Work Text:
“What’s that?”
Leehan looks up from his phone to see Taesan standing in the bathroom doorway, head tilted inquisitively towards the small white gift bag in the center of the bed. There’s a towel slung around his neck, the ends of his hair dripping wet, and he’s in a pair of comfy plaid pajama pants and a band tee with holes in the neckline. The silver of his earrings glimmers under the light.
“Come here,” Leehan calls, patting the space beside him.
Taesan rubs his towel over the ends of his hair in a vague attempt to get it dry, then throws it on top of the pile of his own clothes that are slowly accruing in the corner.
At this point, Taesan has practically moved into his room. Perks of Leehan not having to share anymore, he supposes. He misses Riwoo and their gaming sessions and their quiet late night talks. Of course he does. But he feels a bit less like a teenager sneaking his boyfriend past the watchful eyes of his parents now that he can kiss Taesan in the comfort of his own room without the risk of Riwoo walking in on them.
Well, that risk is still there — it always is when you’re living with a bunch of barely-adults that have very little regard for personal space and privacy — but at least he can put a sock on the door and blame it on them when they enter anyway.
(“Gross,” Jaehyun had shrieked after bursting in on them mid makeout session. Taesan had been straddling his lap and Leehan’s hands had been under his shirt. Luckily for Jaehyun, they hadn’t taken it any further yet. “Get a room!”
Taesan had turned around to flip him off, blush creeping red up his neck with embarrassment and fury. “We are in a room,” he’d snapped. “The door was closed!” Jaehyun had laughed and Leehan had laughed too and Taesan had refused to talk to either of them for the rest of the evening.)
Taesan steps closer and Leehan sits up from where he’s propped against the wall. He slides onto the bed and sits cross-legged in front of him and Leehan shifts so he’s opposite, knees pressed flush against his.
This close, he can smell the conditioner Taesan has been using for his newly bleached hair and the sweetness of familiar peach smoothed over his skin like butter. His lotion. His being Leehan’s. Taesan’s own, that he’s been leaving in Leehan’s bathroom to save himself running between dorms, must have run out (or that might just be an excuse to surround himself a little more with everything Leehan).
His hair curls around the nape of his neck and strands of blond peek out from between the black. His bare face is softer without the sharp contours of makeup, and his freshly washed skin is tinged a slight red from his too hot too long shower.
He’s beautiful in a lot of ways. Leehan could tell him that for hours.
Or, at least, he could try, but Taesan would probably shut him up after the first few attempts like he always does. He can dish out compliments like it’s all he was made for, but as soon as Leehan twists it back on him he’s a flustered mess under his honeyed words and smooth hands.
There’s plenty of time for that later, though. Right now Taesan is fidgeting impatiently as he looks down at the bag between them, and Leehan is just as excited for him to see his gift. He knows Taesan doesn’t like surprises, but he thinks he’ll forgive him just this once when he finds out what’s inside.
“I got you something,” Leehan says, taking Taesan’s hands and turning them so his palms face the ceiling. He places the bag on top of them and Taesan tips his head, confused.
“What is it?” he asks hesitantly.
He’s never known how to accept gifts, always been better at giving them than receiving, just like with compliments. He’s awkward. Leehan finds that cute. He won’t tell him yet because it’ll make Taesan embarrassed and he’ll refuse to open his gift in front of him, but that doesn’t stop him from thinking it.
“Just something small,” Leehan coaxes. “Open it.”
He watches as Taesan slips his hand into the bag and takes the three small bottles of nail polish from inside; two clear and one ink black. He turns them over in his hands, inspecting them, and when he looks back at Leehan there’s an excited yet uncertain glint in his eye. Leehan can tell he’s trying not to smile by the way his bottom lip is caught between his teeth.
“This is…?”
“I saw how happy you were,” Leehan explains. “When you wore those gems on your nails. Remember?”
Taesan shakes his head minutely. He shies away from Leehan’s gaze, heavy with fondness. “I wasn’t…”
Because he knows Taesan will never admit it, Leehan continues, “And I saw you looking at polish on your phone the other day. I know that look you get when you want something.”
