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Woobin’s shoulder falls against the wall of the dorm entryway as he pulls off his shoes with one hand. He lifts the other arm up to read his watch: 00:31. He quickly drops his bag in his room before wandering out again: too sweaty from practice to collapse on his bed as he wants to, but too tired to go wash up just yet. Instead, he goes to the kitchen, pulls a beer out of the fridge and starts towards the small balcony that extends from the living room.
He passes Minhee, curled up in one corner of the couch; sleepy as always but waiting for whenever Wonjin inevitably comes looking for someone to play with. Minhee pays him no mind as he steps out onto the balcony, closing the doors behind him to keep the draft out.
Woobin knows he’s not beating the middle-aged-man allegations with this routine of his: he can’t count the number of times the kids have laughed at him about it.
The balcony happily accommodates a fold-out chair that’s left out for Woobin’s frequent uses, a second one folded up in the corner. They’re only on the second floor so not high enough to cause Woobin any anxiety. The sun has just recently set, leaving some residual warmth in the summer evening. He sits, cosy in his hoodie and slippers and cooled by the breeze on his legs exposed by his shorts and the cold beer in his hand. Woobin personally thinks middle-aged men are onto something.
After a couple of minutes sitting in quiet, he glances around to the neighbours balconies and finds them empty. Maybe he could bring out his speaker and play something?
At that moment, Woobin hears the rattling of the balcony door opening; watches Serim clumsily squish through the gap and pull the door closed again. Woobin relaxes back into his seat.
“What has you interrupting my old man time?” Woobin teases lightly. He’s not mad but he’s not not mad… Maybe he could ask Serim to bring his speaker and buy him coffee tomorrow in thanks.
Serim giggles and Woobin knows he’s more not mad than anything else. He’s got a hoodie on over pyjama pants, feet trapped under fluffy pink slippers. His damp hair lays flat on his head, looking soft and unasuming.
“Can I join you?”
The balcony is noticeably more squished with a second chair unfolded and it takes a minute of fumbling before Serim sits down. Woobin finds it unbearably cute how with all that control gifted from Serim’s muscled body he is still undoubtedly the clumbsiest person he’s ever known. Serim’s never had the luxury of his presence going unnoticed, at least from Woobin’s perspective.
“Oh, you have a beer,” Serim notes, freezing Woobin’s arm in place on the way up to his mouth.
Woobin watches Serim’s eyes dart from the beer to his own and hears the complaint before Serim even says anything. He does not want to get up.
Serim accepts the beer in his hand with a grin. He lets his smile go just long enough to take a sip and then it’s back. Woobin holds the can in his right hand, close enough to Serim for him to take it whenever he wants. Every few moments it’s lifted out of his hands and placed back seconds later.
Soon it’s quiet enough again they can hear the muffled shouts of the kids playing inside. Woobin gives it an hour until their energy runs out and they fall asleep on any bed they can find.
“You’re not with Wonjin tonight?” Woobin asks.
Serim shakes his head. “No, he’s gaming and I’m way too tired to deal with that.”
Serim’s head tilts back uncomfortably against the chair in an attempt to use the hardwood as a pillow. He’s going to get a cramp if he stays like that.
Woobin puts the beer can back down by his left side and leans his weight out of his chair, arm outstretched to Serim. Serim’s eyes stay closed until he gets a pinch on his cheek and then he jumps. Woobin gets his hand swatted away, pulling a laugh out of Serim as he sits back again.
“I’m not carrying you in if you fall asleep out here,” Woobin warns.
Serim pouts. “I’d carry you in…”
Woobin snorts. “I don’t jump at every chance to show my strength, unlike some people.”
Serim nods knowingly. “Youngtae,” he says like one might say the name of an old dying dog.
Woobin laughs suddenly, then quickly quietens, embarrassed. That was most definitely louder than Serim’s fumbling with the chair. Serim’s smile is louder yet, proud of his joke landing, trapping Woobin in the gaze of it.
Serim gets up from his chair and it takes a moment for Woobin to realise what he’s doing. He’s got a hand on the back of Woobin’s chair, hunched low and invading all of Woobin’s space in order to reach the can on the other side of him.
Woobin could’ve told Serim he’d unbalance attempting this if he’d given the semblence of a warning: instead, Serim’s hand slips to brace Woobin’s shoulder as his feet struggle to find footing. Woobin does the only thing he can think to right him and pulls him down.
Serim lets himself settle on Woobin’s lap. Well, half on his lap. Most of Serim’s weight is in his arms from where Woobin’s hands sit under his upper thighs, carrying him, keeping him balanced. He should be embarrassed but they’re both tired and Serim is smiling and he doesn’t want to do anything that could deter that.
Serim giggles out a cute “sorry” and takes a swig of beer, his body acting before his brain could catch up to what happened. Woobin can pin-point the moment Serim processes their position, his eyes blowing wide and the arm on Woobin’s shoulder shooting up to cover his mouth as he coughs. Woobin is happy to have avoided getting beer on his clothes but now Serim is entirely in his hands and his tongue is caught in the back of his throat. What are you meant to do when this happens?
Serim laughs with his whole body. That’s what you’re to do. Woobin lets himself carry the vibrations from his hands to his mouth to the air outside.
Serim slumps against him, head on his shoulder. “Now you have to carry me inside,” he teases into Woobins neck.
“Ah, so that was your plan then?” Woobin scoffs.
“You caught me!” Serim’s smile is so big it forces him to sit up again. “Whats my punishment then?” Serim blinks at him innocently.
