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Yeonjun comes to, in a daze.
Fuck. Fuck, his head is still pounding and everything is bleary even though he’s tried to blink his vision into clarity three, four, five times already. “Ah,” he hisses, lifting his hand to his temple, as if that would soften the incisive pain arrowing into his skull. At least, he tries — his swift move is arrested by the various strings of IV tubes poking out of him, and he stares at them, dumbly, for a good few seconds before he realizes where he is.
Hospital?
He barely has time to look up at the sound of a door swinging open, when a loud cry interrupts his pondering.
“Hyung, you’re awake!”
Squinting, he finally recognizes the figure rushing to his side. “Kai-yah,” he croaks, his chest tightening from suddenly being pushed into use. “I… Where am I? Headquarters?”
His head is still spinning, so he lays his head back down as he tries not to chuckle watching Kai almost trip trying to get closer to him. “No, no we’re at the Manhattan safe house. We didn’t want to move you too much before you could get thoroughly checked out. What you did, though, hyung… wow.” Kai shakes his head and whistles, low and amused.
Manhattan? Last he’d checked, he was returning to Seoul from Prague. Also, what did he do? What did Kai mean by… “Huh?” Yeonjun asks, brows furrowing in confusion. “What did I do?”
“Oh!” Kai says, snapping. He reaches out to clutch at the metal bar of the hospital bed Yeonjun is lying in, before perching his chin on both hands. “I forgot the doctor mentioned that the concussion might have caused some short term memory loss, so you probably forgot what happened on the mission.”
Kai scratches his chin, nonchalant. “You, well, there’s no other way to put this. You fell off a building.”
“I… I fell off a building?”
“You looked very cool, though. I mean. All things considered.”
“And I’m not dead?” Yeonjun gawks, before he sits up to inspect his appendages closer. He wiggles his arms and his legs, making a cursory inspection of all his body parts, relieved to come to the conclusion that, yes, all of them are thankfully still attached.
Kai giggles. “At least your sense of humor is still intact, hyung.”
His head, though, hasn’t stopped pounding since he awakened, something he mentions to Kai. He supposes falling off a building has that effect on any normal human being.
“Oh, yeah, the doctor also told me to get him when you’re awake, so maybe he can do something about that. Do you want to sit tight and let me call him?”
“I… okay, alright. Also, one other thing…”
“Hmm?” Kai asks, already at the door. He looks at Yeonjun sweetly, head tilted.
Yeonjun raises his left hand. “What’s this?” He points to the band circling his fourth finger — a ring.
A wedding ring, to be more specific.
Kai’s eyes widen, and his mouth forms a surprised little ‘o’. “Oh. Oh, that’s… umm.” He starts to drum his fingers against the door, biting his bottom lip. “Stay put, hyung. I’ll go find the doctor now.”
“Mmm… I see. Okay,” Yeonjun acquiesces, voice starting to slur, not even bothering to make a snide remark about how there’s nowhere he could go anyway. He settles his head on his pillow again, the dim lighting of the room seducing him into slumber once again.
—-
The next time he rouses, he’s barely lucid for two seconds before a goofy grin stretches across his face.
Oh. Oh, that’s the stuff, right there.
Yeonjun lets out a giddy little giggle before he even opens his eyes. “Kai-yah?” he mumbles sleepily, reaching out and patting around to grasp Kai’s hand in gratitude for the painkillers. “You… are you there?”
“Hyung!” Oh, there are two pairs of hands grabbing onto either side of him. He hums happily, recognizing the new voice right away.
“Ah, Soobinnie. Did our Hueningie come and get you?” He’s on cloud nine, floating so happily above his mortal form that he doesn’t even bother wondering what his former partner is doing in New York all the way from Denmark. “Is there something wrong with the Copenhagen operations?”
He opens his eyes in time to see Soobin and Kai exchanging looks from either side of him, worry clear in their eyes. Yeonjun scoffs. He might have a possible brain injury but he’s still a trained agent, and he can decipher their body language even while in his drug-induced high.
“Okay, kids. Spill it. What are you both panicking about?”
“I… hyung, do you know what date it is? Like, what month, at least?” Soobin asks him, all tentative like he’s going to spook Yeonjun. Which is ridiculous, who does Soobin think he is, some noob? Who did he think taught him nearly everything he knew?
