg. wht r they ON today? ?
theyre all trying2 run

taeyong 11:14AM
:p oops

taeyong 11:14AM
its ok. got him b4 he jumped into the lava

taeyong 11:15AM
gna b a long day i think :/ im rly sry doie

taeyong 11:15AM
this place is crawling w nasties ><

Doyoung chews on a piece of nonexistent gum. In one of the back rooms, Donghyuck faintly serenades his patient with a cheesy love song. It's too bad he's, well, him. He sings like an angel.

taeyong 11:18AM
u know it:)

taeyong 11:19AM
love u

taeyong 11:19AM
answer those fuckin phone calls!!
get ur paycheck baby!!!

Doyoung can't help but smile.

(...And a tentative smiley face. For good measure.)

The reply is a couple minutes late but makes Doyoung weak at the heart nonetheless.

taeyong 11:24AM
cute

taeyong 11:25AM
txt u later
keep ur pretty lips puckered 4 me

"Ew. Stop making that face," Donghyuck says, emerging from the washroom.

Doyoung's eyes are shaped like the Valentine's heart stickers and glued on his phone screen.

"Right back at you."

"I'm not making a face," Donghyuck expertly points out.

"No, you aren't," Doyoung agrees, and Donghyuck dawdles back to his station, muttering things less than appropriate for a workplace environment.

Aside from Donghyuck's perpetual bitterness towards Doyoung's exceptionally witty remarks, as far as Doyoung's concerned, it's a regular, unremarkable work day. Because there isn't much work for him to do and Taeyong doesn't text him since, he ends up swimming in a deep recess of his mind and a rabbit hole of Unlikely Animal BFFs blog posts.

The day approaches sunset as Doyoung's shift nears its end. Dr. Huang shows himself, sucking on a grape lollipop, nonchalantly leaning against the crescent front desk.

"I take it that you dumped the rest of your work on Donghyuck," Doyoung says without glancing away from the clip of a lamb and parrot frolicking in a grass field. Heh.

"He just seemed a little bored."

Doyoung can hear the very poison in Dr. Huang's sweet, melodic voice. He may be both younger and physically smaller than Doyoung, but there's nothing scarier than the prowess and sharp eyes of someone as accomplished as "dentistry prodigy" Huang Renjun. Plus there's always at least one pointy tool hidden in his coat.

It really isn't worth getting on Dr. Huang's nerves but for some unfathomable reason, Donghyuck likes to make a hobby out of it. And Dr. Huang could easily have him fired—Doyoung personally would've eons ago—but there's no signs of that happening either.

Doyoung decides that he works in a very strange space that teeters on the line between normalcy and absolute pandemonium. Which does actually sum up his life following his and Taeyong's chance encounter quite well. Maybe he'll get that printed on a mug.

"Doing anything special today?" Dr. Huang prompts, like he's been listening to Doyoung's every other thought this afternoon. Another reason why Doyoung thinks he should have a healthy amount of fear for his boss.

"Ah, well, I was planning to. But he's been… busy. I don't think it'll happen."

"Hm," Dr. Huang hums. Doyoung's shoulders visibly tense. "Does he live far or something?"

Still facing his screen—who knew a bullfrog and baby donkey could be friends? So cute—Doyoung shakes his head. "No. We do live together, but he, erm."

Dr. Huang lifts a brow in an uncomfortably judgemental manner that Doyoung blanches at.

How does one explain that your boyfriend travels to the afterlife for his work without explicitly saying those exact words so you don't sound deranged?

"His job is complicated. He goes abroad often," Doyoung says.

Dr. Huang flattens his lips, nodding, and Doyoung wipes sweat from his temples.

"I had assumed you were in a long distance relationship." Dr. Huang laughs, oddly, and Doyoung can barely crack a smile at the airy sound.

"Well," and a bite on his lip is the most that Doyoung can offer.

Dr. Huang might have a point. It's technically not a long distance relationship in the traditional sense, but sometimes it's difficult—straight up impossible, actually—to un-distance the system of portals linking earth and Hell. Especially when Doyoung would, as Taeyong once said with a chortle, "melt into a soup of bones and ashes" if he even touched a lick of hellfire.

