Work Text:
When Felix tilts his head to a 45-degree angle, he looks more feline than ever. He furrows his brows and hums for a moment, hand stilling next to his drink, but then his whole face lights up like the Seoul sky on New Year’s Eve.
Minho knows he’ll hate what he’s going to say next.
‘I dare you,’ he begins, shooting a quick glance towards Jisung, ‘to kiss your crush.’
As expected, Minho wants to smother him with a pillow. Okay, that’s maybe pushing it a little, because Lee Felix is one of the few people alive who never inspire any truly violent urges in Minho. He knows it, too, and exploits it all the time, but Minho can’t even blame him for that. Really, he has to respect the hustle.
‘My what?’ he says, pointedly looking nowhere except right at Felix’s much too happy smirk.
‘Your crush,’ Felix repeats, and next to him Chan giggles.
‘You have a crush?’ Jisung asks, voice all high and sweetly confused, just as Minho flatly says, ‘I don’t have a crush.’
When he turns his head, Jisung is already looking at him. He squints and asks again, ‘you have a crush?’
‘No,’ Minho lies and Chan laughs harder. He wants to string him up by his toes and see if he’s still laughing.
Look, the situation is like this—“crush” is such a stupid word. It’s a teenage word. Minho is a grown man and does not have a “crush.” He would never have a crush. That’s below him. It’s just—his best friend is handsome and funny and clever and good at almost everything. He has a beautiful smile and his laugh is infectious and Minho wants to touch his ass pretty much all the time. He wants to push him against a wall and kiss him breathless and he wants him to be his boyfriend instead of his best friend, but it’s not, like, a crush. Okay?
He doesn’t have a crush on Jisung.
That would be so embarrassing.
‘And anyway,’ Minho says before Chan can say something bratty like yes, you totally do, ‘I changed my mind. I pick Truth instead.’
‘All right.’ Felix is still flashing that self-satisfied smile. ‘Who do you have a crush on, Hyung?’
Why is he suddenly pushing this? Why tonight of all nights? Minho has never told Felix that he fancies Jisung. As a matter of fact, he has never told anyone, and if you don’t say something aloud then it isn’t true. Right? First rule of Repression Club is that we don’t talk about what we’re trying to repress. Second rule of Repression Club is that we don’t think about it either.
Minho spends all his time trying not to think about how soft Jisung’s lips look and how it’d feel to wrap his hands around his waist. What’s his waist so tiny for? Quite ridiculous, frankly. More tempting than the serpent in Genesis.
‘I do not have a crush on anyone,’ he scoffs. Probably, his cheeks are tinged red right now. At least they feel warmer than they did ten minutes ago, and he hates that, hates that Chan is still giggling and looking at him like he’s so, so obvious. He downs half of his screwdriver and fixes Felix with a look. He’s very consciously not looking at Jisung right now. ‘Yongboks, that was so silly,’ he says sweetly. ‘I already told you I don’t have a crush. Why’d you waste your question like that?’
‘You’re lying,’ Felix insists. ‘And it’s unfair! The game is called Truth or Dare. It’s not called Lie or Be Careful.’
‘I would never lie,’ Minho lies. He turns his head just slightly. ‘Your turn, Channie-hyung.’
‘Uh, Truth?’ That little fearful uptick in his voice is so delicious.
Minho lets his lips stretch into his most dangerous smile. ‘Hm.’ He taps his fingertips together in a slow show of consideration. ‘I wonder what I could possibly ask you about…’
‘I don’t have a crush on anyone!’ Chan blurts, turning bright red immediately.
Who’s laughing now, asshole?
‘No?’ Minho says.
‘You can’t recycle questions,’ Chan suddenly says, a little breathless. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth and glances at Felix. He probably thinks he’s being subtle. At least Minho has the self-awareness to know that he really isn’t all that subtle when it comes to Jisung. ‘Like, that’s against the rules. Right? You can’t ask me the same question Felix already asked you.’
‘You just made that up,’ he says. He casts a look at Jisung and then Felix, eyebrow arching. ‘That’s not a real rule.’
Felix shrugs. ‘It is now.’
‘Can you believe this?’ Minho asks Jisung. ‘That wasn’t in the rules ten seconds ago.’