“Of course I do. It’s December!” Which reminds Yeonjun that he should be thinking about passing by his mom’s as soon as he’s released. She’s going to fuss about his head injury, but Yeonjun is stubborn enough to insist that her homemade meals will heal him better than any time cooped up in the hospital. Besides, it’s almost Christmas. Even if it’s largely a cosmetic holiday, it’s still vacation time spent away from the field.
“Yeonjun-hyung, I want you to listen to me and stay calm. Okay?” Soobin’s eased his overly large body onto the hospital bed, and Yeonjun inches away from him automatically. Even with his senses dulled by dopamine, he’s still capable of moving on autopilot. “You have short term memory loss. It’s not December. It’s actually August, the next year. Copenhagen wrapped up almost seven months ago.”
“Don’t worry about it, though!” Kai supplies, eyes bright and supportive. “The doctor said for sure that it was a temporary thing. You’ll likely be good as new in a few days, so you just have to focus on getting better.”
Well. That certainly wasn’t what he expected.
Yeonjun lifts his hand to try to grab at Soobin — what did short term memory loss even mean, like how did that even happen to people — when something glints and catches his attention again. His jaw drops; his heart stutters, skips a beat.
“Soobin-ah,” he says, panic rising in his throat. He swallows, to no avail. “You have to tell me. Did I… Am I…” He gulps, eyes wide and pleading. “Am I married?”
There’s a moment of silence as Soobin and Kai’s glances slide towards each other again, and Yeonjun is this close to surging forward to bump their heads together, IV tubes be damned, when the door opens with a bang, and into the room steps the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid his eyes on.
“You,” the pretty boy says with a scowl, pointing straight at Yeonjun and managing to radiate an aura that’s both menacing and delicate. “Have so much fucking explaining to do.”
Yeonjun doesn’t know him but he’s immediately impressed and charmed, maybe even a little attracted. He opens his mouth to respond, but is hit with a dizzy spell so powerful he literally passes out right away.
The last thing he remembers seeing is the pretty boy’s eyes widening with worry, and him rushing forward before everything goes black.
—-
Someone has to remind him never to jump off a building again.
Yeonjun blinks awake, legs and arms numb and tongue lethargic from too much inactivity. Still feeling a little loopy and lightheaded, he scrunches his nose and stretches, resisting the urge to mewl. He’s not quite sure yet who’s around to witness his indignity.
“You’re awake?”
The voice is low and unfamiliar, almost velvety smooth. Something about it makes Yeonjun shiver, but not in a bad way. No, not at all. He forces himself to focus, eyes fluttering until he can look at the new person by his side.
Oh. Pretty boy.
“Pretty boy?” says the pretty boy, raising an eyebrow. He seems amused though, leaning forward to perch his chin on his loosely curled fist with interest even though the bags under his eyes color his skin sallow and purple. “Who are you calling pretty boy?”
Fuck. Did he say that out loud?
Pretty boy giggles, tilting his head to the side coyly. “Yes,” he says, smiling warmly at him. “Yes, you did. Still, it’s going to take a little bit more than you acting cute for me to forgive you.”
“Oh,” Yeonjun says, dopily. He blinks, still feeling out of sorts from the tramadol thrumming through his system. “Did I do something to offend you then? I’m sorry.” He turns on his side, curling closer to the other, bottom lip pushing out in a pout. The pretty boy already looks so tired and wan. Making him feel bad is the last thing Yeonjun wants to do.
“No,” the boy tells Yeonjun. He gives Yeonjun a tiny smile, before letting out a sigh. When he shrugs, he looks even smaller, clad in a soft gray hoodie that looks vaguely familiar. “You only made me worry ten years off my life, no big deal.”
“Oh,” Yeonjun says, again. He swears, he’s more articulate than this. Clearing his throat, he licks his lips and tugs the covers of his hospital bed up to his chin, watching the boy watching him. He must be an agent as well, seeing as he’s been given access to the medical facility at their Manhattan safehouse, except that Yeonjun doesn’t recognize his face.
He wouldn’t forget a face like that.
“Hyung,” the boy says, fondness carved into every line on his face. “You’re still talking out loud.” The boy reaches out and tucks a strand of Yeonjun’s bangs away from his forehead, before flicking the clear spot gently in faux punishment.
“Sorry,” Yeonjun says, embarrassed. He can sense his cheeks redden and everything, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t think he can control anything his person is doing right now. “You called me hyung… we’re, we’re close then?”