Taeyong never clarified if that was an exaggeration or not, and Doyoung's been too scared to ask.

In hindsight, the clamoring, armed security guards and squeaking of shopping cart wheels should've been Doyoung's sign to seek the other supermarket two stations away. But feeling strangely drained of energy, more so than he typically is after a full day of work, Doyoung's mind completely disowned the idea of walking an extra fifteen minutes.

The fifteen minutes he thought he'd avoided becomes a nearly hour-long wait in line. To be fair, Doyoung had no clue the supermarket was having its annual mega sale nor that such a thing exists—and honestly, the prospect of 70% off or more on all products is a wet dream.

And so Doyoung waits, situated between two carts brimming with produce, repeating the process of putting down his basket, shuffling forward a few steps, and staring at the distant banner advertising cage-free eggs.

Much to Doyoung's delight, his phone buzzes half an hour into the wait. His lips curl into a joyous smile as he reads Taeyong's name—and then he actually reads what Taeyong had sent him.

taeyong 6:34PM
big one

taeyong 6:34PM
rly angry

taeyong 6:35PM
damn

taeyong 6:35PM
gna take awhile

Doyoung's grin flips into a slight frown. This is the part he hates most about Taeyong's line of work. The declaration of a formidable beast—in the eyes of a hunter from hell like Taeyong, mind you—and Taeyong's rushed texting that indicates he's in an urgent situation.

Doyoung knows this is Taeyong's passion, that he does this because it's what he enjoys most. But he can never help his worry for Taeyong's well-being, even if he has no understanding of the way life and death function in the underworld.

Doyoung's thumb hovers above the digital keyboard.

Doyoung waits a heart-wrenching two minutes. The line barely moves. Who the hell is buying that mountain of cereal boxes?

taeyong 6:39PM
i will

taeyong 6:40PM
i tell u all the time

taeyong 6:41PM
:)

Taeyong goes offline so Doyoung takes that as his cue to peel his eyes off his phone. The register is finally in view! He can almost taste the imminent sweet release from the clutches of villainous supermarket waitlines.

There's another ripple of vibrations from inside his pocket. Doyoung, puffing his cheeks, hastily reaches for his phone and punches in the passcode. It's Taeyong again, and this time Doyoung realizes he needs to dedicate some time to study Taeyong's cryptic texting style.

taeyong 6:45PM
doie

taeyong 6:45PM
white

taeyong 6:45PM
right

taeyong 6:46PM
?

Doyoung is stumped. White? He swears there's nothing they've chatted about in the past that this could be about. But he texts his reply anyway, remembering Taeyong's in a rush.

taeyong is typing…

taeyong is typing…

taeyong 6:48PM
's good?

Doyoung's perplexed huh? comes audible and breathy. What is he supposed to say? He'd want to think about it—maybe it's just something simple that's slipped his mind—if he didn't remind himself that Taeyong might be fighting off a tremendous hellbeast as he texts.

(It's something that Doyoung had once thoroughly chided him for, comparing the act to texting while driving, but Taeyong's old habits die hard. Or just don't die at all. Persuading Taeyong against something he's fixed on is a long, long process of friendly debates and, if desperate, puppy-eyes and cute pouting.)

taeyong 6:50PM
kk

taeyong 6:50PM
gtg <2

A deep sigh. It's not Taeyong's fault that his job calls for long hours like this. Doyoung's exceedingly patient when their plans end up getting pushed back for another time because Taeyong would do the same. It's about understanding each other and giving each other time—Doyoung likes this type of stability in their relationship and he knows Taeyong does too.

Doyoung just wants to be selfish for one day. He wishes that Taeyong was here right now, arguing to him about which brand of imported rice bags is better. That, after they return home and Doyoung is working on his surprise dinner, Taeyong sneaks his hand on his waist and nearly causes him to drop his spatula on the floor.

That would be nice. He's not cheesily romantic or anything but for Taeyong, he'd gladly do the most embarrassing things to reiterate his overflowing love, as if Taeyong hasn't heard it plenty of times by now.