Taesan’s cheeks are dusted a light pink as though he’s embarrassed he was caught. He hums softly. “Where did you even get these?”
“Convinced the stylist to let me have them,” Leehan answers, and he stifles a laugh when Taesan’s face drops in horror. “I told her it was for me, don’t worry. She didn’t really care anyway.”
That seems to calm his nerves a little. “Thank you,” he says quietly, like he’s scared someone will hear even though it’s just the two of them.
He loves Taesan when he’s louder, confident on stage and in front of the cameras. He loves Taesan when he’s working, sharp and focused. He especially loves Taesan like this, when they’re alone, quieter and pliant in a way that’s reserved only for Leehan. He supposes that makes him special.
Taesan moves to place the bottles back in the bag but Leehan catches his hand before he can. “We can do them now, if you want.”
Taesan blinks slowly at him. He chews on his bottom lip like he’s unsure. “We have a schedule tomorrow, though,” he says. “I’d have to take it off again in the morning. There’s no point.”
Leehan holds his gaze, stroking his thumb across Taesan’s knuckles. He feels Taesan’s tense hand untighten under his touch. His eyes drop to follow the movement of Leehan’s thumb.
He can tell Taesan is holding back. That he’s not letting himself have this. Leehan has worked hard to draw him out of his shell, little by little, in the time he's known him. Worked hard to make sure Taesan feels nothing but safe around him. Before they were boyfriends, they were best friends, and before that — well, Leehan doesn’t really remember before that.
So, as stubborn as Taesan is, Leehan is an immovable object when it comes to getting what he wants. Even worse when it comes to what Taesan wants. He should be used to that by now.
“Doesn’t matter,” Leehan says insistently. “We’ll just paint them again. I want to see it, please?”
Taesan pauses, glancing back up at Leehan, searching, then nods when he finds nothing but encouragement. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” Taesan says, finally smiling, and Leehan allows himself a small measure of satisfaction that he’s the cause. Taesan looks down at their hands again, strands of hair falling delicately in his eyes, and Leehan resists the urge to reach forward and tuck them behind his ears. He pushes the bottles into Leehan’s hands. “Paint them for me?”
“You sure you want to trust me with that?” Leehan asks, corner of his lips tilting into a smile.
He shrugs, presenting his hand to Leehan anyway, and Leehan chuckles affectionately at the gesture. He tugs Taesan’s hand into his lap, his long fingers curling over Leehan’s palm easily, his skin warm against his own. There shouldn’t still be sparks in the places they touch, but there is anyway. He thinks there always will be.
Taesan holds the bottle of base coat and Leehan unscrews it with his free hand. The smell of alcohol permeates the air almost immediately, and Taesan wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Smells awful.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Leehan says. He smooths the brush over the edge of the bottle to remove the excess and carefully angles it towards Taesan’s thumb nail. “Stop moving. I’m trying to concentrate.”
Taesan obliges, stilling in Leehan’s hold, holding his breath as Leehan swipes the first streak over his nail. He’s a little clumsy, a little unsteady, because he doesn’t quite have that same artistic steak that Taesan has, but it’s working. His own hair falls into his face as he leans over Taesan’s hands, turning them under the light to make sure he’s got every blank spot.
Taesan’s nails are slightly longer than his, but Leehan’s are neater, more shaped. Taesan bites his nails when he’s nervous, a habit Leehan noticed a long time ago. Maybe this will help.
He takes a quick glance at Taesan’s face, just to make sure he’s not suddenly freaking out at the new shine on his nails, only to find him staring straight back at him with that look in his eyes he only gets when he’s watching Leehan.
“Sorry,” Taesan says, but he doesn’t look sorry at all. He’s biting back a grin when he reaches over with his unpainted hand to smooth the crease between Leehan’s brows he didn’t realize had formed. “You look good when you’re concentrating.”
It catches Leehan off guard, and the laugh that escapes his lips bumps a blob of clear paint down the side of Taesan’s finger. “Don’t let me stop you.”
“I tell you you’re handsome all the time,” Taesan huffs but he’s laughing too, light and bubbly, and Leehan is just so glad his initial apprehension has disappeared. Taesan lifts his finished hand to his face and blows gently on his nails, like it will help them dry quicker. “It’ll go to your head soon if I keep saying it.”
