Work Text:
It's 2 am. The light from Kim Dokja's phone grates harshly against his eyes and he squints, struggling against the unrelenting tide of exhaustion. He can't sleep. Not now. Not when he's so close to finishing the chapter, and figuring out whether or not the damn protagonist actually dies.
His breath hitches as the story takes a particularly devious turn, his sleepiness briefly offset by the shock of the twist. Han Sooyoung, despite her questionable morals and terrible personality, is actually pretty good at writing. In fact, "pretty good" might be an understatement - but Dokja is not going to inflate her already inflated ego, thank you very much. She has enough hubris already.
Beside him, Yoo Joonghyuk stirs sleepily. Dokja freezes, his thumb hovering over the "next" button guiltily. Just one more, he prays, ignoring how the last ten chapters were supposed to have been his last one. It's not his fault Sooyoung is absurdly good at writing cliffhangers; frankly, it should be a crime to induce such nail-biting anticipation every time.
Besides, he's off work tomorrow. He can afford a little more sleep deprivation.
Dokja waits for a beat more, his heart pounding in his chest. Satisfied by the ensuing silence, he's just about to continue his illicit night activities when suddenly, a hand clamps around his wrist.
Damnit.
He turns to face Joonghyuk, trying his best to look like he'd only just woken up. The effect is ruined by the incriminating phone clutched tightly in his hand, but he thinks he does a pretty bang-on job nonetheless. "Joonghyuk-ah," he begins, contriving to look as innocent as possible. "I didn't know you were awake. I was just–"
"Kim Dokja," Yoo Joonhyuk growls, his voice raspy with sleep. Even through his mussed-up hair and bleary eyes, he still manages to look like the cover photo of a Vogue magazine. It's ridiculous. Dokja hates him. "Go to bed."
"But–"
"Now."
His tone leaves no room for argument. The grip on his wrist slackens slightly, enough for Dokja to reach over and place his phone on the nightstand. When he nestles back into the covers, his eyelids already beginning to flutter shut, Joonghyuk pulls him into a soft embrace.
Stupid sunfish. Where did he learn such seduction tactics?
Dokja lets out a soft exhale, feeling himself melt into the hold. Joonghyuk's breaths are already starting to even out; slow and steady in a way that is indescribably soothing.
As he drifts off to sleep, his last thought is of how comforting it is to be loved.