And shit. Taeyong's typo in spelling the heart with a 2 instead of a 3 is unbearably cute. And now the cashier is blinking at Doyoung's pink face with the weirdest look as he nearly drops his basket while lifting it to the conveyor belt.

Okay—maybe it is Taeyong's fault.

Tucking an untouched plate of carbonara in cling wrap, Doyoung searches for a pen and notepad.

The carbonara is nothing extravagant like the three-course meal, complete with wine and dessert, that Doyoung originally wanted to assemble tonight. He supposes it'll have to do, considering he didn't have Taeyong's arms to help him haul groceries back home and his creeping fatigue.

In one swift move, Doyoung checks his phone while he twirls a pen in his hand. Half past eleven. No missed messages from Taeyong. Well. He has extra late work days (and nights) sometimes. It's nothing out of the ordinary and Doyoung tells himself not to mull over it, but his chest sinks heavy anyways.

Pen in hand, he leans over the kitchen counter.

for you

first time making carbonara. tell me what you think later

warm it up for whichever meal of the day it ends up being

love you. dy

Doyoung presses the sticky note to the cling wrap and leaves the plate in the fridge. Staring at the whiteness of the fridge door, the few photos they took on various dates—all at night with the camera flash whitening their silly faces—brings out another sigh.

Doyoung rubs his arms, flicking his gaze away from the fridge before he's hypnotized. Dr. Huang's voice is like a little persistent bug living in the back of his mind. He wasn't taunting him in any capacity but that's unfortunately how Doyoung's lonesome self registers his casual comment about their relationship.

He tries to drown it out with herbal tea. A steaming hot cup of dried mums before he sleeps. The February chill easily wears off after the tea glides down his throat and the blanket is pulled up to his stomach, but his dissatisfaction endures.

A long distance relationship. Sometimes it really does feel like they are one. That's why Doyoung likes to touch and kiss Taeyong whenever he can—to prove they're close enough to do these things. It's an agonizing, slow-burning pain when that comfort is taken away from Doyoung. He's patient for Taeyong but it's hard to admit that it hurts when he waits and waits.

As long as he's assured that Taeyong will come back, though, Doyoung can do a hell of a lot of waiting. Once Taeyong does return, he can tenderly kiss away Doyoung's aches like they were never there.

"That doesn't stop me from missing you," Doyoung mutters aloud before he hides under his blanket, abashed at the idea of yearning talking to himself.

He should really just sleep. Wait until the morning sun greets him.

Or until the scent of hellfire burning another suit wakes him in the middle of the night.

Doyoung groans, vexed at the very thought. He's barely awake. His vision is clouded with the familiar darkness and mild anger at the smell of fabric barbeque. But that also means something else.

Doyoung doesn't even try to pinpoint where Taeyong is. All he does is sluggishly lift his arm, letting it wander in the air. Taeyong catches him by the hand and Doyoung's smile is drowsily wide at his firm grip. Just as expected.

"Hi," says Doyoung.

Turning his head, Doyoung meets red eyes gazing down at him. Admiring him. It may not be the most comforting sight to the average person—his past self would wholeheartedly agree—but to Doyoung, it's a reason to get out of bed at ungodly hours on a weekend.

"Hey there," Taeyong says softly. Doyoung's hand is tugged to his lips for a kiss on the knuckles. "Did I wake you up again?"

Doyoung props himself up to sit upright, resting his back against the headboard. "I couldn't really sleep. It's okay."

Taeyong does a quiet hum as the mattress depresses under his weight, holding Doyoung's hand steadily. A tiny flame suddenly ignites on his fingertip, which then bounces wildly from one aromatic candle to the next. Doyoung's a keen candle collector and the ones he decorates their bedroom with are all alive with Taeyong's fire, casting an orange, homey mood throughout the room.

Now Doyoung gets to have a good look at Taeyong's fond expression and he's not too pleased.

Doyoung palms Taeyong's cheek, furrowing his brows at the shallow cuts scattered across his face.

"Why would you ruin your perfect face like this, you big idiot?"