When Jisung smiles at him, Minho’s heart does a triple backflip and slams against his ribcage. Why does it still do that? He has seen Jisung smile before. He keeps an extensive mental catalogue of all the different types of Jisung Smiles. He knows how he looks when he smiles.
There’s no reason to lose his breath over it.
It’s not a crush if you don’t call it that. Right? Right? But—but—repression only gets you so far. Cradling a blade in your palm will draw blood even if you refuse to call it a knife. It’ll still sting. You can call it a sunflower, but that won’t make it any less sharp and it won’t make it hurt you any less.
It’s nothing more than a linguistic gambit. He can say he doesn’t have a crush on Jisung, but he still has all these feelings. He still has all these ridiculous reactions whenever he sees him, whenever he thinks about him, whenever their hands briefly touch.
He hates it.
He hates, hates, hates, hates it.
He feels weak and he feels stupid and he wants to kiss him so fucking badly. He wants to slam his own head against the wall.
‘I dunno, Hyung-ah,’ Jisung says. ‘Let Channie-hyung have this. Just ask him something else.’
‘Okay,’ he says, because he’s very, very bad at saying no to Han Jisung. ‘What should I ask him then?’
‘Ask him when he’s going to propose to Felix.’
Minho laughs. His heart swells in his chest and he feels all fizzy. He looks over at Chan who’s suddenly opening and closing his mouth very fast. ‘You heard him,’ he says. ‘When are you going to propose to Felix?’
‘Hhgg ‘m—why would I—’ He scratches behind his ear. ‘I wouldn’t do that. Like. That would be very. Um. Silly of me.’
Jisung snorts. He wraps his arms around Chan and nuzzles into his neck. ‘Never change, Hyung.’ He sits back and winks at Minho, then elbows Chan again. ‘I’m sure Lixie will say yes.’
When Minho meets Felix’s eyes again, he looks less like a cat and more like a startled mouse. Cute and small, but there’s something else about his expression, too. Maybe the most fitting word would be hopeful.
‘My turn,’ Chan says. He rubs his hands over his flaming cheeks and huffs sharply. ‘Minho-yah. Truth or Dare.’
He considers for a brief second and picks, ‘Dare.’
‘I dare you to kiss Jisung,’ Chan says.
‘With tongue,’ Felix adds unhelpfully.
‘With tongue,’ Chan repeats.
Minho rues the day he was born. ‘I expected better of you, Christopher,’ he says. His voice sounds a little bit off, because—okay, maybe the thought of kissing Jisung got him a little lightheaded. But it’s fine. As long as he doesn’t look at him right now, it’ll be fine. Totally. ‘I can’t believe you’re encouraging sexual harassment. Shame on you, really.’
‘Fuck off,’ Felix says. ‘It’s not sexual harassment.’
‘Shoving my tongue in someone’s mouth without their consent isn’t sexual harassment?’
‘Well, obviously it wouldn’t be without Jisung’s consent,’ Chan hedges. ‘And I’m sure—well, I’m sure he’ll say yes.’ He looks at Jisung. ‘Right?’
‘Ummmmmm.’
Minho looks over at Jisung too. Rookie mistake. His cheeks are flushed red and he’s gnawing on his lip and Minho’s stomach twists at the sight. Say no, he wants to say. He would almost beg. If Jisung doesn’t say no, Minho will have to go through with this, and he won’t know how to stop. He won’t know how to not make it glaringly obvious to everyone in this room that he wants to do much more than kiss Jisung.
‘See?’ Felix says. ‘That’s a yes.’
‘That’s an “um”,’ Minho corrects. ‘Not a yes.’
Jisung’s tongue swipes out at his lips. ‘Um. It’s fine. I think.’ He hides his face in his hands and his voice is all muffled and whiny when he adds, ‘but it’ll be weird.’
The are many things about Han Jisung that drive Minho absolutely insane. The way his voice sounds when he’s embarrassed is one of them.
‘Huh?’ he says. ‘Why?’
‘No, it won’t,’ Felix says. ‘It’ll be sexy.’
Jisung peeks out from behind his fingers. He catches Minho’s eyes briefly and mumbles, ‘won’t it be weird, Hyung?’