“So what?” Leehan goads. “I like hearing it from you.”
Instead of answering, Taesan ducks his head in the way he always does when he’s at the center of attention and he doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of the flirting he started. “How long do we have to wait for it to dry?” Taesan asks, deflecting Leehan’s teases with a question. He’s already eying the bottle of black impatiently.
“Not long,” Leehan hums. He turns the bottle over and glances at the label. “Ten minutes.”
“Okay,” Taesan says. He leans forward so his face is barely inches away from Leehan’s, previous shyness already put aside in favor of more important matters. “Perfect amount of time for something else, then.”
“Yeah?” He already knows the answer, but asks anyway, “What kind of something else?”
“Something like…” Taesan trails off as he presses in closer, until his lips are brushing faintly over Leehan’s, just as gently as Leehan painted over his nails. His lips are soft against his, shiny with lip balm and sweet tasting just from one chaste kiss. He draws back and bumps his nose against Leehan’s. “Something like this.”
For all his tough exterior and faux indifference and perpetual stubbornness, Taesan is softer when it's just them. He recoils from Jaehyun’s endless teases and playful affection, but with Leehan it’s different. With Leehan he allows himself to touch and be touched, to feel the things that he keeps tucked near his heart away from everyone else’s prying eyes.
“Don’t smudge your nails,” Leehan says as he pulls Taesan back in with a finger curled under his chin. “I worked hard on those.”
Taesan laughs against his lips, but still splays his hands on Leehan’s knees instead of tangling them in his hair like he’d usually do. Leehan keeps the finger tipped under Taesan’s chin, holding him in place as he kisses him slowly, languidly, as if they have all the time in the world. They do, at least for tonight.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way Taesan kisses — tentative but firm, soft but harsh, breathtaking in every sense of the term. He thinks of their first kiss, how shy and uncertain it had been, and he thinks of how far they’ve come and how much has changed. They’ve kissed a lot more since then. A lot more. Not nearly enough.
He slips a hand into Taesan’s hair, stroking through the split of blond locks, the subtle dampness from his evening shower still present, and uses both hands to tilt Taesan’s face back a little so he can kiss him deeper. Taesan follows, lips falling open beneath Leehan’s, and he has to stop himself from pushing Taesan backwards onto the bed so he can really make him dizzy.
Taesan is practically putty in his hands by the time Leehan draws back slowly, carefully. He catches him with a fist in his shirt, polished nails completely forgotten, in an attempt to pull him back in. Even though Leehan would love to keep kissing him, could do it all night, even, he wants to see the look on his face when his nails are finished even more.
“Come on,” Leehan says, laughing breathily, stopping Taesan with a firm hand in the center of his chest. “Next layer.”
Taesan pouts, lips significantly redder than they were ten minutes ago. He blinks slowly at Leehan, catlike, pupils dark pools, but when Leehan picks up the bottle of black polish he folds quickly. He offers his hands to Leehan again and sits patient as he undoes the bottle cap and readies the brush.
Painting with colour is a lot harder than painting with the clear base, because his mistakes stand out starkly against Taesan’s pale skin. He tries to be steady with his shaky hands and uncertain strokes, but paint manages to escape the lines anyway.
“Sorry,” Leehan says as he streaks another black line over his nail and half the surrounding skin. “This is harder than I thought.”
Taesan doesn’t seem to hear him, though. When Leehan pauses his painting to glance up at him, he’s got his eyes transfixed on the way his freshly painted nails shine under the light. His cheeks are pink like they’ve been painted over too, and his lips are slightly parted.
“Pretty,” Taesan breathes. He can’t look away, and Leehan can’t look away from him. “They look so pretty.”
Leehan smiles because, yeah, he is pretty. Not just his nails, but his long slender fingers, too. The softness of his lips and the way his eyes curve downwards in the corners. How his bangs catch in his eyelashes because they’re slightly too long but Taesan likes it that way and Leehan does too.
(“I want to grow my hair out,” Taesan had said once, fingers tangled in Leehan’s hair. “Like yours.”