Laughing lightly, Taeyong pats the back of Doyoung's hand. "I'm very sorry. Please don't break up with me."

The kiss comes easy. Natural. Doyoung's grumpy act is instantly assuaged by Taeyong's glittering eyes as he closes in and presses their lips together. Doyoung wants to take his precious time with it—and is vaguely concerned about his not so flattering breath—by pulling back, pausing, and leaning in for another. Taeyong takes every kiss with a full smile, hand wrapping around Doyoung's waist and stroking his curve.

"Missed you," Doyoung murmurs, his bottom lip given a longing, teasing bite from Taeyong. There's a sudden searing urge to cage Taeyong in his arms and he acts on it without reluctance, hooking his arms over his neck into a loose hug. "Really missed you."

A low chuckle tickles Doyoung's ear. "Sorry to keep you waiting," Taeyong whispers, along with a few leisurely pecks to Doyoung's neck. "You're so cute though. Maybe I'll go away for longer next time."

Doyoung whines his wordless opposition to the offer and hugs Taeyong tighter, as though to say he isn't planning on letting that happen in this lifetime. His clingy arms and childish complaints keep Taeyong chuckling and strewing affectionate kisses wherever he pleases along Doyoung's flushed skin.

Taeyong's chin digs into Doyoung's shoulder. Here he smells the faint fragrance of vanilla shampoo and milky body lotion. It garners a long and fulfilling inhale from Taeyong. He hasn't said it himself but he missed this badly too. Missed Doyoung.

Kissing the crown of Doyoung's head, Taeyong smiles against his tousled hair.

"I got you something, love."

Doyoung makes a noise between a sleepy sigh and delightful wonder. "You did?"

One more kiss behind Doyoung's ear. "Mhm," Taeyong hums.

Crouching, he reaches for a small gift from the carpet that Doyoung hadn't noticed was there. It's handed off to Doyoung who's mildly surprised at its weight when the straps hang over his palm.

Doyoung peers inside the bag, squinting, then picks out the box with a ribbon wrapped over its smooth edges. "This is…?" Doyoung mutters under his breath. There's another gift awaiting him—the heavier one. His hand grips the neck of the bottle and lifts it, lips rounded in a shape of pleasant surprise. "Wine? And chocolates?"

"I was gonna ask, y'know, if you preferred dark or white chocolate—same thing for the wine—but I was seriously about to die," Taeyong explains, his sheepish laugh severely downplaying what he'd just said.

"Taeyong." Doyoung's glare burns even stronger than Taeyong's ruby eyes somehow. "This is why I've been telling you—"

"Hey, listen, I know," Taeyong says, defensive but with a toothy grin. "I didn't die, though. And now you have my Valentine's gift." Pressing his thumb to Doyoung's cheek, his silly expression melts into something unbelievably tender. "And my heart."

"Oh, shut up." Doyoung's ears flare to a lively red as he sends a trail of kisses from Taeyong's chiseled jawline to his collarbones. Just so he won't have to look Taeyong in his stupidly lovestruck eyes. "Cheesy bastard."

Taeyong's laughter is throaty as usual. "You love me."

Doyoung's nose scrunches. "Unfortunately."

The hellfire's lovely burnt smell drifts in the air. Doyoung hates it. He really does. But there's only one person in the world (the Not Hell sphere, at least) who carries that very specific aroma.

Doyoung learns to find love in even the most distasteful things—he supposes that's the one logical part of dating a hellhound.

"I'm gonna get us some glasses," Doyoung mutters on Taeyong's neck.

Taeyong blinks at Doyoung dragging himself out of bed. "Babe, it's two in the morning," he says, a bit incredulous.

"I don't think you get to complain about how late it is," Doyoung retorts, dazedly smiling.

Taeyong realizes he can't argue against that—nor does he particularly want to—so he accompanies Doyoung to the kitchen, a playful arm pulling their hips together.

"Can you put my carbonara in the microwave while you're at it?"

"Why are you coming with me then?"

Elated, Taeyong leans into the crook of Doyoung's neck. "Just 'cause."