It’s so silly and so flirty Woobin wants to roll his eyes. Or pinch his cheeks. Or… Woobin’s not sure what he wants to do.
“Your punishment…” He audibly hums in thought and drags it out and out. Clutching to the silliness with white knuckles.
Once he makes a noise of decisiveness Serim sits to attention.
“…is to do the dishes.”
Serim’s face falls and Woobin laughs at the whines he mumbles out. Serim breathes out a harsh, dramatic breath and shifts out of Woobin’s lap.
“Alright, I’ll get up then.”
“No!”
Woobin’s arms are stretched out, his hands open wide. Woobin is whining and Serim is laughing and the whiplash has his head spinning until Serim’s weight is back on him, arms looped around Woobin’s neck. The silliness slipped right through his fingers and now his hands sit on Serim’s waist.
He looks, and Serim’s never looked so small.
“I can stay here,” Serim says, pulling Woobin’s gaze upwards. “You’re comfy.”
Woobin tries his best to hide his face, which only prompts Serim to cup his cheeks. When they meet eyes again, there’s a pause and then they laugh and Woobin forgets where his body is for a moment.
“You’re so cute,” Serim coos and squishes Woobin’s face so much his vision blurs.
“No, you,” he attempts to get out, muffled by Serim’s merciless hands.
He thinks Serim’s choosing to not hear him because he continues kneading Woobin’s face like it’s bread dough and Woobin is stuck watching his dark eyes still shine of mischief somehow in the late night.
Woobin grabs Serim’s wrists and holds them still.
“I said,” Woobin cuts. “No, you’re cute.”
Woobin has two breaths to be proud of Serim’s silence and then he finds himself having rushed out into the busy street once again with no plan for his next step.
“If I’m so cute you should kiss me, then.”
Woobin freezes under Serim’s gaze. He blinks three times in the space Serim blinks once. “Do.. do you mean that?”
Serim nods the smallest nod. He’s so quiet and Woobin needs to fix it.
“Well, I said you were cute not so cute,” Woobin teases. “If we’re being pedantic.” He rubs a thumb against Serim’s hands to ask him not to leave. He really doesn’t want Serim to leave.
Serim pouts dramatically and Woobin sighs in relief.
“So I’m not so cute?” He whines. “I’m not the cutest person you’ve ever seen?”
Woobin shakes his head. “You are,” he breathes and pulls Serim towards him.
With Woobin’s hands gone, one on Serim’s waist and one on his neck, Serims are free to abuse his cheeks again. Instead of squishing them like before, he keeps his grip still, holding Woobin where he is: kisses him with the same giddy energy sizzling in the back of Woobin’s throat. The damp ends of Serim’s hair brush against Woobin’s forehead. The sudden feeling catches him off guard but he eases into the sensation, the coolness a relief to how warm his cheeks feel under Serim’s hands.
Giggles start to rise up from his chest but Serim kisses them away quickly, greedily. Any shyness escapes then. Woobin is tired and Serim is so soft. Serim is eager and decisive and Woobin is easy and pliant and willing so Serim pulls him closer, chest to chest and Woobin lets him. Woobin’s arms loop around Serim in a hug and Serim lets him.
His lips fizz when they break apart. Woobin’s so content he’s not sure he could open his eyes if he tried. He sits, sated, and when Serim’s lips find his again he opens for him. Serim hums and Woobin feels his whole body shake under it like it matched his vibrational frequency. He is a single tuning fork in a room full of Serim.
When he breathes next he watches Serim’s head rise with his chest, perched in the crook of his shoulder. Woobin wonders if there’s any heartbeat to hear or if his heart has finally escaped him.
“That was fun,” Serim says, so simply, through the sleepy smile Woobin could hear he’s making.
Woobin nods, rubbing his cheek against Serim’s head so he can feel it. It was so fun his hands are shaking as they brush up and down Serim’s back in comforting lines. It was so fun his ears buzz with adrenaline and his tongue sits differently in his mouth.
“Now you definitely have to carry me in,” Serim laughs.
Woobin lets out short, choppy laughs between his scattered breaths. “Oh so this was your grand plan?”
Serim snuggles further into his neck like he plans to sleep there. “Just a happy coincidence.”
“Okay, up we get, then.” Serim’s grip around his shoulders tightens as Woobin shifts forward, centring his balance before pushing up from the chair.
So maybe there is something to the way he carries Serim with one arm bracketed around his waist as he slides open the balcony door. But it’s dark and it’s late and Taeyoung isn’t here to make a comment about it. It can stay in the dark until the next time Serim taunts it out of him. Woobin thinks he might want that.
Woobin delivers Serim to his bedroom door, easing him to the ground to keep quiet for Allen most likely asleep inside. There’s almost never absolute silence in this dorm but he can try his best for Allen’s sake.
Serim moves up on his toes and leans a hand on Woobin’s shoulder to whisper into his ear even though he doesn’t need to to reach. “Goodnight.”
When Serim steps back, Woobin mirrors him.
“Goodnight,” he whispers against Serim’s ear.
Serim sends him a giant smile and a small wave and then he vanishes behind the door.
Woobin shuffles through his routine on autopilot, thanking the fateful game of rock-paper-scissors that granted him a solo room so that once he collapses on his bed he can lay unblinking at the ceiling with no true repercussions besides his imagination.
That was so fun he melts into the mattress like water poured onto sand. That was so fun he fills the room with a single long breath. That was so fun he’s doubtful his dreams can serve him anything better, though he lets them try, if only to get to tomorrow faster.