“Ah. They did mention the short term memory loss,” the boy says, and something flickers over his face, like a cross between mirth and hysteria. He bites his lip, before nodding. “We’re close. We really are.”
Pink immediately blooms across the boy’s cheeks and Yeonjun feels a bit silly about how much it makes his heart flip in his chest. “That’s, that’s good. I’m glad then…?”
The boy laughs, again, giddy and cute. “Beomgyu. You call me… a lot of things, but Beomgyu is my name.”
Beomgyu… what a pretty name for a pretty boy.
Yeonjun realizes he’s said it out loud again when the other boy ducks his head to stifle a laugh once more.
It’s a bit strange, Yeonjun thinks to himself. There’s something about this boy — Beomgyu — that gives him comfort, gives him warmth, for some reason. With his head still feeling loopy and with various aches and pains sprouting all over his body, he’ll grab at comfort where he can, with both hands.
Except…
Guilt suddenly floods through him. “Beomgyu-ssi,” he says, formally. He leans back, putting distance between them — only then does he realize how close they’ve gotten. Wow, he thinks. I’m a terrible person. “I’m, I’m sorry. I think I’ve been flirting with you, and you are so nice.”
What was he doing? What the fuck? A little dosage of pain medication and suddenly he’s a cheater? He liked to flirt — loved to flirt, even — but he’s never been a cheater, ever. He doesn’t know when his memory is going to come back, but the ring on his finger is unmistakable — he’s a committed man, and even though Yeonjun doesn’t know who his spouse is on account of this weird bout of amnesia he’s going through, it doesn’t give him the license to be unfaithful.
He is literally so disappointed in himself.
Beomgyu raises an eyebrow. “Why are you apologizing for flirting?”
“As you know, I’m suffering from short term memory loss. I can’t really tell you the details right now but…” Yeonjun sighs, before bringing out his left hand, showing off his wedding ring. “I’m married.”
“You—” Beomgyu stutters, before he slaps a hand over his mouth. Yeonjun is crestfallen; how could he almost hurt two people like this?
“I’m sorry, Beomgyu-ssi. Beomgyu-yah, since you said we were close.” Oh god, is this the effect of the medication rolling through him right now? Is he about to cry? He’s so close, he can feel the tingling behind his eyes. Yeonjun lets out a tiny whine, lip quivering. “You are so pretty, but I… I’ve never been unfaithful in my life.”
Beomgyu drops his hand, and his eyes are shining with… tears? Delight? Yeonjun can’t really tell. “I understand,” he says, nodding solemnly. “I would never ask you to be unfaithful.”
“I don’t remember my husband right now,” Yeonjun continues, unable to stop now that he’s started. “But I’m sure I love him a lot.”
Beomgyu’s eyes curve, affection dancing in them. “I’m sure you do.” He exhales, before reaching out to pat his hand. “Your husband is very lucky, hyung. I’m sure you make him very happy, even if you don’t remember him right now.”
“I wish I could,” Yeonjun whines, leaning back against the pillows. “I’m being such a bad husband right now. I wish I could know who he was.”
Beomgyu opens his mouth to say something, before shaking his head. “Whoever he is, I’m sure he loves you.” When Yeonjun looks up at him quizzically, Beomgyu simply smiles back. God, his smile is so pretty. Everything about him is pretty. Yeonjun wants him to go away because he can’t keep looking at him, not when he is just so… married. “You should go back to sleep, and get some rest. I’ll get the doctor to come in and check on you, while I fix some paperwork.”
He gets up, looking so sweet and tiny in his oversized gray hoodie that Yeonjun blinks at the realization that he’s actually around 6 feet tall.
Beomgyu is almost at the door, when Yeonjun calls out his name. “Am I forgiven, then?” he can’t help but ask. For what, he’s not exactly sure yet, but clearly it’s the reason why he’s in this bed in the first place.
“No,” Beomgyu says, easily. “Not in the slightest.” He tosses a wide grin over his shoulder, though, and it makes Yeonjun smile, involuntarily. “But there’s time. Don’t worry about it.”
“Ah,” Yeonjun murmurs under his breath. “Alright then.”
Beomgyu tips his head in his direction in farewell, waving over his shoulder. “I’ll be seeing you, Agent Choi. I hope you remember me the next we meet.”