‘Why would it be weird?’ Minho asks, even though there are a million reasons it would be weird. Reason number one: Minho is in love with Jisung. Reason number two: Jisung is not in love with Minho. Reason number three: this is a terrible fucking idea and Minho needs to do a little online shopping later so he can lace Chan’s protein powder with laxatives.
‘If you have a crush on someone,’ Jisung says. ‘Won’t it be weird to kiss me?’
Chan snorts. Next to him, Felix giggles.
Minho glares at them both.
‘I don’t think you need to worry about that, Jisung,’ Chan says, voice still all topsy-turvy from laughing. ‘Like, at all.’
Jisung squints again. Who even gave him the right to look like such an adorably confused golden mouse?
Minho feels more like a cat than ever.
‘I don’t—understand,’ Jisung says. He looks to Minho for help. ‘Won’t it be weird for you to kiss me? When you have a crush on someone else?’
His fist tightens. No, Jisung-ah, he wants to say. No, it’ll only be weird because I won’t ever want to stop again. He looks back towards Felix and Chan. ‘You can’t peer pressure him into accepting this stupid dare,’ he says. ‘It’s unethical.’
‘Call me Immanuel with the way I Kant bring myself to care,’ Chan says.
Laughing brightly, Felix high-fives him.
‘That,’ Minho says, ‘was awful.’
‘Don’t care,’ Chan says. ‘Didn’t ask, plus you still haven’t kissed your crush with tongue.’
‘I do not have a crush,’ Minho says. ‘On anyone.’
‘Hyung-ah,’ Jisung says. ‘Who do you have a crush on?’
Minho closes his eyes. He rubs his fingertips at his temples and takes a long, slow breath in. When Felix asked if he wanted to hang out, this is not what he expected. He’d expected something chill and fun. He wasn’t prepared to have his own stupid feelings hung out for everyone to see.
He does not want to lie to Jisung. However, he also really, really doesn’t want to tell Jisung the truth.
If he thought that was an option, he would’ve done it ages ago.
‘Jisungie,’ he says, ‘don’t listen to them. They’re just projecting.’
‘Minho-hyung,’ Felix says sweetly. ‘Stop stalling and start kissing Jisung. You can even start without tongue. I won’t be mad.’
‘You won’t be mad?’ he deadpans.
‘Nope,’ he says. ‘Eventually you should add tongue, though. It’s okay if you two get distracted and forget about the game. I don’t mind.’
‘We’re not even playing the stupid game right now anyway.’
‘Because you’re stalling,’ Chan says. ‘You’re making such a big fuss about kissing Jisung. I wonder why.’
‘Do you—’ There’s something upset about Jisung’s voice. Something that Minho wants to dispel immediately. ‘Do you not want to kiss me, Hyung?’
He groans. Why is his life like this?
‘Yeah, Hyung,’ Felix says. ‘Do you not want to kiss your Jisungie?’
Minho makes an irrational decision and gets up from where he’s sitting. He crosses the distance and sits down on his knees right in front of Jisung. Before he can stop himself from doing this stupid thing, he cups Jisung’s pretty face and presses his mouth to his.
Distantly, he hears Chan and Felix wolf-whistle.
Jisung exhales the sweetest little gasp and it breaks Minho’s brain. He needs more. He needs more, more, more, he needs to lick into his mouth and he needs to bite his lip and he needs to make him whine and he needs—
He pulls away. Fuck. He lets out a ragged breath and almost keels over when he sees Jisung’s startled expression. His cheekbones tinged carnation pink. His deft tongue flicking out. His pupils blown wide.
‘Encore!’ Felix calls out. ‘With tongue this time!’
Minho’s hand slides down to cradle the back of Jisung’s neck. He should pull it away. He should sit back down and he should splash more vodka into his glass and he should knock it down in one go. He should look somewhere that isn’t Jisung’s perfect little mouth. He shouldn’t swipe his thumb down the side of his throat and he shouldn’t catch his eyes again and he really, really shouldn’t lift his eyebrows like a question.
‘Hyung,’ Jisung whispers.
He thinks he hears Felix say oh my God, but Minho isn’t paying attention to anything except Jisung. Only Jisung. But then, that’s not really so new, is it? Isn’t his focus always trained fully on Jisung?
And still, Jisung can surprise him. He surges up and tentatively slots his mouth against Minho’s again.
