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On more than one occasion, Chanyeol thinks that trying to love Kyungsoo is the equivalent of trying to hug a porcupine.
“I’ll bite your hand off, Park Chanyeol.” The words come shortly after an unannounced, post-dinner cuddling session on a mostly vacant couch with the two squashed off to one side. Chanyeol doesn’t mind the banter, the occasional tug-of-war and the extra pull on Kyungsoo’s end, but it gets more difficult when he’s really trying. His sincerity is off the charts. For once, he’s actually initiating something.
“I’m not letting go of you. Not until you admit you think I’m adorable.” He noses his way into Kyungsoo’s neck, ignores the disgusted look plastered on Sehun’s face as he passes by on his way to the shower. Kyungsoo scoffs, pulling out his tablet.
“Fine. I’ll just ignore you then.”
This sort of behaviour from Kyungsoo is commonplace, so Chanyeol isn't sure why his stomach still twists at the harsh throw of words. Perhaps it's just that it's rather bothersome at times when his only desire is to wrap his hands around Kyungsoo’s waist, nuzzle his face into his hair, and whisper the first things that come to his mind in the curve of his neck. Maybe his ideals come straight out of sickly romanticised films—more specifically that one Baekhyun insisted he watch on the plane ride back from Japan last week because of the hot lead—and maybe he thinks of his life and relationship with Kyungsoo in terms of fairytales, but he doesn’t think he’s asking too much when he asks Kyungsoo if he needs any help with dinner after a long night of rehearsal. He'd missed several key notes at vocal practice, Chanyeol'd heard him. The groans of frustration could be heard from down the hall where he was strumming out some blasé melody on his out-of-tune guitar.
“No.”
Puppy eyes, maybe. “But why? Why not?” If Kyungsoo is even slightly perturbed by his undeniably adorable (or so he tells himself) expression, he doesn’t show it. Just continues to bustle around the kitchen, spoon in hand, measurements and instructions floating past his lips between each step.
“Because I want our food to be edible,” he replies curtly, delicately dipping a finger into a pot of steaming galbi jjigae and testing the taste on his waiting tongue, eyes scrunching up in immediate scrutiny. In that singular moment of statute contemplation, Chanyeol slides up beside him, curls his arms around his waist and sets his chin on his shoulder, just like he's been dreaming of doing for the past week. He can feel Kyungsoo tense up beneath him, muscles rippling and teeth more than likely gritting (as is his habit), but he doesn’t move and continues to stir the boiling soup around like the constant motion will add to the current flavour.
“But I want to help. You’re the one slaving away whenever we’re hungry and I want to help you,” he mumbles in his ear, slowing rocking them from side to side. Kyungsoo is silent; he clearly doesn't appreciate the sentiment.
It’s the most docile he’s ever been in reply to Chanyeol’s overt displays of affection, and between feeling thrilled and accomplished, Chanyeol suddenly ponders on the possibility that he should be equally as afraid. If it’s that much unlike Kyungsoo, he could be in trouble.
And he calls it with that last, fleeting thought.
The spoon hits him square on the head only seconds later and he flies back with his hands scrambling to press to his injured skull. “Go find something else to do. You’re distracting me.” Chanyeol barely hears the words as Kyungsoo says them, still nursing the sure bump that's forming, but ignores him anyway as he trudges forward to spin him around, pushing him into the counter after he’s finished whining about his head.
“I want to distract you, you idiot,” he growls, hands pinned on either sides of him. Escape isn't an option; not like this. “I want you to look at me for more than five seconds, and not just to check to see if I’m doing something embarrassing. Got it?” As expected, Kyungsoo just glares back, soup forgotten and expression burning. The whites of his eyes are a frightening thing, Chanyeol thinks belatedly.
“You distract me all the time. You act like this is a new thing. And look—I’m looking at you. What a surprise, you're doing something embarrassing. See? Didn't take me more than five seconds to figure that out.” Chanyeol knows there’s no real venom in this conversation, not even much of a bite in his tone and that they could never be mad at each other like this, but with the way it’s playing out it almost feels like they could be. The slight smile in Kyungsoo's eyes and the lingering hand on his shoulder are dead giveaways.
“Well, that's. That's not good enough," he retorts, stumbling over his words as he presses closer.
“Why the hell not?”
Chanyeol pretends to think for a moment, acts like he’s gathering his thoughts to form a sensible answer, but instead just flashes a short grin before leaning down and closing the space between them. Kyungsoo’s lips hardly move against his when he opens his mouth, tongue coming out to trace a quick line across his lips trying to garner some sort of response, but it takes a little more pressure from his body pushing against his and a hand in his hair to get anything out of him. Then he’s kissing him back, neck craning to get a better angle from his position beneath Chanyeol, lips sliding against his in synchronised friction.
A short gasp, a low groan, and they almost forget they're not alone in the dorm for a minute. Chanyeol breaks away, tries to suck in a deep breath as he pulls back with wide eyes, but a strong tug on his upper arm and they're connected at the mouth again, Kyungsoo accommodating as he leans backwards against the counter and shudders as Chanyeol's large hands run a slow course from his jaw, down his chest, settling on his hips. If he'd known that all this eagerness was just as pent up as his own, that all it took was a little forcefulness and a spoon to the head, he'd have done this a lot sooner. His lips are tingling, his mind is numb; kissing Kyungsoo is just the fix he's been looking for.
When Kyungsoo breaks away this time, chest heaving and breaths coming out in short, low gasps, he smiles. Chanyeol does the same, and it's because of Kyungsoo's state: messy hair, pink swollen lips, and a flush in his cheeks. A reasonable consequence, he thinks, pushing Kyungsoo's bangs out of his eyes with the tips of his fingers.
"Couldn't even wait till dinner was ready," Kyungsoo says, jabbing a sure finger into Chanyeol's stomach as he grabs his spoon again to threaten him.
Chanyeol shifts from one foot to the other, ready to dodge anymore blows but also equally prepared for another round of making out and continues to grin. "I'm an impatient person."
“Get out of the kitchen. Now.”
A few more seconds of glaring, a few more seconds of Chanyeol observing his slightly shiny lips and mussed hair, and then he’s being pushed out of the kitchen all together and against his will, running into a surprised Junmyeon on his way out.
And for once, he can’t even bring himself to protest.