Yeonjun lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, already trying to quell the unease he feels at the silence Beomgyu leaves behind.
It’s when his eyes grow sluggish with fatigue that it suddenly hits him.
The hoodie was his.
—-
“I can’t believe you let me drone on and on about being married—”
Beomgyu cackles, shifting around until Yeonjun can feel him nestle himself neatly into his arms, perfect and snug as a puzzle piece against his side. “You were so cute, calling me pretty boy and babbling out all your thoughts without a filter.” He reaches up to kiss Yeonjun’s embarrassed little nose scrunch. “I was touched, and charmed.”
“I will never be able to look Soobin and Kai in the eye ever again,” Yeonjun whines; he buries his head into the side of Beomgyu’s neck. “I can’t believe I talked your ear off about some imaginary husband.”
“You were very protective of his virtue,” Beomgyu nods, serious as a heart attack. “And of mine.”
“Please, stop reminding me.” Yeonjun shakes Beomgyu around in his arms, making him shriek with giddy laughter. It’s been about a week and a half since the building fall incident, and Yeonjun’s mostly recovered by now. He still feels some twinges, especially around his joints, but the people at the agency are miracle workers and you could hardly tell that almost a fortnight ago he’d taken a shove meant for Beomgyu during a confrontation with some unreliable informants, toppling off the roof of their rendezvous point and landing uncomfortably a few stories down.
It took him awhile to recover from his concussion and subsequent short term memory loss, but he remembers it all now — getting assigned Beomgyu as a partner, going undercover as a married couple, falling in love along the way, and now, nearly breaking his neck while trying to locate the pressure point in the local drug trade that was feeding directly into Seoul. All in a day’s work.
“Technically, I mean, nothing you said was untrue. You were married, at the time,” Beomgyu tells him, hushed and quiet, a rounded weight on Yeonjun’s lap. His grip around Beomgyu tightens, pulling him closer, and Beomgyu walks his fingers across Yeonjun’s chest, absent-minded. The ring on his finger, identical to Yeonjun’s, winks happily even in the dim of the room. “And you did love your husband a lot. And he loved you.”
Yeonjun blinks down at the pretty boy in his arms, before grinning sweetly. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” He leans down to nuzzle his nose against Beomgyu’s, relishing in the little noise of surprise he lets out. “My pretty, pretty husband.”
At this, Beomgyu shudders, eyes fluttering shut and eyebrows knitting together. He makes a perfect picture, and it hits Yeonjun, all of a sudden, how over the moon he is for him. How he’s it for him.
He really should visit his mom as soon as he gets out. It’s been awhile since he’s seen her. He should get in some nice bonding time, some good home-cooked meals, maybe a couple of heirloom engagement rings from the vault. Make a whole vacation out of it.
Beomgyu would love it.
“I still haven’t forgiven you, you know,” Beomgyu breathes out, voice raspy and low from the sudden proximity. It hits Yeonjun just then that his discharge from the medical facility into his own room is not soon enough — he needs to touch Beomgyu without all these medical tubes out of the way and he needs to do it now. “That was a stupid thing you did, taking the fall for me, literally.”
“Can’t say I’ll never do it again,” Yeonjun hums, pressing his lips to Beomgyu’s throat, reveling in the telltale swallow of his Adam’s apple. “You know I would, over and over again.”
“You’re an idiot,” Beomgyu spits out, breath shortening with anticipation as Yeonjun’s mouth slowly travels up his jawline, inching closer to where he wants him to go. “Ah,” he gasps, when Yeonjun starts to suck on his favorite spot just behind his left ear. “Hyung.”
“It’s funny, how I still knew you, you know. Even with the memory loss,” Yeonjun marvels, as he feathers air-light pecks all over Beomgyu’s face; he whines, scrunching his nose at the sweetness. “It’s like… It’s like…”
“Please stop talking and kiss me, Agent Choi,” Beomgyu says, stroppily, an almighty pout on his face, and really, only a stronger person than Yeonjun could resist the pretty boy in his arms. Yeonjun’s never claimed to be anything more than he is — a damn good spy, a mama’s boy, and a devotee of the biggest brat in the South Korean intelligence services. “Or I’ll be adding this to your stockpile of offenses against me.”
“Well I can’t have that, Agent Choi,” Yeonjun retaliates, smirking before he leans down to finally, finally kiss Beomgyu the way he’s been wanting to all day. “Orders received.”