Minho’s fingers tighten on his nape and he tilts his head slightly; he meets the kiss with a steady pressure, pushing back against Jisung till he gasps again.
So responsive. Of course he is. The sweetest boy alive.
Lightly, he flicks his tongue against the seam of his mouth. Jisung shivers and parts his lips for him. He flicks his tongue again and sucks on his lower lip, this dark thing coiling inside him when Jisung breathes out another gasp. When he makes this soft whimpering sound.
Minho pecks his lips again. He smudges a kiss to the corner of his mouth and tilts his head a little more—he kisses Jisung the way he’s wanted to kiss him for so, so long. The way he’s dreamt of in hot, feverish bursts late at night, all alone in bed. Worked-up ‘cause he wanted his best friend so much. Wanted him in a way he wasn’t allowed. He kisses him like Jisung is really a startled mouse and Minho is a bored housecat who likes to play with his food. For fun. To feel him melt.
Jisung whines again. His fingers clutch Minho’s T-shirt and he likes how that feels. Likes knowing Jisung needs him to stay grounded.
‘You okay, baby?’ he asks, and his voice is raspier than usual, and fuck—fuck, he slipped up. He’s not supposed to call Jisung baby. That’s one of the things he’s not supposed to do.
‘Hhgng.’ Jisung leans forward chasing Minho’s mouth. ‘Y-yeah. ‘m good.’
‘Good,’ Minho says. He rewards him with another kiss. ‘That’s good. You’re so good.’
He hears a loud slap and assumes Chan and Felix just high-fived. He doesn’t care enough to look, though; he only cares about kissing Jisung. He only cares about working his mouth open with his tongue and drawing soft, needy sounds out of him. He cares about staking his claim.
Except—
That’s not really what this is. Is it?
This means nothing. Does it?
‘Hgnhh,’ Jisung whines. ‘Hyung—Hyung, I—this is my first kiss.’
What?
He must’ve said that out loud, because suddenly Jisung is making a strangled sound and babbling, ‘uh, y-yeah, is that—I’m sorry, I know I’m probably bad at it, and—and I just meant—’
‘You’re not bad at it,’ Minho says. ‘Promise. I was just—surprised. That’s all.’
‘I’m on the edge of my seat,’ Chan stage-whispers. ‘Nicholas Sparks wishes he could write scenes like this.’
‘Shut up and kiss your own crush,’ Minho snaps.
Jisung’s face falls. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘You—you have a crush on someone. You don’t have to—’
He interrupts him with another kiss. Jisung arches into it and Minho works his tongue into his mouth again. He pulls his lip between his teeth and tugs lightly; when Jisung shudders, desire froths up into his throat. Possessiveness. He grasps his neck tighter and tugs him impossibly closer, kissing him hard and wet and messy. He puts all his feelings into the kiss and hopes Jisung understands there’s no one but him. There’s never been anyone but him.
‘It’s you,’ he says for good measure when they pull apart again. He leans his forehead against Jisung’s and sucks in a deep breath. ‘It’s you.’
‘I’m what?’ He sounds a little dazed. Like candied confusion.
‘His crush,’ Felix supplies from the sidelines. ‘Come on, dummy. He’s been tongue-fucking your mouth for ten minutes. Please get with the programme.’
A dark red floods Jisung’s face and his mouth drops open. ‘Is that—true?’
Minho’s own face feels hot. He smoothes his thumb along the swell of Jisung’s soft cheek. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Of course it’s true, Jisung-ah. Of course it’s you.’
‘Oh.’ His lashes flutter. A cute whimper trips from his swollen lips. ‘Oh.’ He snaps his eyes open again. ‘It’s also—you, I mean. I mean, I also—I also, you. You. For me. It’s you. It’s also you.’
Minho’s cheeks will ache tomorrow from the smile his face breaks into now. He’s all giddy with it—carbonated joy in his throat, his fingers trembling. He almost wouldn’t believe it, except he always wakes up before this point. The dreams never go this far.
‘Yeah?’ he asks.
‘Hyung-ah,’ he whines. ‘Of course it’s you.’
Minho kisses him again. Faintly, he thinks he hears Chan yelp something about keeping it PG, but he doesn’t really care. He made this happen, after all.
Maybe Minho should order him a gift basket.