“Yeah?” Leehan had asked, head in Taesan’s lap. They weren’t together then, but they were on the verge of it, caught somewhere between friendship and something more. “You could pull it off.”
Taesan had smiled, in the way that shows his teeth and curves his eyes and that still sends Leehan’s heart racing even now. “You really think so?”)
This time Leehan doesn’t stop himself from reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of Taesan’s face so he can get a better look at how his eyes are shining round and captivated.
Leehan grins, a little amused and a little endeared by the pure delight painted across Taesan’s features. He’s known Taesan has wanted to try this for a while, but he didn’t know he’d be this into it. “They are, aren’t they?”
Taesan’s eyes catch his and Leehan is met with a tentative but overwhelmingly tender gaze, and his heart swims with staggering affection when Taesan laughs quietly, on the border between shy and giddy. His hands are light in Leehan’s, warm and steady and constant. Almost like a habit, he lifts Taesan’s hand up to his lips and presses a long kiss onto his knuckles.
Taesan sucks in a sharp breath, pulling himself out of Leehan’s grasp. “Careful,” he says. “You’ll ruin them.”
“Sorry, princess,” Leehan says, ignoring the resulting glare he receives in return. “Let’s get these finished, then you can admire my work all you want.”
Taesan rolls his eyes at the nickname, then, fondly and without malice, says, “Shut up.” He relents anyway, like he always does with Leehan. He gives his hands back and Leehan drops another quick kiss onto his knuckles before getting back to work.
He finishes with the layer of black, and, while they wait for it to dry, Leehan tells him all about this new documentary series he's been watching about the deep ocean. Taesan, now the secret is out, shows him all the nail art pictures he's been looking at, and Leehan tells him he'd look nice with them. Taesan flushes and tries to deny it but practically preens under Leehan doting anyway.
When his nails no longer come back sticky, Leehan applies the final top coat, brush strokes more solid and precise now he's had a bit of practice.
While that dries too, they kiss some more, only this time Taesan slides into Leehan’s lap after setting the bottles of polish to the side. He rests his hands on Leehan’s shoulders to keep them out of the way, thumbing his collarbones, and Leehan presses his fingers into Taesan’s waist in the way he knows he likes. He would be more surprised at how easy this is, how willingly Taesan fits against him, but he’s gotten used to it. He’s gotten to know this side of Taesan better than anyone.
At some point, well past the time his nails take to dry, Taesan tips him back onto the bed and they go tumbling down in a giggling heap, dizzy and glowing. They roll onto their sides and Taesan holds up his hands between them and Leehan curls his fingers around Taesan’s, tingling where they touch, taking in his slightly wonky, slightly streaky work.
“They’re a bit messy,” Leehan yields. “But it looks good on you. Suits you.”
Taesan can’t seem to look away from them, though, eyes gleaming with wonder as he stares breathlessly at the shine of black coating his nails. “They’re perfect,” Taesan says, shaking his head. “I love them, really.”
He leans forward to press his lips against Leehan’s. They’ve kissed a lot already, but this one is different. Short, sweet, packed with gratitude and the feelings Taesan can’t say out loud but Leehan understands anyway. He’s smiling against Leehan’s lips when he pulls away.
“Want to do mine later?” Leehan asks as Taesan smooths a hand across his jaw, thumb ghosting over the lobe of his ear. It tickles slightly, and the chemical smell of the polish stings his nose, but he doesn’t move away.
Taesan lights up at that. “Really? You’d let me paint yours?”
“Yeah,” Leehan says, laughing at his unbridled enthusiasm. “I got this nice blue colour too.” He takes Taesan’s spare hand and laces their fingers together. “And some stickers, for when we’re a bit better at this.”
Taesan smiles, secure in the promise that this will happen again. He whispers gently, “Thank you. I really mean it,” and that’s all Leehan needs to hear to make it worth it. To make all of this worth it.
In the morning he’ll scrub the paint off with acetone and Jaehyun will gag at the smell that sinks into every corner of the dorm and Taesan will chase him around with the bottle. Leehan will watch from the side, enamored at the way Taesan is laughing, bright and loud, and he’ll tell him later just how beautiful he thinks he is.